"You need to get laid, man."

It was that Dino bloke, former Marine from New York, who had hooked onto him the moment they'd walked into training at Luthan Risk International.

Terry was having a difficult few weeks. He was living in a hotel until he could find an apartment, and dealing with something he didn't even realize would be difficult. All his life he'd been surrounded by people . . . unless he was on a solitary mission or captured, an experience he was still physically recovering from. He grew up with three brothers cramped in the same bedroom, slept in barracks and marched along side as few as three and as many as a hundred men. Alone was a strangely odd and prickly feeling he couldn't get used to.

He spent the majority of his waking hours in intense training or remaining at the office long after, studying and reviewing, determined to make the best of things and avoid the silence of his sterile hotel room.

For some reason, the American bloke had adopted Terry, chatting incessantly, dragging him here or there, attempting to solidify a friendship Terry wasn't sure he wanted. An army brat from birth, Dino was an interesting man and more than qualified on all levels. He could shoot like a sniper, knew military procedure like the back of his hand and was occasionally good for a laugh or two.

Dino wasn't the only one who felt he and Terry would make a good team. Apparently Luthan Risk held the same idea and had scheduled them for their first field training together. Terry wasn't averse to working side by side with the former marine, he was simply uninterested in developing friendships, still licking his wounds and unsure of the personal trust level he could put into anyone.

"S'go, Thorne," Dino gathered files and tucked them into his briefcase.

That evening, Terry had no energy to argue but would make an attempt. "Can get laid on my own, thanks mate." He tugged on his jacket and headed for the door.

"So," Dino was on his heel. "What's your story, Aussie?"

"What's your story?" Terry spouted, taking a pointed glance at the red head's empty ring finger. "Got no woman so ya feel compelled to get one for me?"

Dino chuckled and pressed the elevator button.

"What?" Terry grunted. "No woman'll have ya?"

"Had a wife, until two years ago when she left me in disgrace I probably deserved. You?" They stepped inside. It was late and they were alone in the lift.

"Had a wife too. 'Til three weeks ago."

Dino looked up at the gauge. "That explains the lean and hungry look. Let's get a drink."

Terry had no idea why, but he followed.

In honor of their first field training, Tequila was the drink of the day and Dino was doing the pouring, keeping Terry's shot glass full and the beer flowing. Strippers pranced and teased and Terry looked around. He knew the place. Those strippers were more than dancers and his mind was softening to the idea of feeling a bit of warmth around his suffering, cold cock. They lewdly commented on each dancer's style and joked about what she might do on a mattress.

"Be right back," Dino suddenly stood and walked to the bar.

Terry rubbed his eyes. Did he really want to see how far the night would go? In ten short hours he and Dino would be on a plane for Mexico City. Not like they needed to be in top form. Their assignment was clear and concise. Observation and nothing more. No interaction, no suggestions, just sit tight, listen and learn. A London to Mexico flight was more than enough time to recover from a well earned hangover. Terry smiled at the stripper, not more than two feet away, her crotch opened and aimed right at his face. But unfortunately, touching during her performance was taboo. Maybe he should take a little walk to the bar and place an order for some desperately needed R&R.

He gulped a shot, the tequila burning down his throat and teasing at nausea the moment it reached his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut; never, ever again with the tequila. He was starving for the flavor of sweet pussy to wash away the bitter taste of disappointment and loneliness . . . and bloody tequila.

"There he is!"

He looked up to see Dino returning to the table with three beautiful women.

"Happy Birthday, Tio!" The ladies squealed and Terry looked behind. Who the fuck was Tio? The women circled Terry, one planting a sloppy kiss on his lips, another running lacquered fingernails along his thigh and the third taking his hand and guiding it up her skirt.

"It's not my birthday, mate." Terry leaned in as the girls settled around the tiny table.

"It is now. My gift to you, buddy," Dino chuckled.

"Which one?"

Dino bowed elegantly, winking at the girls. "All of them. See you on the plane. Oh-six-hundred. Don't be late." And he left.

Terry released all control, suddenly feeling better than he had in years. He went upstairs with the girls and let them do what they do best, never questioning whether he could handle three, only curious to see how the ballet would play out. His chest bubbled with uncontrollable chuckles as they ran the show. Terry watched two women adored each other as he enjoyed the sensations of his engorged cock sliding deep in the mouth of the third. This one was his favorite. Her lips were full and soft, her hair wild waves of short yellow curls, her body petite and engaging. And her breasts? Fucking remarkable. Pert and inviting, the rock hard nipples encircled with a deep rose coloring that reminded him of a blush wine, warm and sweet.

His eyes slid to the women on the bed. The pretty blond grinned and left his straining cock. She straddled over the brunette who was lying prone on the mattress, and set her luscious pussy over a reaching tongue. The redhead was kneeling, leaning to suckle the brunette's breasts and Terry took his place at her lovely arse. He pressed in slowly, groaning at the deep satisfaction gained. Then he reached to taste the sweet wine nipples of the little blonde.

At that moment, Dino O'Rourke had turned out to be the best mate Terry Thorne had ever had in his entire bloody life.

***

"Mandatory break Sera," Ansi said as he strolled to her station, stretching his arms high. He glanced over her shoulder. "My, my."

Sera didn't respond, her eyes glued to the screen and Terry's pleasure.

"He's certainly found abundance, hasn't he?" Ansi grinned then tilted his head to the right in perfect unison with Sera's own head tilt, both carefully following complex acrobatic performance. "Ah well, that poor bloke needs it. Come on, Seraphima. Break time," he gently slapped her shoulder.

"Sure, sure. I'll be there in two minutes."

"Two minutes, in the cove." Ansi walked off.

Sera watched the amazing sexual dance and sighed. What must such a thing feel like? How much satisfaction and pleasure could be gained from such an activity? Another sigh escaped her chest and she shrugged. Just as she was about to press the button for her relief to take over, a low alert sparked at the corner of her screen. Scanning available information and calculating all the variables she blinked.

Police were already quietly surrounding the strip club. Her eyes swung right then left. No one was paying the least attention to her. Sera broke protocol and forced an act of nature. A bolt of lightening soared from the skies and struck an electrical transformer near the club causing a sudden explosion and fire. Police attention was immediately refocused, alarms and sirens wailed from all directions.

On her screen, Terry leapt to his feet, dressed quickly and gathered the women, leading them out the window, down a fire escape and far from danger or arrest. He left them several blocks away with a healthy tip and headed to his hotel alone, safe from embarrassment or a professional reprimand that could have sidetracked his career advancement.

Sera playfully brushed off her hands. "My work here is done," she whispered through a satisfied grin.

She found Ansi in the cove, a quiet place of meditation and prayer but he looked far from relaxed. His body was lounging on a bench, legs stretched out, feet and hands calmly crossed . . . but his brow seriously curled.

"The fountain is disturbing you today?" Sera teased and sat beside him. Ansi loved that particular cove and most especially the gentle sound of splashing water, musically accompanying their conversations and soothing them for the next round of work.

"Sera, did you like the autumn leaves I gave you?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Oh yes! Ansi the experience of them, the colors, the touch. Crisp, real. Amazing. Haven't I thanked you enough for that?" She playfully bumped her shoulder against his.

Ansi turned and leaned close, tenderly trailed his lips along her neck and Sera stiffened, pulled away.

"What are you doing?"

"I wanted to give you another human experience," he said and tugged her closer, lightly settling his lips on hers then deepening the kiss with a soft suck, pulling her lower lip into his mouth.

Sera's eyes were opened and focused on the fountain. "So, that's a kiss?"

He fought the disappointment climbing into his eyes. "Yes. Thought you might like it. Just a little more human education, that's all."

"Oh." She walked to the fountain and sat along the stone edge, her hand playing in the cool water. "How does it feel if there is love involved?" she asked innocently.

Ansilon's heart dropped. He had been falling hopelessly in love with the girl since training began; a long, heavy drop into an abyss he was not unfamiliar with from his earthbound days. After watching the sexual escapades of her Charge together, he had been sitting at the cove, waiting for her and wondering if a human approach was the right one for them. But he had to swallow his pride at having walked the earth. He was in heaven and Sera had never set food in the human realm. Of course she was unprepared for such an advance and would have no understanding of it. He pressed down the thought that his love for her would never be returned, forcing it beneath layers of ego and fear. He chuckled and reached out a hand until she rejoined him on the bench.

"Ah well, little Sera. A kiss is just a kiss. A physical stimuli."

"He never kissed one of them." Sera's eyes were wide, remembering Terry with those women.

"Visual is a stimuli too. He'd been watching strippers all evening. And sometimes the meeting of lips is more."

"More?"

"It's not important, sweetheart. So, aside from Mr. Thorne's dubious activities, how has your day been going?"

***

Mexico City. One of the world's largest and most interesting cities but Terry and Dino were seeing almost none of it; locked tight in the hotel suite with Burghoff, their negotiations trainer; a man who felt that their time would be best used through lectures and old war stories of missions past. Terry found the negotiating fascinating, taking note of Burghoff's intonation and subtleties, of his active and inactive pressure over the radio . . . and his strange use of room service.

"Once in a while you do go outside, don't you Burggie?" Dino groaned, pushing food around on his plate and looking longingly out the window. They'd been there nearly two weeks and had yet to feel the sun on their faces.

"O'Rourke, Ian put you in my hands until this is over. This is how I do it. I don't give a flying fuck how you two do it when it's your case, but this baby is mine. I focus, I concentrate and I avoid every possible distraction along the way. I've been able to successfully negotiate my last sixteen cases with more than acceptable ransom figures and no military intervention or front line activity. Six-fucking-teen. That's a goddamn record, O'Rourke."

Burghoff un-wrapped another burrito he'd ordered from the street vender and paid a substantial tip to the bellboy for fetching. He chomped happily, but Terry had long ago decided to avoid the street food Burggie loved so much, opting for tea and toast from the room service kitchen. After his captivity and that night of tequila and sex, Terry's stomach wasn't quite right yet.

Dino too had steered clear of the Mexican street fare. Blessedly the hotel kitchen made a passable burger and it became his staple, morning, noon and night.

Burghoff was in his late fifties and had been around the block more than once. He'd seen the K&R industry go from an occasional specialized need to down and dirty necessity for everyone from global businesses, to the average Joe taking a simple long weekend vacation in Cancun. He specialized in Mexico, Cuba and all South American countries, spoke fluent Spanish in no less than twenty dialects and was one cocky fucker. But it wasn't lost on Terry and Dino the value of learning from such an agent. Innuendo was Burggie's specialty and the trainees quickly picked up on the way each negotiator could personalize his or her approach to any situation.

But the negotiations took place for approximately thirty minutes twice a week. Needless to say, the high strung former marine was going stir crazy and pressing every angle to take Terry along with him. It was an opportunity for them both to practice various forms of negotiation techniques and laugh along the way, but obviously, no one was leaving the hotel suite anytime soon.

Burggie was gobbling tap water to cool the heat of a well placed habanero when the radio crackled and the Thursday talks began. Fifteen minutes into it, Dino turned a glance at Terry. They'd both noticed Burghoff sweating profusely, but not the surprise chili sort of sweat. His hands were shaking and he swallowed several times before opening his mouth to speak. Dino was the first to go into action, reaching for the radio and pulling it safe just before a gush of vomit shot from the negotiator's mouth.

Terry took the microphone and shifted away from the foul puddle as Dino helped a poor, doubled-over Burggie to the bathroom. "Fucking asshole! You'd think the idiot would know better!"

"He gonna be okay?" Terry asked, listening carefully to the voice on the radio and more than ready to respond.

"Yeah, yeah, but not until the fucking bugs get all the way through his system."

"One and a half million," growled the voice on the radio.

Terry pulled the mic to his mouth. "Not right, Jose. We talked about this, mate."

"Who the hell is this?"

Terry grinned at Dino, the sound of grunting and splattering vomit drifting from the bathroom. "Call me Tio. Jose, we were talking much lower just Monday afternoon."

"Fuck you!"

"Ah now Jose, you're not my type, mate. Now I still have four-hundred thousand. What say we start much closer to that figure?"

They listened for a response.

"Don't push too hard," Dino warned.

Terry didn't like the empty silence on the radio. "Get a doctor for that bloke, he's makin' me sick." Watching Dino call the front desk, he began to wonder if he'd already fucked up royally.

"Where is the Americano?" Finally a response and Terry let loose a sigh of relief.

"Indisposed. I think they call it Montezuma's revenge. Maybe we should get back to it. Four-hundred thousand dollars, Jose."

"Oh, no, no, no. New negotiator, we start from the top."

"Makes no difference, mate. Top or bottom, I got four-hundred thousand and not a penny more . . . and we need a proof of life before nightfall, just like we agreed."

Silence.

Silence.

Terry began to seriously sweat, looking to Dino for confirmation. "Chill, Terry. Give him a minute."

Silence, then the crackle. "Proof of life is in the burrito wrapper." And the day's negotiations ended as abruptly as they'd started.

Dino eyed the remaining burrito then looked at Terry. "I fucking hope Burggie didn't eat the proof of life."

There, swimming in grease and tight between the waxed wrapping paper and tortilla was the photo of young American college student, Melanie Murphy and she looked worse than poor Burggie.

Borgoff was taken to a hospital and Dino began his own negotiations with Luthan Risk, reporting to Ian that rookie Terrence Thorne was doing one fucking terrific job as relief pitcher for the team. Luthan Risk was unwilling to leave the case in the trainees' hands but before replacement personnel could be scheduled and shipped to Mexico City, the case was closed. Ransom exchanged hands without event and Miss Melanie Murphy was on her way home to Cleveland Ohio.

It was a sterling performance that had catapulted both men ahead. And made life far more complex than either expected.

***

What complicated Terry's life also complicated Sera's and she was beginning to feel the strain of her responsibilities. Often she skipped both regularly scheduled and mandatory rest breaks, watching carefully and speeding her brain into overdrive, calculating risks and possible outcomes and more than once, pulling Terry out of the fire by the skin of her teeth.

"It is completely unacceptable Seraphima, and it must stop immediately," Madam Miriam, senior committee council said with firmness as Sera stood at the head of the large conference table.

"My fellow Guardian Committee members," Paul spoke. "I completely agree with your decision and will take measures to assure that this Guardian has the rest she needs to remain at the pinnacle of her game. Have we concluded our business for today, gentlemen and Madam Miriam?"

"We have."

Sera felt deep disappointment at having been the cause for such an emergency meeting of the committee. She remained, standing at attention until everyone but Paul had left the room. Even with the kind encouragements whispered to her from each member, she sensed a lessening of her self-worth. "I am so sorry, Uncle Paul."

"Oh posh. Do you think you are the first to do such a thing? The first to find such deep passion for your Charges? You're not, Sera. Don't give in to self-indulgent weakness. You have on your roster a truly significant Earthbound Saint. And," he stood then walked to her, leaning comfortable back against the table, arms crossed and eyes focused on his remarkable Guardian. "I have made a decision. As of this moment, your list has been reduced by half."

"But!"

"No buts, Sera. Thorne would keep Him hopping twenty-four seven. At least now you will have the time for full calculations and estimations. Your guesses have been spot on so far, but we can't risk it much longer."

"What do you know?" She blinked.

"I know things you needn't know. What you need to do missy, is watch over your Charges, protect and guide them . . . and take every rest period required," he leaned in a added in a whisper, "at least until they stop watching you like a hawk." And Paul smiled, proud of her beyond words.

"Thank you, sir." Sera excused herself and went directly to her quarters.

There she sat at the window. Terry was there as always, but he was standing outside the office building and shaking hands with Dino O'Rourke.

Over the past two years the two men had forged an unshakeable friendship steeped in respect and trust. They worked miracles together and Sera often found little need for intercession. They were truly a team and comrades in the strongest sense of the word. But lately they had been working solo, off on dangerous assignments without the support of each other or in several cases, their employer.

Sera knew what she was witnessing. Dino had reached the end of his tolerance level with Luthan Risk International, and having accepted a position with an American competitor, was saying his farewells.

She couldn't hear the words they shared, but felt them. Felt the concern and joking insults. Felt the depth of the handshake that encompassed all four hands. Then the embrace. A poignant parting of men who knew well that they might never see one another alive again.

She imagined Dino's voice. "Take care, man. Catch you on the flip side."

And the rumble of Terry's voice. "Be careful Dino. I'm gonna miss your ugly face, mate."

The sight of their laughter triggered her imagination further. She was sure Dino had just poked the ultimate joke. It would have sounded something like: "Now you have to get your own hookers, Aussie."

Even with the reduction of her list, Sera struggled with the time available to watch over Terry. Within months, he was alone in Chechnya, in what was proving to be deep trouble and desperately fighting to retrieve one Pierre Lenoir from the volatile Chechnyan Nationalist Malitia. Things had completely deteriorated over the thirty-six days of negotiations leaving Terry with the ultimate challenge. When Sera left her post for a mandatory break that required restful sleep, he had just been notified that the Russians would make the cash/hostage exchange in his place. Terry didn't trust them. Neither did Sera.

Rest was hard to claim and she tossed and turned, fearful and frustrated. But prayer had finally rooted into her soul and she drifted to a deep dreamless sleep.

The alarm buzzer shrieked and Sera reached for it. "What? What is it?" She was on her feet, tugging tunic and slacks as Ansi's voice filled her chamber, bringing her heart to an even higher alert.

"Sera! You need to get down here. It's going down."

"On my way," she shouted and slipped her feet into soft leather shoes.

"There's more. Fuck, oh fuck!"

"What?" Her heart stopped. "Ansi? What?"

"Lenoir! He's just shown up on my list! Hurry!"