PATRIOTS: After all my years of unconditional love, I would be remiss if I did not state my profound disappointment in the coach and team. It is not their one loss I regret. It is the prospect that they are not the best team New England ever field but, instead, the best cheaters in the NFL has ever encountered. They left themselves wide open to such allegations by employing Matt Walsh to do whatever it was he was doing for them. And, I thought I was so over grieving the broken clay feet of heroes.
RED SOX: At this point, I don't even care if they win any games this year but I do pray their lockers were HGH free in 2004 and 2007.
Part 3
"WAKE UP!"
Dakota and her band of slumbering bedmates snapped into action at the command. Arms, legs, vibrators, and assorted contraband flailed and floundered in a futile effort to quickly comply with the intruder's demand. Dakota managed to struggle to her feet first and came face to face with her uninvited guest. Her drug fogged brain tried to reason the image before her into words.
"Kierce?" Dakota asked. "I thought you went back to…well, wherever the FBI keeps you."
A short round of gasps and curses buzzed at the dreaded initials muttered so casually. The assorted group of leftover lovers, strangers all, quickly broke up and hurried past the pair in an effort to escape whatever trouble had once again made its way to Dakota's door.
"We need to talk," Kierce spoke with authority. "Meet me in ten minutes at the restaurant on the corner Fairmount and Lonsdale." Without another word, Kierce turned away and pushed through the muddle of people heading for the stairwell.
Kierce focused her attention over the rim of her coffee mug and studied the woman entering the eatery. Her hair was stringy and snarled with braids, beads, and leather ties. The sleeveless t-shirt she pulled on came to just above her navel and did more to reveal her pierced, rock hard nipples than cover them. Her leather pants were permanently creased to the natural folds of her body. Apparently, Dakota spent a great deal of time on her knees. Her general appearance suggested she had not bathed in the two weeks since Kierce had last seen her. Once she sat heavily on the opposite bench of the booth, the smell confirmed Dakota's lack of a clearly established hygiene routine.
"Friendly's?" Dakota seemed stunned at the choice of meeting places. "Don't you guys usually do interrogations in some dark, cold underground cell with a bare light bulb swinging over a naked suspect chained to a hard wood straight back chair?"
Kierce took a sip of coffee before replying, "It's being used at the moment so this will have to do."
"Too bad," Dakota smirked. "I was hoping you'd being doing my strip search personally."
"Oh," Kierce was unfazed by Dakota's husky tone. "That could still happen."
"I have just one request, Officer. Don't use latex gloves during my body cavity search…"
"MORE COFFEE!" The waitress shouted as she rushed over to the table to interrupt. She used a much softer voice when she leaned down to fill Kierce's cup, "Look, I'm no prude but you better keep this freak leashed and muzzled in here or I'll call 911 to haul your asses out the door so fast your heads'll spin. There are descent customers trying to eat in peace that don't need to be listening to her running her mouth."
Kierce reached into her back pocket and produced her badge. "No worries, I'll keep her quiet. She'll behave. She'll act like a civilized adult, won't you?
"Only if you buy my breakfast," Dakota bargained with a big grin and blood shot eyes.
"Whatever you want." Kierce quickly thought better of the offer, "Anything on the menu, that is."
Dakota feigned disappointment, "Okay, then I'll just have a double hot fudge sundae with extra hot fudge but," Dakota winked at the matronly waitress, "screw the cherry. I had my fill of those last night."
The waitress tossed a warning look at Kierce. The Agent gave a nod of agreement and the waitress stormed away. Her hissing condemnations were unintelligible as she went behind the counter.
"Thanks for not making a scene. And, thanks for covering up your expletive."
Dakota shrugged and fingered the studded dog collar fastened around her throat covering the brand as she spoke, "Don't want to shock the descent folk stuffing themselves with piggies snuggled up in brown blankets of starch drowning in tree sap, now do we?"
Kierce finally allowed a genuine smile to cross her lips. Dakota couldn't tell if it was from relief or if the woman was actually enjoying herself. Dakota desperately wanted not to care.
"So, you ready to tell me why you broke up yet another one of my…book club meetings?" Dakota tried to sound annoyed as she asked.
"Oh, you have my deepest apologies. What book were y'all reading in bed?"
"A Confederacy of Dunces," she snapped her reply. "Are you going to tell me why I'm here?"
"Should have guessed," Kierce stopped in mid sentence when the waitress plopped the overflowing ice cream goblet in front of Dakota. "You do have a certain 'Ignatian' air about you."
Dakota ignored Kierse to snarl at the back of the retreating waitress, "I thought I said extra hot fudge."
Kierce watched in silence while Dakota slopped several huge bites of the hot cold treat into her mouth. She was waiting for the orifice to be filled to capacity before explaining the reason for their meeting.
"Your shadowy little friend has not stopped misbehaving," Kierce announced.
Dakota snapped her attention from her ice cream to the FBI agent. She swallowed several times. Her brow furrowed with a sudden headache.
"That's not funny."
Kierce sipped a bit of coffee. Dakota was still staring at her. The dark woman's eyes seemed to blacken with each minute Kierce remained silent. It struck Kierce in those few seconds that Dakota's eyes only glinted with life when the woman was in the grasp of a furious anger.
"It wasn't meant to be. A workman from the cleaning crew was attacked by a three foot shadow at Brewster's Standish Way crime scene last night. He was slashed up a bit but he'll recover."
"I'm five, eleven and have a half dozen witnesses to my whereabouts last night," Dakota smirked.
"You're not a suspect."
"Then what the fuck am I doing here?"
Kierce grinned, "You seem to be eating ice cream."
Dakota nearly growled, "Look, I got nothing to do with this shit. More to the point, I don't want nothing to do with this shit. So, why don't you stop riding my ass!"
"Trust me," Kierce reassured the woman, "if I was riding your ass you'd have spur marks on your thighs."
Dakota slapped her palms down on the table in total frustration. Before she could shout, Kierce raised her hand to stop the tirade.
"I need you to help me recapture your lost innocence before she kills again," Kierce said softly. "Tonight, I'm going to the house on Standish. Deidre needs to know her work is done. She's safe again."
Dakota glared at the agent as she waited for what was certain to come next.
"And, I want you to go with me to tell her she survived. That you survived. You endured…"
The shattering of the ice cream goblet against the counter where Dakota hurled it ended Kierce's speech.
"No fucking way!"
