Sequel to A Capitol Crime

The bedsprings squeaked when McGarrett shifted beneath the covers. Who’s there? Watch it! Careful! He rolled over as the REM of his dream deepened. Danno! Danno! Watch it! He’s here! Got to stop him! His movements stopped when a dark menacing form drew closer intensifying the dream. They have a gun and from their movements it was clear their intentions were of no good. Someone was going to get hurt. My God, he’s going to shoot! Danno! McGarrett’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the gun going off.

“Damn.” Pissed yet relieved, he realized it was only a dream. Covered with sweat, his heart still raced as he turned over onto his back. Looking up at the ceiling, he allowed the remnants of this nightmare to leave. This was the third night in a row. Each time parts remained with his wakening. He knew his job held the potential for violence and many times after a particularly dangerous case, he would relive some portion of it in his sleep, but none of them was ever this intense.

A movement on the other side of the bed made him to look at his bed partner. A smile broke across his face at the sight of the disarray of long blonde hair. She hates it when her hair gets messed up. I never knew running at night could be so enjoyable. Maybe I should include these night runs into my exercise program, especially when it was with someone like her.

Inhaling deep, he stretched as he got out of bed. Ouch, that hurt. He rubbed his right shoulder and upper arm and grimaced. This discomfort caused him to reflect upon another woman’s actions and the extreme danger she forced his team to face the previous day.

That was one wild woman. The bomb threat case turned into a kidnapping when the crazed woman demanded the release of her killer boyfriend. Thankfully, the old man pulled off his bluff and disengaged his homemade bomb before that crazy dame could push the detonator. When she jumped from the stage, I caught her around her waist.

Flexing his right shoulder, McGarrett gave a final tug to the belt of his white cotton robe as he entered his kitchen. It took a few minutes to prepare the coffee pot and as it brewed, he slipped into the bathroom.

The sore areas of McGarrett’s body screamed in protest when the heated water hit them. Gritting his teeth, he let out a frustrated sigh.

His coconut-scented shampoo always lathered up luxuriously. While he massaged his scalp, the hot water penetrated deep into his strained backside. Finished, he closed his eyes and tilted his head back allowing the water to rinse the soap out.

The old loofah sponge easily worked up the lather from his bar of Ivory soap. The scratchy texture easily removed the previous day’s dirt and exfoliated his skin as he worked it over his limbs and torso. Scrubbing his right shoulder, the sore muscles again reminded him of the injuries he had sustained the previous day.

For only the briefest of moments did McGarrett wondered if he was actually getting too old for this line of work. That thought quickly went down the drain as the hot water did its trick of reviving his body.

The mirror steamed up when he stepped out of the shower. He laughed silently at the disarray of his towel-dried hair. Ignoring his hair for the moment, he flipped the towel around to his back. Wiping off his limbs, he took note of the firm muscles developed through his exercise routine.

With the towel wrapped around his waist, McGarrett walked out of the bathroom. His guest hadn’t moved a muscle since he got up. To bad I don’t have the time to make her morning as enjoyable as the night had been.

A momentary bit of jealously sprouted at the thought of the many times his second-in-command had been late to the office because of an over night rendezvous with the fairer sex. But he couldn’t really be little himself at the life-style he had chosen for himself. His job was dangerous and he had reservations about exposing a family to its inevitable risks.

The smell of fresh brewed coffee drifted over to him as he stood at the bedroom’s doorway. A quick check of the pot told him it was ready.

“Coffees ready,” McGarrett called out.

The sleeping form didn’t move, but he heard a faint moan.

“Corinne, coffee is ready,” he repeated. Again, there was no movement, but her breathing was more pronounced.

She was playing possum with me. He stepped back into the kitchen and walked over to the freezer.

“HEY!” Corinne screamed when she felt the ice on her neck and shoulders.

“Then get up. Coffee’s ready.” McGarrett smiled at her reactions.

“You little boy, you!” Corinne threw one of the ice cubes back at him.

McGarrett smiled at her playfulness. “You didn’t think I was ‘so little’ last night.”

“That’s for sure. Want to repeat that experience?” she asked sitting up in bed, drawing the sheet up to her chest in a mock attitude of vulnerability.

McGarrett’s smile widens. “I’d love to, but I’ve got to get to the office.”

Pouting, Corinne’s bottom lip stuck out.

“Maybe tonight.”

“I’m flying out tonight.”

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, McGarrett reached over and rubbed her hip and legs. “When will you return?”

“I start my European shift. Remember?” she said catching hold of his hand, giving it a squeeze. “I won’t be on this side of the world for six months.”

Sighing, McGarrett reached over and gave her a quick kiss. “Maybe I’ll come over there someday. But until then, get up. The coffee is ready.”

“Yes, Sir!” Corinne gave him a sharp salute, then broke into laughter.

McGarrett fixed a simple breakfast of coffee and fruit, which they enjoyed on his beach deck. Corinne’s flight was in two hours. Time had run out for them sooner than they realized.

“Steve…”

“Corinne…” Both laughed from the broken silence.

“Look Steve, it’s been fun…”

“But your business takes you all over. I know,” McGarrett finished for her.

“We can still remain friends.”

“Yes. Yes, we can. And when I can, I’ll try to meet you somewhere in Europe."”

They left the house with McGarrett’s arm around her waist and her travel bag in the other hand.

Using his position to park near the terminal, he helped her out of the car and retrieved her travel bag.

“You have my number?” McGarrett asked.

 “Yeah.” Corinne reached up with her hand and pushed a runaway strand of hair off his forehead. Before she could remove her hand, he captured it and held it to his face. He then moved it to the front and gave the back of her hand a kiss.

“Flight 508 to San Francisco is now boarding.”

“That’s your flight.”

“Yeah.” Corinne’s heart was heavy. Her job dictated that she leave yet her heart said to stay. Turning, she bent down to pick up her bag and started down the long corridor.

McGarrett stood there until he couldn’t see her anymore. Moving over to the big windows, he watched the metal tunnel compress and the plane pushed away from the building.

The giant silver bird made its way down to the end of the runway. There it sat until its engines were at the right RPM’s. Slowly, the jet began its run down the tarmac. It was in the air well before the runway ran out.

McGarrett watched as it bank and gain altitude heading into the sun.

“Aloha my lady, aloha,” he said watching the remaining vapor trails of the fast departing plane.

Pau