While There Is Hope

Two Years Earlier

Ashley gave the best head. She was a virtuoso. Of course it wasn't allowed, a deputy and a witness. But the heart wants what the heart wants. And I'd wanted Ashley since I'd first seen her. It seemed like it was mutual. It wasn't just sexual. It felt spiritual, like she was the one. I didn't believe in souls, but Ashley made me believe in soulmates.

And I was arrogant back then. I had this crazy idea that the rules didn't apply to me. That Dad would make the consequences of any infraction go away. Yeah, I was that much of an asshole. I'd done what I thought were the hard yards. A bachelor's in mathematics, I'd always loved numbers. But I knew my future wasn't in academia, not for my Dad's only child. So next was a master's in criminal justice. Everything I did, I did well. I knew what was expected of me. Top of my class, and winning every honor.

I might be diminutive, but I was a varsity athlete and did gymnastics in my spare time, so the Service physical was a breeze. I'd grown up with guns and a deep respect for them, again instilled by Dad. Under his supervision, I'd handled his firearms from an early age. I'd won competitions. Of course the Service would train me, but it looked good on the application form. Not that my acceptance was ever in any doubt.

I was the golden girl. Service born and bred. Even the DEI guys loved me: female, East European Jewish on Mom's side, Puerto Rican and white on Dad's. I ticked all the boxes. I guess my sexuality might have ticked some more, but law enforcement is still a pretty conservative area and, while I never exactly hid my tendencies, I didn't advertise them either.

Speaking of tendencies, Ashley was indulging mine perfectly. I put a hand on her blonde hair and pushed her down more firmly on to me. She adjusted her position between my legs and the new angle was even better, the depth of her tongue thrusts an eighth inch greater, my own feelings rising quicker. Fuck, she was good, like new personal best good. And she knew it, bitch!

"Hey, angel, let me get a part of this."

Ashley lifted her head, face flushed and a little sticky. "Sure, Deputy. I'm meant to do exactly what you say, right?"

I laughed, and we rearranged ourselves side by side, heads on each other's thighs, opposing legs raised, welcoming the other woman. I'm not always subtle and dove right in, loving Ashely's squeal as my tongue entered her. She reciprocated immediately. I was already most of the way there. Let's see how quickly I could get my lover to join me.

For a while, the only noises were slurping and sighs and -- increasingly -- moans and yelps. My catch up objective proved to be elusive as Ashley's skills quickly drove me to a crazily intense orgasm. I'd simply held my face against her, breathing her scent deeply as she pushed me way past what I could tolerate and still stay in any control of my emotions.

As I swam back to the conscious world, Ashley continued to lap me softly, enjoying the extra flow she had stimulated. I focused on her, a finger rubbing just to the right of where my tongue was busy. I felt her begin to wriggle as my diligent work started to have an effect. When I grabbed an ass-cheek and held her still, she whimpered, and it was now Ashley's turn to pull my head to her.

I was overwhelmed by Ashely's taste and smell and the more frantic noises she was now making. She was such a rewarding lover. And loud, so loud. As I kept up my rhythm, her cries crescendoed until they ended in a drawn out scream, and I felt the warmth of her juices on my tongue and then my cheeks. We each rolled on to our backs, still head to toe, chests heaving, hearts thumping, our internal fires dampening.

A voice rang out, calling my name. Bad timing. I shouted my reply. "I'm kinda busy, Abebe. Didn't I say?"

Two words boomed up from downstairs. "Phone, Hope."

I yelled back. "Busy." Ashley giggled.

I heard Abebe again. "It's your father."

Shit! I threw on some pants and a shirt and ran barefoot down the stairs. We had a dedicated, secure line and my partner was holding the receiver, looking at me with some frustration. He put his hand over the mic and glared. "Try to keep the mission in mind, Hope."

I smiled serenely and took the phone from him. "Hello, Sir. What can I do for you?"

It was nothing really. An update on the trial date. Nothing that a subordinate could not have handled. It could have been covered just fine in a mail. I knew he was just checking in on his little girl. Eventually the questions turned to me, and how I was doing. He asked how I was getting on with the witness and, for a second, I worried that Abebe had said something. But all was well. I signed off with a very unofficial, "love you, Dad. Give Mom a hug for me."

I returned the handset to a clearly still pissed Abebe. "I didn't ask for this gig, Hope. You could try to be professional. If you can't manage that, at least try to be a bit more discreet."

He was right of course. I can't have been an easy partner. Still it was only for a few more days. I relayed the good news to him, and he seemed happier. He even smiled when he next spoke. He had that radiant smile that seems to be the preserve of guys with a North African heritage. "Want some lunch? I was gonna fix some sandwiches?"

"Sure, thanks. And, look, I'll try to be a good girl, OK?"

"I don't need a good girl, I need a good fucking partner." But Abebe was grinning as he spoke.

"Sure, Eric. I'll do my best. Let me go see if Ashley... the witness that is, wants anything."

Abebe was a good guy. I liked him. But I knew the current arrangement between me and our charge was something he thought deeply unwise. I guess if I had been anyone else, he'd have been even more outspoken about it. It made me feel bad that he clearly thought himself constrained by my parentage. Then what was I meant to do?

Ashley came down for lunch. She and Eric got on fine. The only tension was between me and him. Our lives weren't exactly full of excitement at present -- save for my alone time with my...? My what? Girlfriend? It was complicated. Eric suggested cards and we played for a bit. Then there was the big TV, the Service had paid for Netflix and Disney, no expense spared. I wanted to get outside, have some exercise, feel the sun on my face. But that was against a rule that even I realized needed to be respected.

Abebe said he would watch something and asked me to pick what. But Ashely said she was tired and wanted to nap. I shrugged as I followed her, getting an eye roll in return from Eric. But Ashley wasn't kidding, she curled up and was soon peacefully asleep. I lay next to her, looking at the bumps and ridges in the ceiling, imagining it a map of some distant planet. Then I too closed my eyes, just for a few seconds.

I was suddenly very awake. The sun was much lower and turning orange. What had that noise been? A crash maybe? Did I hear something else? A sharp, metallic sound.

I got up as quietly as I could, and debated whether or not to wake Ashely. The noises had been downstairs. Safer for her up here. Anyway, it was probably nothing. Nevertheless I unholstered my weapon and flicked off the safety.

It helps being both light and agile if you want to be stealthy. I padded silently to the head of the stairs in my socks. I could hear something like a rasping groaning and began to feel scared. The angle was not good for looking downwards. I got onto my stomach and found a place from which I could see some of the TV room.

Eric was on the couch. He was motionless and his white shirt was soaked in red. His eyes were closed and I assumed the worst. Protocol was to put the witness first. And I was falling in love with the witness. Fuck! Not the right time for this, Hope. But there was no way I was leaving without at least confirming my partner was indeed dead.

I got up and slowly began to descend the stairs, gripping my weapon, my eyes scanning left and right. All was quiet. Then a loud creak broke the silence. I knew about that loose board, I fucking knew. There were sounds of movement below, to the left and to the right. With a moan, Eric opened his eyes, stared straight at me, then flicked them sideways to his left.

They tell you to confirm the target visually, to not shoot civilians just because you were too scared to check. But I trusted my partner. I threw myself down the stairs, firing twice to the right. Hitting the floor, I rolled and ended in a crouch facing the same way.

A masked man, gun in hand staggered towards me. I'd got lucky. I felled him with a third shot to the heart. But there had been more than one noise. Move, Hope, fucking move! I dove toward the couch. I was quick, but not quick enough. A sharp plink sounded and I felt like a hammer had been swung into my thigh.

Instinctively I sat up and grabbed my injured leg. A second plink and the side of my head burned. There was blood in my eye. Despite my agony and compromised sight, I made out a second masked figure approaching, also armed. I raised my gun, but my muscle control was shredded, I couldn't aim. I heard a laugh... and then a third plink...

...and then he collapsed and stayed still. I was in shock and deeply confused. Then she was there with me, her arms round me. And, in Ashley's hand was a gun with a silencer attached. "I picked it up, Hope. Did I do good? But you're bleeding. And Eric..."

I looked up from the floor and saw that Abebe had closed his eyes again, most likely for the last time. I grabbed hold of Ashley and breathed, "thank you," she was starting to sob.

I felt like I could black out at any point, but willed myself to stay conscious just long enough. "Listen, Ashley. You did good, you did real good. Now I need you to do some other stuff, OK?"

She agreed through her tears. I tried to sound calm as I spoke, but my leg was on fire and my head hurt. "So, we need to stop the bleeding. Get a towel, get all the towels, OK? And the belts from the bathrobes. Can you do that?"

She nodded. "But you need a hospital. Shouldn't I just...?"

I cut her off. "No. Don't dial 911. I'll tell you who to call. But do what I said first. Now, OK?" She ran upstairs.

Looking around me, I saw my sunglasses case on the coffee table. With some effort, I reached for it and took out the cleaning cloth. I methodically rubbed it all over the gun Ashley had used, then put my hand round it, squeezing, making imprints. I tried to calculate angles. You can do it, Hope, you're good at math. Yeah, that would work. I shuffled sideways, checked the alignment again, lifted the gun with some difficulty, and pulled the trigger. The second corpse briefly reanimated as the slug hit it. I tossed the gun to one side.

Eric. Fuck, Eric. I had to be sure. But I couldn't raise myself. I heard Ashley returning. She put the towels and belts down. "What are you doing, Hope?"

"Trying to check on Eric. I'm pretty sure... but..."

Ashley suddenly sounded decisive. "What do you need me to do?"

"My leg, oh fuck... my leg first. Give me a towel."

I put the towel over the wound and pressed down. The pain alone was almost enough for me to pass out. I told myself I could do this. That 911 wasn't an option. "Belt, try to feed it under my thigh. Yeah, like... fuck!" I needed to calm myself.

"OK, hand me the ends. And can you wipe the blood out of my eyes?"

Ashley did as I said. I pulled hard on the belt, screaming as I did, then tied a knot. "Another. Same thing." My second yell was even louder, but my makeshift tourniquet seemed to be helping. The first towel was soaked in blood, Ashley handed me a second, and the flow was much less. Good!

"Now my head. I want you to wipe away the blood and tell me what it looks like."

She did as I asked. "Oh shit, Hope, I think it's bone."

"Push on it with your finger. Is it hard, or does it give under pressure?"

"It's... it's hard. Is that good?"

"Yeah, that's good. Hopefully just a surface wound. Now Eric..."

Ashley looked doubtful again. "Just try to feel a pulse in his neck, listen to whether he's breathing."

She steeled herself to perform the actions, then shook her head, horror in her face. She grabbed for me and I held her. I tried to ignore my agony, to give her what she needed. "It's OK, sweetness. It's all OK." It was how Dad had talked to me after my many childhood mishaps.

"Now, get the phone. Yeah, the big one over there. Call this number." I made her write down the digits. "Say you urgently need Marshall Molinera. No, not me, the actual Marshall. My... my father."

I was fading fast now, but I needed to tell her more. "And, Ashley, the bad guys killed Abede. I killed the bad guys. You were upstairs. OK?"

"But, Hope, why?"

"No time, Ashley. Just please do exactly what I say, and stick to that no matter what. Promise me."

"But... but why? Why do you want me to lie?"

I told myself it was because of the trial. The chief witness having just killed a Cartel assassin? Not good news, a substantial delay at the very least, maybe a mistrial. I told myself it was to protect her. To keep her out of it. Not to have their blood on her hands. It was all true but, deep down, I knew it was also for me. It was my crushing guilt at my complicity in Eric's death. My appalling dereliction of duty. And, probably most of all, my desire not to sully Dad's name. Not to drag him down with me.

I didn't have time to explain. I didn't want to explain. "Just do it, Ashely. Do exactly what I told you.... Do it if you love me."

As I uttered those words, my consciousness spiraled down, and blackness enveloped me.

I woke up in a hospital bed. Mom was sitting in a chair, reading her Kindle. I had so many questions, but she bade me keep quiet, husband my strength. "Can you at least tell me what happened? I know about Abebe already. But Ashley? And... am I OK?"

After extracting a promise that I'd listen and not talk, Mom filled me in. Eric was being buried in a week, his parents had asked whether I could say some words. "Only if you are strong enough, Esperanza." It was strange, the Hispanic roots were on Dad's side, but I'd always been his Hope. The idea of giving a eulogy horrified me. What would I say? "Here lies Eric Abebe, who died because I couldn't keep my hands out of a witness's panties?"

More practically, I explained I had no idea how strong I was. Mom said that I'd had an emergency operation to remove the bullet from my femur and repair my femoral artery. I'd lost a lot of blood, but I'm O+, so there was plenty available to replace it. They'd patched up my bone, but it had been shattered and I would need further surgery to rebuild it. I was facing a lengthy stay in hospital and then extensive rehab. The expectation was that I'd be able to walk close to normally in time, but, for now, I would need crutches.

"And Ashley...?"

Here Mom was more reticent, claiming she didn't know a lot. "I understand from your father that the trial has been brought forward, based on concerns about her safety. It starts the day of your partner's funeral."

"But I won't be able to attend."

Mom looked serious. "I think Dad said that you shouldn't attend, that you should be focusing on surgery. He said that the doctors want to start right after the funeral."

I was appalled, but I also got it. I was a complicating factor. It made me wonder how successful my attempt at subterfuge had been. I had to ask. "And me? The Service, will there be an inquiry?"

"You'll have to ask your father, but I don't think so. I think he said that they were going to give you a medal. When you are well enough of course. You're a hero. We are all so proud."

So, they'd bought it. Or maybe Dad had made them buy it. But him? What did he think? What did he suspect? And a medal? I was a fucking disgrace to the Service, not a hero. I saw Eric's smiling face and the tears started.

"Oh dear, I've tired you too much, Esperanza. You need to rest. They've been giving you sedatives, for the pain. Let me call." She pressed a buzzer, ignoring my protestations.

As we waited for a nurse to arrive, Mom had one last message to impart. "Oh, and dearest. Your father did tell me to say something else. He said that the girl, Ashley, was going to have a new identity. A new start somewhere else."

She paused and extended a hand to hold mine. "He was very clear about this. He said to forget her."

To be continued...