Station Alpha: (Soldiering On #1) Page 7

  Suddenly sombre, Paul shrugged.

  “Hopefully soon. Duncan has put his best people on it. There’s no reason to think this will drag on.”

  “I trust you,” she told him. He cleared his throat.

  “I should go grab our bags and move the car into the driveway. Get settled, I won’t be long.”

  Then, he was gone.

  The light was fading outside, casting an ethereal glow across the world. She’d always loved the romance of the Magic Hour. Christine moved to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the sunset. Instead, her eyes were riveted on Paul as he moved across her line of sight.

  He hadn’t been at all what she was expecting, she could admit that to herself. He’d rescued her, and in her mind’s eye she’d seen a traditional hero. The one that women had been taught to want for centuries. Tall, strapping, virile.

  She supposed he could still be all those things. His body was long, based on the way he was folded in his chair. And his shoulders certainly proclaimed him to be strapping. The virility was a question mark. She knew that sometimes paraplegia changed certain functions, and there was no way that Christine could politely ask just to satisfy her own curiosity.

  Though, she did acknowledge that there were many different ways a man might please a woman, and few of them involved his dick.

  Rolling her eyes at her own crassness, she watched as he manoeuvred the car carefully into the drive, and then reassembled his chair before sliding into it. He wheeled himself over to the gate, typing a code into the matching keypad inside the gate. She guessed he was setting some alarms.

  It occurred to her that there were different kinds of heroes. Heroism was about deeds, not some superficial mould that one had to conform to. And in that sense, Paul more than qualified. Besides, his deep, rough voice, distracting arm muscles, and piercing eyes more than made up for his other physical qualities that some might think were lacking.

  She was attracted to him, that much was obvious. Had been since that first moment she’d heard his voice, and it hadn’t gone away once she had been presented with the reality of her saviour. The question she really had to ask herself was whether it was a mutual thing, or whether she had just latched onto him and put him on a pedestal because he’d saved her life. Twice.

  Either was a possibility, or some combination of both. She’d have to keep an eye on herself to discover her true feelings on the matter.

  Chapter 7

  It was dark by the time they were settled into Station Alpha.

  They’d scrounged together some sandwiches from the food they’d taken from Paul’s kitchen. Then, Christine had retreated to her room, mentioning a shower. Paul presumed she’d head to bed after. Neither of them had had much sleep the night before.

  Well-used to going long periods without sleep, Paul double and triple checked the security systems to make sure they were fully operational. He got the cameras online, both interior and exterior. He let out a sigh of relief when the familiar images flickered on the screen. A tension he hadn’t known was there loosened in his shoulders.

  “What are you looking at?” Christine asked from the doorway. Paul swung his chair around to see her leaning casually against the doorjamb in her pyjamas, running a towel through her wet hair.

  He swallowed, turning his eyes back to the screen.

  “Just setting up the cameras.”

  “Is that my bedroom?” She stepped closer, her hand landing on the back of his chair. He doubted she even noticed.

  “Yeah, internal and external.” He willed his heart to slow down as she leaned forward, peering at the screen.

  “No bathroom, though?”

  “The bathroom is clear, both because of privacy, and because the only entrance and exit is the bedroom.”

  She turned her head to smile at him. “Good.” His breath hitched. She was so close, closer than she’d ever been. Her eyes seemed darker than usual as they bore into his, and the minty freshness of her breath fanned across his face. This time yesterday she didn’t even know he existed, and now here they were, practically living together. Inches away.

  He was glad he had security concerns to worry over, because he doubted he would get a lick of sleep with her under the same roof as him.

  “I…I want to apologise to you,” he began.

  She frowned and perched herself on the desk chair that he’d moved aside to make room for his own chair. “For what?”

  “For watching you.”

  “You were doing your job.”

  “Yeah, but…It’s odd. When it’s a stranger it doesn’t feel so wrong. You just get lost in the daily ins and outs of the job, and don’t really think about them as an actual person. I am just observing another faceless human. But once you know the person…” He trailed off.

  “It’s like with anything,” she replied, her voice soft. “It means a lot more when you have a personal connection to it.”

  He fidgeted in the chair. She didn’t know the half of his personal connection.

  She sighed. “Look, I can’t pretend that I don’t find it strange that someone was watching me. But from what I could tell it was only in public spaces, where hundreds of other strangers observed me each day. I suppose I can look at it as your eyes being just one of many. Although…” she paused as if searching for the right word. “From now on, I’d rather you only watch me when I’ve consented to it.”

  Her smile had an edge to it, and the look in her eyes was one of intent. Unsure what the expression meant, Paul nodded. “Of course. I’ll just make sure you are safely tucked in and I’ll turn them right off.”

  With a nod and a smile, she left him to go to bed for real. Paul watched her a moment on the screens to make sure she made it back to her room and settled under the covers.

  He allowed himself just for a moment to imagine what it would be like if he could lie beside her. Touch her. Taste her. He felt himself grow hot at the thought. Glancing down, he realised that he’d grown hard. Gulping, he immediately flicked the vision over to something else to distract himself.

  But it didn’t work. The images he’d conjured were seared into his brain. His cock, too, refused to be deterred. It was thick and solid, not something that Paul had been able to claim for a long time. His erections since the paraplegia had been half-hearted at best and so far unsustainable.

  Curious, he freed himself from his trousers. He gave an experimental stroke and his cock swelled even further.

  It was strange. His hand was on his shaft, but he couldn’t feel it. However, his body was clearly growing more aroused. His flushed cheeks and tightening skin were familiar.

  Paul’s breath grew more shallow as he stroked again. His memory supplied the sensation that he could no longer feel. His erection grew again, and he could feel the throb of his pulse through the palm of his hand.

  Emboldened by his success, he worked himself a little firmer. The sensations were different from what he remembered, since the most crucial one was lacking. But his imagination seemed to be picking up the slack.

  His blood felt thick in his veins as he pumped himself harder, spreading his pre-come around the tip with his thumb and down his shaft, again and again. He relished the fact that his erection seemed solid and unwilting, feeling powerful and whole for the first time in a long time. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed this. The building tension, the acute pleasure. Feeling like a real man.

  Unbidden, an image of Christine kneeling in front of him sprang to his mind. Unable to banish it in his vulnerable state, he surrendered, imagining her wrapping her lips around his cock. He heard himself moan as if from a great distance, the pleasure intensifying as he imagined her taking him deeper into her mouth.

  His hand worked faster, and he lost himself in the feel of the sensations happening through his body and the thought of Christine enjoying this moment with him. She would touch herself, too, playing with her breasts and her clit as she sucked him deeper, over and over.

  With a harsh groan,
Paul exploded onto his hand. He stroked his softening cock a few more times to draw out the experience, eventually collapsing back against his chair.

  It seemed a strange thing to be proud of, he reflected. But the fact was that in the last eighteen months, getting an erection had been hard enough. Sustaining it had been impossible. He’d just orgasmed for the first time in a year and a half.

  He’d had no idea how much his feelings of self-worth had been linked to his perception of his own virility. Now, with a smugness settling over him, he felt like he should shout it from the rooftops. He was still normal!

  He had the crazy urge to share the news with Christine, and, worse, thank her. He had no doubt that it was because of her that he’d been able to do what he just did. But he knew how it would seem. There was absolutely no reason for her to know he’d jerked off over an image of her. He was already creepy enough in her estimation.

  Still riding the high, Paul wheeled himself to the bathroom to clean up. After one last check of the security systems, he got himself into bed and drifted off into a pleasant sleep.

  Chapter 8

  Paul left his room feeling more well-rested than he had in a long time. His sleep had been the dreamless sleep of the unburdened. He couldn’t remember the last time he could claim that. Certainly before the war.

  The bedroom, too, had been comfortable. He hadn’t told Christine the day before when she’d asked, but he’d chosen his room based on the accessibility factors. He had plenty of space to manoeuvre around the bed, and the bathroom was huge. The shower even had a bench running along one side for him to sit.

  He’d never really been attached to his previous apartment. There was every chance he’d never actually go back there after this mission, even if it ended well for him. It had been compromised and was no longer safe.

  Paul entered the open plan kitchen and living area in search of coffee, surprised to see Christine was already awake. She’d taken over the big dining room table. Across it was a mess of torn notebook pages and sticky notes that she’d found somewhere. She was standing, staring at the jumble with an intense look of concentration on her face.

  “Morning,” he murmured, not sure if he should interrupt her.

  Her gaze lifted, and her expression lightened when she saw him. His heart leapt in response. Heat crept up the back of his neck as he remembered what he’d done the night before. The thoughts he’d had about her. He cleared his throat, distracting himself.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m organising all the information we have so far on my…situation. It will help me see any patterns, maybe give me a clue as to what the hell is going on.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Have you ever heard of LATCH?”

  “I’m guessing you don’t refer to the thing on a door.”

  She grinned. “No. It’s the five categories by which you can arrange information. By location, alphabetically, time, category, and hierarchy. I’m rearranging all the information I have within the categories and combining them to see if something stands out. Connections I didn’t realise before.”

  “That…sounds really complicated. How did you learn to do this?”

  “It’s not, really. Organising and storing information is my job. I guess my mind just works that way.”

  Paul nodded, impressed. “Let me get some coffee and a bite to eat and I’ll join you. See if I can add any information you don’t have.”

  “Sure thing. The coffee is on. There isn’t much for breakfast. Just what we grabbed from your kitchen yesterday. I think I managed to leave some peanut butter in the jar, and there’s bread left over from last night.”

  Paul nodded and moved into the kitchen area, got himself some breakfast on a tray, and made his way back to Christine. It was only when he reached the table that he could see the issue. Only the papers closest to him were visible. Without being able to stand, he wasn’t able to see the big picture.

  Paul gritted his teeth in frustration, the remaining glow from the night before dimming. Still, he said nothing.

  “So, tell me what you’ve got.”

  Christine explained that she’d organised the information based on certain categories: the potential suspects, the resources they had, the timeline of when they became involved, and their possible motives. When the information was sorted by time, Mr. Disik was top of the list, since it was only when she started working with him that all this had begun.

  The resources, she admitted, was a fairly bare column, as she didn’t really know much about any of the players. And possible motives was just as much of a mystery, if not more so.

  As she finished explaining, her voice trailed off. “I suppose it’s a terrible idea. I just don’t have enough information.”

  “Not at all. Let me fill in some blanks for you based on what I know.”

  He plucked the Post-it notes and pen from her hand and started filling out new squares before handing them to Christine to add based on her system of categorisation. Some of the blank spots began to fill.

  “I do think we should add a new column,” Paul said when they were done. Christine glanced at him, a questioning frown tugging at her brow. “Possible ways they found you at the previous safe house. That way we can cross-reference which parties could have found you, and the methods they would have been able to pull off.”

  Christine smiled. “Not a bad idea.” She added all the ideas he had casually mentioned during their car ride the day before onto separate Post-it notes and stuck them to the table. They both stared at the Post-its, but no revelations struck them. Christine sighed, clearly as disappointed as he was.

  He looked at it again, trying to think of a new way of looking at it. They had ended up with a table listing Mr. Disik, the Vovks, Disik and Sons, and ‘unknown’ as the potential suspects. Was he forgetting anyone?

  “So, talk me through it again,” Paul murmured. “You met Mr. Disik when he interviewed you for the job—“

  “Actually, no. It was his son Jimmy that interviewed me.”

  “Is that odd? That he interviewed you even though you thought it was a personal job for his father, not for the company?”

  “I did think it was a little odd, but after I met Mr. Disik I thought I understood. I have wondered if he has an early stage of dementia, because he doesn’t seem to be entirely there at times.”

  “Interesting. But it was Mr. Disik who wanted the assistant?”

  “Yes, I could see why he hired me. He definitely needed me. All his information was a mess. Old files from twenty or thirty years ago were randomly shoved into boxes in his office, and his tax information was a disaster. I’ve barely made a dent in the mess.”

  “He needed one?”

  “Well, yes, that’s the thing. It was a little odd. When I arrived on my first day, he couldn’t remember hiring me. It was what made me think at first that he might have been having some memory issues. But when I explained, he seemed to remember that he’d employed me, and so I got to work.”

  “But it turned out that the company had hired you, regardless. Not him.”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “So maybe we need to look further into Disik and Sons. See who runs it now and what they are into.”

  “I was on their website yesterday. They have a page that lists all the important players.”

  “Good to know. Although, I think Duncan was looking into them, so he might know more. I think so far they are the obvious suspects.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, they play into your categories. Their hiring of you kicked all this off, and it’s a little suspicious that they didn’t make it clear that you were on their company payroll. They are a big company with a lot of resources. Therefore, they very well could have been the ones to find you at the safe house. The only thing we are missing is the motive.”

  “I can’t really see why they would do any of this.”

  He grinned, feeling like they were getting somewhere.
“Just because we can’t see it, doesn’t mean that it isn’t there. And it’s as good a place to start as any.”

  “That’s true. All right. So what do we do?”

  “We dig deeper.”

  “I spent over an hour yesterday looking into the company online. There is barely anything about them that I could see. They are oddly secretive for such a large corporation.”

  Paul considered that for a moment. “Then I guess we go straight to the source.”

  Christine’s brow tugged down into an adorable frown. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, I’m guessing there is more information about the company but it just isn’t public. So we’ll have to dig into their private files.”

  “I don’t think they’d just let you do that,” she told him dryly.

  “Who said anything about ‘let’? They’ll never have to know.”

  “You’re going to break in to Disik and Sons?” she asked, appalled.

  “Well, I was thinking more that I would hack in. But I suppose that counts as a virtual break-in.”

  “Good lord,” she breathed. “That’s illegal, right?”

  “Yeah. It means I’ll have to ask Duncan’s permission first. I don’t want it to come back on Duncan or Soldiering On if I get caught.”

  “And we aren’t asking the police, because…?”

  He made a derogatory noise. “They’d never get a warrant. Not to help you, anyway. Not based on speculation like this.”

  “What do you mean ‘not to help me’?”

  “Well, they might get a warrant against me for shooting those guys back at the apartment.”

  “But you were helping me!”

  “They don’t know that. There’s no proof that you are in danger other than my testimony. And for all they know, I am lying to cover my ass because I murdered those two guys.”

  “I see your point. All right. Well. What can I do?”

  “If Duncan gives me the go-ahead, then maybe the two of you can coordinate on your information system based on any new details he’s found. For all we know, the company might be a wild goose chase. If so, we’ll have to move on to the next option.”