Pulling Him Closer 1

(Revised 12/16/2022)

Because the vast majority of our readers aren't deterred by challenging presentations, we've structured this story in a perspective- and time-shifting manner. Don't worry, it's not terribly complicated.

You'll want to read

Pulling a Trigger

before you dive into this because it's the prequel.

A nod and a huge

"Thanks!"

to

SouthernCrossfire

for the invaluable insights, suggestions, and editorial aid.

We hope you enjoy:

Pulling Him Closer

RACHEL JARRETT

Leland Federal Building

"Range fouled! Cease fire and make safe!" I yelled as I instinctively ducked to my right, out of the way of the potential harm I perceived.

My order was directed to the whole team of four others standing in the middle of the training arena as well as the range master at the control station. A bell rang for two seconds signaling the facility was unsafe.

"I swear, Damon," I barked, "if you don't keep that muzzle pointed safely, you'll be suspended for thirty days."

He smirked, then slowly repositioned his hand. The way he did it suggested a mock because he didn't break eye contact with me. With any other trainee, such a rebuke would be met with immediate results, usually with an obvious expression of regret and embarrassment of a potentially fatal mistake.

"Jesus," he groaned. "Calm down, okay? You don't have to be such a bitch about it."

"Dude," Randy Gibson said to Damon. "Completely uncool."

I stared into Damon's eyes and growled, "First and last warning. Show respect, and never,

ever

call me a bitch again. Clear?"

I didn't wait for him to answer before I turned to face the rest of the team re-assembling behind me. When I did, I felt someone grab my backside. It could've only been one person. Without even thinking, I spun to face him, grabbed the top of his body armor's plate pocket, and pulled toward me.

"The

only

reason you are

ever

to put your hands on me or

anyone

else is if the tactical situation

requires

it," I hissed, then pushed him away.

He tripped over his own foot and fell backwards to the concrete floor, glaring at me.

"What the hell is

wrong

with you?" Randy scolded the man who scuffled to his feet. "That was

totally

unprofessional!"

I could tell Damon wanted to charge me, but Randy held him fast, pushing him into the wall with an audible thud. In the stronger illumination, I needed him to see the bile in my eyes, but I saw something unbelievable in his, instead. Damon's pupils weren't … right.

"Someone hand me a tac light."

Cassandra Hudson immediately removed hers from her Glock 31's Picatinny rail and put it in the palm I extended behind me. I shined it into Damon's eyes. His pupils constricted only slightly, unevenly, and very slowly. They were obviously blown out.

"What the

hell

?" I gasped and repeated the test twice more. "Are you freaking

high

?"

Adrenaline pumped instantly into my blood when he moved to draw his sidearm from its holster. I grabbed its frame, flipped the de-cock/safety lever, and pressed the magazine release. I twisted it firmly and quickly causing him to yowl before involuntarily releasing it. I immediately racked the slide to eject the live round from the chamber. It fell to the concrete below. Randy had already maneuvered himself behind Damon to restrain and handcuff him. Thankfully, the scenario we were practicing required us to be fully kitted out because cuffs wouldn't have been immediately available otherwise.

"You're

done

, dude," said Randy, my assistant lead.

He walked the man off the floor of the arena. A short time later, his credentials and badge were removed from his person, and he was escorted out of the building into an ambulance. I'd write up an order for a drug test which would likely end his career. It would be a less-than-ideal outcome, but I'd have no regrets because he could have killed someone in his state.

I gave Damon's sidearm to the range master and asked him to clean and secure it in the armory. Since all law enforcement agencies keep track of every single round expended on the job, I'd need to remember to account for the ejected cartridge I placed in my pocket to discard later.

"You okay, boss?" Cassandra asked.

"Yeah. Thanks. I'm better than that idiot will ever be," I answered.

"I think you might have broken his finger. I heard something snap when you disarmed him."

"It's possible," I agreed because I'd not only heard it, I'd felt it. "I'm glad y'all had my back. Now, let's get back to work."

"How?" Josh asked. "Until Randy comes back, we're down two men."

"Which might happen in the field."

We discussed the revised situation for about ten or fifteen minutes, and I described ways a shorthanded encounter could be approached. My team calculated the math and nodded.

"Randy can rejoin us when he comes back. Everyone else, reload and return to alpha position," I said as we all replaced our PPE and situated our firearms appropriately.

"Range hot!" I yelled loud enough to be heard through everyone's earmuffs.

"Negative. Unknown observer present," the master countermanded over loudspeakers.

I turned toward the control station. When I saw who the intruder was, I immediately smiled. The face of one of my team members paled as if she'd seen a ghost.

"Look what the cat dragged in!" Randy hollered, escorting a man with a visitor's pass around his neck.

I approached, still wearing my grin. "Welcome back. Did you miss the place?"

"

Rick

?" Cassandra yelped. "Rick

Sanger

? Is it really

you

?"

"Please tell me your name is Cass," he said, though I was certain he was only goofing around.

"Oh. My.

God

. Can I give you a hug? Please?"

"Absolutely." He smiled and held his arms open.

"Pardon the armor," she said, giving him a friendly embrace and even a peck on his cheek, both of which made me smile because their familiarity had resumed the way I remembered it being before the incident.

"Oh, jeez, Cassandra," Rick said. "It's so good to see you again. Your little smooch was a

hell

of a lot more appropriate than Randy's full-on mouth-to-mouth."

Randy laughed hard. "You wish, dude!"

Cass and Randy wore gloriously warm, happy smiles, as did I at their impromptu reunion. Two others' expressions were more perplexed, so I made introductions.

"Josh, allow me to introduce Rick Sanger," I said. "Rick, this is Joshua Hill, our latest addition, and that's Brian Dunlap, the division chief.

"Brian," I said to the man who'd come in behind Randy, "Rick was Tim Corrigan's lead trainer before I was promoted into the position."

"Rachel has told me a lot about you," Brian said, shaking his hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, especially considering what happened as a result of your accident."

"Likewise," Rick said. "Thank you for authorizing my visit. I know firsthand that only someone with the proper heft can get approval to bring me down here."

"It's the least I could do considering how you took great care of many current and former agents."

Rick then turned to Josh and shook his hand. "Hi, Josh. It's good to meet you, as well. Hopefully RJ hasn't been too tough on you."

"On

me

? Not compared to what just happened to a candidate."

"Oh? What'd I miss?"

"It's a long story," Randy answered.

"Well, I like good scuttlebutt unless it's classified. Are y'all free for lunch? It'd be my honor to treat everyone."

My staff looked at me for an answer. I checked my watch.

"How's about now?"

"I wish I could come along," Brian said, "but I need to get back upstairs. I stepped out of a meeting just long enough to come down here to meet you. Maybe some other time?"

No one else objected, so we agreed to join Rick at Tommaso's Trattoria after putting away our gear.

As previously unknown but then familiar friends and former coworkers of Rick were seated at a table, I felt fortunate I was able to keep my emotions under control. The week before, I was unable to constrain them with him. "Rediscovering" him was an overwhelming experience in every sense of the word, and I could see the joy in Rick's eyes at the latest reunion.

RICK SANGER

Five Days Earlier

A beautiful woman had simply brought her mother to my business to receive some basic training in handgun usage and safety. The younger had recognized me immediately, but gave me the time to … well, to

remember

her.

Since then, I've looked in several thesauruses for a more apt synonym of flabbergasted. A perfect one was

floored

because it was literal. I basically collapsed to it at my business when the crash of memories explosively erupted in my head.

She'd been a total and complete stranger, just like almost every new customer at my shop. Then she asked if she could try out the equipment some contractors were installing in one of the tactical arenas. I had no reason to turn her down because I was enjoying the company of a lovely woman who showed an interest in shooting sports only to discover she was an expert marksman already.

The scent of her was what pulled the trigger. Her body's smell after the strenuous simulation combined with her perfume, whatever deodorant or antiperspirant she used, and certain other specific actions she'd taken somehow opened the floodgates of heaven. In mere minutes from that moment, I realized I was holding the woman who'd once been my long-time friend and one-time lover in my arms. I wept on her shoulder in grief and righteous indignation at my brain's purge of the memories of her for four years.

We spent hours talking, holding hands, and sneaking kisses.

While rain gushed outside, adding a wonderful white-noise ambiance to the otherwise quiet, abandoned shop floor, our emotions gushed at the cruel reality of what one stupid ladder had caused.

The two of us decided we wanted to see if we could resurrect the relationship which sparked less than twenty-four hours before I forgot her entirely.

She seemed as intensely aroused by our sudden reunion as I was. My desire was more than evident as Rachel felt with her hand my erection through my pants, and I sensed hers in the warm crotch of her cargo shorts. After we locked ourselves in my hidden apartment, she unfastened my utilities, knelt to her knees, and drew them down.

She nuzzled my scrotum and penis, panting into me with staggering breath.

"Oh,

fuck

yeah," she groaned, grasping my flesh in her hand. "God, I remember this."

I chuckled despite myself because Rachel was seldom known to speak the curse she uttered and had admonished me for saying it not hours earlier.

"You told me to mind my tongue out there. Shouldn't you mind yours?"

"Yeah. I think I will," she said before she used it to lick me from my sac to the tip of my glans.

"Go easy on me, RJ." I gasped when she took me into her mouth. "I don't want to be spent yet. I'm already really close to the edge, and I don't have any condoms like I did before."

I pulled back and she looked up at me with a mock pout.

I helped her stand to her feet, removed my boots and socks, then kicked my trousers and briefs away.

"You've always been incredibly well-built," she whispered, sliding her hands up my chest. "Please. I want to see all of you."

Her cute, coy little sexy grin made my shaft bob before I pulled my sport shirt off.

"

Mm

," she hummed, sucking my nipples and gripping my backside in her hands.

A sudden realization struck me as I almost acted on another instinct. Before I was injured, I could have easily done what I desired, but I knew my leg was too weak to accomplish it.

"Baby," I said, "I need to tell you something important which might risk breaking the mood."

"Say whatever you want, Rick, nothing's going to spoil it."

"Don't be so sure," I cautioned. "The fall didn't only knock the wits out of me. It also trashed my leg and left me with some loss of mobility that'll never come back. Range of motion and strength in particular. Like I said before we took down Conex City, I might need you to, I don't know⁠—"

"Help?" she interrupted. "Each must use their strengths and skills, and be able to depend on those of others to⁠—"

"⁠—truly function as a team," we spoke in unison the remainder of a mantra we often used in training.

"

Exactly

, Rick. We'll figure it out. What would you do right now if you weren't worried about your leg?"

I grinned. "I'd fireman-carry you to my bed."

"And then what?" she asked sultrily.

I was hesitant to speak because I was a little ashamed my first thoughts were of satisfying my basest instincts.

"C'mon, you can tell me." She grinned sweetly, pulling my naked body to her still fully clothed self.

"I want to see if your scents are like I remember."

She was silent for several moments, her eyes pensively darting between mine.

"Um, Conex City was a bit of a workout. I assume this nifty hideaway has such facilities, so … should I shower first?"

I considered her question for a few moments. Since it was a scent which awakened my brain, I didn't want it taken away. There was something about the erotic cocktail of her exercised body mixed with her floral antiperspirant and applied fragrance that was entrancing and not at all offensive.

"No," I whispered.

She sat at the foot of my bed to remove her shoes and socks. I slowly and awkwardly knelt on the floor. I took her feet, one at a time, into my hands and massaged their soles firmly but gently, earning sighs of comfort. I kissed the pad of each toe, then flicked my tongue on her littlest eliciting a ticklish squeal.

"Goofball." She chuckled with a smile which countered the insult and acknowledged the tender, playful moment.

"RJ, please, may I?" I furtively whispered, placing one hand between her knees.

"Yes, baby," she replied with a whisper and nod, parting her thighs.

I stared with wide eyes at the beauty of her form. Her cargos were snug and exhibited delicious curves, her beautiful bottom biting at the khaki-colored cloth, and the subtle mound of her sex evident under crossed seams.

I was acutely concerned as I leaned toward her offering. I wasn't worried about what I might encounter, but what I might not remember. My angst immediately evaporated when I deeply inhaled. Her scent was expectedly rich and aromatic. It was her. It was

her

. It was

RJ

. The aroma of Rachel's pussy was exactly as I remembered it the first and only night we'd enjoyed years earlier.

I moved the hem of her shorts at her left leg away from her inner thigh. I saw the elastic at the crotch of her panties. I placed my nose in the space between khaki and skin and drew in the richer, more intense scent and felt myself shivering at the intensity of my arousal and desire.

I nuzzled into the warm cloth passing between her legs. The toned musculature of her bottom was at my chin, and she gasped as I pressed my nose firmly to the center of her hidden lips.

I sighed with a shudder. "How could I have

ever forgotten you

?"

She drew herself from underneath me, helped me back to my feet, and began to remove her clothing. I commanded myself to ignore my pain because my knee, as I predicted hours earlier, had delivered the hate. Fiercely. The scent of an undergarment she offered me acted as an analgesic as well as an aphrodisiac. I brought her warm panties to my nose, and she brought my dick to her mouth.

RACHEL JARRETT

Tommaso's

I couldn't help but smile at Rick's carriage and demeanor. He was, of course, obviously happy reuniting with friends he'd forgotten, and just as content at meeting for the first time and chatting with one he'd never met. He was back in his element, displaying every bit of the character as when he was the leader of my team and I reported to him.

Rick had brought Cassandra and Randy into his fold about a year after me, and some memories of them returned as I showed him the group photos taken at a competition the team had won a few months before his accident. He begged me to get him a visitor's pass into the higher-security areas of the federal building to surprise my unit with a visit. It was something I was more than willing to ask of Brian.

"So, Rick, what's been keeping you busy these days?" Randy asked as the server sat glasses of either iced tea or water at our seats.

"I'm running a gun range called Option Two Tactical in Stafford where we also offer various types of training," he began, then followed with a few minutes of details.

"How's business?" Cassandra asked.

"Breaking even, at least." Rick chuckled. "It's how I got back in touch with Rach⁠—RJ."

He gave me a subtle, sideways smile as I stroked his thigh under the table. He took my hand and squeezed it gently.

"She'd brought her mother in for a one-on-one IFT class. I had no clue at all who she was at that point.

"Coincidental and convoluted circumstances helped me remember her, starting last weekend when some kids snuck onto the property to use one of the outdoor high-bays to play paintball where I wound up getting shot."

He described the events which led to the conversation he had with the kids' parents, how I pressed him for details about it, then suggested we meet for lunch so he could explain what happened. I could see his gears turning, trying to formulate a story which didn't end with us in bed together, and couldn't keep from smiling as my hand stroked a little higher up his leg.

He then described how I'd insinuated myself into his affairs, requesting a run on the new equipment he'd added to one of his tactical arenas.

"Rick drilled home all the safety protocols and rules to me just like Randy or I do when there's unfamiliar people coming into our facility, and I'm trying my best to play along. He reprogrammed the system to give me eight targets, one at a time. It seemed like an eternity passed between each one."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh, and completely static. No

go-go

."

"You gave RJ a

Kindergarten class

?" Cassandra said, glaring at Rick with a not-so-subtle laugh.

He blushed, covered his eyes with a hand, and slowly nodded. I'm sure he was a touch embarrassed shortly after the events he was describing, but I loved how he was willing to convey a repeat of the results to his friends in such an honest, humorously self-deprecating way.

"I feel like an idiot now," he groaned.

"I put double-taps to all the silhouettes' foreheads, but I think I only got to fire eight rounds before he cut me off."

"I stopped her because I was thinking some weirdo was trying to pull a fast one on me. I was watching everything about her the same way I evaluate any client at Option Two or candidates at the ATF when I was working there, and I'm mentally giving this gal A-double-pluses even though it was a basic presentation.

"Still thinking

I'm

the one in charge, I told her to reload, and reprogrammed the system to present a much more advanced exercise."

"And?" Randy probed.

"She freaking shut. It. Down."

Everyone at the table laughed. I was loving every second of his praise, even though he overdid it a tad.

"Are you going to tell them, or should I?" I hinted with a grin. "You know, about

your

beta run?"

He looked perplexed for a moment before he blushed and put his head in his hand again.

"You deserve to tell them," he conceded.