Hidden Lives

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

I need to thank my team. My editors are Girlinthemoon, norafares, Hal, Pixel the Cat and GeorgeAnderson. Harddaysknight is my mentor and gives me critical review. SBrooks103x also gives me a pre-post read. Thank you all.

*****

When the shit hits the fan there's rarely time to react rationally. There's no plan, no organization; everything just seems to be chaos. Blakely woke up to the sound of her front door breaking. The lights came on outside and her burglar alarm started going off. She was disoriented for a minute, but she did have a plan for that. She lived in a log home. It wasn't one of those fake log homes made out of slabs over a stick frame; this was a real log home. The walls were thick and strong, and she had a safe room. It doubled as her walk-in closet and she hurried there, locking the heavy door behind her. She dialed 911 and told the dispatcher that someone was breaking into her house. At the same time, she took her Ithaca Featherlight 12 gauge shotgun down off the rack on her wall. It was one of the few of her father's things she possessed. She worked the slide on the pump action and chambered a round of 00 buckshot. She loaded another shell, giving her five shots, got her 9 mm pistol and slapped in a clip. She set two more full clips on the table beside the comfortable chair in the closet, sat down, cradled her shotgun and waited for the police. She talked to the dispatcher on her cell phone and she heard noises in her bedroom.

Men's voices were talking heatedly outside her door. A heavy body crashed against it several times before they gave up. Several shots were fired and she supposed they were trying to shoot out the lock. She laughed. It was covered with case hardened steel. She heard a shout and several more shots were fired. There were no more noises in her bedroom, but she didn't come out. Her phone beeped, telling her she had an incoming call. She put the police dispatcher on hold and answered it. It was from her nearest neighbor. Blakely lived on a ten acre patch of woods and her closest neighbor was Brand McCalla. She saw his name on the caller ID and she wondered if he had heard the shots.

"Hello, Brand," she said.

"Jesus Christ, Blakely! What the hell is going on? I heard your alarm going off and I came over to check on you. I thought I heard gunshots and when I got there there were three men in your house. They shot at me, Blakely! They tried to kill me and they're chasing me!"

"Where are you?" she asked.

"I'm up on the cliff. I think I lost them but I'm going to climb somewhere they can't follow me."

"Good," she said. Brand was a climber and she knew he could get away. He had mentioned that he had climbed that face several times. "Get somewhere safe and when the police get here I'll send them to you. I'll explain everything when it's over. Come over after the police find you and I'll have a stiff drink and an explanation waiting for you."

She heard sirens in the distance and she switched back to the dispatcher. When the dispatcher told her the police were in the house she told him where she was. Soon there was a knock on the door and a female voice asked if she was okay and identified herself. Blakely pulled the rope to unlock the door and leveled the shotgun. The door swung slowly open and she saw the uniform. The officer raised her hands. "We really are the police, Miss Davidson."

Blakely laughed and put her shotgun back on the rack. "I'm very glad to see you," she said. "My neighbor is up on the cliff above my house. The intruders shot at him when he came to check on me and chased him. I'll call him and tell him you're coming."

Two officers started toward the cliff and Blakely led the woman back downstairs. She refused to answer any questions until she had poured two tumblers of good Scotch and took a seat in a chair. "Now I'm ready," she smiled at the woman.

"I'm Officer Donovan," the woman told her. "Do you know who broke into your house?"

"No, I went to my safe room as soon as I heard the door break," Blakely said. "I never saw anyone. All I know is that they are male. I heard their voices. There were three of them."

"Are you missing anything? Do you think they robbed you?" Donovan asked.

"I haven't had a chance to look, but I don't think they had time," Blakely said. "They weren't in the house more than five minutes before my neighbor interrupted them."

"Would you mind coming down to the station and making a report?"

"No, I'll do that, but not tonight. I'll do it tomorrow afternoon," Blakely said.

The two officers came back with Brand, and Blakely thanked them. When she went to the remains of her front door and held it, they took the hint and went outside.

"We'll check around outside but there's no sign of anyone. They're gone, Miss Davidson," one of the Officers told her. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yes, I'll lock the storm door and I'll be fine. I'll be in tomorrow afternoon to make that statement."

She went back inside and Brand was sipping his scotch. "What the hell, Blakely?" he exploded. "Those bastards nearly got me! I heard bullets zipping around. Who were they?"

"I can't tell you that," she said. "It's related to my work."

"You work with homicidal maniacs?" He was incredulous.

"Yes, sometimes. You know I'm an attorney, Brand. I'm a criminal defense attorney. I know that's a contradiction in terms, but I sometimes defend unsavory characters."

"Why would someone want to kill their attorney?" he asked. "Hell, they even tried to kill your neighbor!"

"Maybe they don't like nosy neighbors," she smiled at him.

"Jesus, look at you," he exclaimed. "You're as cool as a cucumber! Has this happened to you before?"

"Not quite like this," she said. "No one has ever broken into my house. I've been shot at before."

"I don't think I even know you," he said. "When did my nice, quiet little cute neighbor turn into Rambo?"

"You don't know me very well," she said. "You've only lived here two weeks and we've only met twice."

"Will you go out with me tomorrow?" he asked.

It was Blakely's turn to be surprised. "Where did that come from, Brand?"

"I wanted to ask you the day you brought over the cupcakes and said welcome to the area because you were just so hot," he said. "Now, you're amazing, Blakely! I've got to get to know you better."

"Well, I can't go out with you tomorrow," she said. "We both need to go to the police station and make statements. I do have an idea though. Why don't I pick you up for lunch and we'll ride together to the police station. We'll chat and you can see if you want to actually ask me out and I can see if I actually want to go."

"That's perfect," Brand said. "What time do you want to go?"

"Let's talk about it in the morning," Blakely suggested. "I have another favor to ask you. Would you mind spending the night?"

His jaw dropped and she laughed. "I'm not asking you to have sex, Brand. I'm sort of creeped out by all this and I just want someone around. You can sleep down here in the bedroom and I'll sleep upstairs in mine. Would you do that for me?"

At this point if Blakely had asked for the moon, he would have figured out some way to get it for her. He went home and got things to spend the night. When he got back she had another scotch waiting for him, they talked for a while and went to bed. There wasn't much night left by that time, and Blakely slept until ten. Brand seemed to still be asleep, so she went down and knocked on his door. He mumbled that he was awake so she made coffee and went back upstairs to shower and dress. By the time she was finished, he was sitting at the kitchen bar and drinking coffee. She had muffins she had bought on the way home the evening before, and they each ate one.

Blakely showed him around the house and he was very impressed. She had what looked like a major communications center in her office. There were eight monitors, all with the capability of showing something different or slaved together, and her three computers were all state of the art. She even had an AS 400 running a serious database. Brand was a computer expert. He knew several computer languages and worked for a software giant as a software engineer. What Blakely had was some heavy duty computer horsepower.

"What do you use all this for?" he asked. "It seems like overkill for an attorney."

"I use it to get information," she said. "I'm not telling you everything about what I do, Brand. I'm never going to tell you everything about what I do. If you don't want to be friends with me because of that, I won't hold it against you."

"When did I say that?" he was a little startled by her answer. "Don't try to run me off, Blakely. I didn't say that."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm not used to having people in my house or asking me questions. It's time for us to leave if we want to eat lunch.

They got in her black Lincoln Navigator and drove to a deli. They had very good pastrami, and they both ate their sandwiches with a big pickle wedge. When they were through eating they drove to the police station and made statements. Neither got to hear what the other one said, and Brand was curious.

"What did you tell them?" he asked.

"I told them I never saw the men and I had no idea who would want to hurt me," she said. "What did you tell them?"

"I told them there were three of them, they were dressed in black, had masks on and I didn't know any more details because I was running like my ass was on fire," he said. "I tend to do that when people shoot at me."

Blakely laughed. "Well, I hope they catch someone," she said.

"Why do I have the feeling you know exactly what's going on?" he asked. "You know who did this, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. You're very perceptive, Brand."

"What are you going to do if they come back?" he asked.

"Those won't be coming back," she said.

"How do you know?" he wondered.

"I'm going to make a couple of phone calls. Someone will take care of them. They made a mistake and they'll be removed," she said.

"Removed? Is that a euphemism for killed?"

"No, it means removed," she said. "They were working for a competitor of my current client. They broke some very important unwritten rules, and if their employer doesn't discipline them they'll be ruined. I can't tell you any more than that, Brand. If that shocks you or you don't want to be around me anymore, I'll drop you at your house and we'll just be neighbors that wave when we see each other. Is that what you want?"

"Why do you keep doing that?" Brand asked.

"Doing what?"

"Why do you keep trying to push me away? Every time we start talking you hit this wall and tell me to get lost," he said, frowning.

She laughed. "I'm not telling you to get lost. I'm just giving you a way out. I know it seems like I'm being mysterious but I'm just telling you that there are things I won't tell you. Do you want out?"

"Hell no! I've never met anyone like you, Blakely. I mean, look at you. You're all little and cute and blonde. You look like someone's gorgeous little sister and you're all calm and serene and your front door is a wreck and you have bullet holes in your wall! Will you go out with me tomorrow?"

She laughed again. "You're very persistent, Brand. I'll give you props for that. No, I won't go out with you tomorrow. I need to get my house repaired and I have some work to do. I'll call you when I'm ready, okay?"

"If you don't call me by Friday afternoon I'm going to come over and camp out on your doorstep," he said.

He picked his stuff up from her house and she dropped him at his house. Brand had to go to work the next day, too, and he went to sleep with nothing but images of Blakely flashing before his eyes.

Blakely had lawyer-type things to do for the rest of the week, and she was very busy. She had a major trial coming up and she was running down witnesses. She didn't do that herself, but the detectives she hired were giving her a pretty clear picture of who she needed to depose and what had actually happened in the case. Her client was accused of assault on a police officer and a host of other charges that went along with that. Blakely believed that the assault had been the other way around, and she was intent on proving that.

She also had an out of town job to do and she didn't get home until late Friday afternoon. She showered and changed into comfortable clothes, deciding to work in her flowers in front of the house for the rest of the afternoon. She had forgotten all about calling Brand and was only reminded when she saw him walking through the woods toward her house.

"Hello, Brand," she said when he came up behind her. She was wearing a little flowered sundress and she looked up at him from where she was kneeling on a small rug. She had a smudge of dirt on her forehead and she pushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, leaving another smudge on her cheek with the cotton gloves she was wearing.

"You didn't call me," he said.

She smiled. "I'm sorry, I've been very busy. I have a trial next week that's very important to me and I was in DC on business. When you left Sunday night I was going to call you later in the week. I just got distracted."

She stood up and Brand thought she looked adorable. She took off her gloves and reached into the pocket of her dress, taking out her phone. She punched in a number and his phone rang.

"Hello, Brand," she giggled. "I promised to call you."

He ended the call and she put her phone away. "Where do you want to go tomorrow night for our date?" he asked her.

"Let's not call it a date," she said. "Let's call it dinner and dancing so we can get to know one another. You can pick me up at seven and I'll have reservations set up."

"Okay, it's a date," he laughed.

Brand went home and Blakely went back to her gardening. She liked Brand, she decided. Her life was very complicated and she wasn't sure there was room in it for anything other than casual relationships, but Brand was interesting. He was very handsome, she thought. He was tall, well-built and she loved his eyes. They were grey and had an interesting twinkle to them that gave him a lot of character. She had never dated a redhead before.

She spread mulch in her flowerbed and went inside to clean up. She stepped out of the shower and dried off. As she fluffed her hair with the towel, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and eyed herself critically. She knew men liked to look at her. Her long blonde hair, so light it was nearly white, tended to draw attention. She could feel the ends tickling her butt. It was a nice little butt, too. She worked hard to make sure it was. When she was growing up she was kind of flat, and she had been lifting weights since she was fourteen to make sure it didn't stay that way. Her hard work had paid off and she was firm and muscular. She flexed it and giggled as it danced. She had a tiny waist and her upper body flared nicely above it. Her breasts were high and firm. They weren't huge, but she was very slender and they looked like they were very large on her slim frame. She cupped them and her nipples sprang erect as her fingers brushed over them. They were fat and pink and her areola crinkled as the moisture from her shower evaporated, leaving a chill.

She laughed at her narcissism. Turning away from the mirror she went to her closet. She had a new little blue dress she wanted to wear. It was shiny and left one creamy shoulder bare. She put on black heels and found a clutch, transferring essentials to it from her bigger purse. She dried her hair and made a braid down one side before applying her makeup. She didn't wear much, her skin made that unnecessary, and she just put on a little foundation and eye stuff. She hated her pale brows and eyelashes. They made her look like a milk maid, she thought.

Brand rang the doorbell as she was coming down the stairs, and when she opened the door his jaw dropped.

"My God, Blakely," he said. "You're gorgeous!"

She curtseyed. "Thank you, sir."

She eyed his tall form. He had on black pants and a nice pink oxford shirt with a button down collar. "You look very charming yourself."

"I'm an accessory tonight," he said. "I know who the star of this show is."

He gave her his arm and took her to his car. Brand usually drove a Suburban to work, but he had a blue Audi R8 Spyder with the V10 that he drove when he wanted to impress a girl. He definitely wanted to impress this one, and her smile when she saw the car was gratifying. They put the top down and she gave him directions. They went to a seafood place down on a cliff overlooking the surf and it was very good. Brand had never been there before, and he complimented Blakely on her choice. After dining, she gave him directions again and they wound up at what appeared to be a warehouse in the commercial district. There was a queue of people stretching around the block and they had to park three blocks away. When they walked up to the door Blakely ignored the queue and led him up to the door. A huge, black guy was sitting there and he stood up when they approached and opened the door.

"Miss Davidson," he nodded.

She patted his arm. "Hi, Tony," she said. "Thanks for letting us in."

"Hey, what the hell?" two guys about ten people deep in the line seemed upset. "We've been waiting here for 45 minutes. Why do they just get to walk in?"

Tony gave them a look. "You want me to break your arm? Shut the fuck up or you won't get in at all. Besides, she's hot and you're not."

"Sorry about that, Miss Davidson," he said.

She patted his arm again and they went inside. A heavy bass beat greeted them and Blakely led Brand upstairs. There was another guy at the bottom of the stairs that could have been a twin to the one at the door. He took down a velvet rope and nodded. They went up and a young lady in uniform led them to a table. They ordered drinks and she went away.

"I guess you're kind of a big deal?" Brand asked.

Blakely smiled. "The owner is my client. I've done a good job for him and he's grateful."

"What did you do?" he asked.

"He moves this place around a lot," she said. "Nightclubs like this are hot for a year or two and then they start getting old to people. When the bloom's off the rose he shuts down and moves somewhere else. There are people around that are territorial. They expect pay offs, and if they don't get them they get rough. He gets rougher and I've defended him on two occasions. He and his guys roughed up some enforcers and the police got involved. I got the charges dropped and the other guys charged instead. That got me some credit and he looks out for me."

"You're amazing, Blakely. Nothing I do is anything close to how exciting what you do is."

"Oh, I don't know," she said. "Last week you tracked down and caught that group of hackers that were stealing designs from your company. Did you know they shot it out with the FBI?"

Brand's jaw dropped. "How could you possibly know that, Blakely? That is top secret stuff that no one outside the FBI and security at my company is supposed to know about!"

"I like to know what kind of people my neighbors are," she smiled. "You're very good at your job, Brand. You like mountain climbing, parasailing and skydiving. You're a competitive judo fighter and you love frozen custard. Did I miss anything?"

"Yes, I'm in love with the smartest hottest little blonde girl I've ever met," he laughed. "Jesus, Blakely, you're pretty plugged in."

"Yes I am. If my neighbor is Hannibal Lecter I want to know about it so I can eat him before he eats me," she said. "You're not in love with me yet, big boy. I haven't decided if you can handle me yet. I'm not an easy friend to have, Brand. I go through men like chewing gum. I'm not a slut, but I like romance. Most guys won't put up with the kind of trouble I bring."