Rings Of Fire Ch 14

It was late. Lauren was not sure how late. She dared not look at the clock in the corner of the computer. She had been working for hours. That seemed like days — an eternity. Brent had come and gone a couple of times, checking on her. Jill and Simone had brought lunch and more cake. Megan had delivered dinner. That remained pretty much untouched on the tray next to her.

Try as hard as she might; she could not get the simulation to run with anything more than fifty-fifty accuracy. Fifty-fifty! How could they possibly warn people and save lives if they could not say with any more certainty than that? "The world, as we know it, may be coming to an end...or maybe not," she sighed under the weight of the responsibility.

Strong hands gripped her shoulders, began to massage the tight muscles there. Brent bent and kissed the top of her head, "That bad, darlin'?"

She nodded as she turned to look up at him. She felt the tears burning her eyes, "I can't get the simulation to work. Well, not with the accuracy that we need to go public with your theory."

He nodded, "What we do know is bad enough, though. If Daniel's friend Zane can't make our colleagues in Washington see that, then I'm going ahead and authorizing Monique to talk to her friends in the media. I'll keep your name out of this," he smiled. "One of us ought to have a career left if I'm wrong."

She shook her head, "It's not that, Brent. I don't give a damn about my professional reputation. Not when it is stacked against human lives like," she could not bring herself to even think about it, let alone say Naples.

He nodded as he drew her to her feet, "I know, sweetheart. I did not mean it like that. I guess my attempts at humor are a bit off the mark right now."

She soothed the deep creases around his mouth, "I understand, Brent. You have a lot on you right now. How is everything else going? I was so busy working on the model that I have not been paying attention to much else, I'm afraid."

"Katie's plane landed in D.C. a few hours ago. Zane Rogers is going over your earlier data as we speak. Of course, what still worries me is La Palma. Even if he convinces FEMA and USGS about the severity of the effects of these eruptions on the environment, that still won't prepare anyone for what could happen."

"I know," she murmured. "And that's the problem: what to tell whom and when. What is the latest with Vesuvius? I mean, all I have are numbers. A VEI 5 and approaching a 6?"

He nodded, "Yes, even if Benito had had more time, the officials there were only prepared for a four. They would have only called for the evacuation of the Zona Rosa, which would not have made a damned bit of difference."

"Science and politics have never mixed well," she admitted reluctantly.

"I heard from Monique a while ago. They had a bit of trouble with the plane on the way."

"What? Are they okay? Jason was flying her, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, I switched planes and pilots at the last moment when I knew you were not going. Good thing too. From what he tells me, any other pilot might not have been able to handle it."

Lauren saw the tension strumming through his body. She knew there was something he was not telling her. And she did not need the 'sight' for that one. She had known this man long enough to know. "It could not be an ash cloud, and I take it from that look, it was not lightening. So, what is up, Brent? What happened that has you so upset?"

"Engine failure."

She shrugged, "I know Jason is thorough, but these things do happen, Brent."

"No, sweetheart. This was meant for you. Someone sabotaged that plane. Jason inspected it himself the moment they made the emergency landing in Denver. Like I said, if it had been any other pilot, they would both probably be dead, right now." She saw his tan skin blanch as he ran his hands through his hair, "You could be dead if you were on that plane."

She stood up and went to him, she wrapped her arms about his shoulders, pressed her body as tightly as she could against his, got as close to him as she could with layers of clothes between them, "I'm fine, Brent. I'm right here. In your arms." She stood on tiptoes and brushed a soft kiss across his lips, "And I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."

He nodded and wrapped his arms about her waist, burying his face in the side of her neck, "I need you, babygirl."

She chuckled as she moved her hands between them and began unbuttoning his shirt, "Any time, any place, Dr. Jacobs."

He shook his head, and his hand covered hers, stilling its movement. He lifted it slowly to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to the center of her palm, "No, Lauren, not like that. Well, not just like that anyway."

"I need so much more than just that beautiful body of yours; I need my partner back. We always were the best volcanologist team out there. You don't know the number of times in the past few years; I've turned to ask you a question, seek your opinion."

"I need to fall asleep holding you every night for the rest of my life and wake up next to you in the morning. I need to argue with you and love with you. I want to raise our girls together. Truly be a family again."

Lauren's heart stopped as he dropped to one knee on the floor in front of her. She could barely see through the tears that streamed down her cheek, but what she did see choked all words from her. Between Brent's fingers was the golden wedding band that he had given her over fifteen years before on the slopes of Kilauea.

"Remember what I told you last time, sweetheart. That gold was only purified when it was tested in fire. These past seven years have been worse than any hell that I could imagine. Missing you. Loving you. Needing you."

"I've been tested in those fires, Lauren. My love for you has only grown stronger and purer. Will you wear my ring again, babygirl? Be my wife. My partner. My lover. My best friend. Forever and ever this time," the tears were streaming down his cheeks too as he spoke.

All she could manage was a simple nod of her head as he slipped her wedding band back onto her finger. Once it was entirely in place, he bent and placed a kiss on it. Then he turned her hand over and put something in her palm. She smiled as she recognized the more substantial, matching circle.

She nodded her head as she drew Brent back to a standing position. She knew what she wanted to do. How she wanted to cement this bargain, but she was not sure she had the courage. She inhaled deeply, looking around, even though she knew there was no one else about. She had to double-check as she began to unbutton her silk blouse. Her jacket had been discarded hours ago.

Her fingers fumbled as they unzipped her trousers as well. She let them all cascade to the floor until she stood clad only in her knickers and matching bra. She loved the way that Brent loudly sucked air deep into his lungs. But she adored the twinkle in his eyes and that sexy smile even more. They gave her courage for the rest.

She reached behind and fiddled with the hooks on her bra. It was even harder and slower going since she still held his wedding band in one hand. But she finally managed the task. She held his gaze as she slipped her fingers beneath the lacy wisp that passed for her underwear. She pushed those down her legs.

She fell to the floor. Her knees spread far apart. She knelt, no part of her body hidden from this man. She kept her head and eyes down as she reached for his left hand. She frowned as she noticed the white mark for the first time. She had not seen before. Had his wedding band been there all along? It would not surprise her honestly. To know that he had never removed it in the past seven years.

Slowly she slid the wedding band back into place. As he had, she bent and placed a solemn kiss on the cold metal that could never fully represent the depths of love that she felt for this man. Love that despite it all, she had never been able to extinguish, any more than the science she loved and had devoted her life to could dim or even control the forces of Mother Nature that was their shared calling.

"For better or worse. For richer or poorer. In sickness and in health. Forsaking all others, I pledge my trough to thee," she whispered.

"Damn, babygirl, you forgot. Love, honor...and obey," he chuckled as he drew her naked body slowly up his.

"Oh no, Doctor Jacobs, if you want obey, then I heard these strange rumors around here about this thing called a collar? How barbaric?" she giggled as she skipped the buttons of his shirt and went straight to work on his belt buckle.

His fingers encircled her neck, and she was shocked by the heat that raced up her spine to her addled brain at the erotic feel of them tightening. It was not enough to truly choke her, but enough to make breathing difficult.

Definitely, enough to get her attention as she began for the first time to wonder just how deep her newly discovered submissive nature was. She would have never thought she could find something so dangerous, so appealing. What else was there that Jill and Simone had shared that she might discover surprisingly pleasurable?

"Yes, well, collars unlike rings of fire are earned, babygirl. So, you may need to learn to check that cheeky brat side of yours." She jumped as his hand came down hard on her bare bottom, "Or other cheeks will pay the price."

"Yes, Sir," she smiled with a saucy grin that was as much a challenge as it was acquiescence.

"Oh, this is going to be fun, darlin'," he smiled as he pushed her over the desk.

Lauren moaned in both pain and pleasure as a series of solid blows landed on both cheeks of her bum. She jumped and fidgeted against the cold hard surface, but that only increased the fires burning between her legs.

Just when she thought she could not handle anymore, Brent entered her, smoothly, quickly and deeply. There was no doubt that this was ancient, primal. Dominate male claiming his prize. Staking his claim and branding his mate. Body and soul.

Lauren cried out as his fingers wrapped through her hair, pulling her head back as he bit into her ear lobe. "Mine," the single word held more power and meaning than the formal service that had once joined them as husband and wife.

"Yes, yes, Brent," she pleaded as she pressed back against him, drawing him deeper as her body began to spasm harder about his. She screamed out her release as he plunged faster and deeper inside of her. "Please, please," she panted mindlessly.

Her mate roared his release as his fingers jerked her head back harder. Her eyes flew open at the shocking depths of pain that only made the pleasure more intense. Their gazes locked and held as he emptied himself inside of her.

They remained like that for several long moments as their breathing and heart rates returned to normal. Lauren whimpered as she felt Brent's cock soften and slip from her.

She jumped as another firm slap landed on her outer thigh, "Later, my greedy little slut."

Her eyes widened in shock. She knew that she should correct him. That such a term was misogynistic and demeaning. But it certainly did not sound that way when Brent said it in that tone of voice. She bit her lower lip as she pondered the cognitive dissonance.

He drew her up off the desk as he once more removed his shirt, wrapping her in it and buttoning it just enough to cover the basics. He scooped her back into his arms as he made for the door.

"Is this some neo-Neanderthal mating ritual, Brent? Claim your mate in the man cave then dress her in your skins and carry her off?" she teased.

His deep laughter filled the night as they stepped into the clear moonlit West Texas desert, "Sounds like a good mating ritual to me, Mrs. Jacobs."

Lauren smiled as she wrapped her arms about his neck tighter and buried her head in it. The moonlight danced upon her wedding band.

Yes, tried in flames. Their love had only grown stronger. Their union might always be as unpredictable and explosive as the giants of nature they studied. But like those volcanoes, their souls indeed were Rings of Fire entwined across time and Fate.

***

Monique willed her fingers to stop shaking as she lifted the glass of tequila to her lips. She had foregone the niceties of salt and lime this time. She welcomed the burn of the fiery liquid. It affirmed the fact that she was alive. Something that until that afternoon she had never truly appreciated, taken for granted even. She emptied the glass in a single gulp and picked up the bottle to pour more when her phone rang.

She frowned, it was her friend Carlie. She had, of course, come all this way to see the woman, but not yet. Had she found out somehow that she was in town?

She hesitated. Coming here had not been easy. Not after the last time she had seen the woman, three years before. The chemistry they created between the sheets was as unstable as the collision of low and high pressure on a hot Texas afternoon.

Tornados were less damaging than this sexy, tanned, and slightly aging Southern California weather girl. No, Carlie Carlisle was anything but the air-headed, blond bimbo image that she had perfected. An image that had made her famous, not just in Los Angeles, but nationally.

Monique quickly brought the bottle to her lips and sucked down another considerable swig of courage. She had known she had to face her eventually. So it might as well be now?

"Hey, Carlie, what can I do you for?" she faked cheerfulness at the woman, who had broken her heart. The second time. But always the same reason. Some people would rather spend their whole lives living in the closet than admit the truth to themselves.

Monique had never been one of them. She had known she was lesbian since her early teens. So, why was it she only seemed to fall in love with uptight bitches, unable to ever genuinely commit because they needed to keep up appearances?

***

Travis Jacobs blinked back pain that threatened to turn his stomach inside out. His head throbbed worse than any hangover he had ever experienced. Even during his brief stint at college when he had pledged not one, not two, but three fraternities. It had been the wildest and drunkest month of his life.

But this time there were no pleasant memories to accompany the pain. He struggled to make sense of it. He tried to put the pieces together.

He had been surfing. The waves were hellacious off of Rosarita. He had just barely managed to the thread the eye on a fifteen footer that left his heart racing. When he came out of the surf with his board, he had noticed the kid. He could not have been more than five or six at the most. But he was racing from the blanket on the sand with what looked like Travis's wallet and cell phone.

He should have been smart. He should have just let the little urchin go. It wasn't like he could not replace the damned things. One simple call to his father's secretary and a courier would have delivered another phone and as much money as he needed. But it would have come at a price, another lecture from the old man.

And probably another call from the 'perfect' big brother too. He had already spent the better part of the past two days avoiding calls and texts from Brent.

He reached up and massaged the lump on his head, "Oww," he moaned as pain shot through this head like a lightning bolt.

"Don't move," he looked up at the angel with the head of wavy dark curls. Her golden skin glistened in the low light. Was it dawn or dusk? He could not tell.

He tried once more to put the rest of the pieces of the puzzle together. He knew he had seen her before. But he could not think where. He tried to roll over and lift himself. But she towered over him. That was when he noticed the baseball bat in her hand.

It came flooding back then. He had followed the kid through dark streets and alleyways. He had gotten lost in an unfamiliar section of town: a barrio, ghetto. The houses were little more here than pieces of tin and a few sticks clumsily thrown together.

He had grabbed the kid by his dirty shirt collar just as he slipped inside of one. He had shaken the boy, or at least he thought it was a boy he could not tell beneath all the dirt and grime.

"Let my brother go, señor," had come a voice from behind.

He had held tighter to the kid as he turned to face one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. She could not have been more than twenty, and she was almost painfully thin, except for the most stunning set of tits that Travis had ever seen straining against the thin white cotton of the t-shirt that said, "Made in America."

"No, I'm taking him straight to the police," he had bluffed. He did not want the often corrupt authorities involved any more than these people did. The story was almost sure to get back to his father and Brent then. But he figured he could use the leverage to get his property back. Who knew maybe even get the beauty queen to show a bit of gratitude?

But before he could suggest a compromise, she had swung the bat. That was the last thing he remembered.

Now she was standing over him with that same bat as the whole world began to tilt and whirl. Trav thought it was just his head playing more tricks upon him. Until suddenly the girl was splayed across his chest, clutching at him helplessly as the ground beneath them buckled and churned.

Fuck, it was an earthquake...

***

DJ paced the stifling, hot tin tomb that passed as a hangar in this godforsaken place. Each moment that Darren delayed cost them precious time, "Fuck it, baby brother. Will the god damned plane make it or not?"

He wanted to punch something, and any of the three shits that his mother and asshole father had saddled him with as little brothers would do at the moment. The one he really wanted to get his hands one though was the stupid fuckhead SEAL that his mother had replaced the old man with after he got his sorry ass blown up.

If this was Daniel's idea of a plane, then it showed just how much his 'stepfather' thought of him. He wanted to laugh, step-father indeed. The man was barely a decade older than he was. He loved his Mum to bits, he always had, but the woman had shitty taste in men. One that had almost cost her her life. And might yet cost him his, considering the state of this plane.

"Barely, I think," pronounced his youngest brother.

Dec was still bent over the fucking laptop. His fingers were flying on the keys, "We'll have to take the Southern route across the Atlantic. And even that is risky. Vesuvius just blew, so there is even more volcanic ash in the upper atmosphere."

Darren shook his dark blond head in response, "Won't matter, we won't be flying that high anyway. This thing could not handle it."

"It's happening then? It's really happening?" Damien shook his head.

"We better fucking hope it is, little brother. Otherwise, we'll be spending the rest of our lives in the brig," replied DJ. "How soon can we get the fuck out of here, kid?" he addressed Darren with the childhood nickname that he knew his youngest sibling hated.

"Now is as good a time as any."

"That damned thing have parachutes," DJ asked.

"Yeah, lot of good they will do us over open ocean with no flight plan and no way to signal for help though," Dec had to add his logistical analysis.

"That's not what I am talking about. I'm bailing over Isla Mujeres. So, get me in low and tight, baby brother."

They all stared at him. One word hung unspoken in the air. The same one that had for close to a decade - Sarah. The one woman besides their mother that they all loved. And the one that none of them could ever have.

"I'm going after her. And none of you will stop me," DJ challenged.

***

Katia Alexandroff clutched the portfolio tighter. Daniel had given it to her before she boarded the plane for Washington. Besides, the maps that showed over two dozen safe houses across the eastern half of the country, it had included this too. A photograph of Zane Rogers. Commander Zane Rogers. Of course, he had only been a Lieutenant then.