Date: Thu, 21 May 2015 15:38:01 -0500
From: Jack Schaeffer <jack.schaeffman@gmail.com>
Subject: Forever - Book Two - Chapter 9

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FOREVER
By Jack Schaeffer
Copyright (c) 2014-2015. All rights reserved.

BOOK TWO - CHANGES

FROM THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER:

I watched Arnold Turner mentally process his options. He could shoot me, but
then he was dead, too. Charles would not miss. He could surrender, but then
he would lose, and in his twisted mind, I guess that would make me the
winner? Arnold was trapped, and he knew it. Suddenly he smiled at me, like he
knew he had somehow won anyway. He slowly bent his knees, and I held my
breath, not knowing what to expect. I couldn't stop looking at his eyes now.
They were dead eyes, and yet, there was still fight left in them. He wasn't
finished. He wasn't about to surrender. I heard the gun clatter on the
driveway as he dropped it. Then he ran.

Before I had even finished exhaling, before my knees hit the pavement, before
I threw up my breakfast all over my last clean pair of pants, Arnold Turner
had crossed the driveway and plunged into the woods. I heard shouting from
the house behind me. I heard shouting from Charles to stop or he would shoot.
I heard his gun go off again, and then only the sounds of my own retching and
sobs. The only saving grace was my bladder held. It's the little things.

"SAM! Stop...let him go!" I heard someone shout Sam's name. No. No way. Not
Sam. I tried to stand up and got mostly on to me feet. I had to stop Sam.
He'd get hurt. Arnold would kill him.

"Sam," I whispered, trying to focus through my tears. I was actually
shouting, but it sounded like a whisper to my deafened ears. "Where's Sam?
Somebody! Where's Sam?!! SAM!"

Suddenly he was there in front of me, tears running down his face. He grabbed
me and hugged me so tight I couldn't breathe, but I didn't care. If my last
breath was in Sam's arms, so be it. At least he was with me. I collapsed
totally and still he held me up, oblivious to my mess now all over him as
well.

I don't know how long he held me there in the driveway. I don't remember
being taken back into the house. I do remember, at some point, Sam taking my
clothes off and he was in the shower with me, and we cried some more together
as he washed us clean. He climbed naked into bed with me and held me until my
tears finally stopped and I slept.


Chapter 9


I woke up to the late afternoon sun shining through the bedroom bay windows.
The first thing I saw was Sam looking at me, worry etched deeply on his face,
his eyes red and bloodshot. He was lying next to me on our bed, just staring
at me. I had the feeling he had been at this vigil for a while.

He saw my eyes open. "Hey...how you doin', Jack?" he asked, without his
characteristic smile. I didn't like it.

"Okay, I guess. I'm here with you, so it can't be all bad," I said, trying to
sound cheerful, but it fell flat. He just nodded. He looked broken.

"Sam...how are you doing?" I asked softly.

"I...I don't...I can't..." He sighed. "I thought I was going to lose you," he
said in a whisper, his words catching in his throat, but he didn't cry.

"But you didn't. I'm still here...thanks to you and Charles."

"Me? I didn't do anything. I couldn't...ugh, I couldn't move," he said,
totally defeated, his eyes now looking away as if he were somehow ashamed of
something. I was starting to understand what he was feeling.

"Sam, look at me. Please?" He reluctantly looked up again. His eyes were
pleading for help.

"I just stood there, Jack. I stood there while that freak held a gun on you.
I couldn't move. I couldn't get to you. I just...stood there...and...I
thought...I thought I was gonna watch you die." He broke down then - deep,
heart-wrenching sobs. I pulled him into my arms and held him tightly. It was
my turn to love on him.

I held him for a long while, until his sobs gradually tapered off. I mentally
thrashed around, trying to find words to encourage him. "Sam...if you had
tried to intervene, it would have only made him angrier and more volatile.
You probably would have gotten us both killed. But I love you for wanting to.
And for this."

"For what? My ridiculous crying?" he said, reaching for a Kleenex to blow his
nose.

I chuckled. "No...for being broken up about it. I know it sucks, but it'll
pass, and we'll get through this. I know you love me, Sam. And I understand
how you feel...I do. I would feel the same way if...well, never mind. It
doesn't matter anymore. The important thing is...we're here, together. That's
a good thing, right?"

He answered by pulling me into a tight hug, his arms enveloping me in his
special powers of safety and peace. "I'm never letting you go again, Jack.
Never. I can't lose you."

"And you won't, Sam. I don't want you to ever let me go." I rested my head on
his chest and just listened to our breathing and our hearts beating together.
I don't think either one of us ever wanted to leave our bedroom again.

We spent some time there in the quiet, just being alive. We kissed a little,
touched a little, and gradually our smiles came back alive, too. At some
point, Sam tickled me behind my knee and I started giggling, trying to get
away from him. Then I tickled him on the back of his thigh, and he laughed
and tried to scramble away, but I caught him and continued my friendly
assault. We continued to squirm all over the bed while we tickled and teased
each other, both of us laughing hysterically. It was much more fun than guns
and tears.

Predictably our laughter and touching led to more serious play, and before
long we were passionately kissing. My hands eventually found his now very
hard cock and suddenly I wasn't tickling him anymore. My own dick was rock
hard, leaking and aching with need. Sam flipped around and I nearly yelled
when he swallowed me without warning, pulling my hips into his face with
stunning strength. I did the same to him, doing the thing he loved the most,
trying to control his hips and failing. For a long while we focused on slowly
taking each other all the way to our mutual and nearly simultaneous release.

Later, as we gently kissed, looking into each other's eyes, I began to
comprehend the restorative power of love. Somehow I felt whole and renewed,
and Sam was smiling at me again, which was really all I cared about. He
wasn't fully my Sam without his smile.

"So...you think we have to go out there and talk to people, or can we just
stay in here and maybe in a few days they'll all just leave on their own?"
asked Sam, grinning.

"No!" I whined into the pillow. "Don't make me...please! I don't wanna talk
about it, Sam. I don't even want to think about it."

"Me either. I'm just glad nobody got hurt," said Sam. I suddenly felt like
the most selfish jerk in the world. Here I'd been laughing and making love
and carrying on, and it never even occurred to me someone might have been
hurt. Crap!

I sat up in bed, the mood broken. "What's the matter, Jack?" asked Sam, as he
sat up next to me, his hand on my shoulder.

"I didn't even think to ask, Sam. How stinkin' selfish and self-centered am
I?"

"Don't, Jack. Don't start beating yourself up. Nobody...and I mean
nobody...would expect you to. You were the one singled out for attack.
Everybody on the team is fine. All they were concerned about was you."

"I guess. I still feel like a heel, though. Is Charles okay? He didn't get in
any trouble did he?"

"I don't know. I've never left your side, Jack. Not since I carried you in
from the driveway." I smiled at him, and kissed him softly, caressing his
face in my hand.

"Thank you. I remember now. All I wanted was you. I was so scared you were
going to chase Turner and he'd hurt you, or worse. But then you saved me."

"I didn't save you, Jack. Charles did."

"Yes...Charles ran him off. But you did save me, Sam. You saved me from
having to face this whole nightmare without you. I couldn't do it, Sam. I
just couldn't. And I'll never forget how you took care of me and held me
together and made me feel safe again."

"Do you? Feel safe, I mean?" asked Sam.

"With you, being in your arms? Always." He just looked at me with his typical
intense, brooding stare. I relaxed and returned his gaze, knowing he needed
to do it. After a minute or so, he smiled and nodded, satisfied I was telling
him the truth, I guess.

I looked up at the ceiling and groaned softly. "I suppose we'd better go out
there. I'm sure there's a ton of people who want to badger us with a thousand
questions," I said.

Sam sighed deeply. "Okay...but I'm not letting you out of my sight, Jack. I
mean it."

"Fine by me. I'm not doing this alone, that's for sure. Come on, big guy.
Let's get it over with." He stood up from the bed and I just looked at him.
So strong and masculine and tough on the outside. But I knew he was still
shaky on the inside. He'd gotten a real scare - we both had.

We used the bathrooms - I got the "guy" room this time - and I splashed some
water on my face. I didn't look any different on the outside than I had
earlier in the morning, other than my red rimmed eyes, but inside was a much
different story. I managed to find a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt to put
on. Sam dressed in similar fashion. We both stayed barefoot. I just didn't
care what anybody thought about it, either.

Sam pulled me into another hug as we stood by the bedroom door. "You sure
you're ready for this?" he asked.

"No. But it won't get any easier waiting. I'd just as soon get it over with
and then we can come back in here and hide and pretend none of this ever
happened." He smiled at me, and kissed me again, gently.

"I love you, Jack."

"I love you, too," I replied.

Sam opened the door and we were immediately blocked from exiting the bedroom
by a large wooden chair holding Charles Smyth, sitting facing down the
hallway, with his rifle across his lap. He stood up slowly, stretching a
little to get the kinks out, and turned to face us. He looked us up and down
and smiled a little.

"Well, from the looks of you, I guess you'll pull through," he said with a
grin. I stepped up to him and threw my arms around him, startling him. He
almost dropped his gun. I just squeezed him in a big bear hug and then
stepped back. I was overwhelmed with gratitude.

"Charles...I..."

"Stop right there, Jack. You don't need to say anything. I did what needed to
be done. I'm just sorry the son of a bitch got away." I sighed, and Sam
grabbed me from behind and wrapped me up.

I looked at Charles and said, "Well...I am going to say something. Thank you,
Charles. I don't even want to think about what would have happened if you
hadn't been there."

"I just wish I had gotten to him sooner." He turned his attention to Sam.
"I'm sorry, Sam. I saw the guy in the trees when we were dragging the logs
down the hill out back, but I told myself it was impossible and I was
imagining things. But when I saw him again, skulking around just inside the
tree line when I went back to get the hatchet, I knew. I grabbed my gun and
went around the back of the garage to get a jump on him, but I was too late
to get to him before he had Jack cornered. I had no idea you were even
outside, Jack."

"Yeah...I was getting something for Todd out of his car. Oh crap! His
computer. Where is it?"

I heard a soft chuckle behind us. "Don't worry about it, Boss," said Todd,
walking up, grinning. "It's toast, but I can still get the data off of it. No
worries. You guys okay?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

Sam nodded, and I said, "Yeah, I think so. How's everybody else? Did they all
go home?"

"Nope. No one's allowed to leave until someone gets eyes on Arnold Turner. We
figure after his failed attempt here at the house, this is probably the
safest place for all of us right now."

"Charles said he got away," said Sam.

"Yeah, he did. At least he hasn't been found on the mountain. There are 40
plus guys out there right now checking every square inch of the property. And
I think Hector put a man every eight feet around the house itself. You'd
think we have the President in here. He's taking it personally that Arnold
Turner got in at all."

Sam huffed, his mood quickly shifting from fear to anger and frustration.
"How the fuck did Turner get to Jack? Has anybody bothered to figure that
out?" snarled Sam. Oh boy, he was definitely pissed. I didn't blame him, and
I wasn't about to rein him in, either. I wanted answers, too.

"They're working on it, Sam. Hector and Avery are going over everything with
their guys right now. They're in the kitchen, waiting to talk with you both."

"Good, because I have plenty to say to them," said Sam as he started fast
walking down the hall.

"Why's he so upset?" Todd asked me.

"Because...he almost lost me. And...I think he feels like he failed, because
he froze and didn't move to help me." Todd looked incredulously at Charles,
who just shrugged his shoulders.

"Seriously? That's what he said?" asked Todd.

"Yeah...he's pretty upset about it."

"Oh shit! Come on, before he really steps in it," said Todd, as he turned
around and trotted down the hall after Sam. Charles and I followed right
behind him. I could hear voices in heated argument coming from the kitchen.
As I rounded the corner, Sam and Avery had squared off with each other,
looking like they were going to throw down right then and there.

"Hey, Pool Boy!" yelled Todd, interrupting Avery and Sam almost coming to
blows. It looked like Avery already had a black eye, which couldn't have just
happened. Sam looked over at Todd, seething.

"Stay out of this."

"Take a breath, Sam, and listen to me for a minute." Todd walked slowly over
to Sam and looked him straight in the eye. "Before you go off half-cocked,
you need to know a few things, okay. Will you stand down for a minute?
Please?"

Sam looked at Todd, who had modulated his voice to something softer and more
respectful, and Sam responded to it. He nodded once, and waited for Todd to
continue.

"Look, I know you think you froze, and you weren't there to protect Jack."
Sam looked across the room at me, horrified that Todd would voice it out
loud. "But Sam...it isn't true. It took three guys to hold you back. The
reason you couldn't get to Jack was Hector, Avery, and Danny were holding you
on the front porch. You put up a huge fight. You broke three flower pots
flailing around. Hell, who do you think gave Avery his shiner over there? You
didn't fail anybody, Sam. So you have nothing to prove right now, okay?"

Sam looked into Todd's eyes, realizing quickly that he was telling the truth.
Sam nodded once, then sighed heavily. He looked over at Avery with a
different expression now. "Sorry, man" he said. "And...I'm sorry for losing
it a minute ago. I guess I'm not so clear on things."

"Don't sweat it. I get it. No offense, but you're the least of my concerns
right now," said Avery. Hector stepped up.

"Jack. Sam. If anybody's to blame here, it's me. This was my operation, and I
dropped the ball. If you want us to pack it in, I'd totally understand. We'll
stay until replacements can be established." Sam looked at me, and I just
shrugged. I had no idea what was going on. There was an uncomfortable silence
as they waited for our answer.

"Uh...before we change teams mid-stream, what can you tell us about what
you've figured out so far?" asked Todd. Hector sighed, and motioned for us to
join him near the island where a laptop computer was sitting.

"Well, for starters, we're pretty sure Turner was already here in the woods
before my team ever arrived. We found the spot where he hunkered down for the
night under a rocky ledge about 200 yards up the mountain out back."

"How did he get in? Charles and I walked the fence yesterday. There was no
way in but through the gate. Did he have a code?" asked Sam.

"Not that we can see from the access code scans in the gate system. We
updated all the codes when we arrived last night. The only codes in the
computer from yesterday were the ones your staff used to get in, as well as
when they left later. We interviewed everyone and put together a timeline of
all their comings and goings and it all coincides with the recorded code
scans."

"According to Sully, he didn't terminate Turner until late in the day,
probably after 5 o'clock. He couldn't have snuck in behind one of the guys
leaving. He wouldn't have gotten here that fast, right?" I asked.

Hector nodded to me in agreement. "Yeah...I don't think so, either. Besides,
there isn't any real cover around the gate. I'm pretty sure he would have
been seen. The gate closes in 15 seconds behind a car entering or leaving,
which isn't much time. Plus, most of these guys left one right after the
other, so somebody would have seen something. See here, this is the list of
the scans and the times they occurred." I looked at the list on the computer
screen. I could almost remember who left when and which scan was likely which
car. The last scan was recorded at 5:38pm.

"What's this code...here at 9:14?" I asked, pointing to the screen. Todd had
left a little after six last night, and as far as I knew no one else came or
went afterwards.

"I don't know," said Hector. "Wait a minute...that's odd. There's no symbol
telling us the code was entered into the keypad, like these others. Avery,
what does it mean if there's no symbol here in this column?" Avery came over
and looked closer at the screen.

"You see these scans at 10:45am and again around 2:30pm? The ones without the
symbol? Those are when Jack and Sam left and came back from lunch, right?"
asked Avery. I knew he was correct.

"Yes. But we didn't enter a code into the keypad. We just used the remote
button in the car for the gate. It's programmed for it," said Sam.

"And see here," said Todd, pointing to the scan code entry at 6:09pm. It also
was missing a symbol after the code. "This is when I left and used the remote
I have to exit the gate. I know I didn't see anyone enter through the gate
then, because I remember I stopped and waited for it to close. I watched the
whole process in my rear view mirror. I would have seen someone sneak inside,
I'm sure of it."

"So the scans without a symbol must be when a remote was used at the gate.
But there's an identical type scan at 9:14, and that's nearly two hours
before Hector and his men arrived, and I know Jack and I didn't leave. The
Smyths didn't either. Besides Todd, we're the only ones with remotes for gate
access." said Sam.

Todd suddenly gasped, a look of horror on his face. "Oh shit! Fuck, fuck,
fuck!" shouted Todd as he started pacing around the kitchen frantically.
"Holy fuck! How could I be so stupid!" He was looking right at me, his face
red. "I'm so, so sorry Jack. Oh shit, man, I'm so sorry." He stopped in front
of me, just frozen, staring at me like impending doom was upon him.

"What are you ranting about, Todd?" I asked.

"Turner. He got the second gate remote. Fuck! I can't believe it. He stole it
out of the file. Damn it! I knew something wasn't right, but I couldn't
figure it out. I moved everything to locked cabinets in the vault after
Arnold was rifling through the hard files while we were at the hotel the
other day. I didn't know he had taken anything, and I missed it. He must have
figured out the location of the house from the asset list and just grabbed
the remote. Fuck!"

I put my hand on his shoulder. "Todd, calm down. You can't catch everything.
It's alright," I said. Todd looked at me incredulously.

"There's no excuse, Jack. I'm responsible for all the assets in your
accounts. That includes property and security. We had two gate remotes in the
files. I know, because I pulled the one I've been using when we first came
out here the other day. The second one was definitely in the file. I'm almost
positive it wasn't there when I moved everything to the vault."

"Okay...you missed it. But you're not the one who took it...Turner did. It's
not like you gave it to him. And you certainly had no reason to think he even
knew about the gate or a remote, and with everything going on, it's no wonder
nobody caught on to his plan. He probably just took advantage of the
opportunity when he went through the files and grabbed it."

Todd looked at me like he wasn't buying my explanation. He clearly felt
personally responsible, to me and to Sam, as well. He surprised me when he
walked over to Sam and looked him right in the eye.

"Sam...I'm sorry. I screwed up. I'm the one who let him in, I guess," he said
humbly. Sam just looked at him. I couldn't read his face at first, but then
it was Sam's turn to shock us all. He looked at me, smiled, then he grabbed
Todd, who stiffened immediately, expecting the worst. Sam just hugged him
tightly. We all heard him say quietly, "It's okay, man. Really. Forget it.
Everything's cool." Todd relaxed and Sam let him go. They just looked at each
other in silence, and finally Todd nodded once and Sam returned the nod. Case
closed.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay," I said. "That explains how Turner got in
past the guards. So it wasn't anybody's fault. But we're clearly dealing with
a very dangerous man. How do we keep everybody safe, and what do we do about
him?"

"For now, we keep the place locked down tight. I've got guys stationed every
50 yards on the perimeter, in plain sight of the next guy. No way he gets
back in. The sheriff's got his deputies patrolling the roads for five square
miles, looking for Arnold's car, but I don't think they'll find it," said
Hector.

"Why not?" asked Sam.

"Because...this guy is smarter than your average loose cannon. It's one in a
million guys who has balls big enough to run from another man with a shotgun
aimed at his head, yet he did it and got away clean. Which tells me he had an
escape route through the woods already planned out. He knew exactly where my
guys were located and he avoided anybody seeing his escape. They followed his
trail all the way down to the fence. Looks like he climbed the only tree with
a branch twelve feet up and hanging over the fence. He literally went out on
a limb. My best guess...he had a car hidden along the road close by. Clever
bastard."

I involuntarily shuddered, remembering the determined, confident look in
Turner's dead eyes. I didn't like the idea of him running around loose
anymore. Someone was going to get hurt if he wasn't found soon. I suddenly
had a horrible thought.

"Sully!", I exclaimed. "Is he okay?"

Todd answered quickly. "Yes, he's safe. Hector's men are with him. He called
me about an hour ago and said his house was trashed, but nothing that
couldn't be fixed. Man, is he one pissed off old man. I wouldn't want to be
Arnold Turner if Sully ever gets a hold of him."

"He can take a number...but I guarantee there won't be much left," said Sam
defiantly.

"Okay, okay," said Hector. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We have to find
the asshole first. Avery, what's happening on that front?"

"Local law enforcement has put out a BOLO on him and his car. Nothing yet.
We're monitoring the scanners. Sully's locked up tight at an undisclosed
location. Oh...yeah...Jack, he said to tell you 'they're both safe'. Not sure
what he meant, but...anyway, until we get eyes on Turner, we need to assume
he's armed and dangerous. And obviously very unstable," said Avery.

"What about Davis?" I asked, looking directly at Todd. Hector answered.

"Todd told us about him right after Turner took off into the woods. I had two
guys with him inside of an hour. They've taken him, and his wife, to a hotel
in a nearby suburb and we're monitoring his phones and keeping a watch on his
house. We're thinking it'll be where Turner tries next."

"And Andrew?" I asked.

"Andrew? Who's Andrew?" inquired Avery, puzzled by the new name.

"Andrew Munroe, Davis' son," replied Sam. He looked at me, deeply concerned,
too.

"First I'm hearing of him," said Hector. "Tell me more." Todd spoke up and
explained who Andrew was and vaguely why Arnold Turner might consider him a
target. He didn't elaborate on the details of the blackmail plot.

Todd looked across the kitchen island at me. "Sorry, Jack. I assumed since
he's not local, he wasn't in any immediate danger."

"Do we know where this Munroe kid is?" asked Avery.

"He's not a kid. He's a doctor in El Paso. Runs a medical clinic for
indigents and illegal immigrants somewhere near the city. I can get the exact
location from Davis," answered Todd.

"And you think Turner's got some beef with this guy?" asked Hector, looking
at me.

"Yes, most definitely," I replied. "In fact, I don't know why, but I have the
strangest feeling Andrew Munroe is a big part of this whole nightmare. I
wouldn't be surprised if Turner didn't head straight for him. He knows where
he lives for sure. We need to get to him as soon as possible."

"Alright. Todd, get me his location, and I'll make a call. I can get a few
guys to wrap him up until we can sort all this out," said Hector.

"Wait a minute," said Sam. He walked over to me and held my hand. "Jack, we
can't just show up unannounced and grab the guy, even if it's for his own
good. He doesn't have any idea what's going on up here. We'll freak him out,
and he at least deserves an explanation."

"You're right, Sam," I said, realizing the soundness of his logic. "But it
doesn't seem much better to just tell him over the phone. I mean...we're
strangers calling to tell him his father's been blackmailed for years by a
psychopath who may now be hunting him?"

"So go to him personally," said Todd.

"What?" I asked.

"Go to El Paso, and meet with him face to face. Hector can have his guys meet
you there and you all go together to Andrew and tell him everything. Explain
to him why it's imperative he accept the security, and we can have Davis call
him to confirm the story, as well. I agree, it would be a whole lot better
doing it face-to-face."

"But if Turner's already headed down there, we're hours behind. We'll never
make it in time," said Sam.

"It's a good 10 or so hours to El Paso by car, and that's without stops,"
said Avery. "I know...I just did it a month ago. My cousin lives down there."

"So if he's driving, at best he's got a six hour head start, and that's
assuming he moved immediately in that direction. Given his failure here, I'd
like to think he'd take a little time somewhere, hole up, and regroup. We can
be on the road in 15 minutes or less. Hopefully we can catch up to him if we
don't stop."

"Or...you could take the plane," said Todd, smiling. I almost laughed as
Sam's eyes lit up with excitement at the prospect of flying on the jet again.

"Make the call, Todd," I said, with no hesitation. "Tell the guys to get the
plane ready for a fast trip to Texas. Hector, tell Todd who's coming with us.
Sam, we need to pack a bag. And I'm going downstairs to talk to my team." I
think I surprised everyone in the room, including myself, with my sudden
clarity and forceful decisions. The truth was, I had a really bad feeling
about Turner and Andrew Munroe. We needed to move quickly.

"How long we stayin' in Texas, Jack?" asked Sam.

"Figure on two or three days max. Crap! We have no clean clothes. Maggie was
going to wash them."

"All clean and ready to go, Jack," said Charles from the kitchen doorway to
the hall. "Maggie finished them a while ago. I just put the baskets in your
room. She's napping right now. I wanted her to rest before she starts dinner
for everyone."

I nodded to him. "Is she okay?"

"Maggie? Of course. She's made of pretty stern stuff. She doesn't scare
easily. I just don't want her to overdo it. We have a lot of mouths to feed
all of a sudden," he said, smiling.

"Thanks, Charles. And tell her thanks from me for holding down the fort while
we're gone, in case I don't see her before we leave." He nodded to me, and
then I grabbed Sam's hand and we headed downstairs.

I could see the armed guards outside through the windows, standing all around
the house. There were even two stern-faced sentries downstairs keeping watch
over my team. I knew I wasn't in any immediate danger now, and being
surrounded by guards was a comfort, but having Sam nearly attached to my side
was exactly what I wanted...and needed. I think he needed it, too.

"Hey, guys," I said, entering the main room, now our working office. I tried
for confident and upbeat, but I don't think I succeeded.

"Hey, Boss," came a chorus of concerned voices, as each man looked up from
his work. Simon said a quick, "I'll call you back" to someone and hung up his
cell phone. Will jumped up and came over to us, looking quite worried.

"You okay, Jack? We saw what Turner did. Scared the shit outta me." Sam had
moved right up next to me, his hand on my back.

"Yeah, I'm good...now. Sorry about all the chaos, guys."

"Did they find the fucker?" asked Danny, also standing up, looking ready for
action.

"Not yet," replied Sam. "They're still looking. The security team tracked him
through the woods and found where he got out, but until someone sees him and
we know for sure exactly where he is, we need you guys to stay here. Cool?"

"Uh...yeah, I guess," said Mason, speaking for the group. "Some of us had
plans for the weekend, but nothing we can't change. I sure as hell don't
wanna deal with Turner. The guy's psycho!"

"We have five extra bedrooms - two down here and three upstairs, so help
yourself to whatever you need," I said. "Maggie and Charles will put together
dinner for everyone. If you need anything, ask them, or whoever Hector leaves
in charge."

"Wait...hold up. Whadda ya mean, 'leaves in charge'? I thought Hector was the
guy in charge," said Simon.

"He is, but he's coming with us. Sam and I are headed to El Paso in a few
minutes. We have something we have to do. It's part of stopping Arnold Turner
for good. You'll just have to trust me on that, okay? I'll explain later," I
said.

"Uh...okay...I guess," replied Simon. "But they're leaving guards here,
right?"

Sam snorted. "Like every five feet! You'll be plenty safe here. You're
surrounded by the good guys," said Sam, smiling and trying to make light of a
totally ridiculous situation. Everybody sort of nodded to each other,
accepting their lot for the moment. Danny was watching Sam very closely,
studying him. Then he walked over to stand directly in front of Sam.

"Something wrong, Danny?" Sam asked, curious but not put off. I stopped
breathing.

"You're not letting Jack out of your sight, are you?" he stated, glancing at
me and then returning his eyes to Sam's.

"Not for a second," said Sam confidently.

"Good," said Danny, nodding with respect to Sam. I don't know why, but it
made me feel good that Danny had confidence in Sam's ability to protect me,
and that he cared enough to want me protected.

I exhaled, relieved. "Alright then," I said. "We need to go. If you all get
bored, you could...oh, I don't know...start a business or something." I got a
few half-hearted laughs.

"It's going to be okay, guys. You'll see. Sooner or later the authorities
will find Turner, and that'll be the end of him, and we can get back to
normal. I'll make sure Todd keeps in touch with everyone. If you need
anything, call him or me. Later, guys."

"Later, Boss," came their reply. Sam grabbed my hand and we trudged back
upstairs. I was tired, physically, mentally and emotionally. We spoke briefly
with Todd back in the kitchen. He had just hung up his cell phone after
calling Ron Albertson.

"The plane will be ready by the time we get to the airport. Ron's there
already. He was going over maintenance logs when I called. He texted Justin
as we spoke, and he's on his way in. Hector's rounding up an SUV and pulling
guys in for the trip. I called Margie. She'll meet us at the airport with a
bag for me, unless you want me to stay here," said Todd.

"No. Come with us...unless Margie feels otherwise. If she wants you here, I'm
fine with that," I replied. Todd smiled at me with a goofy grin.

"What?" I asked, trying not to be annoyed. We didn't have time for games
right now.

"How do you do it?" he asked.

"Do what?" I said.

"Think about my wife and what she would want while we're in the middle of a
freaking crisis?"

"It's a gift," said Sam, answering for me and smiling.

I looked at them like they were crazy. "Whatever. Come on, Sam, we need to
pack. Todd...seriously...call Margie. Whatever she wants, okay?" He nodded,
pulling out his phone. Sam and I didn't stand around to listen. Back in our
bedroom, Sam pulled out a suitcase and started putting clean clothes in it. I
pulled together all our toiletries and together we were packed in less than
15 minutes.

We quickly changed into more suitable traveling attire - I even put on
underwear - and with our feet now in socks and shoes, we were ready to go.
Sam pulled me to him at the bedroom door and held me in a tight hug for a few
seconds, before pulling back to look down into my eyes.

"Jack...I love you. I'm sorry if I'm being a pain in the ass, but...for
now...please just let me hover and watch over you. I...I need to know you're
safe, okay?"

"Sam...it's fine, really. Even if I start to get irritated, please do
whatever you need to. Until Turner is locked up tight, I'll take all the
protection I can get. I never want to be alone with that evil man again,
believe me." Sam nodded and grabbed my hand.

"Let's go," he said. We walked down the hallway, Sam's right hand fluttering
near the small of my back like always, our suitcase in his other hand. We
didn't stop, just kept walking, right out the front door.

And right into a semi-circle of six very large, armed-to-the-teeth
bodyguards, who closed up ranks around us as we moved in sync across the
driveway towards three large, black SUVs with tinted windows, motors idling.
The sun was down, the sky barely holding onto a fading shade of dark blue. We
were deposited into the middle seats of the center vehicle. Todd joined us a
minute later, accompanied by two guards, and squeezed himself into the last
row of seats behind us, as Hector hopped into the front passenger seat. I
didn't recognize the driver, a square jawed, dark haired man who probably
needed to shave twice a day. Pure testosterone. He was staring straight
ahead, hands on the wheel, ready for action. I didn't introduce myself. He
had a job to do, and it wasn't to chit chat with us.

Speaking into a radio, Hector commanded, "Alright, let's roll. Centennial
Airport. Stay alert, people." The front truck pulled away, and our driver
followed closely behind. I couldn't see it, but I assumed the third SUV was
still behind us as well.

The thirty minute ride to the airport passed in silence. At least, no one
talked with Sam, Todd or me. Hector spoke constantly with several different
members of his team by cell phone and radio, getting status updates and new
information. He was personally on high alert, his body tense and his mind
extremely focused. After the near miss with Turner, I knew Hector would do
everything humanly possible to keep us protected, or die trying.

Reaching Centennial Airport and the hangar area where our plane was housed,
our little caravan pulled up within twenty feet of the plane, gleaming white
in the bright lights shining down on the tarmac from the hangar roof, the
engines already whining in anticipation. Captain Ron was standing at the
bottom of the stairs with Margie, who had an overnight bag in her hands and a
worried look on her face.

Hector punched the call button on his radio. "Circle up. Let's go." Doors
opened on the other two SUVs and very quickly four agents were standing like
a shield between our vehicle and the plane. Hector turned backwards and
nodded to us. "You can move now. Stay inside the circle. I don't think
there's any danger, but I'm not taking chances at this point. We still don't
have eyes on Turner, and until we do, we're gonna act like he's around the
next corner at all times...got it?" He said it like we might argue with him.
No chance.

Sam and I slid out on the plane side, and Todd un-pretzeled himself from the
back seat to stand next to us on the tarmac. He saw Margie and started to
move toward her and was instantly restrained by a strong hand on his
shoulder.

"Hey...that's my wife over there. Let go of me," said Todd with obvious
frustration. The agent reluctantly released his hold on Todd after getting a
nod from Hector. The security team was clearly not taking chances. Todd shook
off his "captor" and walked over to Margie and hugged her. She smiled thinly,
putting on a brave front, but I could tell she was worried. Who wouldn't be?

"Hey, Sam," she said, as we walked over to the steps and Sam gave her a quick
hug. Then she turned to me. "How you holdin' up, Jack? Todd told me what
happened. You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah...I think so. Sam's keepin' a close eye on me, as is Todd. And of
course, we have our squadron of keepers surrounding us now. Are you sure
you're okay with Todd coming with us? I told him it was your call, and I
meant it. If you want him here with you, it's done. Say the word."

"No...well, I do, but...he'll just fret and be anxious and want to be with
you guys, and if you think he can help you down there, then he needs to go.
You won't let anything happen to him, though, right? Because if you do, Sam
won't have much to play with when I'm finished with you...if you get what I'm
sayin'." She said it with a smile, but I still flinched, knowing she was
serious.

Sam spoke up, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "He'll be fine,
Margie. Hector and the guys will be with us the whole time. We should be back
by Sunday night." She just nodded to him, her right hand reaching up and
across her chest to pat his hand on her shoulder.

"Margie...I'll be fine. I'll call you when we get to wherever we're staying
for the night, okay?" said Todd. His wife turned to him.

"Fine. But you listen to me...you get hurt, there's no more sex for you. So
keep your head down, your eyes open, and your dick in your pants. You're
mine. Got it?" Todd blushed, but his eyes were flashing, full of excitement
and love for his wife. Sam was trying not to laugh. Then dropping the bag
she'd been holding, Margie reached up with both hands and grabbed Todd's
face, pulling him into a searing, passionate kiss that lasted a little while.

Breaking it off and stepping back, she looked at him and said, "Okay, go on
with you. I'll see you when you get back." Todd just looked at her, still
slightly stunned from the kiss. Margie smiled at him. "I love you, babe. Come
home to me in one piece, okay?" she said, gently. He smiled hugely at her,
hugged her tightly, then picked up his bag where Margie had dropped it, and
turned to climb up into the plane.

Margie stepped over to me and kissed me on the cheek. "Always give 'em a
reason to want to come home," she whispered in my ear. I smiled. She was
good.
"Be safe, guys," she said, looking now at Sam and me. Then she turned to our
pilot. "Ron, have a safe flight. You and Justin have some pretty precious
cargo tonight." she said, smiling.

"Yes, ma'am," replied Ron. Sam and I turned to climb the stairs. Just before
ducking my head to enter the plane, I turned around to see Hector looking
relieved our little love fest out in the open had wrapped up. Man, was he
jittery tonight. He gave a few more instructions to his team, and then
followed me up the steps.

Inside the cabin, Todd was already ensconced at his seat at the table, ready
to work the second we got the all clear. There were three security agents
sitting in the back, none of whom had been introduced to us. Maybe Hector
felt it would keep things more formal and less personal that way. However he
wanted to play it was fine with me. Hector took a seat across the aisle from
the table, and Sam and I sat on one of the leather couches and fastened our
seat belts.

Justin's voice came over the PA system. "Buckle up everyone. We've been
cleared for takeoff, so we'll have a short taxi and get going straight away.
Flight time should be a little less than two hours." I could feel the power
of the engines as they throttled up, and in less than three minutes we were
airborne.

Sam was smiling in the subdued lighting of the cabin. He leaned over and
whispered to me. "I fucking love this plane, Jack!" I grinned back at him.

"I know you do, big guy. I'm glad," I said, reaching to hold his hand. I
leaned my head on his shoulder and promptly fell asleep. At some point, Sam
must have laid down and put his head in my lap, because that's where he was,
snoring softly, when Ron gently shook my shoulder to wake us before landing
in El Paso. I rubbed my eyes and tried to stretch a little, my movements
waking Sam. He sat up quickly.

"We there already?" he asked, pulling his long, muscular arms over his head
and leaning back to stretch as well.

"Ron said we're landing in ten." I replied. Sam looked at me and I couldn't
read the expression on his face. He leaned into me slowly, and then gently
kissed me. I kissed him back, unconcerned Hector and three other very large,
burly men might be watching us. After the day we'd had, who cared?

"Stick close to me, Jack...okay?" whispered Sam in my ear. I nodded. That was
my only plan so far on this trip. I hoped Todd had figured out where we were
going and maybe even a plan for how to approach Andrew Munroe without
spooking him completely.

I stood up and used the forward lavatory, while Sam used the aft. When I sat
back down and fastened my seatbelt, Hector moved to a seat closer to the sofa
where Sam and I were sitting.

"There've been some developments," he said ominously.

"What developments?" asked Sam, sitting down next to me.

"My guys got a tip that a car matching the description of Arnold Turner's was
spotted at a Best Western hotel in Raton, New Mexico. I called in a favor and
got somebody to run the plates. It's his car."

I sighed in relief. They had him. "That's great. So the police will pick him
up and we're done with the whole nightmare."

"Uh...not exactly, Jack," replied Hector.

"What? Why not?"

"For one, he's crossed state lines, which confuses the jurisdictional
parameters and some other bullshit I'd just as soon forget. Second, the local
ADA isn't sure he can make the attempted murder charge stick. Turner didn't
actually threaten you with the gun, he just held it. It's a real grey area.
The best he thinks he can prove is reckless endangerment. And he won't go for
extradition without something more. Incidentally, this is the same ADA who
decided to not level the same reckless endangerment charge at Charles Smyth,
who actually fired his gun. Twice."

"You've got to be kidding me! Turner trespasses on our property, threatens
Jack with a gun, and Charles is the one who could get in trouble, not Turner?
This is so fucked up," Sam said.

Hector sighed and nodded, equally frustrated. "Bottom line, we know where
Turner is, but the police can't touch him. Yet. The ADA is trying to build a
bigger case with the Sullivan break in. We know where Turner is now. And we
know we're ahead of him. He's at least seven hours away from El Paso, and it
looks like he's hunkered down for the night. Probably didn't think he'd be
spotted. I'll have two men sitting on the car all night, and they'll let us
know when he starts moving again."

"Can't your men just go in a grab him and hold him until the authorities get
their act together?" asked Sam, beyond frustrated.

"I wish. But we have no legal authority to apprehend people. We can protect,
secure, and investigate. We can even assist authorities if asked, but we
can't outright arrest people. Now...if Turner were to do something that was
an immediate danger to one of our protectees, then we can legally take action
to prevent harm coming to a client. Unfortunately, right now it looks like
he's just sleeping."

"Shit! We have to play by the rules, while that psycho can do whatever the
hell he wants, whenever he wants," said Sam, totally disgusted. My attitude
exactly.

"Look...I know it bites. But guys, we WILL get the son of a bitch. He's
already done plenty to get himself locked up for a lotta years. We'll keep
him under surveillance, and the police and the prosecutors will eventually
build an ironclad case against him. In the mean time, we stick to our play
book. We keep it tight, and constant. Do what my guys tell you, and you'll be
safe. Maybe we'll get lucky and he'll do something stupid and we can grab him
ourselves."

Todd had been listening from the work table. "If Turner's not in El Paso, we
don't need to crash in on Andrew Munroe tonight, right? So, should we plan to
stay in El Paso for the night, and then head down to Fort Hancock in the
morning?"

"Fort what?" I asked. "What are you talking about, Todd?"

"Fort Hancock. It's a tiny community along I-10 about an hour south of El
Paso. It's where Andrew runs his medical clinic. According to Davis, he also
has a house nearby. It's right on the border with Mexico."

"Does Andrew know we're coming?" asked Sam.

"Not yet. Davis said he would call Andrew tonight and give him a heads up we
were coming, but he doesn't want to be the one to give him the details.
Jack...he asked if you would do it. He said he trusted you to do it right -
his words. To tell you the truth, guys, I think Davis is kind of ashamed at
the way he's handled everything. He doesn't think Andrew will take it very
well, hearing the whole saga from him, since he's the one who sort of let it
all happen in the first place."

"Well, I agree with Todd, if we can avoid ruining his evening, I suppose it
would be best to talk with Andrew in the morning. Todd, can you arrange
transportation from the airport for all of us?" I said.

"Already taken care of, Jack," answered Hector. "There'll be a team and
vehicles waiting for us when we land. From here on out, until you decide you
don't need us around, my team will handle all your transportation and
security. We do need to know where you want to stay tonight."

"I'm on it," said Todd, pulling out his IPad. Two minutes later the wheels
touched down gently in the dry, desert air of west Texas, and the plane
rolled out down the runway. As we taxied to the general aviation ramp, Todd
managed to book hotel rooms for our entourage. The plane finally came to a
stop and the engine whine diminished substantially, almost like a sigh of
relief.

Hector asked us to remain on the plane until he had a chance to coordinate
with his new security team on the ground. He and the three agents who
travelled with us deplaned, while Todd texted Margie our latest whereabouts,
and Sam and I stood and stretched and waited.

"Everything okay at home, Todd?" I asked.

"Yeah. She's fine. I told her Turner's not even down here, so not to worry."

"Where are we staying tonight?" asked Sam.

"I've got us in the Staybridge Suites about a mile away. Not exactly the Four
Seasons, guys, but it's the best I could find on short notice."

"Todd...I don't think Sam and I really care if it's a five star hotel or not.
As long as it's clean and no bugs, it'll be fine." Todd nodded, then finished
putting his electronic toys in his briefcase. Ron and Justin came out of the
cockpit and I walked up to speak to them.

"Hey guys, nice ride. Thanks," I said.

"No sweat, Jack," said Justin, smiling. "Didn't think we'd see you again so
soon. How's Sam?"

"Fine. He's back with Todd."

"No he's not," said Sam, right behind me. I should have known he would be
close by. My shadow, my lover, my forever. He wrapped his arms around me from
behind and I leaned back into him, comfortable in front of Ron and Justin.

"You guys get all settled in at the house?" asked Ron. We filled them both in
about our decision to stay in Denver. Justin again suggested we all get
together soon for a cookout or something, and we agreed to try to set a date
soon. It did sound like fun.

Hector came back up the stairs and said they were ready for us. Todd, Sam and
I descended to the tarmac and were immediately cocooned in a moving shell of
black-clothed behemoth men, their faces hard enough to cut metal. Where did
Hector get these guys? They all looked ex-military. As long as they kept us
safe, I decided I wasn't asking too many questions.

We only had two vehicles this time, and our ride to the hotel was short. Todd
went in, with Hector and another agent escorting him, to check us all in. The
rest of us went in and were standing off to the side of the lobby, looking
conspicuously like a couple of Hollywood movie stars and their entourage.
Well, Sam did. Me, I probably looked like his accountant or something.

Todd came over and distributed plastic room keys. Hector outlined where
everyone was staying. He had "convinced" the manager to keep the rooms all
together on an upper floor which was largely not occupied. Sam and I were in
a one bedroom suite. Todd and Hector were in a two bedroom suite next door.
The other agents were across the hall and on the other side of Sam and me.
With two to a room, I guess the agents were sharing a bed? Whatever.

It was late, but I was hungry. Which meant Sam had to be, too. "Todd, could
we get some pizzas and drinks delivered here to the hotel? None of us had
dinner."

"Great idea. I'm starving," he said, smiling. He went around the group asking
what people liked, and in typical Todd fashion had pizza, soda, and water on
its way before we even found our rooms. I noted he didn't order any beer or
other alcohol.

"I'll call you guys when the pizza gets here," said Todd, keying into his
room, Hector right behind him.

"Hold up, Todd," he said sternly. Todd stopped with one foot in the room, the
other still in the hallway. "Let my guys go in first and clear the room."

"Really?" whispered Sam in my ear.

"I heard that, Sam," said Hector. "And yes...really. You want a repeat of
this morning? 'Cause I sure as hell don't." Sam shook his head, sufficiently
chastised. I felt bad for him, but while it may have seemed over the top, I
was secretly relieved Hector was taking his responsibilities so seriously.

Todd stepped back, and the three of us waited in the hall with one agent on
each side of us while the others swept all the rooms. Pronouncing them all
clear, Sam keyed into our room and closed the door behind us. The room was
clean, comfortable, and more than we needed for one night. Sam set the
thermostat to something a little cooler and I sat on the edge of the bed. He
came over and sat next to me, his hand on my thigh. I leaned over and rested
my head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Sam."

"For what?"

"For dragging you into all this drama. I mean, is this all for real? Security
agents? Psycho maniacs with guns? Six weeks ago I was doing my little
bookkeeping job, minding my own business. You were happily cleaning pools in
the sunshine, not a care in the world. And then bam...we meet and it's
great...love at first sight...but now...now it feels like all hell's broken
loose on us." I sighed wearily.

"What are you saying, Jack? That we shouldn't be together because other
people are whacked?" asked Sam carefully.

"No!" I exclaimed, grabbing his hand in mine. "No...I need you, Sam. And I
love you. No...we belong together. I just...I hate it that I've brought all
this chaos down around us. I don't get it. My life was never like this.
Nothing ever happened. Ever. Now..."

"Jack...this isn't your fault," said Sam. "Sure, it sucks to be in constant
turmoil, but things will settle down eventually. They have to. Turner will
get picked up tomorrow, we'll talk with Andrew Munroe in the morning, see if
we can help the guy, and then we'll go home. You'll keep working on your
business with your world class team, and you and I will be together forever."

"You still want me...forever? Like this?"

"Like what? Sexy and vulnerable, with those beautiful eyes and your kisses
that make me want to rip my clothes off every time our lips touch? Do I want
you, Jack? I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with
you...no matter what craziness is happening all around us. Because in here,"
he said, tapping his chest. "In here, there's nothing and no one, but you and
me."

"You think I'm sexy?" I said, grinning.

"Not even a little bit, you jerk," Sam replied, smiling big, then he pushed
me back on the bed and climbed on top of me, kissing me hard. His need was
overwhelming, and my own came rising up like a flood to meet it. Sam started
kissing my neck and I was moaning and pulling at his shirt, trying to get to
nipples. He suddenly pushed up and straddled my waist, his hard cock obvious
in his jeans, my own pressing up into his ass. He grinned as he slowly pulled
off his t-shirt, at the same time sliding back and forth a little on my dick,
until I thought I might cum. He was so hot!

His shirt off, I strained upwards and my mouth found a nipple, my tongue
swirling and licking, my teeth nibbling gently. Sam was the one moaning now,
gasping and gyrating on top of me. He pushed my t-shirt up, his fingers
finding my nipples, squeezing and pulling and causing my dick to practically
hemorrhage pre-cum. At one point he squeezed my left nipple harder than usual
and I yelled out. Sam stifled my yelling by bending back down and kissing me,
my now constant moans of ecstasy smothered by his tongue as his fingers
continued their assault on my nipples, driving me crazy with lust.

Suddenly there was a commotion at the door and one of the security guys was
through the front room and two steps into the bedroom before realizing I was
not being molested by Arnold Turner. He stopped, frozen in horror at
intruding on us. Sam was still on top of me, straddling my waist, his shirt
off, his nipples hard and erect. I don't know if the agent could see from
where he was standing, but there was no doubt my own hard cock was on display
under the giant wet spot on my jeans, right under Sam's magnificent ass.

"Uh...uh...oh god. My bad. Um...sorry guys...I thought...shit." He stopped
talking, his face flaming red. Sam smiled at me, kissed me quickly, and
turned around and slid off of me, so he could face the agent.

"Hey man, it's okay," said Sam. "What's your name?"

"Benjamin. Ben," he answered, putting his gun back in his shoulder rig.

"Nice to meet you, Ben. I'm Sam, this is Jack, but you know that already,
don't you." Ben just weakly smiled, his face still flushed.

"Well...Ben...as you can see, Jack and I are partners, and we've had a
stressful day...and...well...you know."

"I'm so sorry, guys. I thought one of you...I mean I heard...oh, shit, Ben,
shut up already," he said to himself, now starting to smile a little. Sam
laughed out loud, and I smiled, too, no longer really embarrassed. Well,
except for the wet spot at my crotch, which now felt a little uncomfortable.

Ben was big. All of Hector's men were big. Massive arms and chest, dark hair
cut high and tight in a military style. He had a hint of a beard growing,
probably just a heavy end-of-the-day shadow. His eyes were intelligent and
brilliant green, like mine. Since no one was in any real danger, Ben stood
there in the doorway to the bedroom, not knowing what to do.

"Ben...relax. Jack and I are fine. You were just doing your job. I guess we
were getting a little carried away."

"I would have never intruded if I'd known. Shit, guys. I didn't think. Hector
told us you were a couple. I just didn't figure on...well...I mean...if you
were a guy and a girl..."

"If you had heard...what you heard...you would have assumed we were having
sex and left us alone?" I asked, smiling.

"Well...yeah. I mean, it goes with the territory of protecting people. You
have to let them live their lives, and sex is a part of it, right?"

"Usually," said Sam, grabbing my hand. "It is for us." Instead of being
embarrassed, I felt proud to be with Sam. It was like we were standing up for
ourselves and our right to be a sexual couple together. It felt really good,
especially in light of everything else we had to deal with.

"As I said, my bad," said Ben. "I get the picture now. I just didn't connect
the dots in my head. I'll be honest with you, you guys are the first gay
couple I've been assigned to. I'll get my shit together. I'm just glad you're
okay."

"Well...surprisingly enough, despite your barging in on what could have been
an extremely awkward situation...more than it already is...I'm glad you're on
the team. Have you noticed no one else thought to check on us? So thank you,
Ben, for doing your job," I said, meaning it.

"Uh...you're welcome?" he said, unsure how to respond. Sam laughed.

"Come on. Let's go sit in the front room and wait for our pizza," said Sam.

"I'll be in in a minute," I said. I needed to change my jeans and underwear.
No way I was sitting around all night looking like I'd peed my pants. I
changed quickly into a pair of shorts and joined them in the living room
area.

"You were on the plane with us, right?" asked Sam. Ben nodded. "So you're
part of Hector's crew in Denver?"

"Yeah. I've been with him for about five years. He recruited me when I got
out of the Marines after my full tour." Sam had given Ben one of the bottles
of water the hotel had put in the room. He had the other one, which he
offered to me. I took a sip and handed it back to him.

"So you're how old?" asked Sam.

"31."

"So what's it like, working security?" asked Sam. "You must like it if you've
stayed with it for so long."

"I do like it. I'm mostly assigned as a personal bodyguard. That was my job
in the service as well. I travelled with a two-star general to some seriously
bad ass neighborhoods around the world. My job was like the secret service
and the President, I guess. Secure the protectee at all costs."

"So you go where your protectee goes, no matter what? How do you have a
personal life?" I asked.

Ben laughed. "It's not easy. Mostly you don't, not really. Which for me is no
big deal. I'm not exactly the kind of guy a girl would want to settle down
with. I'm too aggressive and insensitive and...I don't know. I'm married to
the job. It's what I am. It's all I want to be. It works for me."

Sam looked at me, and then back over to Ben. He had a curious expression on
his face. He looked at me again, doing his usual staring routine. He quickly
nodded to himself and said, "I want Ben to be assigned to you when all this
mess with Turner is over."

"Sam...will that really be necessary? I mean, the only danger is Arnold
Turner, and he's all but finished. I don't need a permanent bodyguard."

"Maybe not. But for now, just humor me and go along with it. As much as I may
want to, I probably can't be with you all the time, Jack, and it would mean a
lot to me if you had someone nearby looking out for you. Please just think
about it." He was being gentle with me, but the look in his eyes was not
asking. He was telling me. I looked into those beautiful deep blue eyes, saw
the love and concern alive in them, and simply nodded my head in agreement.
Of course I would do it. Because I loved him.

Turning to Ben, I asked, "You okay with this crazy idea of my partner's? You
want to be my permanent bodyguard?"

Ben smiled. "Well...that's up to Hector, I guess. It's his show. But if you
guys want me, sure, I'm in. As long as you're cool with me knowing your
business."

"You mean like what you almost walked in on?" asked Sam seriously.

Ben nodded. "That...and any other aspects of your personal life. Having close
security can be difficult for people to deal with sometimes. We try to limit
our intrusion, but sometimes it's necessary. And believe me...when we feel
it's necessary, you don't get a say. We bust up into your life and answer
questions later. Our job in those moments is to make sure there is a
'later'."

We were saved from any more serious conversation about security by Todd
knocking on our door, letting us know the pizza was here. The three of us
paraded next door to join Hector, Todd and the rest of the agents. We all sat
wherever we could - I sat on the floor and leaned against Sam's legs while he
sat on the end of the couch - and ate too much pizza. Sensing we were all
sliding into sleepiness, Hector turned the conversation to the next morning
and making plans.

Apparently Andrew Sullivan operated a medical clinic near the center of town
in Fort Hancock, about one hour south of El Paso. He had Saturday clinic
hours from 9 am - 2 pm. The plan was to try to get to him before he started
work, and the decision was made to arrive at his house around 7:30 and Sam
and I would speak to him then. Which meant we all needed to be on the road by
6:30 at the latest. I was exhausted just thinking about it.

I helped Todd collect all the empty pizza boxes and soda cans, and Sam, Todd
and I carried them to a closet in the hallway where the front desk clerk had
directed us. It held a trash bin big enough to hold it all. Ben was never
more than six steps away from me. Sam was no more than two.

We said goodnight to Todd and walked next door to our room, Ben in lock step
with us. I noticed he did not eat a lot of pizza like everybody else, which
surprised me, seeing as he was a big guy, so I assumed he would have a big
appetite. "You don't like pizza much?" I asked him, as he held out his hand
for the key to our room, which Sam promptly surrendered.

"No, I love pizza. But it makes me sleepy. I just don't want to eat too much
while on duty." He went into our room, did his security sweep, and returned
the key to Sam at the door.

"All clear, guys. Have a good night."

I was confused. "You're on duty? I thought we were all just hanging out for
now. Turner's a long way away from here."

"Hector says we stay on guard until he's apprehended. Which means we do
staggered watches tonight. Two of us will be awake and watching at all times.
And listening," he said with a cheeky grin.

"I guess we'd better be a little quieter tonight then...eh, Jack?" said Sam,
smiling at me. I just blushed.

"It's cool, guys, I promise. Just be yourselves. We'll keep you safe. See you
in the morning." He nodded to us and Sam closed the door and we were finally
alone again. I didn't know what Sam had planned - I just wanted to sleep. I
was exhausted.

I used the bathroom first, and was naked and in bed under the sheets when Sam
came out of the bathroom and walked past the foot of the bed, also totally
naked. He was so beautiful in the shadowy low light coming from the bathroom.
As tired as I was, I was instantly hard and wanting his hands on me again. My
mind flashed to Ben - or whoever was on duty - standing just outside the room
door, but even that didn't deter my lust for Sam. He sensed me watching him
as he folded his clothes and went back to turn out the bathroom light.

As my eyes adjusted to the near total darkness now enveloping the room, I
felt more than saw Sam as he approached the bed and slid under the sheets
with me. The warmth of his body was comforting, his arms my shield against
the world, as they pulled me into his chest tightly. I kissed him, softly at
first, then I felt his tongue venture forth against my lips, and I opened my
mouth to receive it. His breath was minty fresh. It's the little things.

We made love quietly and quickly, and I fell asleep with Sam's arms around
me, totally content, and we slept soundly until the alarm woke us at 6 am. I
was lying on my back in the middle of the bed, with Sam's head on my chest.
He was groggy of course, grumbling about the alarm, which I had managed to
stretch far enough to turn off. Sam was still mumbling, eyes not quite open,
as we showered together. He was definitely not a morning person. He'd be okay
once I got some coffee into him, though.

We put on shorts and t-shirts - it was going to be a hot day - and re-packed
our few belongings. I texted Todd and told him we were ready to go, and he
said everyone was in the lobby eating the free continental breakfast and
drinking burnt coffee. There was a knock at our bedroom door and Sam went to
answer it. Ben was standing in the doorway with a big smile on his face.

"Morning, guys. Ready to go?" Ben was definitely a morning person. Sam
grumbled under his breath, something about "must have coffee", and I followed
him out, carrying our bag. Ben just chuckled to himself and led the way to
the elevators.

One thing about having Todd travel with us was I never had to think about
things like paying the bill or buying the food or any sort of regular-life
kinds of things. He just took care of it for us. On the one hand, he seemed
to really enjoy doing it, and he was damned good at it. But on the other
hand, it seemed a little beneath his pay grade, whatever that was. Crap! I
really had no idea what my guys were being paid. Ugh! More to learn, more to
do.

Down in the lobby, I ate a blueberry muffin, still slightly frozen in the
center, and drank some orange juice out of a machine. It tasted good to me.
Sam made a face when he first tasted the coffee Todd placed in front of him,
but he drank it. By the time the first cup was in him, his eyes were open and
he was smiling again. He drank another cup of coffee, ate three muffins and a
banana, and took an apple for the road. He was content and smiling again.
Which had me smiling, too.

The only person who ate more than Sam was Hector. He looked worried, and
every time I tried to make small talk he would disengage and find something
else to do, like check his text messages or voicemail. It was as if he were
avoiding me for some reason. What did I do?

Just as Todd and I were cleaning up the mess we had made, Hector's phone rang
and he sprang up and walked away so he could hear the caller better. The
lobby had become quite noisy with early morning guests arriving for
breakfast. As I dumped a pile of trash into the receptacle at the end of the
breakfast counter, I saw Hector's countenance completely fall. His eyes
clouded over with worry when he caught me watching him. I saw him nod his
head and say something else to the caller, then he hung up and walked over to
Todd and me.

"That...was not good news. Let's get everybody together outside at the
vehicles and I'll bring everyone up to speed." He turned, put his sunglasses
on, and walked out the main entrance. Todd looked at me, and I just shrugged.
Sam and Ben stepped over to us - they had been talking about something
amongst themselves while Todd and I cleaned up - and Sam saw the concern on
our faces.

"What's up, Bean Counter?" he asked Todd.

"Don't know. Hector said he just got some not so good news. We're supposed to
meet by the SUVs outside." Ben instantly ramped up his security mode, herding
us together, his eyes shifting all over the room, looking for what, I had no
idea. We were met at the door by two other agents, and the six of us made our
way across the parking lot to the vehicles, now running, the air conditioning
cooling off the insides, hopefully. It was hot!

Hector had the three of us - Todd, Sam, and me - surrounded by himself and
five other agents. We were corralled between the two SUVs, and the agents
were looking out from our little circle, not at Hector. Their intensity and
focus was palpable. Things had suddenly gotten very serious.

Hector looked at us and said, "I got a call from my crew in Raton. This
morning a guy came out of the room we thought was Arnold Turner's, and tried
to drive away in Turner's car. My guys...well, let's just say they
intervened...and determined the driver's name is Harvey Wilson. He says he
worked with Turner, and he was coerced by Turner into driving his car to
Raton. He was supposed to just spend the night in the motel - which he did -
and then drive the car back to Denver and leave it in a parking garage.
Turner even gave him his credit card to pay for the trip."

"Geez! Is there anybody working at the bank NOT being blackmailed by Turner?
Harvey is low level AP clerk in accounting, I think." said Todd.

"What does all this mean?" I asked, having a pretty good idea already, but I
wanted to hear Hector say it.

"It means...that Arnold Turner was not in Raton, New Mexico last night nor
this morning," answered Hector, evenly.

"Yeah, we get that. So where is he?" asked Sam, with a real edge to his
voice.

"We don't know. He's still in the wind."

"In the wind. In the FUCKING wind? You said you had him. You said he was
wrapped up tight. You said the authorities were going to swoop in this
morning and grab him. What the fuck?" Sam seethed.

I was thinking a lot of things all at once, and it was all a jumble inside my
head. But it wasn't the time to sort through it all. We needed to move.

"Let's roll," I said, pushing past the security agent next to me and opening
the back door of the nearest SUV. I stood there looking at Sam, saying not a
word, and he stared back at me. It took him less than five seconds to nod
once to me. He turned to Todd.

"Todd. Let's go," said Sam. "We need to escalate our timeline. The rest of
you, move your asses. We've got a psycho to catch." I saw the agents look to
Hector for direction, and he just nodded to them. At least he wasn't trying
to fight us. We still needed him, though for how much longer was very much up
in the air.

Todd gave our driver the address. The GPS system indicated it was just under
50 miles to Ft. Hancock. "Hector," I said, "you've got 40 minutes to get us
there. Not a minute more. Make it happen." Sam grabbed my hand and squeezed
it and nodded to me in approval. It was up to us to save Andrew now.

We made it to Exit 72 off of I-10 in 34 minutes. I have no idea how fast we
were going. I didn't care. We rolled past a Shell gas station near the
interstate and continued down Knox Street. We crossed a single grade set of
railroad tracks, went another couple of blocks, and turned right onto Rio
Grande street. Andrew Munroe was fortunate to live on a paved street. Most of
the streets bisecting the main drag through town were just...hard packed
dirt.

We pulled up in a cloud of dust at the very end of the street. The only thing
beyond was the open desert, peppered here and there with sage brush and not
much else. To our left, Andrew's home was situated behind a four foot high
chain linked fence, with an opening in front just wide enough for a car to
enter the compound. I couldn't see a garage - or a car, for that matter. Nor
was there any grass. Just dust and dirt.

We weren't exactly inconspicuous. Two black SUVs with dark tinted windows
stuck out like a sore thumb and screamed government authorities. I saw a
window shade in a neighbor's house rise and a brown face peek out at us, then
quickly drop back into place. If we were to knock on their door, I was
guessing there would be nobody home.

"Hector, have your men do whatever you think they should, but Sam, Todd and I
are going in to see Andrew in five minutes. Preferably sooner.
Move...please." Being angry wouldn't get us anywhere, and the bottom line
was, Sam and I could be ticked off at Hector, but we still needed him and his
agents to protect us. They were the only ones with guns.

Ben was the agent who opened our door three minutes later, after four of the
agents had kicked up a veritable dust storm running into the yard and
checking things out. I could hear dogs barking in the distance. The
scrawniest orange cat I'd ever seen sauntered past us across the street,
moving in a constant, slow motion gait in the heat, oblivious to the
commotion. Or maybe government raids were commonplace down here and the cat
was just used to it.

"Stay close to me, guys. I think we're okay." Ben had his hand on his gun,
ready for whatever might pop up behind the the nearest piece of sagebrush. To
tell the truth, I was getting more than a little frustrated with all the
over-the-top secret service, close protection crap.

"No offense, Ben. But enough is enough." I stepped around him and took off
towards the front door at a fast clip, with Sam right beside me. Ben was only
a step behind, and if I wasn't mistaken, he had a grin on his face. Good. I
didn't want him mad at me.

I stepped up onto the simple concrete porch - a stoop really - and knocked on
the reddish brown front door of the single story, dirty white stucco home. It
looked to be maybe 1500 square feet, perfectly square, with a couple of
double windows on the front wall equidistant from the front door and the
corners of the house. The yard was not full of junk, which was a small
blessing, and made it stand out against the landscaping efforts of the
neighbors. Though to be fair, there wasn't much you could do with dust for a
lawn.

The door cracked open, and I heard an exasperated sigh and the person on the
other side struggled with it. Then it was suddenly yanked fully open by a
tall, handsome man of about 35. He was definitely Davis Munroe's son. The
resemblance was undeniable. His dark, black hair was damp, most likely from a
shower, and a little on the long side. It fell down into his eyes in front,
and rested on the back of the collar of his button down, blue dress shirt. He
was wearing off white chino pants and brown loafer shoes. No socks. His brown
eyes were full of intelligence - and questions.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Yes. We're sorry to be barging in on you so early in the morning, but we've
come from Denver to speak with you about an urgent matter. May we come in?"

"Are you from the bank? My father called last night and said someone would be
coming by."

"Yes, in a manner of speaking, we are. We won't take much of your time. I
know you're extremely busy. But we really do need to speak with you." Andrew
looked past me for the first time and saw the security agents lined up at
intervals in front of his house, facing outward. I don't know if it was the
armed guards, his father's call the night before, or just his accepting and
trusting nature, but he stepped back and held the door open to us. Sam and I,
followed by Todd, went inside, and Andrew closed the door behind us. Ben
apparently didn't think we were in any danger inside Andrew's house, so he
stayed outside on the front stoop.

"Let's go into the kitchen. I'm putting together our lunches. We have to be
at the clinic in less than an hour," said Andrew, as he turned and walked
through a living room populated with mission style furniture. By "mission
style", I mean furniture that would have been given to a mission or similar
charity and probably made available for free. Worn, with a few minor rips and
tears here and there, but it was all clean. A daunting task given the
environment.

"I can offer you water bottles or cold coffee. We don't have much else. We do
the shopping up in the city on Sundays."

"Water would be fine, thanks," I said.

"So what's with the men in black outside?" Andrew asked, putting the
finishing touches on a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches.
"Seriously...what's this all about? My father said I should talk to you...so
somebody talk."

I swallowed and decided to make it short and sweet. "My name is Jack
Schaeffer, this is my partner, Sam Wainwright, and next to him is my right
hand, Todd Martin."

"Todd Martin? I know that name. Dad's mentioned you, I think. You work with
Larry Weiss?" Todd nodded.

"How's he doin'?" I was surprised Andrew had any idea of the happenings in
Denver. But then it would make sense Davis would tell him about Larry and his
heart attack. Just not anything about Arnold Turner. No...that was my job,
apparently.

Todd answered. "He's recovering well. Should be moved to a rehab facility
this weekend. Then he'll be home in about two weeks, maybe sooner."

"Good. Dr. Magnuson's an excellent cardiologist. He'll take good care of
him," said Andrew as he put the sandwiches, two fat dill pickles, and two
small bags of barbeque potato chips into a large paper bag. Lunch for two?

"I hope so," said Todd.

"So...Jack. What brings you all down to our lovely little village in the
desert that you couldn't just call me on the phone?" He sounded genuinely
curious and slightly irritated at our intrusion. I didn't blame him.

"Are you familiar with a man named Arnold Turner?" His face clouded over
instantly as he turned away from us to look out his patio door into his
fenced in dirt patch of a back yard.

After a few seconds he answered. "Unfortunately, yes, I know an Arnold
Turner. Well...I did. Back in college."

"Were you aware he has been working at your father's bank for a number of
years?" He turned back to look at me, startled.

"What? You're kidding. Why? Why would he...oh shit. Oh no...he didn't...oh my
god! What did he do?" Andrew had gone from calm and confident to nervous and
shaky in two seconds. I thought only I did that. I decided to just get the
story out quickly and we would deal with his reaction afterwards.

"He basically blackmailed your father into hiring him to be a VP. And he's
been leveraging other employees to do his bidding and help him get ahead as
well. I'm a client at the bank, and Todd and Larry asked me to get involved
to try and stop a particularly damaging plan Turner wanted to implement. When
your father changed his mind and strangely started to support Turner's plan,
Larry smelled a rat. Todd did some digging, and we figured out it was
probably Turner's influence somehow. And then Sam and I spoke with your
father, and he...well, that's when he confirmed Turner had been blackmailing
him."

"About me, right?" said Andrew, in a whisper. I nodded. Everyone else just
stood still. "So...he knows. About...me. Arnie told him." I nodded again,
hating to be the one to shatter his world like this.

Just then another man walked into the kitchen, buttoning the cuffs on his
plain white dress shirt. He had on blue khaki dress pants and black loafers.
Essentially the same "uniform" as Andrew. His short, orange-red hair, dark
red full beard, and slightly freckled face were a distinct contrast, however,
to Andrew's dark features.

"Hello?" said the new guy, pulling up short, not sure what to make of his
unexpected guests. "I thought I heard voices." Then he looked at Andrew's
face and moved quickly to him and started to hug him, I think, but stopped
himself, instead putting his hands into his pants pockets. "Andy...what's
wrong? What's happened? Is it your father?"

Andrew sighed deeply. "Sort of. Mike, these people are from the bank in
Denver. This is Jack...Sam...and Todd. Guys, this is Dr. Michael Branson. He
runs the clinic down here with me. We live together to save on expenses."
Michael shook our hands politely. Something in the way Andrew introduced him
didn't ring true, but I wasn't sure. I didn't know these guys at all.

Turning back to Michael, Andrew said, "They came down here because...well,
because my big secret is out of the bag, and a guy from my past is causing
trouble up there. Trouble for my father," he said, pointedly.

"Your father?" said Michael, a little too loudly. He softened his voice,
realizing his over reaction. "So...he knows?" Andrew nodded.

"And...what about them?" asked Michael, indicating the three of us standing
in his kitchen.

"I assume so," said Andrew, looking at me for confirmation. Sam was the one
who nodded. Michael looked over to him, and they did the staring into each
other's eyes thing, and Michael started looking from Sam to me and back to
Sam. Sam just nodded, and Michael finally nodded back. But then he got a hard
look on his face.

"So...you guys came all the way down here to make trouble for us?" Even
Andrew was startled by the sudden turn in the conversation.

"Whoa...whoa," said Sam, holding up his hands. "No way. We're here to help
you guys, not cause trouble. Why don't you let Jack tell you everything."

"Alright, tell us. Everything," said Michael, arms crossed, clearly in
protection mode where Andrew was concerned. He even moved a little to be
standing between us and Andrew, a move Sam had made many times to shield me.
It was now obvious to all of us that Michael and Andrew shared a lot more
than clinic duties.

I started by explaining how Arnold Turner had blackmailed Davis and how Davis
had sought to protect his son's secret, believing it was the loving and best
thing he could do in the situation. "Andrew...your father told us he loves
you very, very much, and he would do anything to protect you. He knows you're
gay, he's known for years now, but he probably won't speak of it unless you
do. He said he wants you to be free to have an open and loving relationship
with whomever you choose to love, but he would also understand, given the
nature of your work, if you chose to keep your secret for the greater good of
helping more people. He doesn't want to jeapordize your work in any way. He's
very proud of the man you've become, Andrew." Michael kept inching closer and
closer to Andrew's side. I knew he just wanted to wrap him up and hold him,
like Sam would do for me.

I then proceeded to tell them everything we knew about Arnold Turner and what
he had done, including his threats and armed action against me the day
before, and the fact that we did not know where he was at the moment.

"We have to assume at this point that he's armed and dangerous," said Todd
gravely.

Andrew turned to Michael and grabbed his hands in his own, startling Michael
at first, but he didn't let go. "Mike...no more secrets, okay? No more. I've
been a fool. My parents have clearly known for a long time. And...I'm tired
of hiding. Michael...I love you. You know that. I don't care anymore what
people think about it. Maybe if...if...if I'd been brave enough to tell my
father a long time ago, none of this would have happened."

"But Andy, you didn't do anything wrong," pleaded Michael. "This guy
Turner...he's the bad guy, not you."

"I know...I do. I understand that. But I could have told the truth. I could
have been honest with my parents at least, and then my father wouldn't have
had to cover for me and risk his company and his career to protect me."

"I still can't believe all he did for you," said Michael. "You have an
amazing father, Andy." Andrew nodded, biting his bottom lip, tears
threatening to fall. Michael hugged him then, not hiding their relationship
anymore.

Turning to me, Andrew asked, "Is my father in trouble with the bank?"

"I don't think so," I replied. "I've discussed the matter with Andrew
Sullivan - I think you know him - and he's doing everything he can to keep
your father's role in this a secret. Fortunately for your father, Arnold
Turner's own actions were enough to get him fired from the bank."

"Sully's involved, too?" exclaimed Andrew, with a slight smile. "How is the
ol' coot? I haven't talked to him in a while. He was always kind to me. He
helped me out a few times when there was no one else to talk to. Mike, I'd
love for you to meet him. He's a great man. You'd love him." I caught Sam
smiling, knowing he was thinking the same thing I was - Andrew Sullivan had
his own secret to share with Andrew Munroe.

"Guys...I'm sorry to interrupt," said Todd. "But there is the matter of a
psychopath on the loose. We need to discuss how we are going to keep these
two safe until he's caught."

"Oh my god...that's why the house is surrounded with G-Men! They're watching
for Turner and guarding you guys, aren't they," said Andrew.

"Yes," said Sam. "We came down here to tell you what was happening, but also
to try and keep you safe. Both of you. We don't really know for sure, but it
seems likely Turner would head in this direction after everything fell apart
for him in Denver. Especially after he arranged a ruse to confuse anyone who
may be following him as to his actual whereabouts."

"But why come here? We have no direct ties to the bank. What would Turner
want with us?" asked Michael.

"Not us...me," said Andrew, with a deep sigh, as he sat down at the kitchen
table.

"Why, Andy?" asked Michael, gently, rubbing Andrew's shoulders.

"Because...I rejected him."

"Rejected...what, you were in a relationship with this guy?"

"No, Mike. We were freshmen at Harvard. I was very much in the closet and yet
somehow, Arnie Turner figured me out. He had this way of knowing things about
people. I never realized he would use what he knew to manipulate or control
other people. I thought he only did it to me. Anyway, he asked me out around
Christmas time, and I was too scared at first. I knew I was gay, but I had
zero experience and I wasn't really interested in Arnie. But he kept
insisting it would be our secret, and it was only one dinner. So after
several days of his persistence, I agreed to the one dinner. It was nice, and
he paid, which was good, because I couldn't afford a restaurant like that. Of
course, we ended up at his dorm afterwards, his room mate conveniently gone
home for the weekend. He said he just needed to pick something up, and then
we were going to walk to the Union to meet some other classmates.

"When we got to his room, he tried to kiss me. I fumbled it badly, and I
think it embarrassed him, because he got angry then, and told me to get out.
He really scared me - he got this wild look in his eyes - so I left in a
hurry. The next day we had a class together, and he acted like it had never
happened. I tried to keep my distance, but he kept pursuing me, off and on.
Finally, near the end of the first year, I told him I was interested in
somebody else, which was a lie, and it just wasn't going to happen between
us. He flew into a rage again, and broke a chair against the wall in the
Union. I just picked up my books and ran. He never bothered me again, but any
time we would pass by each other, he would look at me with those dark eyes.
It creeped me out. Thankfully he went into business and I was studying
science, so we had no more classes together. I very seldom saw him after that
first year."

"Your father said he first met Turner at an Alumni event with you and some
other friends," said Sam.

"Yeah," said Andrew sadly. "I'll never forget it. Turner saw my father and
despite our...history...came over to ask me to introduce him. I didn't want
to do it - my father was a busy man and was working the room for new clients,
like pretty much everyone else there. I told Arnie I didn't think it was a
good idea, my father was busy. He'd say okay, but he'd leave and then come
back twenty minutes later. Maybe the third time I told him no, he looked at
me with those creepy eyes and said fine, he'd go introduce himself as his
son's lover. I hated him for that, but he didn't care. He got what he wanted.
I introduced them, and my only consolation was I could tell my father would
never remember Arnie. If you didn't have a million dollars to invest, my
father would mentally move on. But at least Arnie walked away happy and left
us alone afterwards. I don't think I ever really talked to Arnie again after
that night, now that I think about it."

"Okay, so the guy was into you a million years ago, but you both moved on.
Why would he bother with you now?" asked Michael.

Andrew sighed. "I don't know, maybe I'm totally wrong about him. But...it
just seems like something he would do. I agree with these guys. If Arnie has
a screw loose, and it sure sounds like he does, then he would probably see me
as unfinished business. Heck, maybe he even blames my rejection of him
eighteen years ago for all his woes today. People have gone crazy for a lot
less."

"Great, that's all we need. We've got fifty plus people waiting for us at the
clinic, and a maniac looking to settle a score with you. What a lovely day
this is turning out to be," said Michael with a sigh, collapsing in the chair
next to Andrew.

"Do you think it's a good idea to go to the clinic today? I mean, we don't
know where Turner is. We should get you guys out of town and under wraps
somewhere," said Todd.

"No offense, but there's no way I'm leaving," said Andrew.

"Me either," said Michael. "The people of this community rely on us. We're
the only doctors for fifty miles, and most of the people we treat wouldn't
set foot in a city hospital under any circumstances. Besides, they couldn't
afford the bill, anyway. We treat them and ask no questions, so they'll come
to us."

"You treat them for free?" I asked.

"Most of them. Some can pay us something, a few bucks, maybe. We use it for
some supplies and treats for the little kids. You know, like a sucker or
piece of candy if they're quiet while we stitch them up after a fall or
something," said Andrew.

"How do you make a living doing this kind of medicine?" I asked, curious.

"We're primarily funded by the Salus Society. It's a Christian medical
missions group with a focus on providing primary health care services to
indigent, and in many cases illegal, populations."

"So...if you guys don't show up today, the people in line at the clinic get
no help," said Sam.

"Exactly. We have to go. They need us," said Michael, standing up again.
Andrew joined him.

"Look, guys," said Andrew. "I really appreciate you coming all this way down
here to give us the heads up about Arnie. But Mike and I need to go to the
clinic. Any minute now, Mariana's gonna call wondering where we are. And you
don't want to upset the woman who keeps order in the waiting room, believe
me."

Sam looked at the doctors with great intensity. "Can I ask you both a serious
question?" They nodded. "If something bad happens to you, who takes care of
the people here?" They looked at him in silence, contemplating what he had
suggested. "I know it's a pain in the ass," continued Sam. "But we'll find a
way for you to do your jobs, okay? Please, think about your patients - the
people who you say need you. You need to be safe and unharmed - so you can do
your work. Give us a few minutes to put together a plan."

Andrew and Michael looked at each other. "He's got a point, Mike. I couldn't
stand it if you got hurt, and you know it takes both of us to make the clinic
work. These people have no one else. I think we have to do what we can as
long as it still lets us work. What do you think?"

Michael looked unsure. "I guess so. But we need to figure it out quickly. And
can they at least change clothes? Those guys show up at the clinic dressed in
black and you know we won't see a patient for a month. The whole town will
think we've been raided by INS."

"Where's the clinic from here?" asked Todd.

"On Knox, two blocks further into town. So about four blocks total. We
usually just walk over. It's a white building with a small parking lot on the
side. The line out the front door will be your first clue you've found the
right place."

"Got it," said Todd, and he turned to leave, probably to let Hector know the
latest.

With their provisional acceptance of security, Andrew and Michael excused
themselves to finish getting ready for their work day. Sam was standing by
the patio door, looking out at nothing but dirt. I walked over to him and put
my arms around him. He spun around in my arms to face me, looking very grave.

"What's the matter, Sam?" I asked.

"I don't know, Jack. But I've got a really bad feeling about all this. I
think you and Andrew are right. Arnold Turner will be here at some point. No
good can come of it. I'll feel a lot better when he's been neutralized."

"I hear you, big guy. I hope everyone keeps their eyes and ears open. You
think our security team is up to the task?"

"They have to be, Jack. They're all we've got, and now were trusting them to
protect the doctors, too. Just stick close to Ben and me, okay? I think we'll
have to hang out at the clinic today. Our security team isn't big enough to
cover two locations at one time."

"Fine by me. I want to check out their operation anyway. Their commitment to
their calling is impressive. I want to help them if we can."

"Well, if they hold to their decision of no more secrets, my guess is they'll
learn in a hurry whether the community will still support them and keep
coming to their clinic. The harder sell will be their support network. We can
always give them money, I guess. Right?"

"Of course. And we will. But man, I hope the Salus Society doesn't wig out
just because these guys are gay. I mean, they've apparently done great work
down here. Why would anyone want to prevent that?"

"Let's hope they don't."

Andrew and Michael came back into the kitchen, holding hands and looking a
little more composed. Andrew looked at Sam and me in each other's arms and
smiled.

"We're ready to go," said Michael.

"Let's do it. The guys should be ready for us outside," said Sam. The four of
us moved to the front door, where Ben was waiting. I never heard him come in.
He was now dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, the muscles in his arms and chest
threatening to burst the seams. With no jacket, he had no way to hide his
gun, which was now stuffed into the waistband of his jeans, pointed down at
his man bits. Looked dangerous to me.

"Wait right here for a minute, please," said Ben, holding up his hand. He
spoke into his radio, letting someone outside know we were ready, and in
about 10 seconds he nodded to our little group and opened the door. Hector
had one of the SUVs pulled right up to the porch, with the back door open.
Guess they couldn't exactly ruin the lawn.

Michael sighed loudly, clearly irritated by all the fuss, but grabbed
Andrew's hand and led them into the vehicle, followed by Todd, then Sam and
I. Ben climbed in the front seat, and we were rolling. The other SUV led the
way, all of the agents now looking much more casual. Where they had changed
clothes, I had no clue. They still stuck out like a sore thumb, given their
size. And their guns.

The ride to the clinic took two minutes tops. And Michael was correct. There
was a long line leading out the front door and into the parking lot, which
was curiously nearly devoid of cars, given the number of people seeking
medical care. Ft. Hancock was not very big. It looked like the entire town
was visiting the clinic.

The agents jumped out of the first vehicle and Hector had them organized into
a loose circle around us as we moved from the parking lot into the clinic.
Andrew and Michael greeted many of the people in line by name, trying to
reassure everyone. I saw a lot of nervous glances, especially when they saw
the guns, but I only saw three people slink out of line and disappear around
the side of the clinic. I hoped they weren't seriously ill.

Inside, there was organized chaos, presided over by Mariana Jimenez, a large
Hispanic woman with an even larger heart and a huge smile in a pink nurse's
uniform. She was like a protective mother to all the patients. She seemed to
know everyone on a first name basis, their particular ailments, and most
importantly, how to triage their needs. It was clear immediately the clinic
did not operate on an appointment basis. You saw the doctor based on the
priority of your complaint.

The clinic itself was clean, simple and efficient, designed to move the
maximum number of people through with a minimum of fuss. Since most weren't
paying, let alone revealing their true identities, there were no clipboards
with insurance forms to fill out, and no lengthy health histories to
complete. If you were sick or injured, all you had to do was wait your turn.
And surprisingly, no one seemed to mind waiting too much. Andrew was wise in
understanding the power of Mariana to keep order and reassure their patients.
Plus she spoke fluent Spanish, a necessity with many of the patients.

The central waiting room took up almost the entire front half of the
building. Floored in basic white commercial tile, there were maybe 30 metal
folding chairs scattered against the walls, all occupied, with another 20 or
so patients standing. The rest of the patients were still outside in the hot
sun, waiting their turn.

Two small bathrooms, one for each gender, anchored the far end of the waiting
area. There were no tables, no outdated magazines, and no soft, instrumental
music playing over the PA system. There was no PA system. There was only
Mariana, and when she spoke, people listened. She was the gatekeeper, and
everybody knew it.

"Well, there you are," she said, looking up from listening to a patient
discuss her sore foot as the doctors arrived. "I thought I was gonna have to
send the cavalry down to your place to get you out of bed, but I see you've
brought your own. Wanna tell me what's goin' on? On second thought, forget
it. Doesn't matter. Mrs. Rivera cut herself makin' breakfast this morning and
needs stitches - four should do it. She's in One. Jaime Perez is in
Two...chest pain, bad color. Go!" she said, and Andrew and Michael exchanged
a knowing look and went in opposite directions toward the exam rooms. A long
day of doctoring had begun.

Sam, Todd and I found space to stand in one corner of the room so we could
observe but stay out of the way. Ben was stationed just outside the door,
watching each person who managed to squeeze into the waiting room as a prior
patient departed. Todd whispered to me that Hector had the other agents
stationed all around the building, but they agreed to not come inside unless
absolutely necessary.

With each new arrival, Mariana would discuss their particular ailment with
them, mentally prioritize their need to see the doctor, and tell them to find
a seat or stand out of the way. One lady, dressed a little better than the
majority of the room, stepped inside the door, and before Mariana could even
say hello, she held out her hand to Mariana. Mariana graciously welcomed her,
and asked her what she needed, pulling her hand back and realizing the woman
had given her a twenty dollar bill. She looked at it with a frown.

"Mrs. Alvarez, you may as well keep this. I've told you every time you come
in here, the doctor will see you when it's your turn, and not before. You'll
have to wait like everyone else. Bribing me won't make it any faster, and
besides, your grandbabies need food. Here, take this and sit down over there.
I'll get you in as soon as possible."

The woman swiped the money back from Mariana's hand and grumbled to herself
as she shuffled over to an empty seat. The other patients looked at her like
she had committed a cardinal sin or something. Apparently you did not mess
with Mariana, and it was now obvious to one and all she could not be bought.
I smiled, knowing the doctors had a real gem of a triage nurse.

The exam rooms were immediately off the waiting room, one on each end of the
building. In between, behind a low wall and counter, was a recessed area with
more counters and what looked like a makeshift laboratory. There wasn't much
equipment, and only a single, older looking computer, but everything was
clean and neat. Apparently there was also a medicine dispensary back there,
as each doctor periodically came out of an exam room, looked through a locked
glass cabinet, and extracted a pill bottle or container of something. I saw
several patients depart with medicine in hand. Interesting. Doctor and
Pharmacist, all in one.

There was a second nurse as well, her name tag declaring her to be Janelle.
She was thin, maybe forty years old, somber in countenance, and she moved
quickly between the two exam rooms, assisting with anything the doctors could
pass off to her, and occasionally stopped to do something in the lab area. I
wondered what they did when someone needed a blood test or x-rays or
something similar. Maybe there was a room I couldn't see from where we were
standing.

As the morning wore on, the sun rose higher in the sky outside, and the heat
inside the waiting room rose with it. It didn't help there were 50 plus
people in various states of physical distress, all occupying a single space.
Mariana turned on two oscillating fans in the far corners, and that helped
move the warm air at least. But people were still fanning themselves with
whatever paper or object they brought in with them, trying to stay cool.

Mrs. Rivera, the one who had cut her finger, did indeed receive four
stitches, as predicted. One for each of her grandchildren, she proudly told
another woman, as she made her way to the door. She pressed past a much older
unkempt gentlemen just coming in, who moved slowly to a chair and sat down.
Mariana spoke with him quietly, about what I couldn't hear, and he seemed to
indicate his particular ailment was centered in his abdomen. He kept lifting
up his shirt, and I could see he was dirty underneath it, even from across
the room. Mariana got him settled and moved on to the next person walking in.

And so it went for the next two hours. Sam was almost asleep, having slid
down the wall so he was now sitting with his knees up and his head resting on
his arms across his knees. Todd was periodically texting people and looking
up things on his smartphone. I had no idea what he was working on, but I
trusted him. He got things done.

After each patient was finished, Mariana would call the next one up and
direct them to the now empty exam room, all from the list she managed in her
head. The whole operation moved like a well oiled machine. In less than three
hours, the doctors had seen over 30 patients, some of them requiring
stitches, splints, and other treatments. Each doctor took a turn eating a
fast lunch, and then returning to work.

Around noon, I was getting hungry. I poked Sam who looked up at me and
yawned, then slowly stood up and stretched. Todd was leaning up against the
wall in the corner with his eyes closed. He opened them when he sensed Sam
stirring.

"I'm gonna use the bathroom. Anybody hungry besides me?" I asked, knowing Sam
would be ravenous by now. He answered by smiling at me. Todd rolled his eyes,
and grabbed his phone.

"I'll text Hector and see what his plan is." I nodded and headed across the
waiting room for the men's bathroom on the other side of the building,
careful to not step on the little kids playing at their parents' feet on the
tile floor. It was amazing how a single little toy car could hold the
attention of a three year old boy.

I had to wait about a minute for the bathroom. Thankfully I wasn't waiting
for the ladies room. That line was six deep. A little boy came out and smiled
at me, and I stepped inside and did my business. I washed my hands and opened
the door into the older gentlemen who had the stomach issues. He looked down
at his feet as I stepped past him, holding the door for him. As I turned I
felt an arm go around my neck and pull me hard backwards.

"Don't yell. Don't scream. Do as I say and maybe...maybe I'll let you live."
It was Turner. He was disguised as the old man. He reeked, his breath hot on
my neck. And he was a lot stronger than his old man costume would lead you to
believe. Sam saw what was happening from far across the room and started
moving fast towards me, pushing kids and people out of the way, causing a
loud commotion. Turner pressed something very hard into my spine - I assumed
it was a gun - and whispered, "Make him stop."

"Sam, stop!" I yelled. "Too many people!" He stopped, frozen in his rage, and
I could tell he was thinking fast how he could get to me without anybody
getting hurt. All I cared about was him. My own anger was white hot. I'd had
my fill of the scumbag holding me.

I saw Todd, wide-eyed, dialing furiously on his phone, trying to talk to
Hector above the cacophony of voices which erupted after my outburst. Parents
began grabbing kids left and right and pressing for the exit. I could see Ben
struggling to get past them and into the room. He finally managed to push his
way through the crowd, gun drawn.

"Don't come any closer," Turner yelled. "I've got a gun, and nothing would
make me happier right now than to waste this piece of shit faggot. Now back
off." Ben stopped moving towards us, but didn't step backwards. His gun was
still in his hand.

"Lose the gun," said Turner.

"No," was all Ben said. But he didn't move.

Just then the door to Exam Room Two, the one closest to the bathrooms, opened
and a mother carrying her infant daughter came out. She took one look at me
and the crazy man holding me, and wrapped her daughter up tighter and hurried
past speaking loudly in Spanish. I have no idea what she said, but I hoped
she was praying for us all.

Turner wrenched my neck backwards and virtually dragged me backwards into the
Exam Room, where Andrew had his back to the door, writing on a chart. Turner
slammed the door shut, and Andrew jumped, turning around quickly. He gasped
when he saw me, being held at gunpoint by his old nemesis.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Arnie?" asked Andrew. I think he
was truly pissed that Arnold Turner would invade the sanctity of his clinic.
He certainly didn't seemed scared. The really strange thing was...I wasn't
scared either. I was pissed, too.

Turner shoved me hard in Andrew's direction and I stumbled, landing on my
knees at his feet, but I scrambled back up as quickly as I had fallen. I
turned to face a filthy, crazed freak with a gun that looked just slightly
smaller than a bazooka, aimed at us.

"You alright, Jack?" whispered Andrew.

"Yeah...I'm good," I said, rubbing my sore neck, disgusted by the filth that
came back on my hand.

"Good? Good?!!" screamed Turner. "There's no good in fags like you two. Only
evil. And today's a good day to rid the world of evil."

"Well...Arnie...be sure you save enough bullets to kill yourself, because
we're not the only fags in this room, are we?" said Andrew. His challenge
shocked Turner, because his eyes shifted in a strange way, like he was
momentarily looking at himself and then he came back to stare at us with his
dead, black eyes.

"Shut up, Andy. You don't know shit. You always thought you were better than
everyone else. Rich daddy. Trust fund education. The easy life...while the
rest of us had to work and fight to get ahead." He laughed to himself. "But I
showed you, didn't I. You didn't want to introduce me to dear old daddy.
Well...I told him exactly what you are, Andy. I made him see what a
disgusting loser fag you really are. And you know what he did to reward me?
He made me a VP, and he was grooming me for his job. Until this asshole came
along and screwed it all up," he snarled towards me, waving his gun around
wildly now.

There was a loud commotion outside the room and then someone started banging
on the exam room door. Turner had apparently locked it somehow behind him.
"Stay the fuck out, you hear me!" he yelled. "Someone tries to come in, they
die." I heard a scraping sound slide down the door and what sounded like
muffled crying. Then the noise on the other side of the door disappeared.

"Aww, isn't that sweet. Your sick, sad little boyfriend is crying for you,
Andy. Serves him right. He took you from me, now I'm taking you from him.
He's not a real man, anyway. I could have given you everything. We could have
had a great life. Instead you live in a slum, in the dirt and dust with these
wetbacks and low lifes, pretending to be a doctor cuz you couldn't cut it in
the real world. Always hiding...right, Andy? Isn't that right?" he screamed.
Andrew said nothing.

"Yeah...you were always hiding. You don't want the real world to know what a
sick disgusting faggot you are. You thought you could hide forever. But here
I am!" He broke out in a maniacal, haunting laughter, like a possessed animal
of some kind. Clearly he was losing all touch with reality.

I secretly looked around the room, trying to find something we could use to
overpower him before his huge gun went off and we ran out of options. But
there was nothing. It was just your average medical exam room. Two folding
chairs, a small desk with almost nothing on it, and the main exam table. If I
could get one of the metal stirrups out of its slot, I could maybe knock the
gun out of his hand, but I didn't like my chances.

On the wall behind us was only a small window, high up. I wasn't sure, but I
thought I could hear movement outside. On the side wall between us and Turner
hung one of those lighted x-ray reader things and a small wood-framed picture
of some desert scenery. No glass. Again, nothing to use as a weapon. Any help
we were going to get was going to have to come from outside the room.

"Hey...asshole!" yelled Andrew suddenly. I stiffened a little as Turner
stopped laughing and his eyes narrowed, throwing off intense hatred.

"What did you call me?" he said, his breathing now heavier and more labored,
his face getting redder by the second.

"You heard me...asshole. You think you're hot shit because you have a gun?
You come down here to impress me, Arnie? Because I gotta tell you, you didn't
impress me back in college, and you don't impress me now. Look at you. The
way I hear it, you've lost everything. And you know what, it serves you
right. You never did know when to quit. It always had to be your way, your
timeline. Now you've screwed it all up, and there's nowhere for you to go.
Nobody wants you now, Arnie. Nobody." Andrew's words were harsh and cold.
What was he thinking? The madder Turner got, the sooner he'd start shooting.
Why provoke the crazy man with the gun?

Turner looked at Andrew, his eyes not totally focused any more. "That's
right, Arnie," continued Andrew slowly. "Nobody wants you. You've painted
yourself into a real corner this time, haven't you? You're all
alone...there's no one to save you this time. You can't blame anybody else
for what you've done. And no matter what you do, you aren't leaving this room
a free man. There's a dozen armed guards outside. There's no place for you to
go. A step too far, Arnie. This time...you went a step too far."

Turner growled back at Andrew. "Shut up, faggot. You're the one with no
options. You think the keystone cops outside are gonna stop me. You've got to
be kidding. I walked in here right under their noses. And you...are my ticket
out of here, right after I get rid of the trash," he said, turning to look at
me, waving his huge gun in my direction. I ignored it and focused on his dead
eyes. I couldn't do anything about the gun. But Andrew was in his head,
screwing with him, and I wanted in there, too. If I was going to die, at
least I'd go standing up for myself.

"Trash? Did you just call me trash? I'm not the one that's smelling up the
room, Arnie. The stench is coming off of you," I taunted.

"Don't call me Arnie, faggot."

"Then don't call me faggot...faggot!" I screamed. I took a step towards him,
shocking him and myself. I decided I had one shot to make it out of the room
alive.

"I'm sick of you, Turner," I said, taking another small step towards him.
"You've been a pain in my ass since I first heard your name." He raised the
gun up and held it steady.

"You wanna kill me, fine. Do it. But no way you get out of here alive. You've
lied, cheated, blackmailed, and held a gun on me twice now. And it's all
gotten you nowhere. You're done, Turner. Done." I took another small step
towards him, my right hand drifting behind my back, my left as limp and non-
threatening as I could make it. I wanted him focused on my face and my voice,
not my hands.

"You're such a fool. Davis Munroe wasn't grooming you to take his job. He
despises you. He only gave you the VP job to protect his son. And in the end,
it was me...Jack Schaeffer...a nobody...who convinced the Board to go against
your selfish plan. I won. You lost." One more tiny step. Almost there.

"We know about your little trick with the car and the hotel. Big deal.
Child's play. Your game's run its course. No one's interested anymore. And
when word gets out you were fired from the bank, none of the people you've
blackmailed will be afraid of you anymore." My right hand found its goal.

"And you know why...Arnie? Because you just don't matter anymore." His eyes
squeezed into dark slits and his face scrunched into a vile sneer as he
raised the gun towards my head. As it came up, I swung the metal stirrup in
my right hand as hard as I could, twisting to give it all the power possible,
hoping against hope it would breach the divide between us.

I heard the gun go off just as the stirrup connected to his left temple. As I
fell to the floor I could smell the gunpowder and the disinfectant embedded
in the tile. My head was sideways on the cool tile, and I was looking into
Arnold Turner's eyes, his head lying at an odd angle on the floor, blood
flowing out of his left ear. I watched as I saw the last remaining bit of
light fade from his eyes.

Then all I saw were shoes and feet and I felt someone roll me onto my back. I
closed my eyes to the blinding fluorescent ceiling light. There may have been
shouting, but it was all muted and distorted, and all I really wanted to do
was sleep. So I did.

I woke up on my side, lying on a hard table. I looked, but Arnold Turner
wasn't dead on the floor. He was supposed to be dead on the floor. I needed
him to be dead on the floor. I tried to push to get up, to get away, and
that's when I heard his voice.

"Easy, Jack. Don't move. He's almost done," said Sam from above me. He leaned
down and kissed my cheek gently. I reached up for him and I felt him grab my
hand. I pulled and he got the idea, coming around so I could see his face. He
crouched down so we were eye to eye. He'd been crying. I touched his cheek
with my outstretched hand and he held it against his face as his tears flowed
silently.

"Forever, Sam." He nodded, unable to speak. There was nothing else to say.

------------

It was late Saturday, and we were sitting in Andrew and Michael's living
room. I was stiff and a little sore, the stitches in my side starting to
itch. I moved to scratch and Andrew caught me.

"Stop that, Jack. You'll irritate the wound or dislodge the stitches. Here,
let me look at it," he said, as he got up from his chair and sat next to me
on the couch, while I leaned over into Sam's lap. I purposely put my hand on
his thigh, my fingers teasing his crotch a little. I needed to do something
to brighten his spirits. He did smile a little. It was a start.

Andrew lifted my t-shirt - a clean one, as my previous one was trashed - and
pulled the waistband of my shorts and underwear down a little, then peeled
back the bandage. I still hadn't looked at it myself. "It looks good. Mike
did a great job with this. But it's gonna take a while to heal."

"It hurts," I whined.

"Don't be a big baby, Jack," said Sam, smiling a little more. "It's a
scratch. You'll live."

"Well...will you kiss it and make it all better," I said, looking up at him,
sounding like a little boy. Todd, sitting next to us, rolled his eyes.

"Really? I have to listen to this crap?" he said. I giggled. More eye
rolling.

Sam reached down and very carefully pulled my underwear and shorts back up to
my waist, then slowly pulled my t-shirt over the bandage. He had not allowed
me out of his sight since we left the clinic early in the evening. He held my
hand the whole time I was answering questions from countless authorities.
They tried to make him leave, but I refused to cooperate if I couldn't have
him with me. They relented.

Arnold Turner was dead. I killed him. According to Andrew, who actually tried
to save him after making sure I was not seriously injured, the metal stirrup
hit him in just the right spot in his temple area to shatter his skull and
cause it to implode into his brain. He was essentially dead before he hit the
floor. My twisting as I swung the stirrup was the difference between a
scratch, as Sam called it, and a life threatening injury.

When the gun had gone off, Ben immediately broke through the door, with Sam
right behind him. Andrew was the one who had rolled me onto my back to check
me out, but Sam apparently had shoved him aside, screaming, seeing blood and
thinking I was dead. Michael told me Sam never left my side. He was the one
who carried me to the other examination room so Michael could repair my
wound, the whole time holding me still so Michael could work.

Thankfully the head investigator deemed my actions self defense, especially
after Andrew independently corroborated my story. I was free to leave, as
long as I made myself available, if needed, at a later date. When we left the
clinic, the county coroner was putting Turner's body, now in a large, black
plastic bag, into his van. For some reason it reminded me of Turner's comment
about taking out the trash.


To be continued...


Author's Notes:
Arnold Turner is dead, and hopefully things will settle down now for Jack and
Sam. Andrew and Michael have been publicly outed. How will it affect the
clinic and their work? Will Jack and Sam get a new security team - one that
actually keeps them safe? Will Ben be Jack's personal protection agent? Will
Sam be jealous? Will Todd ever get to concentrate on building the business
with Jack? Much more to come...

Huge thanks to my editors - Mark, Harry, Darryl and Josh - who drop
everything and jump on this story as soon as I send it to them. At this stage
of the game, I couldn't imagine moving forward without their invaluable
assistance. Thanks, guys, for always being willing to turn the story around
so quickly. We all really appreciate it.

If you are new to Forever - meaning you've never written me to let me know
you're enjoying the ride - feel free to email me at jack.schaeffman@gmail.com
with your comments, suggestions, and ideas. Writing is a collaboration, and I
am privileged to have readers from all over the world reading my story. Thank
you all so much. You're the reason I keep writing. And I have much more story
to tell. Stay tuned.