Candyland & Fairy Tales
©2005
MaddyLA27
Part 2
This
follows Part 1 – and won't make sense unless you read that first! All the
disclaimers still hold – wish the characters were mine but (sigh) they aren't!
They belong to Stu Seagall,
USA Networks etc etc. NO infringement intended, this is just for enjoyment! …Also, uh – this gets a little
R rated at a few points – be warned!
The music pulsed through LaVilla, the deep
rhythmic base seeping through the floorboards and urging everything within the
walls to gyrate to the beat. Rita glanced over to the bar at Chris, who was
flirting this time with the female bartender to pull VIP access. Rita had seen
the reaction women had to Chris, like moths to a flame, unable to resist his
devastating smile. They'd be in the VIP room in no time flat.
She sipped on the 7-UP, grateful for the time away from him at the
moment. She had been on edge all day, and seeing him at her door a few hours
earlier had only intensified the tension. He had been somber too, all of the
playfulness gone. She missed their banter and quick laughter so much it
physically ached within her. It didn't help that every time he came close to her
she felt like the wind had been knocked out of her, and her hands would nearly
reach for his face of their own volition. The pain of not touching him was
unbearable. They had always been very open with the hugs, the kisses he would
place on her hand, the arms around the shoulder. The little gestures that
comforted them like no one else had ever done for them before. And now, holding
back from that was becoming nearly impossible.
Chris smiled at the bartender, and Rita's heart involuntarily leapt at
the flash of dimples and the slight cock of his head, the gesture so disarming
and familiar. She knew what the bartender was going through. It was the blue
eyes and the intense stare that made them fall at his feet. Chris leaned over
the bar and kissed the bartender on the cheek before grabbing his drink and
heading back her way.
She felt shaky tonight. He looked incredible, the white linen shirt
billowing as he walked. He looked tanned, sexy, in control - everything she
didn't feel. He handed her a new drink. “Here Sam.”
She tried to smile, but it felt forced. “What did you find out? Any luck
yet?”
“Yeah,” he grinned. “Women love me. We're in whenever we are ready.”
Rita's heart twisted painfully at his comment and she didn't know why.
“I'll follow you.”
Chris nodded and turned towards the VIP room, reaching for her hand in
the process. She flinched as he touched her. His fingers intertwined with hers
and she bit her lip, the contact was too much. She needed time and space to
absorb everything that happened and this case wasn't allowing it.
Chris noticed and stopped, turning towards her. He pulled her close
against him so that she could smell his cologne and feel the heat of his chest
against her. “Sammy, I know this is hard but we have a job to do tonight. If you
keep pulling away no one is going to believe we are a couple, ok?” He kissed the
top of her forehead.
Her confusion slammed at her. There were moments she didn't know him and
others when she knew him completely. He was uncomfortable enough with her to
dissolve their partnership, but could still be this good at his job? She admired
his ability to shove it all aside and vowed she would try and do the same. She
was still his partner for now and she had to act like it.“Sorry. I'll work on it.”
He pulled back and looked at her, lifting her chin to try and catch her
eyes. She avoided him until he held her face. “Sammy, look at me.”
Rita couldn't. She'd lose herself in those beautiful blue eyes and all
the bravado she was desperately trying to muster would crumble. She had to
remember she had caused this and that this wasn't his fault. She was the one who
had changed it all.
“Sammy.” He insisted. “Look at me.”
Her eyes flew to his for the briefest of seconds before she looked away.
She wanted to crawl into bed alone for awhile and just process it all. But they
had a job to do tonight and she needed to keep it together. She dropped his hand
and started walking past him. “Let's go Chris.”
Chris followed her, the urge to punch something overwhelming. She looked
even smaller and more fragile in the long flowing white skirt and midriff
exposing white tank top that she had chosen for the evening. When he had first
realized that he needed to walk away from her, he hadn't expected this reaction
from her. He had expected his Sammy to rage against him, to fight him every step
of the way. He had been ready for her yelling, anger and determination. It was
that anger that he had hoped would fuel her into being ok eventually. This
quiet, submissive acceptance was incredibly painful to watch and shook him
deeply. The hurt was all there on her face. Like she had expected to lose
something and finally did.
He was trying to protect her and was hurting her in the process. Her life or her heart. He knew he would invariably destroy
one of them.
He picked her heart, because at least then she would still be alive.
+ + +
Chris stood with his arm around Rita, trying to make conversation over
the music with Lindy and Marco, an interior designer from
She stared off in the distance, not really part of the conversation
anyway. She knew she had to pull it together tonight and was aware of how badly
she was treating this case. Her personal life rarely interfered with her job,
and she had to get a grip on it this time or their leads would go cold. She had
to mingle, and being stuck here with Lindy and Marco was certainly not helping.
She shivered as she again caught the glance of the man across the bar.
She was sure it was Brodie, though in the gritty
surveillance photos his head hadn't been shaved as it was now. Chris hadn't seen
him yet, but Brodie had been looking at her intently a
few times and she had caught his eye. His hard face and leering sneer gave her
the creeps, though she had seen more than one female in the lounge strut past
him looking to grab his attention.
She gently pulled Chris's arm off from around her, letting him know she
was going to go up to the bar. It was amazing who you could meet standing there
alone at the bar – and it would be a good opportunity for her to try and get Brodie engaged in a conversation. Chris kissed the side of
her head as she pulled away.
“I'll take a tonic and seven,” she requested of the bartender, aware of
Brodie's eyes already on her. Within seconds she felt
a hand on her back, and knew instinctively it was him.
“You don't look too happy, cherie.”
He whispered in her ear with a slight European accent to his voice.
She tried to smile at him and encourage him on, but knew she was failing
miserably. Her heart wasn't in this tonight and she needed to muster it up or
she would lose the best break they had had so far. “Still
recovering from the other night.” She lay down a twenty dollar bill for
the drink and left the change, trying to keep up the appearance of a rich,
spoiled socialite.
Brodie laughed and picked up the
twenty, nodding at the bartender, and slipped the twenty back into Rita's hand.
He maneuvered his hand around her waist, pulling her up against him. “I don't
think that's it.”
She was wary. “What do you mean?”
“It's that boyfriend of yours. What's his name and what did he do to
make you not be able to stand his touch?”
She nearly recoiled. How did Brodie know that?
She gave him credit for being able to read people. “His name is Sam and he
hasn't done anything. That's not it at all.”
Brodie ignored her protest and
slid his finger down her cheek. “So beautiful. I have
been watching you. What's your name?”
“Samantha.” She hated him touching her. She looked at Chris across the
room. His gaze was focused solely on her, pressed up against Brodie. His eyes were narrowed and he looked ready to
pounce. She subtlety let him know to back down. She
could handle this.
“Hunter. Pleasure to meet you, ma
cherie.
Haven't seen you here before. Or your
boyfriend.”
Rita shook her head and tried to look him in the eye. “We just got into
“So what did he do to you, beautiful?”
“Nothing! I said
he did nothing!” Rita needed to get rid of this line of questioning. It hit too
close to home.
Brodie laughed. “Oh yes he did.
But that's ok, beautiful. Because I don't think men should keep what they can't
take care of. And he most certainly cannot take care of you.”
Brodie was leaning close to her
again. His finger began tracing the outline of her lips and she fought the urge
to shudder. “What makes you so sure of that, Hunter?”
He laughed. “You want him. Yes. He is an attractive man. But he doesn't
satisfy you. You still have that look of hunger on your face when you look at
him. You still want more from him. So obviously he isn't satisfying you in bed.”
Rita couldn't breathe. It felt warm in there, and she needed Hunter's
hands off of her. “He satisfies me just fine, Hunter.”
He acknowledged the challenge in her voice. “You think so?” Brodie leaned in close, the bitter smell of the alcohol on
his breath washing over her. “Does he make you scream for it, cherie? Does he make you beg for
more? When he's done are you able to leave his bed, or are you too weak from the
exhaustion of him bringing you to the edge again and again? That's
truly being satisfied beautiful.”
She shuddered under his gaze. His face was so close to hers that Rita
wanted to just place her palm on his face and shove him away. She hated what he
was saying, and despised even more how it made her feel. Heat flooded her body
as the images his words conjured assaulted her – Chris's stunning face smiling,
kissing her, coaxing her, the feel of his skin under her fingers and the
mind-numbing need she had to wrap her arms around him and just breathe in the
smell of him. All those thoughts that she had acted upon and that had now ruined
everything. She pulled herself out of it. Hunter had to find her interesting or
this would be the end of the line tonight. “You think you could do better, then
– is that what you are saying?”
That prompted a derisive laugh. “Ah, of course.
Are you willing to find out?” He moved in front of her, pinning her between the
bar and his body and pressed hard against her.
Rita put her hand up to stop him but he pressed closer, his hands
reaching for her face as he leaned in to kiss her. She braced herself for the
contact and reminded herself that Brodie had to be
intrigued enough to invite her and Chris to the party. His arousal pressed
against her and she fought the urge to bring her knee up. “Hunter, I don't think..”
Her words were cut off as Brodie was wrenched
away from her, yanked back by a furious Chris. “What the hell do you think you
are doing?” Chris snarled. He pulled Brodie up by the
shirt with two hands, but Brodie was immediately
flanked by two security guards.
Brodie wasn't fazed now,
especially with the club guards standing at his back. “Finding
out if you satisfy your girlfriend. Just a few friendly
questions.” Brodie smiled. “Now let go.”
Chris knew he had no choice but to let go. He couldn't blow this case
and he needed proximity to Brodie in order to figure
out what had happened to Chloe. “Don't touch her again, you got that?” He shoved
Brodie back as he let go.
“Then keep a watch on her, you imbecile. Never let a beautiful woman out
of your sight because you never know what they might do. Or who they might do it
with.” Brodie spat.
Chris's instincts flared. There was little doubt in his mind already as
to who had killed Chloe. If she had been involved with this monster with the
nasty possessive streak, then she had been involved much deeper that she could
have handled. He hated him talking about Rita at all let alone touching her the
way he had been. This one was going to pay. “You son of a …” Chris lunged at Brodie again.
“Sam!” Rita put her hand up to stop him. “Back off!”
Brodie stood behind Rita. “Yeah
Sam,” he grinned. “Back off.”
Fury swept over Chris. He wanted to pound the bastard's face in. But
Rita was right; he had to cool it for the sake of the case. He held still, never
taking his eyes off Brodie.
Rita saved the moment for the both of them. She turned to Brodie and put her hand against his chest, smiling and
tilting her head in that way that drove Chris crazy with want for her. It looked
like she was getting ready to kiss the way she smacks her lips like that, Chris
thought. God, it made him nuts. “Hunter, I apologize for Sam. And thank you so
much for the drink. You were very kind.”
Brodie fell for it, hook line
and sinker. “Well beautiful. Despite the Neanderthal you seem to like to
associate yourself with, I hope you can join us later for our little party. Of
course, he-”
he nodded at Chris, “ may join us.
But he has to pay. You ma cherie,
for you it will be my pleasure to waive our little fee.”
Brodie signaled one of the
bouncers who came over to Rita. “You take care of them, Miguel.” With that, he
just strolled off.
Chris itched to punch him, but Rita was already talking to this Miguel
character apparently arranging the details for their admittance tonight. She had
pulled it off, despite his antics.
Chris sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. His head was still
pounding from the rush of adrenaline that had kicked up when he had seen Brodie manhandle Rita. He didn't want the bastard's hands on
her. He swore under his breath. He didn't want anyone's hands on her if he was
really being honest with himself. He had felt rage even towards Eric – and Rita
had thought she loved the guy. Chris had wanted to wipe that smirk off of Eric's
face every time he had seen him. As much as he hated to admit it, he didn't give
a rat's ass that Eric was dead. All the
better to keep him from hurting his Sammy anymore.
Rita was walking over to him and his breath caught. God, she was
beautiful. She had those amazing
She frowned at his laughing face. “What's so funny Sam?”
“Nothing.” He tried
to stop laughing.
“Seriously. You
can't laugh. We supposedly just had an altercation here. Be serious Sam!” She
slapped at his arm when he wouldn't stop.
“Altercation? You mean
like I just nearly wanted to beat the living crap out of that weasel?” He caught
her hands in his and held them against him.
She nodded. “Yes, exactly like that.” She tried to pull her hands back
and he wouldn't let go. “Sam, c'mon. Let go.”
His laughter died as her words it home. Let go? It seemed impossible
when she was concerned and yet he was doing just that. He had to let go of her.
He dropped her hands.
She was heading towards the sofas. They had awhile before this club
would clear out and they would finally be told where this party was. Chris
supposed that her arrangements with Marco had included agreeing to pay at least
half of the five thousand dollar fee to attend. Cap would love this, all the
damned cash they were throwing around. He sighed and followed her.
The night was just beginning.
+ + +
Candyland it was.
A mind-altering playground for the rich, spoiled and
perpetually bored.
They had followed the hastily whispered directions to the rental house
for this weekend's event, remotely tucked back off a cul-de-sac in a gated
community. Chris and Rita had hardly spoken the whole way over, except to agree
that Rita would try and get close to Brodie. While
Chris hated the idea, he knew it was the best option to figure out Brodie's relationship to Chloe. She had promised to be
careful, and because it was her job and therefore he had no choice, he knew it
was the best he could hope for.
What he hadn't given up on was taking their guns in with them. He didn't
like being without his, and he was not in the habit of walking into a volatile
scenario with the cards stacked against him. They had walked in unarmed and went
through the security pat-down, before creating the ruse of a quick fight that
allowed them to take it back to the car after Rita stormed off. After a few
quick minutes in the car where they had rearmed themselves, they emerged under
the guise that Chris had calmed her and they were now ready to party once again.
The second time around the guards recognized them and let them in without the
pat-down. It had worked perfectly and he felt much better about having his
weapon with him and knowing hers was tucked safely away in her purse.
The party gave him the creeps. Drunken debutantes and socialites giggled
and stumbled through the dimly lit rooms, the excess of alcohol everywhere
repulsive. Bottles of the best champagnes, vodkas and imported cigars covered
the tables, while a DJ spun music from some undisclosed location. The pool was
filled with bikini clad women already, and women in bathing suits served as
cocktail waitresses. The prelude to sex was everywhere, the women climbing on
top of the men in plain view, kissing and fondling each other. It was a
disgusting show of unchecked decadence.
He knew what was upstairs too. The rooms were for couples to use as
their inhibitions, whatever little they had left, disappeared completely. Beyond
that were more rooms for the substances. There was plenty of the obvious -
ecstasy, coke, pot, LSD. And from what he heard there were a few others too –
one was even referred to as Tango & Cash after the movie, a drug that Chris knew
from his loans to vice mirrored the effects of heroin. For the hard-core there
was even a supply of China White, the most sought after form of heroin on the
streets. The abundance offered in plain sight was overwhelming. Candyland, it seemed, had been named very appropriately.
Only this candy could and would kill.
He looked up, scanning the room for Rita. She was lounging by the
sliding door overlooking the pool, a melancholy look on her face. She had said
she would try to play on Brodie's perception that she
was unhappy with Chris and see if he wouldn't make a move on her. Somehow Chris
doubted her mood was all a ruse. He knew her better than that.
God, she looked sad. When she smiled, it never fully engaged her whole
face and when she caught his eyes she looked lost. She wouldn't even hold his
gaze at all throughout the night. And yet here she was, putting herself on the
line for the case without batting an eyelash. Her movements and strategies on
the case were so ingrained to her that she was operating on auto-pilot and still
doing a damned good job. Possessiveness filled him and he couldn't help think
how amazing she was. All the strength of the Rock of Gibraltar in that one, he
mused. He just hated that she had needed to call on that strength to get through
something she thought he was doing to her.
A blonde had sauntered up to him, looking him up and down before sliding
her tongue over her lips. She wore a dress that seemed painted on, and about two
sizes two small at that. “Hey sexy. Whatcha doing all
alone here?” Her fingers played with the buttons on his shirt.
Any other time, he would have paid attention. This one made Barbie look
inadequate. But his attention was focused beyond her on the sad brunette
lounging by the window. His gut clenched as he forced himself to pay attention
to the blonde before him. “Waiting for you.”
She liked his answer. Her fingers began unbuttoning the buttons and she
smiled. “My name is Misha. You?”
He couldn't focus on her, despite the tilt of her head and the
invitation in her eyes. “Sam.”
She giggled. “Yeah Sam. You're hot, you know
that?”
He dragged his eyes away from Rita and tried to smile back at her.
“You're not so bad yourself, Misha.”
She licked her lips again and slid against him. “Been upstairs yet Sam?”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Wanna join me, sexy?” The offer in her eyes
wasn't tempting at all to him. No, he wanted to grab Rita and pull her against
him and hold her tight until the pain faded from her face. The hairs on the back
of his neck stood up as he watched Brodie
approach Rita. She had been right, he had made his way to her as soon as they
had separated.
“Maybe in a bit, Misha. Been
here before?”
Misha giggled again and he
tried to look at her, but he was unable to drag his gaze away from Brodie's hand sliding down Rita's back. He wanted to grab
the bastard and slam his face into the wall. Rita was just tilting her head up
to him, apparently amused by something he had said. Misha
was saying something and he had missed it. “Wha-at? Sorry I missed that.”
Misha kissed the edge of his
lips. “Of course I have been here. Nothing fun happened in this town before the
Candyman arrived.” She giggled again, finding her
little joke amusing.
Chris held her back. “Oh yeah? This is my first
time. How long has this party been raging without me?”
Misha pressed her lips against
his. “Mmmm, about two months.
You didn't know what you were missing huh?”
Brodie was leading Rita away
from the door and back in towards the party and Chris didn't want her out of his
sight. He grabbed Misha's hand and led her into the
sunken living room towards Rita and Brodie. “No, Misha. I had no idea.”
Misha followed him blindly, and
he realized she was completely drunk and high in any case. He glanced around the
room for Sammy and didn't see her. He spun around, looking back towards the pool
and she was gone. Panic set in, this is exactly what he was afraid of. She
hadn't waited for him. She had just followed Brodie,
expecting Chris had been right there. Where in the hell was she? He caught a
glimpse of white making its way up the stairs.
Rita caught Chris's gaze and he made his way for the stairs to follow
her. She shook her head, nearly imperceptibly. He understood, she didn't want
Chris to follow – but the thought of her heading upstairs with that bastard
terrified him, especially without a wire. Her eyes narrowed as she realized what
he was thinking. She shook her head again to dissuade him from interfering as
Brodie's hand pulled her up the stairs.
He froze. She would pissed as all hell if he
ignored what she was trying to say and went after them. He watched her and Brodie disappear into the third bedroom on the right and
tried to focus on Misha. “Hey Misha,
want to go upstairs?”
She visibly brightened, trying to stay lucid. “Yeah
Sam. Yeah – let's go upstairs.”
He led her up the stairs and straight to the third bedroom after Rita,
but a guard stood outside the door. He tried to walk past but the guard moved
into the doorframe in front of the closed door. “No way man, that's a room you ain't invited in. Pick another.”
Chris exhaled and looked around. There was a room directly across the
hall, full of people sitting around a low lying table and obviously
experimenting. Lines of coke were being cut across the glass top of the table.
He dragged Misha in there and she immediately led him
towards the couch. He couldn't think beyond what was happening in the room
across the hall. He was infinitely glad Rita had her gun in her purse, though he
prayed to God she wouldn't need it.
He sat on the couch and watched Misha lean
over and inhale a line. Vice would eventually have a
field day busting these parties, but he knew he and Rita would wait until the
homicide investigation was done before blowing the whistle or they might never
catch Chloe's killer. Brodie. Chris couldn't shake the absolute knowledge that Brodie had done it. And now Rita was alone in a room with
him. He raked a hand through his hair and blew out a deep breath, his eyes
focused on the closed door across the hall.
What the hell was happening in there?
+ + +
Rita thanked God Chris hadn't insisted on following her up here. Brodie had been high-voltage flirting with her and Chris's
presence would have brought the building rapport between her and Brodie to a complete halt.
Brodie was fixing her a
cocktail, one she finally knew she wouldn't be able to get rid of without
drinking. She paid close attention to the glass he was pouring to make sure he
hadn't in any way altered the liquid, and made sure he drank from the same
decanter as well. Nothing unusual in his movements. It
was a straight brandy.
“So ma cherie, you
like the little party downstairs?”
She nodded and feigned disinterest. “Sure. It's fine. Different from LA.”
That caught Brodie's interest. “Oh really? How?”
“Well, we don't have all the play toys all out in the open like this, Brodie. We are a little more discreet.”
Brodie chuckled. “Ah cherie. Why be discreet when there
is no one looking?”
Rita nearly laughed. He would hate it when she and Chris finally gave
vice the go ahead on this little operation. At five thousand dollars a couple,
she expected Brodie had probably pocketed nearly a
million dollars tonight alone. She was astonished at just how much money there
really was in
Now he out and out laughed, coming closer to her. His hand slid into her
hair and brought her face close to his. “I like you Samantha. All guts aren't
you? Now why aren't you gutsy enough to get away from that horrible man you
brought here?”
“He's nothing I need get away from Hunter. We're not married, and
I am free to do as I please.”
Hunter guffawed. “He truly is an idiot if he hasn't staked a better hold
on you yet.”
“No one gets to have a hold of me Hunter.”
Hunter pulled her down onto the couch with him. “Not yet, cherie. But I like you. And I
usually get what I like.”
Rita shivered. She bet he did. She tried not to pull back as he pulled
her against him. Instead she leaned back and took a sip of the brandy to calm
her nerves. “What fun is there in that Hunter? Always getting what you want?”
His lips curled. “I like games that I win, beautiful. I don't tolerate
losing. Ever.”
A woman walked into the room from a small side room and set down a tray
for them on the edge of the table. Rita's heart began to race when she saw what
was on it. Cocaine. A nice set of eight rows, perfectly cut on a small mirror and two tiny silver
metal straws. She had no doubt that Hunter expected her to hit a row at least
and there was no way in hell she was going to touch the stuff. The woman left
into the same side room and Rita knew that she had to think fast. She took a
deep breath and smiled. “Is this part of the offering Hunter? A way to soften me up?” Rita nodded towards the tray.
He sneered, his voice changing and becoming more menacing. Rita pulled
her purse closer against her. “Cherie. I don't need to bribe those I want. Do
you understand? This is a gift for you however - the purest available. Not the
same as I offer out there.” He gestured towards the door.
“Only the best for you, Samantha.”
Rita took another sip of the brandy and then raised her glass towards
him. “I think I've had enough, Hunter. But I appreciate the offer.”
His face darkened for just a moment before he leaned over her on the
couch, his hand gripping the back of her neck. His foul, alcohol tinged breath
assaulted her again. “You're refusing my gift, cherie?”
he whispered. “Not a good idea. I dislike being insulted immensely.” His fist
grabbed her hair and twisted, the force stinging her scalp.
Tears sprang to her eyes and she jumped, using the distraction to have
her knee send the tray flying. The tray clattered to the floor and shattered,
while the white powder floated down around her and landed on her skirt. She went
to get off the couch, to move away from him quickly but his fist twisted even
tighter and yanked her forcefully back down onto the couch.
With his other hand he backhanded her viciously and she cried out in
protest, wishing she could fight back the way she wanted to but knowing she
would blow her cover. Her face stung and she felt the harshness of the air on
the broken skin of her cheek. “Hunter! Let go of me!”
“You little bitch. Why be so disrespectful when I like you so much? You
must just need a little discipline.” He used his hold on her to drag her off the
couch.
She felt the crash of his hand again and doubled over from the shock of
it. She felt the blood trickle down her cheek and she took a steadying breath as
she brought her face back up to his. She debated taking him down now. Her cover
would be blown but she was not willing to see how far he was going to go. She
eyed her purse, which lay inches away from her on the couch.
There was never a need to wonder if she should reach for it. She heard a
crash outside the door and the door flung open, Chris standing there like the
depths of hell unleashed. “What the fuck?” he snarled.
In mere seconds, Chris had lunged across the room and grabbed Brodie, bringing his fist back and smashing it into his
face, which in turn sent Brodie flying back against
the desk behind him. Rita grabbed her purse and went to pull Chris off Brodie. She tugged at him. “Sam, Sam let's go. Come on.
Hunter, we're leaving.” Her heart raced as she saw the guard Chris had taken
down outside the door come barreling in along with two others.
Hunter stood and straightened his shirt, the back of his hand dabbing at
the blood on his lip. “Your little boyfriend here just bought himself a whole
lot of trouble, ma cherie.
Why don't you tell him how we were just socializing in here before he made this
scene?” There was a definitive threat in Hunter's voice.
Rita glanced back at the guards blocking the door and pushed both of her
hands up against a furious Chris. She was afraid he was going to launch at Brodie again. “Come on Sam. We were just talking in here.
Let's go. The night's over.” She pulled at his shirt.
Brodie smiled at Chris. “Take
the opportunity to leave Sam. Sam right? I believe
that's what she said your name was. The opportunity won't last long. You and I
will settle this later.” He blotted the split lip with his fingertip.
Chris's fists were still clenched, and she had to coax him to back down.
“Sam, let's go.”
He didn't want to leave yet. He wanted to turn this bastard's sick face
into a bloody pulp. He took a deep breath and tried to listen to her, tried to
understand why he should leave and not kill Brodie
for touching her. He glanced at her and the fury intensified when he saw the
skin on her cheek split open and a faint trickle of blood already beginning to
dry on her mottled skin.
He must have tensed because she was literally shoving him out the door.
“I'll kill you if you ever touch her again, you got that Hunter?” he ground out.
Hunter only laughed and nodded at the guards behind them to allow Rita
and Chris through as they reached the door, Chris still facing Brodie. “Such a boy scout. Learn to
control your women, Sam.”
Rita gave Chris a good push out the door and got them out of Brodie's sight, thankful Brodie
was letting them leave without them having to blow their cover just yet. She
grabbed Chris's reluctant hand and pulled him down the stairs towards the front
door. “Come on, Sam, let's hurry. Before Brodie
changes his mind.” She glanced behind her as she flew down the stairs.
Chris looked dangerous, his blue eyes cold as ice. “I'm not finished
with him.”
She pulled harder on his hand, urging him to move faster and still not
entirely convinced that Chris's slow movements weren't from him reconsidering
going back into Brodie's den. “For tonight we are.
There's always tomorrow.”
She was right and he wanted to get her home. They reached the front door
and saw their car sitting at the end of the driveway. Chris fished out the keys
and settled her into her seat before coming around the driver's side to slide
in. He tore out of their spot and sped towards the front gate, his erratic
driving indicative of the still simmering anger.
They drove in silence for a few minutes before getting back to
He was reaching for a water bottle on the back seat and wetting his
handkerchief to wipe down her cheek. “He offered me a little gift I didn't want
to play with.” She winced as he pressed the cold cloth to her face.
He held the cloth against her and his eyes softened. “Sammy, what gift?”
“A tray with coke on it. He
wasn't happy I didn't want any so I knocked it on purpose with my knee to make
it look like an accident and buy some time. Brodie
didn't appreciate my clumsiness.” She shrugged and tried to make light of the
situation. “Why is it the perps always like to slap
me? Do I have a sign on my forehead or something?”
He ignored her attempt at a joke which he knew was for his benefit, and
re-wet the cloth, pressing it against her skin again. She shivered against the
coolness of the cloth.
He hated this. Hated seeing the bruise and knowing he should have been
there earlier. “Sammy,” Chris's voice was ragged. “Are you ok?”
She smiled but it was cut off by another wince as she realized how sore
she really was. “I'm ok Christopher. Thanks for coming in when you did.”
He didn't even begin to tell her of the terror he felt when he had heard
the crashes beyond the door. “Anytime Sammy.”
His other hand came up to stroke her face. “You scared the hell out of me in
there.” He said softly.
Her eyes met his. “I really am ok, Chris.” She whispered. “I swear. It's
just a bruise.”
He nodded quietly, the fear still pulsing through him. He pulled her
close to him and kissed the top of her forehead. Chris couldn't pull back right
away though, she felt too good against him. She didn't pull back either, content
to lean against his lips on her forehead. “I wanted to kill him Sammy,” he
whispered.
She pulled back, startled at the depth of fear and shakiness she still
heard in his voice. Her eyes searched his. “You did the right thing Sam. You let
me do my part for this case and then backed me up. It's only a bruise.”
His face looked anguished in the moonlight and he shifted back into his
seat. “I was later than I should have been. He should have never been able to
touch you once, let alone twice.” He started the car again and looked away.
Her hand rested on his leg. “I wanted to take on that part of this
assignment Chris. I knew the risks and thanks to you I am ok and we still have
our cover. Ok?”
He nodded silently and pulled the car out.
She didn't know what to say to him because he had completely withdrawn
into his own little world.
+ + +
Chris had sent her upstairs to change when they got back to her
apartment, while he fixed a decaf tea for her downstairs. It was after 3 a.m.,
and she was exhausted, but was still too wound up from the evening to sleep.
Chris had sensed that and come in with her without asking, and she was grateful
for the company.
She threw on a t-shirt and nearly smiled when she saw the large M on the
one she grabbed. Were all her sleep shirts his old shirts? She grabbed a pair of
boxers too and threw them, just dying to get comfortable.
Rita went in the bathroom to wash her face and sucked in a breath when
she saw her cheek. It was sore, but looked worse that it was. She sighed,
knowing that it would probably turn into a bit of a shiner too. No amount of
makeup was going cover this one up and she would have a lot of questions about
it at the office on Monday. She gingerly washed around it and put some Neosporin
on the cut before heading downstairs.
The lights were low and Chris was standing with his back to her in her
kitchen fixing her tea. He had piled pillows and blankets on the couch, and she
could tell that he had thrown a DVD into the TV, the glow of the FBI warning
sign dimly lighting the room. His linen shirt was thrown over the back of a
chair, his fitted white t-shirt clung to his back and his feet were bare. God,
he was incredible looking. A rush of longing swept over her. She wanted to slide
her arms around his back and press her face against his shirt - but she clenched
her fists instead and took a deep breath.
He heard her. “Hey Sammy,” he smiled and turned. “Tea's ready. You hungry too? I can make you some toast or something? And
you want some ice for your cheek?”
She shook her head and took the tea. “No, I'm good. It's not burning
anymore. What about your hand Sam? You hit him in the face.” She wrinkled up her
nose, knowing how many times she had warned him not to hit people in the face
because it was too hard against his fist.
“I'm fine Sammy. Getting better at it.” He gave
her his famous Lorenzo grin and her heart raced at the beauty of it.
She had to change the subject. “What movie do you have in?”
He kept grinning. “Maltese Falcon. You up for
it or do you think you can sleep?”
“I can't sleep. No way. But what about you?
Aren't you tired?”
He ignored her and kissed her forehead. When he pulled back, his face
darkened as he saw the bruise again. “Ah, Sammy. You
want to have this looked at?”
Her eyes caught his and for a moment, the want was overwhelming. “No,
I'm fine Sam. Really.”
The muscle in his jaw jumped but he didn't press further. “Well then
let's go see what Sam Spade is up to.” He reached for her tea and ushered her
out of the kitchen towards the couch.
He set the tea down on the table and sat on the couch, holding the
covers back for her to settle in against him. She didn't care about all the
tension of earlier, she needed this. Rita climbed in, her back against his chest
and pulled the covers over them before reaching for her tea. “You better have
the remote Sam,” she warned. “Cause I am so not
getting up.”
He laughed. “Ha! Are you asking a man if he forgot the remote? I'm truly
offended Sammy.”
She took a sip of the tea as he started the movie, his arms wrapping
around her. She could feel the heat of his body behind her and she sighed,
sleepier than she thought she was. He kissed the side of her forehead and pulled
her closer.
She was so confused. At times she didn't know him over the last few
days, and at times it was like nothing had changed. She didn't argue, just
accepted these precious moments for what they were. She knew that they were both
going through a rough time dealing with the direction she had taken their
relationship the other night. She didn't want to think about what he had said
afterwards about not being partners. That conversation seemed light years away
right now. She took another sip of the tea and set the cup back down on the
table, accidentally elbowing Chris in the process.
“Ow!” He exaggerated, rubbing his stomach.
Rita turned and playfully punched him. “You big baby.
If I wanted to hurt you Sam, I would have gotten you good.”
He pretended to reach to defend himself, but instead his hands came up
and held her face, just inches from his and his gaze rested on her cheek again.
Her heart began to pound as his eyes moved to at her lips. She couldn't tear
herself away from the heat written all over him and his arousal pressed against
her hip. She didn't say anything, the silence deafening as she waited for him to
kiss her. The moment seemed to last forever.
“Sammy,” he groaned pulling her further against him. His lips brushed
hers lightly and she cried out softly at the sensation.
The loud sound of the movie starting caused them to jump, the moment
rudely interrupted. It was a moment before they both recovered. Rita looked
away, trying to pretend it never happened. She scrunched down on the couch and
settled in against him. “Let's watch the movie, Sam,” she whispered.
She felt him nod against her head and within seconds the opening images
filled the screen. She took a deep breath, aware of the tautness of his body
beneath her. Her eyes drifted shut nearly immediately, lost in the warmth and
safety of him.
Despite her earlier protests of exhaustion, she was fast asleep against
him in minutes.
+ + +
He was
carefully moving through the deserted, dark prop warehouse attached to the
Playhouse, doing his best to keep his steps quiet and not disturb the random
pieces of scenery strewn everywhere. He knew Chastain was here with Katie, he
had to be. It just made sense. Rita had pulled up the playhouse and it's layout
over her computer after Chastain had hung up and sure enough, The Glass
Menagerie was playing. The collection of little animals that played a central
role in the play had to be what Chastain was referring to as ‘Katie's little
animals'.
He crept
slowly towards a back room which was a stage manager's office and the only one
that had a faint light on in it. Chastain couldn't be expecting him yet, and
probably had no idea that Chris had figured out his little riddle. Chris sucked
in a breath as he heard a weak but pained female whimper come from behind him,
away from the light of the office. He spun, and sure enough saw movement in the
shadows beyond the wooden stairs leading to the upper floors of a set still
covered in dusty sheets.
Chris
kept his gun cocked and crouched lower, waiting to see where the movement
presented itself next so he could gauge the direction Chastain was taking. The
shadows shifted to his right and Chris hid, trying to get a handle on Chastain's
position. He knelt lower, bracing himself on the floor to peer around the set,
sweat beading on his face and sliding down his cheek. His hand met something
warm and liquid. and his heart dropped as he rubbed his
fingers together. Blood. He knew Katie must be badly
hurt to be bleeding this much and that Chastain must be moving her if her blood
was being dragged all over the floor. Chris took a deep breath and began to move
towards the right.
He heard
laughter and then a muffled noise that abruptly cut short, and he moved quicker,
hoping to get to Chastain so he couldn't finish whatever he was doing to Katie.
“You
little tramp,” he heard Chastain threaten, “you deserve
to die. Giving yourself away to every man that comes
along-it's disgusting. But I've taught you a lesson, haven't I?” There was a
moment of silence before Chastain threw something heavy against a wall, sending
scenery crashing. Chris heard him laughing and prayed he hadn't thrown Katie. He
didn't know how much more her weakened body could take or if she was even still
conscious. But if Chastain threw her, it meant he wasn't holding her at that
second. Adrenaline shot through him.
Chris
picked up a prop vase and threw it behind him against the floor. He used the
jarring noise as a distraction to gain space on Chastain, coming up behind where
he was standing with the crumpled form of a woman lying at his feet. Chastain spun around, tracking the noise.
“Lorenzo? Lorenzo are you here? You made it?” Chastain laughed,
sounding the like the devil incarnate. He reached down to pick up Katie but
Chris swung in front of him first, gun cocked.
“Don't
move Chastain! Don't move you sick bastard or I'll blow your head off!”
Chastain turned towards Chris and held something in his hand, and Chris couldn't make it out in the faint
light. Chastain kept his hand down, which was the only thing that
kept Chris from dropping him on the spot. “You're too late Lorenzo. She couldn't
hang on to wait for you. You took so long, Lorenzo. Why? Don't you care about
her?”
“She's
not dead, Chastain. Step away from her, Now!” Chris stepped closer to Chastain
and could make out the oversized coat he was wearing, the stringy hair and the
reflection of his glasses. He was nearly as tall as Chris but Chris had about
forty pounds on him. Chastain held a knife in his hands, dark liquid coating his
hands and the knife.
Chastain
grinned in the dark. “I had fun with her Lorenzo. She screamed so loud when I
cut her. Sometimes I just let her scream without gagging her, knowing no one
could hear her because you couldn't find her. I'd tell her how you weren't
coming for her because you weren't smart enough to find her.”
“Drop
the knife Chastain!” Chris took a step towards him.
“Go
ahead and keep coming closer Lorenzo!” Chastain yelled.” I'll have this knife
dropped into her before you can get me!”
Chris
froze for a split second. He had no doubt Chastain would be able to thrust that
knife into the figure on the floor in a second. “I'll drop you where you stand
you bastard! Throw the knife to your right, and do it now!” He heard the cars
pull up outside. Rita must have called for the backup.
“You're
not in charge here, Lorenzo. This was always my game. I win. I got this tramp
off the street just like the others. We're alike, you and I, Lorenzo. Just cleaning up the filth off the streets. What are you gonna do? Shoot me? Go ahead. I'll hurt her first!”
“We're
nothing alike Chastain. You're a sick bastard.”
Chastain's laughter echoed off the floorboards and chilled him.” She was a
fighter Lorenzo. You should see her hands, her fingers
were coming off against the knife as she fought to get it away from me.”
Chris
fought to stay in control, horrified at what Chastain was saying. He had to get
her help and now, because she wasn't moving at all at his feet. Chastain had
seconds before his warnings were up. “I said throw the knife away Chastain!”
“She was
hot for it too you know. She liked it when I did her. She screamed so loud,
Lorenzo.” Chastain taunted.
The
darkened blood stain on the floor around her was growing and Chris wasn't
wasting any more precious seconds on Chastain. The sweat was now dripping down
his back, his heart racing. “You've got three seconds to throw the knife
Chastain. Then I blow your head off. One..”
Chastain
just kept laughing. Then he brought his hand up with the knife as if he were
going to plunge it into the figure below him. Chris fired at him, never
hesitating, the force of the bullet sending Chastain flying back against the
wall, his eyes still open though there was no doubt he was dead. Chris could
only hear Chastain's vile words in his head and think of the girl on the floor.
Visions of the women Chastain had killed already filled his head, their mangled
and dismembered bodies so brutally violated that it made him want to retch.
Chris fired into Chastain's lifeless body again and again as he moved to step
over him.
He stood
there for the briefest second before he realized the sound of his shots had
brought the backup running. Feet stomped over the wood floors and Chris turned
numbly, looking at Katie's crumbled body, her face down in the blood. He wiped
the sweat out of his eyes and knelt over her, knowing the paramedics would be
there in seconds.
Chris
leaned over her, gently turning her body which was slick and sticky with blood.
He brushed the hair out of her face and froze. Icy cold fingers wrapped around
his heart as the true horror of it sunk in. Oh God, Oh God. It wasn't Katie at
all. It was Sammy. His Sammy was lying there with her lifeless body covered in
blood, her face mangled nearly beyond recognition. He struggled to get air into
his lungs as he smoothed his fingers through her hair and pulled her up to
cradle her, the sound of screaming roaring in his ears. He vaguely recognized
his own voice yelling, screaming for help. Sammy, oh God, Sammy don't leave me,
please don't leave me…!
Terror
paralyzed him, even as the paramedics tried to pry her from his arms. His shirt
was soaked with blood and he couldn't stop screaming. Sammy! I'm sorry I was so
late! I was too late…Sammy! They were pulling her out of his arms, and he
couldn't let go. He held onto her tighter, her warm blood dripping down his arm
and began sobbing. She was gone. He knew it, they couldn't help her. She was
gone. And it was entirely his fault. He hadn't been there to save her. He had
failed her. Don't leave me Sammy!
He
couldn't let them take her so he pulled her tighter against him. Somewhere in
the distance he could hear himself as a guttural cry ripped from his throat.
Sammy!
“Chris! Wake up!”
Rita struggled against the hold Chris had on her. They must have fallen
asleep watching the movie and now his arms wrapped around her from behind in a
painful vice-like grip. He had been thrashing for the last few seconds, before
the incessant screaming had started. She had tried waking him gently so she
wouldn't startle him but he grabbed her now and wouldn't let go.
She tried to pull herself off of him but he hadn't let go. “Chris,” she
said, “Come on, wake up..” She patted his arm, rubbing
the sweaty skin with her hand. “Sammy…” She tried to be soothing, but he kept
tossing, his breathing erratic.
“Sammy! I'm sorry…I was too late! Sammy!” He was screaming now
and her heart broke. Oh God, he was dreaming of Katie again. So why was he
calling for her?
“Sam,” she was more forceful now, patting his arm. “Come on, wake up and
let go of me. Come on!”
“Don't leave me Sammy!”
She wrenched herself from his grip, never minding being gentle. Her
heart was breaking at the pain in his voice. “I'm not leaving you Sam. Wake up!
I'm right here!” She turned over, her face inches from him and their legs
twisted in the blankets. He was drenched, his t-shirt sticking to him and hers
was soaked with his sweat too. Rita grabbed his thrashing head and held it
forcefully in her hands. “Wake up Sam!” she yelled, crouched over him.
His eyes flew open suddenly and he stared at her. Shock, confusion and
anguish reigned in those crystal blue eyes. He parted his lips to say something,
but nothing came out. He didn't even look fully awake, but mercifully the
screaming had stopped.
Rita brushed her hands over his face, willing herself not to cry for the
pain that was written all over his beautiful features. “Sam, I'm right here.”
she said softly. “Come on,” she coaxed him more fully awake.
Recognition dawned in his eyes. “Sammy?” he whispered.
She smiled. “Yeah, it's me.”
“Ah God, Sammy.” His hand
slid into her hair and he pulled her up against him, hard. She slid along his
body and settled down against him, her pulse racing. She held him tight as he
tried to stop shaking, her face muffled against his neck.
And then she heard it. A small sound escaped him and she knew he was
crying. It broke her heart completely to see him so devastated. She pulled off
of him to look at him more fully. “Sam, it's not your fault. You have to believe
me. You were the only one who even came close to being able to save her.” She
brushed her hands over his face and kissed him on the forehead. “Christopher,
don't do this to yourself. It was not-your-fault.”
Their eyes locked, his red, swollen and thoroughly worn out. “Sammy, I-”
he struggled for words but there were none. He looked away.
She brought his face back to hers. “Why did you think I was leaving you?
You kept saying that in your dream.” She kept silent when she really wanted to
point out it was the other way around but she knew that this wasn't the time for
that particular conversation.
He faltered, searching for an answer. The visual images his nightmare
conjured came back and hit him full force, nearly knocking the wind out of him.
She was in his arms right now and she was ok. Emotion filled him and his voice
broke. He had to tell her the truth. “It was you Sammy. It was you.”
Her eyes widened as the full impact of what he was saying sunk in. “You
thought I was Katie?”
He nodded. “It's always there in my head. The
warehouse, the dark. Shooting him. And then it
changes. Instead of it being Katie, I touch her,” he paused. “I turn her over.
And then it's you. Sammy. It's you.” He was crying now as he gripped her
to him more tightly.
She couldn't help it. He looked so lost that she started to cry too. She
cried for his hurt and for the sudden understanding she had of everything. All
at once everything he had been doing over the last few weeks made sense. “Sam.
I'm right here.” she said gently. She kissed his forehead again, and then his
nose, her fingers brushing his cheek again and again.
He shifted, still struggling to get even closer to her. “I can't protect
you, Sammy. What if I can't protect you?”
She had never heard him sounds so scared. He had been pushing her away
all this time, not because of the fact that she had kissed him like she had
thought, but because he was terrified of failing her. Her
beautiful Christopher with his amazing noble heart. She smiled. “No one
can protect me like you, Chris. Who else would be so focused on watching my
back?”
He didn't look convinced so she continued. “Remember earlier tonight?
When I was walking up the stairs?” He just kept looking at her. “Well, in a
second you knew what I was trying to say, without even talking to me. Who else
could have that intuition with me and know me like you do? And then you were
there, at the very second I needed you. Not a second earlier or later. Who else
Chris? No one could ever know me like you do.”
“Sammy…you trust me too much. I get scared when you trust me like that.
What if I miss once? Like tonight, he hurt you. I should have been there. I
missed with Katie and it got her killed.”
She placed her fingers over his lips to silence him. “No you didn't.
Chastain had hurt her beyond survival before he even gave you a clue. No one
blames you at all. Not even her parents. They know you got to her before anyone
else would have. You got her to the hospital still breathing. It was all you
could do.”
He shook his head, still unable to clear the images in his head. “Sammy,
I can't take that chance with you. You count on me too much and it makes you
take risks.”
She trailed her finger along his nose and smiled. “Chris. I'm a cop.
It's in my nature to take calculated risks. And I will take them to
accomplish my job no matter who my partner is. But having you there makes me
stronger. And you knowing instinctively what I am thinking
gives
us a whole other level of communication that I won't have with someone else.”
He still didn't look convinced, but at least the panic had left his
eyes. “I can't lose you.”
“Then don't push me away.” She shifted against him and settled herself
lower on the couch so that she could rest her head against his chest. His shirt
was still warm and damp against her but she didn't care. It felt too good to be
up against him like this. “It hurt like crazy when said you didn't want to be my
partner and you were acting like a jerk to push me away.”
She felt him tense. “Sammy. I still don't know if it's the best thing.
I'm not ready to say I can do this.”
She wasn't going to argue because she wouldn't win the battle tonight.
There was a relief in knowing exactly why he had been so adamant about getting
her away from him. Now that she knew, it was a problem she could work on with
him whether he liked it or not. A laugh escaped her though, when she thought
about what she had originally attributed his distance and volatility to. She
hoped she had been wrong. She pulled the covers up, still exhausted. The sun was
just starting to come up and she dreaded the day until she realized it was
Sunday.
“Uh uh. You
can't sleep yet. What are you laughing at now Sammy?” His fingers twisted the
strands of her hair.
“Nothing.” She
closed her eyes.
“Nope. No sleeping yet.” He
playfully twisted her ear. “You better tell me m'friend.
Or there will definitely be consequences.”
She lifted her head, amusement in her eyes. “Yeah?
I can take you, no problem.”