Hi all!
So I
have rediscovered my love for all things Silk. And my lack of acceptance that
Chris & Rita's story would end so tragically, even years later, has prompted
this story. I always believed in fairy tales, and it's so rare that television
gives you the promise of love, friendship and humor and does it so beautifully,
that I won't really believe the last few episodes in the story of the Sams is
true. So here it is, this is how I would want it to go instead.
A few
notes:
1)
This starts after Chris/Jillian and
Rita/Eric break up.
2)
A few parts are uh, a little more
R-rated, so beware. Or don't read if you will be offended.
3)
Yes, there are a few naughty words.
Please also do not take offense.
4)
This is Part 1. I am working on the
rest to post as soon as I can.
5)
Please, please give me feedback!
Especially as I am still writing this story. Ideas are welcome! You can write to
me at MaddyLA27@aol.com.
6)
Thank you Amy! For all the
encouragement and making sure C&R stay who they are!
7)
The characters are not mine if you
know who they are already! They are the property of Stu Seagal, Stephen J.
Cannell, and the
8)
The storyline IS mine. So if you
repost this somewhere, please credit it!
Thank you and happy reading!
Maddy
Candyland & Fairy Tales
©2005
MaddyLA27
Part 1
It was
getting worse.
Day after
day for the last few weeks she had watched him slip farther and farther into
himself. The light carefree smile, the quick flash of laughing blue eyes, the
slight cock of his head as he was cajoling her into his next scheme, all gone.
He had replaced the light with darkness and guilt, and left in its place was
this hard man who wasn't interested in connecting with her at all anymore.
Her heart
sank as he slipped into the chair across from her at their desks, never looking
up – never even acknowledging her. His jaw was set, his eyes deep indigo ice.
This had to
stop.
“Hey Sam, I
have a pizza and some cheap wine just calling your name tonight – you up for
it?” she grinned, in a feeble attempt to be upbeat. Files stacked high on the
desks between them, but there would be no talk of work tonight. She just
wanted her partner back.
He looked
startled, then slightly annoyed. “No thanks. “ He gritted his teeth so hard his
jaw visibly jumped.
“I could
cook you know, but it's not much of an offer. “
“No Rita.
No.” He was clearly agitated.
She had to
push it, so she faked a bright smile. “Wanna come over and get naked?” This of
course was not really an option. They were friends, friends only, and they would
never cross that line, but she hoped the teasing would have its desired effect
of bringing about the banter she missed.
Instead he
looked up, his eyes glittering. He cocked his head in a familiar gesture that
made her heart jump. He slowly looked over her body, lingering on her breasts
and then deliberately making contact with her eyes. She flinched under the
onslaught, flushing despite herself. He stared at her, right in the eye, and
slowly his lips curled. Her breath caught at the blatant appraisal, so
completely out of character for Chris. This wasn't him, this was some other man
– one whose lazy, sensual heat was making her cheeks red with desire.
Desire? He
had turned the tables, damn him! She was joking, and he, he wasn't!
He leaned
back in his chair, utterly at ease. The five o clock shadow on a face normally
clean shaven added to his air of unease for her. “Do I get to fuck you?” he
grinned slowly.
Shock and
anger instantly boiled up within her. She wasn't sure she heard right. “
Wha-what?” she stammered.
“You heard
me, Sam,” he said, using their special nickname. He leaned forward, interested
now. “Do-I-get-to-fuck-you?”
She
flinched hard, humiliation springing to her eyes. “Don't speak to me like that!
What in the hell is wrong with you, Chris?” she whispered. “You're being an
asshole.”
He laughed,
low and deep, already disinterested and back to the file in front of him. “You
offered.”
“I did
not.”
“You want
me to sleep with you? Just ask. Until then leave me alone.”
She brushed
furiously at the tears escaping her eyes and made a move to get up from the
desk. She needed fresh air desperately. “You stop this crap Sam!“ her voice
cracked. “You haven't been the same in the last two weeks. It's me for god's
sake!” she stood over his desk, pushing him back on the reclining desk chair
with a finger stabbing into his chest. “You get it together Lorenzo, you hear
me? I won't let you do this to yourself. It is NOT your fault. Not. So you can
hurt me, humiliate me, and act like an asshole and try to feel good about it.
But me? I am gonna be in your face every minute while you treat me this way, a
constant reminder of what you are becoming. You'd rather wallow in this pathetic
self-pity than deal with the real world? That's not you. ”
He looked
at her, a flash of recognition sparked in his darkened eyes before they clouded
over again.
She saw it.
“Yeah, Sam,” she continued before
turning to walk away. “ I know you're still in there.”
+ + +
The beer
was liquid ice sliding down his throat. He had lost count of how many there had
been at this point, but his shoulders were finally uncoiling, the tension
leaving him the closer he drank himself into oblivion. His face was itching from
the stubble, and he scratched at it, sliding lower over the wooden bar. He
wouldn't leave Niners until he was good and plastered, and then he would take a
cab home and crawl into bed. Alone.
He had hurt
Rita today. He knew that. She hadn't come back and he had seen the hurt and
shock in her face as he said vile things to her. Not that they weren't true.
God, yes he wanted her. He had wanted her for longer than he could remember. But
saying what he said was doing the job he intended for it to do. She needed to
extricate herself from him. This partnership had to end and she had to choose it
to end or she would never give up willingly. She was so much better than he
deserved.
He groaned
when he thought of what her offer had done to him. You wanna come over and
get naked, she had teased. His body had reacted instantly. The idea of her
sweet small frame up against him, his hands in her hair, his thighs nudging hers
apart until he could sink into her. Yes, yes he wanted that. Of course he did.
He wanted to lose himself in her arms, in the safety of her body. He wanted to
feel her come apart around him. And he wanted it more and more every day,
despite the fact that she was his partner. But he knew he wasn't good enough for
her –that was clear to him. He had failed in even the one thing he thought he
knew how to do – his job – and it had cost a young girl her life. Rita needed
more than he could offer in a partner or he would fail her too one day and she
would end up dead. She was better off learning that now.
The beer
was empty too quickly and he nodded at Marco. The bartender made a move to slip
the cap off another and slid it in front of Chris. A few more and he wouldn't
see Katie Ross's face, wide-eyed, still and battered because he was too late. He
wouldn't remember Katie's cries over the phone the few times Chastian had let
her beg him to hurry over the phone. He wouldn't see sympathy and concern in
Rita's emerald eyes, or the shame when he looked in the mirror. He would just go
home and slip into the darkness.
From
somewhere within him he heard Rita's voice. “Sam? Stay with me Sam. ” He looked
around but she wasn't there. It was just his imagination again. She wouldn't be
able to save him this time.
He took a
long sip from the bottle and willed oblivion to come sooner.
+ + +
Rita washed
her face as she got ready for bed. Her heart sank as she grabbed a nearby
washcloth and turned off the faucet. She stared at herself in the mirror as she
wiped. What had changed with her and Chris? Where was her friend, her partner,
her Sam?
Her stomach
hurt as she walked over to the bed and slipped into the cool sheets. The Ross
case was destroying him, and it had been weeks since it had ended. It had been a
cat and mouse game with the killer, who had taunted Chris every step of the way
after realizing Chris and she were handling the case of his first murder. This
was man to man, survival of the fittest, Chastain had said in his
taunts, dismissing Rita completely. He would lead Chris on a sick scavenger
hunt, and Chris had had no choice but to follow. Katie Ross had already been in
Chastain's hands for days, bound, beaten and she had seen his face. Although
Chastain had teased Chris with the promise of her release if Chris could get
there fast enough. Rita knew better. Katie had never stood a chance.
In the end,
Chris had fired repeatedly at Chastain when they caught him, emptying his clip
without flinching. Psych evals had been ordered for Chris, but Cap had pulled
the paperwork on Chris's behalf as a favor, never expecting Chris would
self-destruct.
But now
Chris was sacrificing himself. The guilt over Katie would eat the sweet man
alive.
She tossed
again. He was pushing her away, but she couldn't put her finger on exactly why.
And she was worried as hell about him. Rita missed his quick grin, his silly
teasing, the flash of bright sparkling blue eyes and his muttered conversations
with that darned car – all of it. She missed Chris so badly her heart physically
ached for him.
She tried
to close her eyes but the sleep wouldn't come. Do you want me to fuck you?,
he had said. She shivered; surprised it was not entirely out of displeasure. She
was shocked, angry even, that he had spoken to her that way, but the quick image
it conjured shook her even more. Chris beneath her, his hands in her hair
pulling her towards him, his mouth on hers... Need slid over her, filling her
with its intensity and heat. Her skin ached. She couldn't possibly want that.
Could she? No. He was her partner,
her friend. Nothing more.
Rita
grabbed the clock.
She sat up
and flipped the bedside lamp on. She flinched at the sudden burst of light.
The line to
his cell rang over and over again with no answer. She hung up and dialed again.
Again, no response. She began to wonder if he was home actually sleeping. She
told herself one more time, and if he didn't answer she wouldn't call again.
Maybe he had someone with him.
“'Lo?” came
the slurred answer.
Relief
washed over her. He was drunk, but he was at least alive. “Sammy, it's me.”
She heard
an inebriated, insolent laugh on the other end. “You changed your mind, huh
baby?”
“Sam, stop
it! Where are you?”
“Dunno,
sunshine. Just dunno.”
Now panic
set in. Where in god's name was he? “Are you in a cab Sam? A bar? Home? Are you
with someone?” A dull ache settled into her stomach at the last thought. There
were always plenty of women willing to look after Chris whether he was in a
charming mood or not. She had no right to be jealous.
“Cab. Wamme
to come over?” he countered.
She thought
about that for a sec. Yes, she did. She wanted him where she could look out for
him. “Yeah, Sam. I want you to come over,” she whispered. He had been avoiding
her for so long that she would take whatever time with him that she could get at
this point.
There was a
long silence on the line while he digested that. He had every opportunity to
make a sexual comment but surprisingly didn't.
When he
finally responded he sounded sad. “Okay Sammy, ok.”
She flew
out of bed to throw on sweats and get downstairs before he got there. Chris was
hurting and by all means she was going to do what she could to fix it.
After all,
what were friends for?
+ + +
“No Sammy,
No! Sammy don't go there…don't go!”
Rita sat
straight up, her heart racing as she heard Chris's strangled voice calling out.
The sounds were coming from the guest room. The fog cleared from her head. He
had thankfully spent the night after she had led his drunk self straight to bed.
He was here
in the house. And he was screaming.
“Sam! Oh
God..Sam!”
She raced
into the guest bedroom, not caring about the propriety of the oversized
sweatshirt she was wearing. It was his anyway. Chris was tangled in the sheets,
his bare chest covered with the sheen of sweat and the pillow on the floor. He
was still sleeping, though his fists had grabbed the mattress sheet, nearly
pulling it off the bed.
“Oh God
no..no..” his leg shot up beneath him as if he were trying to move.
Rita rushed
to the bed, wrapping her body around his from behind and holding him tight.
Tears sprang to her eyes. “Sam, wake up..,” she kissed his shoulder softly,
“wake up Christopher.”
His body
went taught and she held on tighter. Her fingers tangled in his hair, the sweat
sliding off his skin. “Wake up Chris. Sam, wake up.”
He started
to scream again, and turned to lunge for her still half asleep. She caught his
forearm in her hand and held him until his eyes flew open. She flinched at the
pain evident there. He had been calling for her. Somehow she was in the
nightmare.
“What's
going on?” he rasped.
“You were
having a nightmare, Sam.” She brushed her hands over his face. He looked
vulnerable. Scared. Confused. His eyes were wide open, the crystal blue framed
by dark wet lashes. Her body began that slow ache again and she fought the
sudden urge to put her mouth on his full lips and kiss him slowly until he
calmed. What was happening to her? She couldn't think about Chris that way!
He didn't
respond or acknowledge the dreams in anyway. She sensed him pulling back into
his shell. He tried to pull away but she tightened her grip on him, pulling his
head beneath her chin and curling him into her, her fingers sliding into his
short dark hair. “I'm staying with
you tonight.”
Again, no
smart ass comment from Chris. He settled his face against her neck and inhaled
the sweet scent of her. He couldn't think right now, his body was too utterly
exhausted. He couldn't fight her tonight. There was a vague thought forming
itself in his head, one that washed over him with a strange sense of belonging.
I love you, Sam. Don't leave me.
His eyes
drifted shut and he fell fast asleep against her.
+ + +
He had been
gone when she woke up that morning.
He had
woken a few hours later having never really slept. At some point during the
night they must have shifted, because when he had woken she had been sleeping
with her head resting on his bare chest and her body pressed against him.
Chris lay
there for a few minutes, listening to the steadiness of her breathing and her
small hand curled against him, the same delicate fingers that so confidently
held her Sig Sauer time and time again. His beautiful Sammy, who in some way
owned him completely, was such a combination of contradictions.
And he
didn't have a clue as to how to protect her. She had to learn that.
He would
fail when she needed him most. She had to find someone else to work with.
Someone who could protect her the way he couldn't. She had to want to
find someone else or she would never leave him.
He had left
the bed, nearly weak with a need to stay and hold her, and got dressed. He was
soundless as he crept downstairs and straight out the door.
+ + +
Rita
stepped carefully around the young woman's body and crouched down.
She was
twenty-something and wealthy, judging from the Chanel necklace around her neck
and the Gucci handbag still on the front seat of her luxury convertible. The
girl had been shot twice in the head and dumped in the parking lot by the beach,
her car left not ten feet away. Rita flinched when she moved her head. The
bullets had nearly blown the back of her head off.
She glanced
up at Chris as he walked up. “Execution style. They weren't kidding and there
was no mistake on intent. No bruises and no broken nails. She didn't even seem
to put up a fight.”
His
expression was unreadable behind his sunglasses. “She saw something she
shouldn't have, really pissed someone off or was someone's idea of an example.
She got a name yet?”
Rita
suppressed a smile, despite the ugliness of the situation. It felt good to be
working with Chris again, even with the premise that they worked under. “Chloe
Muldoon, age 24. Dad owns ZeneTach, a multi-million dollar genetics company
based in
Chris
grunted. “She was a pretty girl. Bet she made a lot of friends with a body like
that.”
Rita stood
and walked over to her car, pulling off her gloves as she went. “An attractive
body does not mean a girl likes to sleep around, Sam.”
He followed
her. “Yeah. You don't like to sleep around, do you?”
She stopped
mid-track and spun. “No. Seems like whenever I have a guy spend the night he is
gone by morning.” Rita pretended to be confused but was clearly issuing a
challenge regarding Chris's early departure that morning. “ Do you think it's
something I am doing? I could use a little advice on how to get them to stay.”
“Well don't
invite them to stay if you aren't going to put out.”
He had
turned the tables. Chris had made her banter into something dark again. The
moment of familiarity of working with him on the case had disappeared, and in
its place was a fear so deep it shook her. Her Sam was slipping away from her,
and in his place was this cold, unfeeling jerk who treated her like a piece of
meat. She was losing the only person she ever really trusted.
“Well,” she
lifted her chin in an attempt to be brave, “they never stuck around long enough
to find out whether I would or wouldn't.”
“Maybe you
just aren't their type,” he challenged.
She
couldn't believe him. She fished out her keys from her slacks pocket and opened
the door to the Jeep. He was standing there with the beach behind him, and her
heart ached for all the times they had rolled up the legs on their pants at
lunch and just walked for miles on that very same beach. Talking. Laughing.
Teasing. He wasn't teasing now – he was trying to hurt her. She wanted to hit
him, claw at him, push him and get Sam back. But he stood there, his granite jaw
set and his eyes hidden by those damned sunglasses.
She was
afraid she was setting herself up, but she had to know how far he would take it.
The risk would be worth the reward if he finally stopped lashing out. “And what type is that, Sam?” She said
softly. She used their nickname to see if he would respond in kind. Don't go
in for the kill Sam, we're not that bad off yet. Are we?
“The sexy,
smoldering type, Rita.” He said flatly, ignoring the nickname. “The kind of
woman who makes you feel the heat from across the room. “ He turned his head and
stared off towards the beach. “You know, a woman like Jillian.”
He turned
back in time to see the pain register on her face. The blatant hurt in those
green eyes. He could annihilate her if he really tried because he knew her
better than she knew herself. Chris falling for Jillian - so soon after she had
thought she lost him forever and had experienced such intense feelings for him -
had been a cruel joke. One she had tried to ignore by losing herself with Eric.
She had failed miserably and the pain she had felt even after Jillian left was
still palpable. Though Chris would never know that.
She started
to slide into her car and then paused, her voice wavering, “Well then why did
you let her go to
She didn't
want to hear his response. She slammed the door shut and shakily shoved the keys
into the ignition. She thanked god he had turned away and begun walking back to
the Muldoon girl already so he didn't see her furiously brush away the tears
that defied her will and fell anyway.
+ + +
Chloe
Muldoon's credit card bills had turned up a lot about her.
Shopping
trips with increasing frequency to
Rita sifted
through the bills, looking for anything that would give her a clue. Chris and
Keisha were at Chloe's waterfront penthouse in the
Chloe
definitely loved the nightlife. There were countless bills for bars and dance
clubs. The Bluesky, MissionX, LaVilla. It was odd though, because a woman who
looked like Chloe would rarely have to pay for her own drinks. Yet the bills
were high every night, often topping a thousand dollars.
So she was
seeing someone probably, Rita mused. Someone who thought Chloe was their gravy
train and had no problem letting her spend. Which brought up two immediate
questions – who was she seeing, and where was the extra money coming from?
The clubs
were as good a place to start as any, though judging by the places Chloe had
chosen to frequent, no one there was going to be willing to talk to a cop. Rita
grinned to no one in particular. She loved this stuff best as she knew what was
coming next.
She grabbed
her keys and headed to the mall. She needed something sexy and outrageous to
wear tonight. Chris was going to need something too.
There were
going to go dancing.
+ + +
Chris
fidgeted while he waited for Rita to answer her door. He was uncomfortable about
tonight, knowing in his heart that he alone wouldn't be enough to keep her safe
anymore. He had slipped, and by being her only backup tonight her life was at
risk.
He had a
key to her place, but he wasn't going to use it. He had to cut off that
familiarity with her now, to make her realize. She shouldn't have this blind
trust in him because he wanted her to be on better guard than that. Rita breezed
into these assignments, no fear; sure he would be there if the shit hit the fan.
He didn't
want her faith anymore. It left her vulnerable. He heard her calling from inside
her apartment, telling him to let himself in. He just waited, until a few
minutes later the door flew open. He stared at her.
She was
breathless, having run down the stairs. “Why didn't you let yourself in?” she
grinned.
He didn't
know what to say. She looked incredible. Rita was always beautiful, but she was
so blatantly sexy tonight he was afraid to get close for fear of reaching for
her right then and there. The intensity of the feelings terrified him. She was
wearing low hip riding black pants that showed off her taut belly, with a
tighter-than-hell pink ruffled top that looked like a scarf tied around her
chest. As she turned back into the apartment, he followed, his eyes on the big
pink bow that held the top together in the back. One pull on that bow and…
He cleared
his throat as he noticed the shoes. Impossibly high black sandals that showed
off pink toenails. He knew her diligence too, those shoes were chosen because
somehow she could still run in those, or kick them off in an instant if need be.
Her hair was pulled up off her neck and tousled, the long column of satiny skin
begging to be kissed. One curl mutinously fell into her eyes. He longed to push
it back, to twirl it around his fingers. And was she sauntering?
“Chris?”
she questioned. Her head tilted to the side.
Ah hell, he
thought. He couldn't stop staring at the expanse of skin from her neck, down to
her shoulder, curving over the top of her breast. All bare. He was fighting a
losing battle with his own arousal. Oh hell no. If he couldn't stop staring,
then she was surely also going to have all eyes on her when they went out
tonight. He couldn't protect her, dammit! Didn't she see that?
“Earth to
Sam.” She laughed. “You look really good by the way Sam, who knew?” she teased.
He felt
ridiculous in the fitted black t-shirt and black pants with the big silver chain
wrapped around his wrist. He looked absurd, he was sure of it. But at least they
would fit in where they were going tonight. Another over indulged couple out to
score a party. “Thanks.” He cleared his throat again. “You have to wear that?”
For a
second she faltered, thinking she had looked pretty good even if it wasn't her
style. She had tried to accomplish what Chris had said, all that smoldering
across the room stuff. Just for one night. But Chris still didn't like it.
She sighed
in defeat. “What needs to change?”
“You need a
jacket or something.”
Recognition
dawned on her. He was jealous! “Can't. I'm looking for a good party tonight,
handsome. Wanna join me?” she trailed her finger over his chest and winked as
she walked by him, grabbing her purse off the table.
“Sam,” he
warned.
“Yeah?” She
said, all innocence.
“Where is
your gun in that getup?” He figured they would just have to be creative in order
to get around bar security as many of those bars had metal detectors on the way
in.
She lifted
a leg so her heel rested up against the edge of the table and slowly lifted her
pant leg.
He audibly
groaned as she slid the pant leg nearly up to her knee, her bare calf visible,
ankles tied in leather from those ridiculous shoes. He wanted her. He wanted her
leg wrapped around his waist as he held those hips and…
“Sam? See?”
Her gun was strapped in a small holster on her leg. He hadn't even noticed.
She grinned
at his lack of response.
This was
gonna be fun.
+ + +
MissionX
was pulsing with the synthesized techno beat, while red and yellow lights roamed
back and forth across the packed dance floor. The bar in the middle was nearly
three deep and bodies swayed against each other as people pushed their way
forward. Most men brushed up against the women deliberately, sliding their
bodies along backsides as they pushed past.
They had
been there two hours and Chris was miserable. He wanted a beer badly. Anything
to take the edge off. But the edge was just what he needed if he was going to
try and get Rita out of here tonight without all of her questioning raising any
deadly red flags.
MissionX
was the last club that had showed up on Chloe's cards, two days before she was
found. Rita was trying to fish around with the bartenders and wait staff, hoping
that with the amount Chloe typically spent in here, that one of them would have
some knowledge of what she had been up to or who she had hung out with.
Rita was in
front of him, leaning up against the bar. He planted his feet squarely to avoid
being pushed up against her and tried to act disinterested. She was exchanging
words with the bartender, laughing and sliding her hand along his face as she
talked. He was captivated, along with half the bar, by her eyes, her body and
that damned outfit.
Chris
scowled. He was absolutely miserable.
A hand came
up his back and then around along his stomach and he flinched, silently thanking
god the outfit had forced him to use his ankle holster as well. He turned his
head and found himself looking at a pair of big brown eyes glancing at him
through heavily made up lashes.
“Hey
gorgeous, you wanna dance?”
No. He
didn't. Not at all. He wanted to keep his eyes on Rita, never sure what her
poking around would trigger. “No thanks.”
His
indifference only seemed to further intrigue the girl, who seemed to be used to
getting her way. “I could show you how to grind it out, baby.” She smiled.
A hand
trailed up his chest and he saw Rita, felt her body sliding against him. Her
eyes narrowed possessively at the girl. “Back off,” she said bluntly.
The girl
started to protest then took one look at Rita's face before thinking better of
it. Rita pulled Chris against her for good measure, pressing her chest against
him and slipping one hand around his waist. The girl started to move away but
Rita wasn't done yet.
She pulled
him towards her and did it right there in the middle of the bar.
She kissed
him full on the mouth.
+ + +
Her body
was on fire.
It had
started out as just part of the act. High flying party girl, making out with
guys in the bar, dancing, flirting. She had to look like she could be an old
friend of Chloe's just looking to reconnect with a friend.
She had
decided to intervene when she saw the girl pawing Chris. Chloe's type would have
been upset at someone trying to take what was hers, wouldn't she? Wouldn't she
and her friends be prone to entitlement and jealousy, used to getting their way?
It was all
part of the act when she went over to Chris. She squashed the doubt that niggled
at her and went for it.
But it got
out of hand.
One second
she was pressed up against Chris, and the next she had somehow reached for him,
desperate for his mouth on hers. The feel of his hard body beneath her hands,
her bare skin rubbing against his shirt. It was too much and she couldn't stop.
When had
this changed?
Wasn't this just part of the act? It had to be. Then all thought vanished.
Chris's
mouth was stiff beneath hers for just the briefest of seconds, and then he
suddenly responded like he was hungry and had just been unleashed. He hauled her
hard up against him, cupping her buttocks and pulling her closer. His mouth
slanted over hers and coaxed her lips apart, his tongue sliding into her mouth.
His hand reached up and cupped her face, his fingers caressing her jaw. She
heard him groan against her, even through the pulsing haze of the music.
It was slow
and then rough. Calm and then raging. Endless. He didn't let up, and soon he had
her off her feet, her mouth never leaving his. She was fighting to somehow get
closer, to crawl into his skin. She was kissing Chris. Her Chris. The
comprehension of what was happening was beyond her. She wrapped her legs around
him and they were moving through the crowd unnoticed, the bar already saturated
with sin and decadence, so much so that they were just part of the scenery to
anyone looking. Chris pushed her back against a column and ground hard against
her until her head fell forward, weak with desire. He coaxed her head to the
side and couldn't stop, need driving him to the brink, and his mouth left hers
to trail the line of her shoulder.
He felt her
move against his hips, rotating, searching for release. His hand slid to the
fabric covering her breast and cupped it between them, his thumb tracing over a
hard nipple. She arched and cried out. In the heat of it all she pulled her head
back and tried to look at him through heavy lids, her lips swollen from his
kisses. Shock at the intensity of her desire ripped through him. His Sammy.
She was letting him touch her like this, and even more impossibly she was
touching him back. He knew he could be inside her now and she wouldn't care. Not
even here, not even in front of all of these people. His desire matched hers. He
didn't care about anything else, he just wanted her so much. Oh God, was this
part of the act for her? Was it real?
He couldn't
stop. It didn't matter. She tugged at his head, impatient, and his mouth
descended on hers again, the need to consume her overwhelming. He was hard as
hell and could only think about her sweet heat wrapped around him. He wanted to
take her right here because waiting didn't seem to be an option. But here was
impossible, and she was too vulnerable in public like this. People were
beginning to look.
Vulnerable.
The thought cut through the haze like a knife. She was vulnerable.
His head
snapped up as the cold iciness washed over him. He saw her surprise, the
confusion that he was stopping. He pulled back and let her slide down him, her
eyes never leaving his. She was searching, pleading silently; desperate to
figure out what had made him pull back. He stepped back from her like he had
been burned. He had.
“Sam?” she
whispered. “Sam?” Her fingers
reached to his face, coaxing him to look at her, to keep going.
He didn't
respond, the music matching the throbbing in his head and body. She was
vulnerable again because of him. He had compromised her. Not only by what they
had been doing in public, allowing others to see her like that because he just
didn't care in those moments - but
because he had let his guard down. He could have gotten her killed.
It was all
the proof he needed. He needed to be away from her. She needed someone else to
look out for her.
She was
shaking and she had to bite her lip to stop from crying for the loss. The fire
was still vibrating through her unfulfilled. He was mad. It had been part of the
act for him and he was angry she had taken it so far. She couldn't blame him.
What had she done? Had she just ruined everything they had ever had? Could you
ever just be friends again after that?
“I'm sorry
Sam,” she said, her eyes searching his for some sort of recognition.
There
wasn't any left. He had shut down again, she knew that instinctively.
“All part
of our act, Rita. Let's keep looking.” He grabbed her elbow and began pushing
her back into the crowd.
Her heart
shattered. The distance was back and now she didn't think she could breach it.
It had been just an act for him and she had pushed it too far. He was furious
with her. She choked back a cry and pushed forward.
This time
she couldn't blame him.
+ + +
MissionX
proved to be a windfall.
It had been
nearly a half hour later that Rita had tried the back bar, dropping nearly three
hundred dollars on the bar for a bottle of champagne they would never drink when
it had finally happened.
She had
leaned over to the bartender, who had been wearing nothing but leather pants,
and giggled as she ordered the bottle of Cristal and asked him for a place to
drink it. He was arranging for a table for her when she had pushed it, hoping
for a break.
“Hey
gorgeous,” she had leaned over the bar so he could hear her. “You wouldn't
happen to know where Chloe is? I've been looking for her and she said she is
normally here Thursdays.” She knew that much from the pattern of charges on
Chloe's cards.
He had
laughed. “Chloe huh? You a friend of hers?”
Rita
grinned. Only the bartender didn't know that her smile never reached her eyes.
“Yeah, you could say that. Met her a coupla weeks ago at BlueSky and she told me
to come here instead. Said the opportunities here were much better.” Rita winked
at him.
“Chloe's
good for business,” he laughed. “So who's the guy?” he nodded at Chris behind
her, who was busy scanning the dance floor. He looked decidedly unfriendly which
was just as well. Girls like Chloe probably gravitated to the bad boys anyway.
Rita
laughed. “Ohhhhh, well I can ditch him for you if you want?” Rita was well aware
he wouldn't.
“Baby, you
got the wrong guy. I'm not playing in your playground, though you might be just
the one to be able to convince me.” He smiled and paused. “You wanna hit the VIP
room? Haven't seen Chloe tonight but that's usually where the party is at.”
She nodded.
“Sure, can we take the drinks in there?”
He grabbed
a couple of champagne glasses. “I'll grab a bottle and be right back. I'll take
you in there and get you a table.”
Rita winked
at him again as he left. She turned towards Chris, her heart pounding from the
small victory. She had to get close to him for him to hear her and yet she
dreaded touching him. He saw her, saw the familiar satisfaction on her face when
she had found something.
He hated
touching her, afraid his body couldn't handle it yet. He did it anyway, pulling
her against him so she could lean into his ear.
“We got it
Sam. He knows her. He's taking us in the VIP Room where Chloe would hang out.”
Chris
finally broke a half-smile.
‘Atta girl
Sam, he thought.
+ + +
There was
white everywhere.
White
walls, white furniture, white curtains, and white carpets. The only thing not
white was the light, which was a deep gold glow throughout. The house, no the
mansion, Rita corrected herself, sprawled around a central courtyard with a
shimmering art deco styled pool – with yes, white loungers everywhere. Rita's
heart flinched. The pool reminded her of Chris. It was exactly the color of his
eyes.
There was
security everywhere, which kept her guard up as well. There was never this much
security without a reason, or a basic paranoia. She and Chris had no choice but
to leave their guns locked in the car, going against all the rules, when they
had seen the security guards actually patting people down on the way in and the
high perimeter fences. They would just have to be careful to avoid trouble
tonight.
The owner
of the house was a mysterious man by the name of Hunter Brodie. Rita guessed he
had some serious enemies, delusions or both to keep his house under patrol like
that. Yet he had no problem letting MissionX's entire VIP room end up at his
house, despite the fact that Rita was convinced he hadn't been at the club at
all. He wasn't even here anywhere that she could see. So he liked a good party.
Or the party was a cover for something else.
She'd run a full background on him first thing in the morning.
There were
people everywhere and she was exhausted. It was nearly
Chris was
off getting drinks. She could have used a real one. She walked out the sliding
doors towards the pool and tried to pull off the effects of being tipsy, smiling
at a tall European looking blonde as she went. The girl smiled back, a little
too friendly and seductively, and Rita realized she had just been propositioned.
She needed
to make some friends and fast. It was one thing to be invited once, but another
to be invited back, to ultimately gain unfettered access to information. The
pool was filled with girls stripped down to their underwear or bikinis for the
prepared. Men were holding martini glasses precariously in one hand and a woman
in the other. They were laughing, oblivious of anything real beyond the front
gates. By the looks of it, this crowd partied together often.
“So whaddya
think?” Chris breathed into her ear.
She tried
to smile when she turned, but she was too hyper-aware of him after earlier
tonight. She was aware of the muscle in his jaw that jumped when he was
determined, the slight bob of his head when he was thinking, the small scar on
his neck from the
His hand
nudged slightly at the small of her back, and even that small touch electrified
her. She needed to be alone soon, to process everything that had happened. She
was worn out, and yet the night showed no signs of ending. She made her way out
to the pool.
The
laughter bubbled up from the water. These beautiful people didn't seem to have a
care in the world, Rita thought. What about Chloe? Had she been this way? Guilt
slammed at her. She had been so worried about her relationship with her partner
all night that she wasn't giving her best to this case. No matter her lifestyle,
Chloe had probably deserved better.
The
adrenaline Rita had been waiting for all night kicked in, momentarily dulling
the sharp pain of Chris's withdrawal from her. She had a job to do. Chris was
angry, but he had done a great job of separating his growing anger towards her
with his responsibility to this case. He had kept going and she had continued at
this half-assed.
There was
recklessness in her spirit now, and she wanted some of that laughter in that
pool. She wanted to let loose and push the pain away and do her job. She didn't
want to feel anything. It would work to help the case too.
Chris
watched the transformation on her face. The pain replaced by determination. His
partner was shutting down emotionally and turning on her game face. He ached a
little at her bravado, but respected the hell out of her for it. She was a
fighter, his Sam. “What next, Sam? How do you want to play it?”
She turned
to him, and a distant, detached look had replaced the hurt. “I'm gonna party,
what about you?” With that she turned around and reached up behind her, her
fingers pulling at the bow of her shirt.
Chris
audibly gasped, nearly reaching out and stopping her but remembering where he
was. No man here would stop one of these women from getting undressed. None were
worried about propriety. His fingers itched then to help, remembering his vision
of pulling on just that bow earlier that night in her apartment. He stilled,
gripping his glass tighter and pretending that he wasn't terrified of what she
was going to do next. He had to act like this was normal. Cameras probably
tagged their every move.
The top
fell away, revealing a pastel pink strapless bra. He thanked the heavens at
least she had that on. Granted, it looked like a bikini top. She let the halter
top fall on the nearest lounge chair and her fingers went to her waistband,
shoes coming off at the same time. A small sound escaped him this time and she
heard it, tilting her head back at him for just a moment before proceeding. He
gripped the glass tighter, afraid it would shatter any moment, helpless to stop
what was coming. She peeled the black pants off and stood up, wearing a pair of
black satin panties with small pink bows on the string-tied hips. She pulled her
hair out of the clip. He was stunned
into complete silence. How could no one else have noticed when his world had
just stopped? What was she doing?
Oh Christ.
She was getting into the pool. He put his glass down and quickly started
stripping until he was left with just his boxers on, unable to take his eyes off
of her. He silently thanked the powers that be that he had listened to her about
leaving both their guns, or he would have been stuck, unable to join her with
his piece still strapped to him. She hadn't even turned around to look for him
when she got in. Within seconds, a guy with bright blonde streaked hair had his
arm around her waist and was pulling her in farther. Chris fought the urge to
slam a fist into the guys face. He was into the steaming pool to his waist when
he saw her dunk under, effectively loosening the guy's grip on her.
When she
broke the surface he saw the back of her head, her dark hair slick against her.
Water was dripping down between her shoulder blades. He stood stock still. Thank
god he was under water so no one could see what she had just done to him. He
wanted her so badly he was shaking from it. He wanted his partner and he was
embarrassed that he couldn't stop ogling her. Sam. I'm sorry I want
you this way. I'm sorry.
He grit his
teeth as she turned, finally looking for him. Rivulets streamed down that
perfect skin and she smiled.
He wanted
to haul her out of there. Blonde-boy was looking at her again, and Chris didn't
appreciate the interest he was showing. There was one way to get blonde boy to
back off. He dove under.
His hands
wrapped around her legs as he came up for air next to her. He grabbed her around
both her thighs and lifted her so that she fell forward, helpless but to wrap
her arms around him. Blonde-boy was still watching.
“Don't do
that again,” he whispered, drunken laughter echoing behind them. Someone had
thrown a martini glass in the revelry and it had crashed on the walkway. She
jumped, her breath escaping onto his skin. He made a quick note to avoid the
area in bare feet, not that he thought anyone else was sober enough to remember.
“Do what?”
She plastered a fake smile on her face, pretending she was having fun. She was
shivering. The wall of his bare chest rubbed against her skin and her legs
clenched involuntarily. The brutal need she had been working to suppress bubbled
to the surface and everywhere he touched her became raw. Her palms were itching
to slide over him, to reach for the wet tendrils of hair at the back of his
neck. She blinked hard when she realized she was doing just that.
“Don't just
walk away from me like that. We're a team tonight, Sam.” And not for much
longer, he silently added. Not if he could help it. She needed someone else,
someone who hadn't slipped, who she wouldn't trust with such blind devotion that
she was compromised in the field. He had proved he couldn't be trusted with that
responsibility the day he had let Katie die.
“You walked
away first, Sam. You did. You keep hiding from me. So don't talk to me about
walking away.” She kept that stupid smile plastered on her face so no one would
suspect what was being said, but now her eyes were shiny. The pool was full of
partygoers so thankfully no one was listening to them.
He couldn't
be that close to her and fight. Her lashes were wet, and he suspected it wasn't
just from her dip in the pool. With her body slick and plastered to his, skin to
skin, he had never so desperately needed anything in his life. Her fingers had
twisted in his hair and he wanted to own her, protect her, be inside of her. She
was his after all. He wanted to hear those little sounds he was sure she would
make as she tumbled over the edge with mind-numbing pleasure. Pleasure that
he gave her. That he created for her. And no one else, not ever again. Those
fiery emerald eyes were accusing him now and he wanted to right everything for
her. For a moment, he forgot he was supposed to stay away. He wanted to make his
Sammy moan with the desperation he was feeling. He wanted to be the reason she
screamed when she came apart. He wanted to be the one to watch her face when she
did. His gaze fell to her lips and they parted involuntarily. He couldn't tear
himself away from watching them.
“Sammy?”
she asked. Still no response from him. What's going on with us?, she
begged silently.
The air of
inhibition around him propelled him. His hands started to roam against her,
sliding up her back and down again into the water. His fingers slipped through
the edges of her underwear in the back and she cried out, dropping her head
back. Oh yes, he wanted this. Now. There was no control left.
He moved
with her to the edge of pool, pinning her between him and edge. She was wrapped
around his waist, only wet fabric separating him from being inside of her. His
hands grabbed her face and he kissed her hard, feeling her hands push him away
for only a second. She gave in immediately, as he expected she would. His tongue
slid inside her mouth, his fists grabbing her wet hair and anchoring his mouth
to hers. When she fell back, his breath nearly stopped. His fingers wondrously
traced the top of her bra, where the peach silk of her skin met fabric. He
wanted the fabric off now but knew he couldn't. There was only so much that
would go unnoticed here.
She met him
kiss for kiss. Her hands framed his face and she nibbled softly at his lips
before her tongue slid out and tasted him again. He coaxed her mouth open more
so he could kiss her deeper, moving rhythmically against her. At any second, he
was convinced the fabric was going to rip between them. She was moving against
him now, a soft cry breaking from deep within her. He was going to do it. He was
going to make his Sammy shatter right here and now.
“Whoohoo!”
Both their
heads snapped up at the loud catcall meant for them. Chris turned towards the
sound and saw blonde boy again.
Blonde boy
grinned. “Hey you two,” he yelled across the pool, grabbing the attention of
much of the party. “You should charge for that show! Should we get ‘em a room,
guys?” He slapped the water, sending a cascade of water up for effect.
A chorus of
‘Hell no's” and raised glasses went up before everyone forgot them again.
Chris
looked at Rita before he let go of her. “You ok?” He was still shaken. Twice in
one night he had devoured her. It's like his world was off its axis. She was
his partner for god's sake! What the hell was wrong with him?
She nodded,
mustering up as much bravery as she had. He was not going to be the first to say
it this time. “You gotta do what you gotta do, right?”
His heart
broke because he couldn't tell her that kissing her hadn't even been close to
just being part of their job. Chris wanted her with an intensity that shook him
to his soul. He couldn't protect her enough though. Not in the long run. He
would mess up where she was concerned and she would get killed. He let go of
her, disgusted that instead of pushing her away he hadn't been able to keep his
hands off of her.
He had
always wanted Rita, from the moment he had seen her five years ago. But she had
immediately become so much more vital to him than just another potential bed
partner. She had righted his world for as long as he could remember. He had
never trusted anyone else, depended on them and been so utterly safe in doing
so. He freely admitted to her he loved her, and she said the same. They just
weren't in love with each other. He had protected their relationship against
all else, including sex. But now it seemed like the physical need was becoming
unstoppable.
She pulled
away and headed towards blonde boy. He knew they needed to join the crowd, but
he wasn't ready yet.
He needed a
few moments to think.
What in the
hell was he going to do?
+ + +
It was
nearly
“Never seen
you here before, Samantha.” Lindy said, as they stood brushing through wet hair
after having dried off and dressed again. She wasn't more than passably curious;
so Rita breathed a sigh of relief and launched into her cover story as Samantha
Machado.
“Yeah, I
normally hang in
Lindy
smiled, handing Rita a bottle of body lotion. Rita took it and began applying,
anything to prolong the conversation. “You miss the west coast at all?”
Rita
grinned. “Not yet,” she nodded towards the door leading downstairs. “You guys
sure can throw a party here.”
Lindy
laughed. “Oh yeah, Brodie sure can entertain.”
“I didn't
meet him tonight, I don't think.” Rita pretended to be confused, knowing full
well she hadn't.
Lindy
leaned towards her. “He doesn't always come out of his bedroom. Unless he needs
a woman. Then he used to come out and just take his pick. He's incredible
looking.” Lindy giggled.
Rita highly
doubted that. This over-processed, over-buff look of most of the guys here was
not her thing, but Lindy had just said something very interesting. “Used to? Did
he get married?” She tried to play dumb.
Lindy full
on laughed. “God no! Married. He would be horrified if you said that! No, Chloe
kinda put the skids on Brodie's playtime, if you know what I mean.”
Rita wiped
her hands of the extra lotion and reached for the spray-on conditioner on the
counter-top. She would be slathered in products by the time she left, just
trying to keep the conversation going. “Chloe? Long blonde hair?” Lindy nodded
so Rita continued. “I think I met Chloe a few nights ago, actually. At BlueSky.
But I didn't see her tonight. Is she dating Brodie?”
Obviously
no one here knew Chloe was dead, the way they kept talking about her. Lindy
grinned conspiratorially. “Yeah. I guess you could call it that. She certainly
acts like she owns the place.”
Rita heard
the slight twinge of jealousy in Lindy's voice. It was strange to see that even
in this group of beautiful, spoiled, wealthy socialites who seemingly had it
all, that there was still an air of the have's and the have-nots, like a high
school popularity contest still running rampant amongst them. “She did kinda
seem that way,” Rita encouraged. “Maybe they broke up and that's why she's not
here?”
Lindy just
shook her head. “Oh no. Chloe and Brodie won't ever split up. At least not
anytime soon. She's too far into his business.”
Rita tried
not to act overly interested as she brushed through her hair again. “Oh yeah?
What's she do for him?”
“She
creates business for him. Brodie isn't social enough to drum up the business
himself. Chloe is the one who introduced us to him. Just like she introduced
everyone else. The parties were her idea, I think.”
Rita's
heart began to race. “So what's Brodie do that he needs Chloe's help so much?”
Could she be so lucky?
Her luck
held out. Just long enough to give her vital information. Lindy looked at Rita
in the mirror and smiled conspiratorially. She lifted one finger to touch the
side of her nose and sniffed, then dropped it. She grinned. “If you need any
more, just let Chloe know.” She snapped her purse shut and turned around to face
Rita. “Nice to meet you Samantha. Maybe I'll see you Saturday.”
“Saturday?”
Rita asked, before Lindy left for good.
“LaVilla,
Saturday.” She looked puzzled. “You didn't know?”
Rita gave
Lindy her best wide-eyed look. “No, what's Saturday?”
Lindy
laughed. “Oh you should come. Chloe would have invited you if she had been here
tonight. She'll probably be there too.”
Rita was
confused and decided to push it. “At the club?”
“The party
after LaVilla Saturday. You find out where it will be while you're in the VIP
room. Someone will tell you if they decide ‘you make the cut'. Then it's five
thousand a couple to go.”
“We pay to
go to a party? Forget it.” Rita tried to blow it off, to act disinterested. She
turned back to the mirror and reached for some lip gloss.
Lindy
looked smug. “Bring that smokin' hot boyfriend of yours and check it out. It's
Candyland after all.”
Rita
turned, pretending to consider it. “Candyland?”
Lindy
grinned. “Just wait and see.” With that she turned and left.
+ + +
Rita bent
over in the Mercedes, refastening the gun to her ankle as she had no way to
carry it into her apartment otherwise without it being seen. “So whatever
Candyland means, at the very least we know Chloe was helping Brodie move cocaine
through the high walls of
Chris
nodded in the quiet of the car. “She was mixed up with all kinds of trouble. We
need to set up our backgrounds more completely in the morning. You as Samantha
Machado, and me as Sam Duvall if we are going to go to LaVilla Saturday.”
Rita leaned
back in the seat and settled in, sighing as the soft leather heated up from the
seat warmers Chris had turned on for her. This early in the morning, just before
the sun rose, there was even a slight chill in the air in
Chris was
quiet as they drove home. He was always careful not to drive directly to their
apartments, just to make sure they weren't being followed after any night they
spent undercover. Depending how deep they went in, they would either stay at a
hotel, or at least pull into one and leave through a side door. Tonight they had
no reason to believe they were under surveillance yet. So he just prolonged the
drive and decided to do a roundabout on the highways despite his need to go home
and finally sleep.
Whether
sleep would come or not was the issue. The night had been long and eventful in
more ways than one. Rita was doing her best not to mention the two episodes that
had occurred between them, but he knew she was as shaken as he was. He could see
it in the deliberate, false cheeriness she was creating. She was doing her best
to chalk it up as the job.
Her head
lolled back on the seat and she turned to watch his profile. She smiled despite
herself at the incongruity of Chris driving this car and not his beloved
monstrosity, the Charger. She could actually hear herself think in this car,
without all the noise of his darned car – the one he was too stubborn to give
up. A small chuckle escaped her. He must hate driving this car.
He raised
one eyebrow and glanced in her direction, a small smile playing across his lips.
“Penny for your thoughts?” He didn't know why he did it, falling back into their
old patterns when he knew it couldn't last. He didn't know why he was
encouraging it, just that he couldn't help himself. She looked worn out and he
wanted to make everything right.
Her tired
eyes nearly drifted shut. “Maybe that's what your thoughts are worth,
Lorenzo,” she teased sleepily. “Mine are usually worth much, much more.”
He admired
her attempts at normalcy. God, she was resilient. “That depends on who you ask,
Sam.”
She
grinned. “It's funny to see you driving this car. I was just thinking how much
you must hate it.”
Actually he
was thankful for it right now. Seeing how warm and settled she was in the
luxurious seats made it worth it. “You look comfortable, Sam. You wouldn't be if
you were in my car right now,” he said softly and smiled.
Her heart
leaped. She had missed the famous mega-watt Lorenzo grin so much these past few
weeks. Whatever anger had been brewing within him lately had disappeared for a
few moments in the darkness of the car and she was grateful for the reprieve.
The safe warmth of that smile and the familiar banter settled over her, making
her even sleepier. “You call that thing a car?”
He
pretended to be miffed. “Hey, Sam. I'll have you know the baby is a classic. V8
Engine, a rare 383 4-speed, overhauled transmission, the original factory
leather bucket seats, original trim, new exhaust, perfect frame rails…” He
glanced at her, expecting a certain result from his launch into car talk.
He was
right. Rita was fast asleep.
+ + +
The had
driven in silence for nearly a half hour before he pulled up in front of her
apartment building. Rita was still sleeping and he hated having to now wake her.
He just watched her for a few minutes, the rhythmic rise and fall of her
breathing soothing him.
His hand
reached out and pushed back the stray hair now falling into her face. Her hair
was still damp from the pool and the long dark curls ran riotous. His heart
clenched at the picture she made. What was he going to do?
He knew he
was hurting her by pushing her away, yet he needed to keep her safe. The moment
would come when he didn't know if he alone would be enough to protect her. He
missed the confidence he had felt a few months ago, when he didn't doubt he
could handle anything that came their way. Yet that confidence had been
ill-conceived and dangerous, and he was glad he was now more aware of the risks
she faced by being with him.
Chris knew
Rita would be furious if he ever told her. She would first ream him out,
thinking it was self-pity over the Ross case. Then she would raise holy hell
about his fear of protecting her, insisting that regardless of what he thought
that she could no doubt handle herself in any case. He knew that. She was good –
no, she was great - at her job. But she trusted him far too much as well, and
didn't look back when she thought he had her covered. She had an implicit trust
in him that went beyond any normal partnership. He didn't want it anymore
because he couldn't be responsible for it. He had proved he didn't deserve that
trust.
His right
hand rested on the back of her seat, his thumb tracing her temple. He didn't
want to stop watching her sleep. He should probably get her upstairs to bed, so
she could sleep properly. But his need to steal these quiet minutes won out.
She stirred slightly under his touch and her lips parted, a small sigh escaping her lips. His whole body tightened in response and he cursed himself. When had everything changed so drastically? He had always been physically aware of her, from the moment they had met. Yet they had agreed they were just friends and would stay that way for the sake of the partnership. So time had passed and they had both had relationships with other people, all disastrous. More than one of their significant others had complained that no one would ever be able to breach the bond they shared. And more than o