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  “Soon, you okay?

  “Yes I’m fine. Now go or you won’t be okay the next time I see you,” he replied with a lighthearted threat.

  “Okay, I’m going. Is Sandy home?”

  “No. Not yet. I’m expecting her soon. Now go.”

  “Tell her I said hello. Goodnight, David,” she signed off.

  They hung up. His head once again hit the pillow, this time with a hint of a smile on his face. He did enjoy their interactions.

  At that moment the door opened. It was Sandy.

  “Wattsy, I’m home. How are you holding up? Did we learn what started the fire?”

  “Not yet. But I’m sure we’ll have the answers tomorrow.”

  “I want to have a look around first thing in the morning,” she told him.

  “There’s no need for you to rush over there. They have the scene secured and won’t be releasing it back to us until the investigation is complete. Listen, I need to be there early to take care of a couple of things, so why don’t you catch up with your father or go for a jog to shake off the jet lag and meet me there early afternoon.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, by then we will know more.”

  “Okay then. I’m going to go take a shower,” she leaned over and gave him a kiss.

  “For what you have gone through today you still look pretty good for an old beat up hockey player.”

  “Nice,” he jokingly replied.

  “Maybe we can figure out another way to shake off my jet lag.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  With that she turned, walked slowly towards the shower in a sexy swagger losing her clothing one piece at a time until there was nothing but her. He knew what she meant, and oh how badly he wanted her.

  “Wait a minute, now I know what you mean,” he smiled.

  He rested his head on the pillow again and within seconds he was out for the count.

  ***

  It took Sandy a good half hour to finish up. Returning to find her husband fast asleep was a disappointment. She had been looking forward to slipping into this bed since leaving for Europe last week. It was understandable knowing how difficult the past hours must have been for him. In all honesty she was actually surprised to find him still up when she arrived. So she wasn’t going to wake him, not purposely anyhow. Nevertheless, that didn’t ease the fact she was horny. Folding the blankets back, she gave him a kiss on his cheek, then nestled into her side of the king size bed.

  A few minutes passed but sleep was not imminent. Becoming more and more aroused with thoughts of what might be forthcoming in the morning, when both were rested, she couldn’t wait. She began to ever so lightly pinch her nipples with one hand while stroking her stomach with the other. It wasn’t long before she was experiencing wetness. Lying on her back with both legs slightly spread apart, her fingers found their way to the vicinity of need. From above, it would appear both of them were sound asleep except for the delicate movements below the satin sheets where her fingers were becoming wet. As she became more stimulated, she began to move her moist fingers from between her legs to his manhood. She would go back to pleasuring herself and then move them back to him. Sandy repeated her movements a number of times until he soon became hard, bathed in her juices. As she was nearing an orgasm, muffling her moans with a folded pillow over her face, David woke up. No man could continue to sleep while being finessed like this. They didn’t make tired enough to compete with it. God he loved this girl. They made love. They slept.

  Chapter 2

  Monday through Thursday David would meet with Sandy’s father Jacob in the latter's office, located on the main floor of the estate. Eight o’clock was the predetermined time. Mr. McGinnis would have preferred seven, but David bartered for an extra few minutes of sleep. In his hockey days, most games were played in the evening. After, they would be shuttled from the dressing room to a waiting bus, to a chartered flight and on to a new city. Mornings were reserved for rest and recuperation. You didn’t come out of these games without bruises. Ice bags were such a wonderful thing.

  Since his retirement, he worked for his wife’s father. David controlled the thoroughbred division of the business. Their stable was known to produce some of the world’s finest racehorses. The breeding fees alone amounted to tens of millions of dollars per year. David did a first-class job overseeing the operation. Jacob allowed him to make the majority of the decisions. David appreciated this. These meetings consisted of a quick update on whether or not Mr. McGinnis could be of any assistance. The answer was always thanks, but no thanks, everything seems to be in order.

  This morning was not much different from others, except for the fact that when he entered the room, Mr. McGinnis was entertaining a guest.

  “This is my son-in-law, David. David this is Special Agent James Scott from the FBI,” Jacob stood up from behind his desk to introduce them.

  He wasn’t all that surprised to be standing next to a FBI agent. His father-in-law was wealthy and connected beyond comprehension, a regular on the Forbes list of the world’s most powerful people. David earned an average of four million dollars a year playing hockey. Being frugal with his earnings, he really didn’t have to work another day of his life. However, in comparison to his father-in-law’s wealth, his was chump change. He wasn’t quite sure of all that Sandy’s father’s businesses encompassed. Jacob had offices in a number of major cities, but spent most of his time at the ranch. It was magical to watch at times. Witnessing him pick up the phone and have a short conversation with the person on the other end, and that was that. The situation resolved. Things were in motion and the outcome was always in favor of Jacob McGinnis. He could place you on a board of directors, or get an invite to whatever event he wished to attend. That was his business, so David didn’t spend a great deal of time scrutinizing it. All his energies went into his own responsibilities.

  “Pleased to meet you,” David replied.

  “I spoke with the Director of the FBI yesterday, and she has sent us Special Agent Scott here,” Jacob began, “he was kind enough to fly in this morning. I’ve been told he is the most experienced arson investigator in the country, if not in the world.”

  “With all due respect Special Agent Scott, nothing I or the local authorities have seen led us to believe that this is a case of arson,” David interjected. “I’m sure there is a simple explanation for the fire.”

  “Mr. Watson,” agent Scott began.

  “Please, David is fine.”

  “David,” he continued, “I hope what you say is correct, but since I’m already here, would you mind if I wandered over to the stables to take a look around? Your father-in-law has made it clear that all decisions relating to this are yours.”

  For the most part anyway, David thought. But he knew it had been predetermined that the FBI agent was going to leave the room to command control of the investigation and was okay with it. He didn’t think the fire was set on purpose. Agent Scott’s visit would only confirm that.

  David grew up in a small town where nobody had cause to lock the doors of their homes. Their keys were left in the ignition of the pickup trucks parked in the driveways. He found it hard to believe that anyone could be that insensitive to endanger these animals on purpose.

  “Absolutely,” David replied. “I’m heading over there shortly, would you like a ride.”

  “No, but thank you, I have transportation.”

  “Well then,” David stood, “our head trainer, Serge Thompson, should be there this morning. He’ll be able to assist you with most of what you need. But be warned, he possesses quite the ego. He is the best horseman in the country and knows it. Should he frustrate you to no end, which he often does, ask for Renée, our assistant trainer. She can walk you from one end to the other blindfolded. Maybe that’s who you should start with,” he said enlightening the agent of the chain of command. “I’ll be there in a couple of hours if you need to discuss anything.”

  Th
ey shook hands. David made his way towards the door but before reaching it he turned back to catch both men watching him leave. He looked at the FBI agent with a piercing stare, for what seemed to be an uncomfortable length of time—a facial expression not many had witnessed. Speaking in a searing tone he warned, “If this fire was deliberately set Agent Scott, it would be in everyone’s best interest to resolve it quickly. Use all the resources available to you. You will want to find the people responsible for it,” he paused, “before I do.”

  With that he exited the meeting, not bothering to listen to the lecture he was getting about leaving the situation in the hands of the proper authorities and that he should not do anything that would be considered an act of vigilantism.

  ***

  Sandy woke up. David was gone. He had let her sleep. She was disappointed, as she was looking forward to an encore of last night’s activities. But it wasn’t to be. She put on a track suit in preparation of a morning jog. The plan was to take a quick ten mile run. At that distance she would barely break a sweat. Exercise, particularly running and martial arts had become an obsession of hers early in life. She relished the high, craved the mental cleansing they provided. Blessed with beauty, becoming a world class model would have been a walk in the park. But she preferred the athletic route. Exercise, at the intensity she performed on a daily basis, could only be achieved if one was in immaculate physical condition.

  Walking down the stairs she caught a glimpse of two men in the foyer saying their goodbyes. One was her father. The other she hadn’t seen before. Yet, she knew he was law enforcement. Her best guess was FBI. She had the ability to size up a person within seconds by their shoes, clothing, hair, their demeanor, being extremely accurate in her assessment of one’s capacity. She had to be.

  The door closed, her father turned and there she was standing idle halfway down the staircase. When entering the ranch through the twelve foot high doors, the grand rustic staircase supported by hefty wooden pillars, was the center of attraction.

  “Daddy, I’m home,” she said leaning on the railing.

  “Yes you are. Come here and give me a hug,” he spread his arms.

  She ran down the stairs to embrace him.

  “You need to spend more time at home and less time flying all over the world young lady.”

  “That’s a plan. We’ll work on it. I do miss you guys so much,” she said referring to her father and her husband.

  They made their way into his office and he sat on the black leather couch situated along the wall facing his desk with a view of the pasture where the horses grazed. Sometimes he would sit there for extended periods of time, gazing out at the animals roaming the land.

  He tapped the cushion, “Come, sit.”

  She sat beside him. He patted her hand with his.

  “When are you going to give my jet a break?”

  “Soon, I promise.”

  “How did the trip work out for you?” He teased with a wink, “Did you catch the bad guy?”

  “Don’t I always,” she replied sporting a cute little smile.

  “I’ve been spreading your wealth to a number of well deserving organizations,” referring to their charitable work throughout the world.

  “We’ve done some great work daddy.”

  At an early age Sandy established an urgency of helping the unfortunate by the giving of her time. It was a natural progression for her to administer this side of her father’s estate.

  “Seriously,” he said, “are you going to be home for a while. I worry about you. And I’m sure David feels the same.”

  “I will try. You do realize it’s not always my choice.”

  “I know,” he sighed. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  “Well father you should have thought about that before and registered me in ballet lessons.”

  “Anyhow enough of that,” Sandy changed the subject. “Do we know how the fire started? Was that the FBI that just left?”

  “Yes he was. What gave him away?”

  “His hair cut. His spit-shined shoes. A suit of good quality, better than local authorities would wear, but not extravagant. Funny, with all the thought that goes into their training, they neglect to teach the agents to wear their weapons when having a suit tailored. He holstered a gun on his left side, a backup strapped to his lower right ankle,” she smiled then asked, “should I continue.”

  “Lord no. You’re boring me to death,” he waved her off the subject.

  “We would like to think there is a simple explanation as to the origin of the fire. However, should it not be, I did make a call to the Director of the FBI. She has asked Special Agent Scott to have a look at the scene. He is an expert in this field,” Jacob explained.

  “Was that necessary, I’m sure the local authorities employ people who are quite capable of resolving it.”

  “Well one can never be too careful. This agent is one of the best in the world. If he clears the fire as accidental, we can put it to rest. But if it was intentional, we need to know.”

  “Ok, you win,” Sandy conceded. “Have you been to see the damage?”

  “No, but I’m getting updated frequently. Everything seems to be in good hands. I would just get in the way. David is handling it.”

  With a slight smirk Sandy moved her head ever so slightly back and forth. Which meant, sure father, we know who is in control. He shrugged his shoulders.

  “I’m going for a quick run then meeting David there in a couple of hours, would you like to jump in and keep me company?”

  “No, I prefer to stay here. I have a couple of other pressing matters to deal with today.”

  As she was raising herself off the couch, her cell phone rang. Falling back into the seat, she stared at the phone, then up at her father. He signaled for her to answer. She did. She listened. She nodded. Then spoke to the person on the other end.

  “Of course I’ll be there. Nothing could keep me from attending. I’ll see you in a few days,” a pause then, “I will. Take care.”

  Hearing the conversation he knew what it meant. Once again his daughter would be departing.

  “You’re leaving us again, aren’t you?”

  He knew the answer, but didn't like it. He wanted his daughter here, at home. Guilt of engineering the life his daughter lived festered within him, but at the same time he was as proud of her as a father could be.

  “That was King Ahmed. Fyad’s wedding has been moved up to this weekend. The date was changed a couple of months ago. When he learned I hadn’t been informed he wanted to personally apologize. I couldn’t possibly miss it. I’ll need to leave in a couple of days. David is not going to be pleased. He was planning on me accompanying him to the stake races in California on the weekend, and then we were going try to fit in a couple of days in New York. We had also made arrangements to attend the wedding together later this year. There is absolutely no way he’s going to miss the races. Please don’t mention this until I have a chance to explain it.”

  “By the way father, the King extended an invitation to you,” she relayed a message received during the conversation. “He said something along the lines of, he would find time to show you what a real race horse looks like.”

  She was referring to the King’s breeding of the finest thoroughbred horses on his side of the globe as Jacob McGinnis had the distinction of so doing in the USA.

  “Daddy, maybe David and I could sneak away to New York tomorrow. It’s not great timing, but David said himself there is not much we can do until the authorities finish up. If I can convince him, would it be okay if we took the plane.” Sandy asked.

  Sandy and David would often get away for a day or two to visit New York. They acquired a fondness for the theater. In addition, they would take in an NHL hockey game once in a while. David was still well connected within the hockey community. Just over five thousand men had ever played in the NHL. It is a small brotherhood that you became a part of when you’ve made it. These guys looked after o
ne another. There was never an issue with securing seats to a game when they were in town.

  Both were busy people, so there was an appreciation for these quick trips. In addition, they put aside two weeks each year to get lost somewhere in the world. Normally they wouldn’t stray too far from home as Sandy routinely traveled so much. Actually David had his concerns about how much his wife was out of the country. Nothing was said to her. He had the utmost trust in her, and would never think of intruding on her travels. She would always give him a summary of each trip. They kept in touch once a day, no matter where in the world her excursions took her. A quick call, but mostly text, was the chosen form of communication. Sandy tried to sell him on Skyping or FaceTime. He felt there was something a touch weird about how the current generation interacted. A text or call was fine with him. The other stuff he wasn’t buying into.

  “I should get going,” she said once more pushing herself off the couch.

  Again they were interrupted by the chime of a phone. She carried two. The one ringing was not the same one she had spoken to the King on. This one had its own distinctive tone. Only a handful of people had access to its number. Most of those expected it to be promptly answered. When it rang, her adrenalin kicked into high gear. Her father knew the meaning of such a call.

  She answered, “Hello. Yes I was just speaking with him,” she listened, then spoke again, “yes I’ll be there. I’ll contact you as soon as I arrive.” She ended the call. No goodbyes were exchanged.

  “I better go.”

  “Okay,” he said giving her a hug. “Let me know what you decide and see if you can find some time for me before you head abroad.”

  After her run she returned to their suite, blended a smoothie with fresh fruit and juice. David had been to the grocery store when she was away. She showered, dressed and then walked to the garage to find her glistening, candy apple red, Corvette Stingray named Pumpkin. It was her carriage.