The loft smelt like ocean air and Fi's scent. She was sidled up into the crook of his arm playing her hand along the curve of his muscles. He had woken up a few minutes before but didn't want to move, enjoying the quiet time that they rarely got together. She hadn't seemed to realize he was awake though and her fingers continued to softly dance across his chest until he finally took a sharp breath in when she found a particularly sensitive spot. At that she wrapped her thin arms around his chest, buried her face in his side and took in a deep breath.
She stayed in that position a long moment until Michael reached up and brushed the hair from her face. She sighed heavily and smiled up at him, "Good morning." Her eyes were a little teary.
"Something the matter?" Michael resituated himself so he could get a better look at her but the melancholy look vanished as quickly as it had come.
"Nothing." She assured him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before she quickly rolled out of his arms and swung her legs from the bed. She stretched again and Michael watched her languidly collect her dress and pull it over her lithe frame.
"Have somewhere better to be?" Michael mumbled taking in the sight of her, regretting letting her escape his arms but enjoying the view. She brushed her fingers through her hair and pulled it up into a high pony tail, producing a band from who knows where. She strode around the bed and sat on the other side looking down at him.
"Nowhere better." She leaned on her arm over him and gave him a feather light kiss. Michael reached up and cradled her face, deepening the kiss and following her up as she pulled back smiling, "But I do have things to do." Michael let her stand up again and sat up in bed. She went to the kitchen and filled a glass with water. She stared into the glass like it held the answers to life and bit her lip then took a long pull. She set it in the sink and smiled at him, "Besides I'm sure you have things that need your attention." She picked up her heels by the ankle straps, "I'll see you later." And with that she left.
Michael sighed heavily and fell back to his bed. He had it bad.
It was some hours later that Sam appeared at the loft. Michael had been wallowing away in countless exercises, working away the nagging feeling that something had been bothering Fiona. He was drenched in sweat and still felt the twinge of worry. Fi was the only woman who could do this to him and it was downright infuriating. Sam had a six-pack of some imported beer, short one that he was finishing as he walked in. He finished his drink with an eye on Michael.
"Alright there, brother? You look like someone killed your puppy."
"Fine, Sam." He grumbled and wiped the sweat from his brow.
"Oookay." He settled onto a barstool. He popped the top on another beer and sat silently.
Michael stood and walked over to the kitchen, tossing the damp towel over his shoulder he looked in his fridge and found a yogurt, "Was there something you needed, Sam?"
"Can't a guy just come over and have a beer with his old pal?" He smiled innocently.
"It's Saturday morning; shouldn't you be sleeping it off with one of you female friends?" Michael grumbled as he tossed the foil top in the trash and took a spoonful.
"Ouch, Mikey, that really hurts! You know I'm more of a one woman man now adays!" Sam scowled.
Michael waited.
"Freddy's outta town for the week, and I picked up an odd job from a friend of a friend." He smiled, "Thought you might need the extra cash, pays pretty well."
Michael swallowed the yogurt he had in his mouth, "Oh no, Sam." He wiped the sweat from his brow again, "Not another one of your quick jobs that ends with kidnappers or yakuza." Michael walked back to his dresser.
"Come on, Mikey!" He followed him, "I already asked Fi and she said she has something going on. I can't do this one by myself."
Michael sighed looking up at him. Sam had on his best puppy dog eyes that he was sure were overplayed with his paramours, "Does that look ever actually work?"
Sam cracked a smile, "You'd be surprised."
"What is it?"
"Okay, first off its not for the feds or nothing, it's a favor from a friend who is working vice."
"And this favor pays well?" Michael arched a brow speculatively.
"If we get ahold of the information they need there's a good reward." He smiled, "He had an informant with information about some international types bringing in arms and immigrants in shipping containers."
"Weapons and illegal immigration?" Michael asked with a chuckle, "Its Miami, Sam. That's pretty normal."
"These guys are on the same watch lists as you Mikey, and one of them is an old friend of yours." He pulled a folded paper from his pocket.
Michael grabbed the paper and an old associate stared back at him in black and white. The dossier went through the normal information, detailing Declan Mitchell in a way that made him seem like any other person he might come across. It listed a few, but not all and certainly not a detailed list, of his sometimes unsavory forms of employment. Declan was a friend, even if Michael wouldn't readily tell him that. He had been a contact of Fiona's before they had met, and Michael had met Declan separately. He had helped to instill his cover in Ireland, through a mutual agreement, and Michael still owed him a favor or two if he hadn't lost count. His laundry list read very similar to Fiona's (although Declan certainly didn't have her flare for explosives).
Michael scratched his jawline, "Mitchell wouldn't be caught dealing in human cargo."
"Ya, you know that, I know that, but seems someone who has pull in Miami PD doesn't. And looks like our dearest Fiona isn't the only leprechaun in Miami anymore."
Michael grumbled, "And you told Fiona about this already?"
"Her exact words were 'If that idiot got himself into it, he can get himself out'." Sam frowned, "Declan isn't the easiest guy to get along with but I owe him the benefit of the doubt. And if he made a trip all the way here from the cradle of the Earth, I'd bet he has a good reason for it."
Michael returned the paper to Sam, "He'll have to wait until I rinse off."
"That's a given! You stink to high heaven Mickey, aint getting anywhere near my car till you do."
The found the Irishman passed out on a patio table at one of the small cantinas Sam knew on the southernmost end of South Beach. He had his head in his arms and was quietly resting with an untouched salad and water nearby. Declan was dressed lightly in jeans and dark decaled t-shirt. His shaggy brown hair was messed and he looked thin for his normal weight, he didn't move but tensed slightly as the pair sat down next to him.
"Gonna finish that?" Sam grabbed the salad and began picking at it.
Declan lifted his head and gave them a halfhearted smile, "Heard you boys were in town, was doing my best to stay out of your hair." He leaned back and reclined slightly on the unforgiving metal chair, "How's it go?"
"As well as can be expected." Michael took off his glasses and hooked them above the button of his collared shirt.
Declan scratched at the shadow on his chin and clicked his tongue, "Heard about your notice. Shady business that, Michael. Always told you your talents were better spent elsewhere."
Michael gave him a toothy grin, "Thanks, Mitchell. What are you doing in the States? Africa get too hot for you?"
He scoffed, "Would you believe Ah came all this way for a skirt?"
Sam choked on his salad.
"Not really." Michael eyed Sam.
"Not in the way you'd think, but Ah did." He smiled at Sam, "Met a lady who worked for a paper out this way, escorted her home, then picked up a bit of information down this way that Ah couldn't rightly pass up."
"Wouldn't happen to be the human trafficking kind?"
Declan cracked another real smile, taking years off his face, "Actually ya." He cracked his neck, "Normally, Ah try and stay out of other peoples livelihood but seems they have a piece of cargo," he put an inflection on that that Michael caught as odd, "that Ah had been looking for for quite some time."
Michael nodded, "Sam here has an acquaintance in the local PD that seems to think you're in bed with the traffickers."
Declan laughed, "More ways than one sadly, but you know Ah don't traffic in flesh Michael. Ah'm only in it for…what Ah was looking for and some ways are quicker than others."
"What or who are you looking for then? Maybe we could help each other out here." Sam offered, "The PD are hoping to round up those slave traders, and we wouldn't want our best little Irishman to get stuck in that net."
Declan grumbled, "Definitely wouldn't want that would we."
"He's being serious though, Declan. We can help you out."
He gave him a crooked frown, "As much as Ah might need it boys," He stood and tossed money on the table, "This is personal. Enjoy the salad."