Candyland & Fairy Tales
Maddy©2006
Ooops, I am so sorry about the wait on
Part 6! I really am. Life just got crazy busy, but at least there's more…a lot
more! It's not done yet, but hopefully this chapter coming along, even so long
after Part 5, will assure all of you that there
is more coming!! Thank you, thank you, thank you for all of the feedback and
comments...it's motivating, wonderful, helpful and best of all, it's nice to
know people are actually reading this! J Okay, without further adieu – here
is Part 6. Almost done. I swear.
+ + +
The silence echoed throughout the
apartment.
There was no radio, no television,
and no talking between them to break the deafening absence of noise. Chris
hadn't tried again to dissuade her since she had told Danny she was in. Instead,
he had begun firing off orders to anyone who would listen. He had spoken with
Miami DEA, and concealed wires had been driven up from the federal coffers, as
they had access to a unique variety of surveillance and equipment PBPD would
never have the resources for. He had talked to Cap, led a conference call with
Vice and even managed to call Calhoun, who was flying in just before the meet
and would sit on surveillance. She had listened in, offering her opinion when
she could and generally trying to absorb and comprehend all of the possibilities
in the case, knowing she would need to think quickly on her feet tonight as it
would be up to her to steer the direction of the conversation. As focused as she
was though, she couldn't shake the rising dread within her that had entirely
nothing to do with the upcoming meeting with Vargas.
It had to do with Chris.
Outside the necessity of coordinating
the strategic execution and logistical planning, he had never once spoken to
her.
He was as efficient as all hell, of
course, of that there was no doubt. He had taken control of the ground and air
surveillance teams, set the intervention parameters, briefed her on Vargas's
history, and even arranged to have a Hummer with bulletproof glass sent up from
His full-on retreat from her would
have made even General Lee of the Confederacy proud.
Inside, her heart was crumbling into
tiny pieces because short of pulling out of this thing, she didn't know how to
fix this with Christopher. They had about an hour before they had to leave, and
she was as ready as she would ever be. Her clothes lay on the bed, waiting for
her to put them on at the last second, and she had just enough time to go over
the rough layouts of the warehouse that they had been able to get their hands on
one more time. But more than anything, she wanted Chris to just talk to
her. Having him actually go so far as to hold her was a luxury she wouldn't even
wish for right now. She took a deep breath and tightened the belt on her robe
before heading out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.
Chris's head was bent low as he sat
at the table in a black t-shirt and gray dress slacks, his matching jacket slung
over the back of the chair. His empty holster was tight over his shoulders, and
the pieces to his ankle holster lay strewn on the table, ready to be put on. His
fingers methodically shoved bullets into the magazines, of which he had already
filled more than he would even be able to take tonight. He didn't even look up
as she walked in.
“Sam?” She tried softly, standing
across from him.
He didn't acknowledge her. Instead,
he reached for a new box of bullets to round out the last few that would fit
into the plastic column.
“Sam.” She couldn't keep out
the pleading in her voice.
He finally raised his head to hers.
But instead of responding, he just glared at her, his eyes glittering. Rita saw
the muscle in his jaw jump with simmering anger.
She swallowed, nearly flinching in
the face of his withdrawal. “Sam, please try to understand-”
He stood suddenly and shoved his
chair back so quickly that he knocked the table, the loose bullets clanging to
the floor. “Understand? Why should I Rita? You certainly didn't try to
understand
when I was telling you why I didn't want you to do this.” He made his way
past her and into the family room, grabbing the box with the wires.
“You can't just make a decision like
that for the both of us,” she said defensively. As soon as she said the words,
she knew they were coming right back to haunt her.
She was right. Chris laughed
mirthlessly as his hands stilled on the box. “Really?
Why not? Is that a privilege only reserved for you?”
“We have to do our jobs.” Rita said
quietly.
“You're right.” He was bringing the
box back to the table, but stopped directly in front of her. “And it was my job
to protect you. But you're not going to let me do that. So we'll go tonight, and
we'll pray to God that it is what it is. A meeting.
And if not, then we pray to God no one on our side gets killed. And maybe, just
maybe, when this is over you will get Vargas. And then Sergeant Rita Lee Lance
can be the fucking hero of
Rita visibly flinched as the
frustration, fear and hurt finally won. Her eyes filled with tears, despite her
best efforts to take deep breaths. “You have to know that's not what this is
about,” she said, her voice tight.
He shook his head and moved past her
to set the box on the table. “Nah. I don't know
anything anymore.”
She went to him and laid her hand on
his arm, her body instinctively reacting to the contact with his skin. “You know
me.”
He looked at her then, and she saw
the slight retreat in his eyes. Chris gave her a half nod before sitting down at
the table again to piece together and test the wires. “Get ready, so we can put
this on you.”
“You're avoiding me.”
“I'm not avoiding you. I just want to
focus on the things here that are going to keep you safe.”
“You'll be there, Chris. You always
keep me safe.” Her voice sounded small, even to her.
Rita's attempt at reassurance fell
flat. It had apparently been completely the wrong thing to say. “This isn't a
fairy tale, Rita,” he gritted out. “The good guys don't always win. And I won't
be able to do much for you if they put a bullet in my head right off the bat.”
She visibly blanched as the reality
of that thought hit her hard. “Don't keep saying things like that Chris!”
“You know Rita,
I don't feel like saying much of anything right now.” He was done with the
conversation, his attention once again focused on the gold hoop earrings they
had sent that would serve as her wire.
Rita reached down again to touch his
arm, her fingers settling into the soft hair there. She wanted so much to ask
him to hold her and her need to feel the wall of his chest against her was
making her skin ache. The muscles of his forearm tensed beneath her touch. She
not only wanted him, she needed him. Everything just seemed like it would
be better from the vantage point of being within his arms.
Christopher.
“Will you hold me for a little bit
before we go?” she blurted out before she could stop herself. Even she was
shocked by the neediness in her voice, unable to
believe those pleading words had come from her.
His hands immediately stilled beneath
her fingers and the moment seemed frozen in midair. He didn't raise his head,
but when he finally decided to speak, his voice was painfully hollow. “There
isn't time. You need to go get dressed.”
Rita involuntarily recoiled. She
pulled her hand off of him as if she had been burned and turned and fled for the
bedroom, fighting back the rising tears. She was filled with the distinct
knowledge that she was losing him faster than she could keep up. Rita's stomach
felt like a lead weight had just settled deep within as the reality of what had
just happened for the very first time sunk in.
Chris had just totally, completely
and effectively dismissed her.
+ + +
The humidity filled the air as the
clouds hovered over the edge of the
If this is where Vargas operated
from, his choice for discretion was impeccable.
Chris pulled the Hummer against the
building near the third door, as Brodie had
instructed, and killed the engine. He finally turned to Rita, and she felt his
eyes raking over her white pantsuit, taking in the slim line of the pants, the
revealing wide necked jacket and the severe chignon she had pulled her hair back
into. For the first time in days, she realized there was nothing sexual about
they way he was looking at her. This perfunctory glance he was giving her was
instead all about him making sure she was ready. He had been cold and virtually
unflappable since this afternoon, operating like a machine on auto-pilot, and
she desperately missed the comfort of his body, the brilliance of his smile and
the security of his warmth. Unfortunately, she didn't have the time to even
question him on the absence of any of it.
“You gonna
make the call?” One of his hands still rested on the steering wheel.
Rita nodded, pulling out the cell and
punching in the numbers to Brodie's phone. She tried
to catch Chris's eyes again but he looked away, glancing around the perimeter of
the car for anything unusual.
The phone rang twice before she heard
Brodie's voice. “You're here. New car?”
She ignored his comment, mentally
acknowledging that there were cameras out here and realizing those listening on
their side to the tapped call would pick up on that fact as well. “Yeah. What next Brodie?”
“Drive around to Pier 36. There is a
metal grate on the last door on the east side. Pull up the grate and knock. If
it's just you and that boyfriend of yours, we'll open.”
Rita felt the disappointment seep
into her. Pier 36 was at the other end of the marina, as the even numbers lined
up opposite to the odd. Surveillance would have a hell of a time moving without
being seen. Even
Brodie
laughed as Chris's eyes darted towards her, realizing the implications of what
was being said. “What difference does it make, Samantha? It's
a few minutes down the pier. You have five minutes or he's leaving.” With that,
Brodie disconnected.
She turned to
Chris, knowing he was nearly shaking with the urge to call this whole thing off.
“Pier 36, grated door on the end of the east side,” she said softly.
He nodded and
turned the wide truck around the best he could in the narrow space of the drive.
“They made you or they don't trust you if they are playing this little charade.”
“Let's just
hope
its just that they don't trust me. At least I would
expect that.”
Chris laughed
sarcastically. “Yeah. That's about all we have is
hope.”
She couldn't
take the negativity anymore, even though she knew a hundred people could hear
their conversation over their wires right now. Her temper flared as he began
heading down the street towards the new meeting spot. “You know Chris, that's
not helpful at all. Can we think positive here for one goddamned second?”
He stared
straight ahead, but she caught the sharp flinch that registered on his face at
her crude language and the rise in her voice. The moment stretched on in
silence. Without looking at her, his right hand finally reached out and captured
hers. “Promise me you'll be careful.”
She saw the
determined set of his jaw in the shadows of his profile and heard the gravelly
catch in his voice. So he was still there after all. “I promise, Sam,” she
paused. “Promise me the same?”
He nodded, but
still couldn't face her as he pulled into Pier 36. The layout was very nearly
the same, except this side faced the harbor so instead of the big cargo ship,
there were two smaller boats docked including a recently renovated schooner.
Chris immediately spotted the door Brodie
had indicated. “You ready?”
Rita smiled. “As I'll ever be.”
He came around
and opened the door for her, and she gingerly stepped onto the small foothold,
careful not to teeter off in the spiky gold sandals from the other night. She
took a deep breath as Chris walked up to the door and pulled up the grate. If
someone didn't know to be looking here, the place would look empty nearly to the
point of abandonment from the outside.
The door
opened, and they were greeted by a man who Rita supposed would be considered a
guard, though his grungy clothes and the MP5 casually slung over his shoulder
belied any formalized security training. He looked them up and down and backed
up without speaking, letting them in and then indicating for them to follow him.
The hallway was long and narrow, the concrete walls and tiled floor seeming cold
and dusty. Straight ahead of them about forty feet the hallway seemed to open up
into a well lit main room.
Rita's heels
clicking on the floor echoed in the silence, and Chris followed her with his
hand protectively settled on her back. The large room was out of place in the
mass of the storage buildings and was incongruent to the utilitarian hallway.
The hardwood floors were deep and dark and the space was furnished with deep
mahogany fixtures. It looked like an office setting, with an empty
receptionist's desk and chairs in the room that they were in, and a hallway
leading farther back past four closed doors. The French doors
at the end of the hall faced them, and was outfitted with large gold
scroll handles. Rita looked warily at Chris as the guard left them standing
there.
His face was
completely expressionless for the first time since she had known him.
She heard the
footsteps before she turned and saw Brodie and two
additional guards flanking him. He was smiling, the pleasure never reaching his
eyes.
“Samantha. You
look lovely.” His lips twisted sardonically.
“Hunter.”
Brodie
indicated for the two guards to pat them down. “You weren't stupid enough to
bring weapons, correct?”
Rita never
looked at Chris as the two guards came over to them. Out of the corner of her
eye she could see Chris back up, moving away from the larger guard assigned to
him. She put her hand up to stop the one reaching for her. “You're not touching
us, Hunter. Of course we are armed.”
Brodie
sneered as he nodded to the two men. “Check them.”
Rita tried to
assess their options. There weren't many left if they wanted to meet Vargas. Of
course, this scenario had been likely, but they had had to try anyway. She put
her arms up, locking eyes with Brodie and allowing the
smaller man to begin patting her down, expecting that he was going to linger
unpleasantly in certain areas. She braced herself, unwilling to give him the
satisfaction of flinching while he did it.
Chris wasn't
nearly as accepting about losing his weapon and the guards
antics with her, especially now that their backup was out of place. As the
larger guard began patting him down he reacted,
smashing his hand back into the guards face and twisting, getting hold of the
surprised man's arm, pulling it up behind his back and shoving him up against
the wall. It was over in seconds. “I don't fucking think so,” he cursed.
Rita's eyes
widened as the guard patting her down immediately brought his weapon up, the
automatic trained on Chris. Rita's swore, her heart slamming into her ribcage.
The guard holding it looked high on adrenaline, his eyes glassy. He was a moment
away from pulling the trigger. She launched at him, her hands grabbing the gun
and shoving it upwards and immediately slamming a knee into his gut so that he
loosened his grip on the heavy weapon. She used the momentum to carry them back
against the wall and held him there, her hands firmly around the automatic.
“Tell him to back the fuck off Hunter!”
Brodie
laughed at the scene playing out in front of him. “Samantha, you're turning me
on.”
She glared at
him, knowing Chris had already disengaged the other guard from his weapon as
well. “I'm not stupid Hunter. Tell Vargas to expect I'll be armed.”
Brodie
grinned. “Bring it cherie, if you tried to use it
you'd be dead before you got off a second shot.”
Rita knew the
truth of that statement. But she still felt marginally better having her piece
on her anyway and she knew Chris would as well. “Let's go then.”
Brodie
nodded at the two guards, who reluctantly relaxed and straightened as Chris and
Rita let them go. Chris settled his hand on her back again as
Brodie
led them to the end of the hall, waiting as he knocked twice on the double
doors. Another guard opened the door, this one dressed in a dark suit, hulking
over her by nearly a foot. The room beyond was dimly lit, the carpets plush and
the cabinets built in on three sides of the room. There were four or five guards
in the room, all dressed in crisp dark suits and armed blatantly with MP5's.
Rita shot a questioning glance at Chris, not seeing Vargas.
The deep
leather mahogany chair behind the glossy desk was empty.
“Where the
hell is he, Brodie?” Chris growled from just behind
her.
Brodie
nodded at the bodyguard behind her and turned to Rita, ignoring Chris. “Just you, cherie. He stays
outside.”
“No Hunter,
that wasn't the deal.” She couldn't let them be separated.
Brodie's
eyes narrowed dangerously. “You are not calling the shots anymore, don't you
realize that cherie?” He
locked eyes with the guard and the big man instantly moved, slamming the butt of
his big gun into Chris's stomach without warning. Rita spun in surprise, hearing
the sickening sound of the impact and Chris's immediate groan as he doubled
over. She instinctively grabbed her gun from her ankle holster, spinning as she
came up and pointed it straight at Brodie.
It was too
late. Chris had tried for his weapon too but now six guns were trained on them
in the plush little office. Brodie and the four guards
made up the first five.
The sixth
weapon belonged to Vargas.
Vargas had
walked into the room from a door to the left, his small weapon casually palmed
in his hand. He looked at the two guards flanking Chris, who was just itching to
react, but who knew better than to try and get to his shoulder holster. Any
sudden movements right now and there would be a firefight in this tiny office,
one that they had no prayer of walking away from unscathed. Backup wouldn't be
close yet, and even then they had strict instruction not to move unless there
was gunfire. Vargas nodded at the two guards. “Get rid of him.”
“I don't think
so, Vargas.” She hated the shakiness in her voice. What the hell had she gotten
Chris into? “He stays or I walk.”
Vargas just
laughed at her. “Where are you walking to, Ms. Machado? You won't leave this
room without my permission. You may make demands of Brodie,
but I lack his inability to resist a beautiful woman. Get rid of him.”
Rita glanced
behind her at Chris. His face was stoic, and she knew he was seething inside.
There was nowhere for him to move with the number of weapons on them right now.
He could probably take out one or two guards before they would be overpowered.
This wouldn't be won with gunfire, this would be won by
negotiation. She took a deep breath. “You can hold him
outside,
I'll stay so we can get down to business. But when I leave, he and I leave
together.”
Vargas was a
direct contrast to Brodie. Where
Brodie
was grotesquely tanned, slick and muscled, Vargas was tall, dark and lean. His
face belied his age, which Rita knew to be in his early forties, and his hands
were carefully manicured. He was formidable, exuding authority in a lazy way Brodie could never hope for. He lifted an amused eyebrow.
“Only a fool would make demands in a room full of enemies.”
It was her
turn to act amused, though her hands were shaking. She didn't know if Vargas was
serious about getting rid of Chris or not, but she wasn't taking any chances.
“Enemies? I thought we were partners.”
Vargas threw
his head back and laughed. “I thought so too, Ms. Machado. But why bring the
weapons and the bodyguard to a business meeting?”
“You can never
be too careful, Vargas. Would you have arrived unarmed?”
He shook his
head. “No, I would not have. I do like your courage, Samantha. May I call you
that?”
“I suppose
I've been called worse, Carlos.” She offered a sardonic smile.
Vargas
acknowledged her use of his first name as well with a nod. “Take him into the
next office while she and I discuss business.”
She saw the
glacial look Chris was sending Vargas, even as one of the guards removed Chris's
weapon. There wasn't much choice but for him to leave the office, and there was
still room to save the meeting if Chris cooperated. “I'm fine Sam,” she said
curtly, trying to meet his eyes to give him some assurance while still
maintaining the role of his employer.
The guards
started to usher him out of the room. “They won't be able to stop me if you need
me, you got that?” He said for her ears only as he passed her.
He was out the
door, four guards on him before she could acknowledge anything he was saying.
And then she stood there facing Vargas and Brodie. “I
don't appreciate the heavy-handed tactics, Carlos. It belies any level of trust
between us, don't you agree?”
Vargas laughed
as he finally went to sit behind the desk. “Trust is overrated, Samantha. Those
who hide behind the fallacies of trust are those unwilling to do their
homework, and who typically end up the victim of their so-called faith.”
She sat across
from him, though Brodie remained standing. “While your
life lessons are highly insightful, Carlos, I don't have time to absorb the
wealth of insight I'm sure you can offer. Can we get down to business?”
A look passed
between the two men before Vargas spoke again. “We have an issue to resolve. Brodie trusts you, I don't.”
Vargas's
disdain for the concept of trust blatantly indicated how he felt about Brodie as well. Brodie was weak,
and therefore Brodie's contacts were less than
desirable. She had a lot to prove here, and quickly. “Well I don't trust either
one of you. So either we call a shrink in here to delve into our childhoods and
sort out our trust issues, or can we actually discuss some goddamned business so
that we can make some money. Personally, I kind of like being fucked up in the
head. So that leaves making some money. You have a problem with that,
Carlos?”
Carlos smiled
at her. “I might like you more than I like this one over here.” He nodded at Brodie, who was slunking in the
corner. “What do you say we get rid of him and you and I do business?”
She didn't
dare glance at Brodie, but she felt the rising tension
in the room. This apparently wasn't the first time Vargas had threatened to take
Brodie out of the equation. The more she knew about the relationship
between the two men the better, and this was getting quite interesting. “If that
means we split his 30 percent, I say let's get rid of him right now. I've never
met a man worth fifteen percent of anything.”
“I'm so glad
you agree, Samantha. So you certainly haven't met a man worth thirty percent,
correct?” Vargas was reaching for a cigar from a box on his desk while he issued
the cryptic question.
Rita tried to
gauge his meaning but came up empty. “Is this a guessing game, Carlos? If so, I
prefer charades. Let's make Hunter act out what you are trying to say, shall we?
It's been awhile since I have had a good laugh.”
The insult was
enough to incite Brodie. He pushed off the wall and
leaned over the edge of Vargas's desk. “Shut the hell up, you little bitch. Try
and remember who brought you in here, you got that?”
She was trying
to push back her concern for Chris and keep her head in the game with the two of
them. Rita blew Brodie a kiss, the condescending
gesture only further angering him. “Hunter, darling.
You're so adorable when you are upset, did I ever tell you that?”
Vargas had had
enough. “Numbers, Samantha,” he interrupted. “If I am planning on assisting this
little gathering, we will have to agree to our guarantees once I decide if I
trust you or not.”
Rita was
ready. This was what she needed. Details, agreements,
locations. She needed to tie Vargas directly to the final shipments, even
if he wasn't on site when they finally arrived in
“I'm
everything you need, Samantha. I thought Brodie made
that clear,” his eyes were dark and narrow.
She knew he
still hadn't admitted to anything. “And what exactly does that mean, Carlos? Why
don't you lay it out for me?”
“You know
perfectly well what I have agreed to Samantha, or you wouldn't have gone so far
as to fly to
He was playing
this very carefully, she acknowledged. “Humor me.”
Vargas leaned
over the desk. “No Samantha, you humor me. First, a little
test of your loyalty.”
Rita knew
something was going wrong. Vargas was obviously not discussing numbers, and yet
there was a tension in the air that she knew was heading to a breaking point
faster than she could control it. “I'm enduring your company, aren't I?”
Vargas didn't
react to her insult, instead taking a deep drag on his cigar and leaning back in
the oversized leather chair. “I want to know where your alliances lie.”
Rita did her
best to look amused. “They lie on the side of my profits, Carlos, it's not a
mystery.”
“And together
you understand that we can make quite a bit of money, correct?”
She felt goose
bumps race across her skin. Brodie was smirking, and
Carlos looked dangerous as all hell all of a sudden. She heard the commotion in
the other room as a chair was obviously scraped across the floor and Chris was
likely forced to sit. From the sounds of it, he wasn't moving very willingly.
None of this felt right. The details of their business transaction was turning
into a test of faith and she didn't like it one bit. “I wouldn't be here if I
didn't. Why don't you get this game over with Carlos, so that we can both get on
with our evening?”
Vargas sneered
before snuffing out the just lit cigar. He leaned over the desk, his fingers
deceptively and casually interlaced. “We talk numbers after you prove where your
loyalties lie.”
“And how
exactly do you propose to complete this little game, Carlos?”
Brodie
suddenly pushed himself off of the wall, all pretense of his accent dropping in
his anger. “You get rid of the motherfucker in the other room.”
Rita's heart
stopped. She tried to maintain the aloofness she knew she needed to project.
“What does who I sleep with have to do with anything?”
“He insulted Brodie. So he goes.” It was a direct order by Vargas.
“You
consistently insult Hunter too, Carlos. Are you questioning your loyalty as
well? He begs the insults, you must see that.” She gave Vargas as seductive a
smile as she could muster.
It wasn't
enough. Brodie was on her instantly, his hand reaching
out to grab her ear and viciously force her face to his. “He's history,
cherie. You got that? And if you want in, then you'll pay attention to
where your allegiances really should lie, understand?”
Rita's heart
slammed painfully in her chest, knowing any more protesting on her part would
arouse suspicion. “Fine. I'll get rid of him.” Chris
would be angry as all hell, but she would have to just let him wire her in
future meetings, and he could wait outside so that….
Time froze and
world shifted into slow motion. She hadn't expected it at all. Vargas gave a
short nod to Brodie, and Brodie's
hand slammed against the wall twice, the quick sound reverberating throughout
the small office. Rita realized too late it was a signal to the other office,
some horrible call to action.
Chris, oh
my God, it was about Chris!
Rita's legs
were
lead, unmoving as she struggled to shake off the
instant horror and get out of her chair.
It was too
late.
She heard it,
the echo of the gunshots from the next room ricocheting through her body as
clearly as if she had been the one hit. Then there was the silence, followed by
the sound of a chair scraping, a thud and then nothing…nothing…oh God in
heaven there was nothing…
She must have
fallen back into the chair for the briefest of seconds, because she vaguely felt
the seat of the chair hit the back of her legs. Vargas was smiling at her, and
her head was foggy. She couldn't breathe, couldn't focus or get air into her
lungs. It was rolling towards her, the black wave of pain that was there, just
in front of her, it was coming to sweep her away and she couldn't stop it. They
had shot Chris and she needed to get to him, to stand, for chrissakes just stand up…but her head already knew, she
knew that sound, the sound of dead weight hitting the floor. Chris, they
had killed Chris as a show of her loyalty because Brodie
hated him.
She had to
get to Christopher!
Her blank eyes
searched out Vargas, her skin already numb, the internal screams threatening to
win, but somewhere deep within her some ingrained sense of self preservation
took over and she knew she wouldn't get out alive if she tried to kill Vargas
now. Chris, Chris…she needed out of the room. She had let him get killed.
The room was suffocating her. She needed to see him, to see how she could help
him, because God in heaven she wouldn't survive if he was gone too.
Rita heard her
voice, distant, saying something clever and witty and she didn't recognize
herself. Her words sounded cold and dispassionate about what they had done, and
Vargas was laughing, somehow reassured by the fact that she hadn't gone running
to her lover, reassured of her faith by the fact that she had stayed put. But
Vargas didn't realize she was just momentarily paralyzed, didn't know she wasn't
thinking anymore, couldn't function, that she didn't even realize she was
talking. Chris, please, please…she was begging for him to stay with her,
don't leave…it took over her head until Rita was filled with the silent
screams that began to tear silently through her.
Rita vaguely
realized that she could get up now. She was trying to push off the chair and
Vargas was acknowledging that she was leaving, and somehow she had miraculously
detached her heart from her head long enough to say something that made it
appropriate for her to leave. Until next time, tomorrow, what was she saying
about meeting him again? She didn't care because she could finally stand, and
Rita felt the horrible trembling start and she knew, inexorably, that she was
going to shatter right here in this office and ruin everything. The backup
probably wasn't coming, the sound of her voice negating any movement they may
have initiated after the sound of the gunshots. She just had to get to Chris,
she had to help him…Rita shakily held onto the chair and started for the door,
her world filled with the glare of a freight train screaming at her to move…it
hurt, it hurt, oh God the pain was coming…Christopher don't you leave me,
please don't leave me….! Her stomach heaved as the doorknob swam in front of
her. Somehow she had spoken with Vargas after the shots, and while time stood
still in her head, it was passing and Vargas was somehow now helping her to the
door, laughing, liking her ambivalence to them killing Chris. She was trying to
get the doorknob open, knowing Chris was bleeding and she wasn't moving fast
enough. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of her mind, she had shut down, and let
her logical mind take over and knew that if she had played it one iota
differently that Vargas would have killed her too and then she would be of no
use to Christopher. But she still hated that she had wasted precious seconds.
She was losing
the battle, her hands trembling so badly now that even Vargas was looking at her
a little puzzled, and he came around and opened the
door for her, an amused smile on his face. She had passed his little test, by
letting Christopher die seemingly without protest, and he was congratulating her
on her ability to remain impartial. The door was opening and Rita fought the
urge to run, seeing the guards from the next room blur before her as they
spilled into the hallway, and it was like every bad dream she had ever had,
where her limbs were lead and she couldn't get them to cooperate with her and
just move. She saw the light of the doorway to left of her where they had
taken Chris, and she began moving towards it, steadying herself by putting a
hand against the wall and still no one had figured it out, that she was dying
inside too, terrified of what she would see if she just looked in there, not
knowing how she would get him out of there….
Rita made it
to the doorway, bracing her hand on the edge as she tried to look inside, past
the next guard coming out of the room, her eyes frantically searching the floor
and there it was, a body lying slumped on the floor, a chair shoved to the far
corner and there was blood, but the clothes were different, had they changed
him…had they…the confusion was winning…
Her lowered
head bumped into something rock solid in front of her, that reached to steady
her. She nearly lost it, desperately trying to shake the hands that had gripped
her upper arms as she stared at the unmoving body, trying to register through
the suffocating fog…
“Sam, you ok?”
The rough
whisper was placed by ear, the hands still holding her, blocking her entrance
into the room, pushing her back and not letting her in. They turned her towards
the door and propelled her out of that warehouse, before she stopped midstride, no, she couldn't leave…he was on the floor…
“Sam, let's
go. Keep moving. Come on.”
+ + +
He was fucking
pissed.
They had to
hurry on their way out, so that he could call off the backup likely screaming
its way to the warehouse after the sound of gunshots. He prayed that the others
had paid attention to the wires, and that the sound of her voice after the
gunshots made them realize to not come blazing in here. More than anything, he
was worried about Rita, because she looked like she was going to shatter any
second.
They reached
the Hummer, and he opened the door. “Come on, Sam.” He helped her up into the
truck and slammed the door shut, glaring at the guard now standing at the front
door where they had just exited. Bastard, he had shot the other guard without
batting an eyelash. Just to play this little game. Not that Chris cared about
these slime balls, but still loyalty meant nothing to anyone?
He hopped into
the truck and shot a quick glance at Rita who still hadn't spoken a word. Her
skin was as white as her suit and she had a quietly tucked her hands into her
lap and and was staring straight ahead, looking as
fragile as blown glass, which was an incredibly rare sight and not one he
particularly cared for because it was so unlike her. He started the truck,
calling off the backup and letting them know they were extracting in one piece.
He also gave them instruction to turn off the wires,
they'd debrief the team via phone when he got Rita back to the apartment.
Chris drove in
silence for a few minutes, getting them off of the piers and onto
“Sammy, it's
ok. They were just testing you. They wanted to scare you. Show you how ruthless
they were. But they shot one of their own instead, they hadn't meant to…”
“I thought you
were dead.” It wasn't more than a barely formed whisper.
“No, I'm fine.
See? Your composure got us out of there.” Chris got the impression that she
wasn't really listening, but she nodded her head slightly as if acknowledging
the fact that he had spoken. She still hadn't looked at him.
“Can you tell
me what Vargas wants next?” He hoped he wasn't pushing her, but the details were
crucial, especially if they were time sensitive.
Rita looked
like she was struggling, she would start to try and say something and then stop.
Her lips were just moving, and no sound was coming out. She turned and looked
out her window, her forehead resting against the cool glass. Chris finally
understood.
She was still
in shock.
When he was
far enough away from the warehouse, and sure no one was following them, he
pulled down onto one of the remote beach access roads and pulled into the
deserted beach parking lot before killing the lights. He turned to her, draping
his leg over the seat and reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair back into
its bun before thinking better of it. He gently tugged the rubber band out of
her hair and let the loose waves fall free, sliding his fingers into the tangles
to rub her head. “Ok Rita, now look at me.”
She didn't
answer. She was still staring straight into the blackness.
“Sam. Stop
it.” He was more forceful now. Something had to pull her out of the fog.
“Not again. I
couldn't go through that again.” She said brokenly, still unmoving.
He knew full
well she was thinking of the Bouchard case. “You don't have to.”
A small sound
suddenly broke from her then as she nodded, and his relief that she wasn't
retreating anymore was short lived. Her hands were suddenly fumbling for the
door handle, and Rita was desperately trying to get out. Chris was quicker, and able to get out of his side and around to hers
just as she finally got the door open and tumbled down awkwardly into his arms.
Rita regained
her footing and pulled away from him. He barely managed to snake an arm around
her waist and pull her backwards to him before she hunched over and wretched
hard as she finally threw up all over the gravel.
Chris tried to
pull her back up against him. “Come on, Sam. No more. Don't let them get to you.
You were right earlier. We can't let them get the better of us, ok?”
But she wasn't
listening to his words, despite his persistence. Rita was restless, struggling
to shake off the horror and stop the dry heaving. She tried to tug away from
him, to steady herself against the car, but her body was still convulsing. He
wanted to help, but she was batting his hands away, seemingly unable to rid
herself of the remnants of the experience.
“I thoug-“ her words were interrupted by another wracking of
her small body, this one so powerful that she again threw up what little was
left in her stomach. She tried to shove her hair out of her face, the heaving
giving way to irregular hiccups.
She started to
cry softly, and Chris knew it was borne out of the frustration of being unable
to calm down. He managed to get ahold of her hands,
using them to pull her against him. “Sam. I'm right here. And we'll get them.
Just don't let them get to you.” He tucked her head under his chin and just held
her tightly until she stopped shivering.
The stood like
that for several minutes. Her emerald green eyes were wet, but mercifully lucid
when she finally lifted her head. “I hate those bastards. We're going to nail
every one of them, Sam, if it's the last thing I do. Now I'm pissed.”
Chris sat back
on the ledge of the Hummer and pulled her with him, finally laughing at the
earnestness on her face. “I don't think there is a druglord
in existence that wants to deal with you pissed off. Hell hath no fury, right?”
He shot her a grin.
She smiled
back conspiratorially in response, the shadows slightly retreating in her eyes.
“I'm hungry.”
“You know,
every time we come out of some life or death situation the first thing on your
mind is food.” Chris shook his head with mock woe.
She smiled and
sniffled for a second as she leaned into him, her voice still stuffy. “No,
that's not the first thing on my mind. Not even close.”
Chris laughed.
The woman was amazing. She was actually flirting with him? “I like the way you
think Sammy. You really do have your priorities in order.” He kissed her
forehead and started to move her off of him so he could get her back in the car.
“How about we go home and I will start a nice long bath for you and we can order
some food. Sound good?”
Rita nodded,
smiling for a moment before suddenly getting quiet again as she stopped him. “I
can't lose you, Lorenzo. I thought that was it.”
Chris shook
his head. “They sacrificed one of their own to test you. They didn't actually
try and kill me, which means you are important to them already. You held it
together beautifully, Sgt. Lance.” He playfully tapped a finger on her nose.
Rita wrapped
her arms around him. “Vargas wants to meet with me tomorrow,
I think that's what he said. I wasn't paying attention very well.”
“We'll go
listen to the tapes and figure it out from there. Now, let's get home.”
She nodded and
got up before stopping him. Her hand played with the collar on his jacket before
she tentatively met his gaze. “I thought I had lost everything,” she said
solemnly.
Chris couldn't
say anything. The look on her face rendered him absolutely speechless. She
hadn't actually said it yet, but it was all there, written out as clear as a
billboard in
His thumb
trailed over her damp cheek and he sucked in a deep breath. “I love you , Rita Lee Lance.”
He didn't give
her a chance to say anything, instead opening the door and helping her back into
the truck. She gave him a small smile.
He didn't need
to hear her say it back, he already knew.
+ + +
Calhoun rubbed
his eyes and threw the pen down, leaning back in the leather chair and looking
around the Palm Beach Police Department. It was just after
He leaned back
in his chair and looked around, waiting for
Vargas.
Goddamn it if he wasn't a mean sonofabitch.
Calhoun was
surprised, and more than a little kicked up on adrenaline when they had called
that morning. He had been on the first flight out, knowing if the case broke
open tonight, that his presence might just smooth out any friction between Palm
Beach PD and Miami DEA.
Lorenzo had
point blank witnessed a murder, one he had not been able to stop. But even that
would only bring down the shooter, some useless cronie
of Vargas'. They would have to be able to prove it was on Vargas's order. They
might be able to prove Brodie ordered it by slamming
the wall, but tying that back to Vargas would be impossible against the slew of
million dollar attorney's he would arm himself with.
No, the case
against him had to be rock solid or the bastard would get away with it again.
Calhoun locked
his fingers together behind his head and closed his eyes for a second as he
leaned back in his chair. There was something too cocky about Vargas, something
that didn't feel right. He knew Lorenzo felt it too, because they had talked
about it after the partners had returned to their apartment. Vargas had been
ahead of them too many times in past cases, had been too sure of himself
tonight. He seemingly moved at will in and out of major
Something was
off; he just couldn't put his finger on it.
The phone
rang, startling him. “Calhoun.”
“Ain't much there, just like you said.”
“Dammit.” Calhoun blew out a deep breath. “What about Brodie?”
“No link. Nothing that ties them at all.”
Calhoun
nodded, still feeling that this was wrong somehow. “What about the Vargas
family, anything there?”
“No. His
younger brother died when he was twelve. His father is a retired Mexican
criminal lawyer who lives in a place Vargas likely bought for him in
“And what
about any other cases you've pulled that mirror this? Any high end events like
this on the radar in the past?”
It didn't seem
right to Calhoun. He was notorious amongst law enforcement circles, but nothing
more than innuendo was in the computers? He couldn't possibly manage to stay
that low-profile. Unless he just was that careful to begin with. Which also didn't seem right. Vargas hadn't really begun to
dig into Rita's cover before taking a meeting with her. He had countless
additional resources he could have tapped into instead of leaving it to Brodie to check her out.
He was so
sloppy it bordered on arrogance.
“What about
his direct ties to Montoya or Sandoval? Anything linking him
there to anyone in their networks? Anyone that can give us cause enough
to pull him in and hold him, anyone with a story to tell?”
Calhoun needed
to sleep, even if it was in a crappy hotel room. There was something to this,
and if they could figure it out then they might be able to pull in Vargas
without ever needing to go so far as throwing the event back in LA. “Thanks Jax. Get some sleep. We can look at this again in the
morning.”