I know that I've already written two stories where Liz was on the FBI's list and the other where they're playing a dangerous game with each other, but…but…sorry, I couldn't help! I just love them when they're playing especially with each other. I was watching one of my favorite movies (which I won't tell yet because you guys would easily figure out the end of the second chapter :D) where the main character ended up in a really awkward yet funny situation and then a thought struck me; what if Red ends up like this because of Lizzie? What situation could bring him into a crazy position like that? Two days active brainstorming later I ended up in front of my computer and typing this story aaaand here we are! :D I can't wait to continue but only if you guys interested 'cause sometimes my excitement clouds my judgments so tell me what to do…pretty please?

Okay, I'm speaking too much solet the game begins!

I don't own anything…except my fat cat…no, I don't own her either…she owns me *sigh*

1. Prologue

…Spain, 6 am. …

Red was enjoying his tea with his favorite newspapers somewhere in Spain when Dembe disturbed the beautiful early-summer morning. Red looked up and when his eyes met with his bodyguard's serious, almost confused face he let out a heavy sigh and threw the newspaper to the table.

"What happened now?"

"I have two good information and two bad ones." said the bodyguard with his almost shockingly calm voice. "Which one would you like to hear first?"

"Let's start with the good news." he wanted to mentally prepare himself for the bad news and collected all his willpower not to think about the worst.

It had been a rough month for him, mainly for the business; less and less clients wanted to work with him because of Sam Milhoan; that son of a bitch had let out groundless information about Chris Whittaker and this information had said that the FBI had caught Whittaker because his new passport had been suck which had come from Red so if not directly but this gossip went against Red who didn't want anything more than take Sam's neck between his hands and squeeze it 'til he wouldn't feel any life in that bastard.

Red still couldn't figure out how their friendship had become so hostile; in a moment two naval officers'd been standing next to each other, organizing grill parties and on the other they'd been holding guns against each other's head.

Why?

Red didn't know what had happened with Sam. But what he did know that Sam was responsible for the bombing in Kursk in 1991 and he'd blamed Reddington for it, forcing him to run away and abandon his family.

They were so familiar but two important facts separated them; Red hadn't done anything and while the world knew Raymond Reddington as the Concierge of Crime, Sam Milhoan was well-known as Senator Sam Milhoan, the honorable man, great politician, abided by the law who had lost his daughter and his wife in a fire.

It was only half-true; the little girl'd survived the fire, Red had pretty good proof.

And Sam was everything but abiding.

In fact Sam was one of the greatest criminals but he hid it behind a Good- Samaritan mask like Floriana Campo. Sometimes Red wondered if Sam had always been this hypocrite or something in him'd broken with his wife's death which wouldn't surprise him because Jessica Milhoan hadn't been an ordinary woman; she'd been a real life-artist, who had lived her life with passion and happiness. She had been an also talented photographer but unfortunately her name'd disappeared between the cogs of time as well as her photos.

She was a wonderful woman, great wife, loving mother and good friend.

When Jessica had died Red'd grieved her with almost equal pain as Sam because that woman was Red's only true friend from the early years of their childhood; they'd experienced many great things together but their relationship stopped at friend-zone. Somehow they hadn't thought about each-other in a romantically way, moreover, once when both of them had been really drunk Jessica'd kissed him to test if they had been feeling any thrilling sensation but nothing. The following day Red had introduced Sam to her and the rest of the story was history.

"Good news is that an exhibition is opened in San Francisco with Jessica Milhoan's photos." with that Dembe handed a picture about the 'great' senator as he opened the doors in front of the folks.

As an art-lover, Red's eyes lit up with happiness because he was quite fond of Jessica's works and he'd always wanted to buy some of her photos but he had never had the chance because he'd thought that they'd burned down in the fire.

"Splendid. Please give a call to Eric to get the jet ready; I want to visit this exhibition." he nodded "What is the other good news?"

"We found the Milhoan girl and yet we still don't know where she is. This was one of the bad info by the way."

"What do you mean you found her but you don't know where she is?" Red furrowed his brows and took a look on the paper that Dembe'd handed a second ago;

Ten Most Wanted

The FBI is offering rewards for information leading to the apprehension of the Ten Most Wanted Fugitives.

"Why am I looking at?"

"Number 9- the Kisser; 5 ft.4.5 in, 130 lbs., blonde hair, light skin, white race. She is around 30 but there isn't any exact date. Fraud, blackmailing and robbery. It's the only one picture about her." Dembe gave his boss a black and white photo, probably taken by a camera at one of the train stations. She was wrapped up in a big shawl, only the hairline was visible at her forehead and her eyes were covered by large black sunglasses. She had high cheekbones, and well-shaped nose but it wasn't that caught Red's attention.

Her lips.

They were dark in the photo probably because of the lipstick she was wearing; they were full and slightly bow-shaped and Red's male instincts got free and mentally did naughty things with those lips but a second later he shook his head. She was probably his enemy's daughter…but of course, it didn't mean that Red didn't find her attractive.

There was something how she walked…something mysterious and confident.

"She can be anybody." Red growled without looking up.

"Yes, but it also says that she has a scar on her right wrist." Dembe slightly turned up the corner of his lips as his boss suddenly looked up and smirked.

"Is she the one who always left the mark of her lips at the crime scene? THAT Kisser?"

"Yes. Probably she's using a special lipstick which 'kills' her DNA or maybe she is not in the FBI's system."

"Well, well, well… finally I found you, Lizzie. The question is; where are you?" he took one last look on the picture before he'd tossed above the newspapers and drew a deep breath as he asked his bodyguard. "And what is the bad one?"

"Somebody broke into the system of Monarch Douglas Bank in Warsaw. This somebody stole twenty million dollars from your account and almost got the necessary data to the Fulcrum but he or she failed. The system shut down in time."

Red groaned and went to the windows to take a look on the dawn. "This thief knows about the Fulcrum which means he or she has me watched. Maybe our dear friend, Sam hired somebody. Call Herrick and tell him that I want a full report within the hour." Red ordered and put his hands into his pockets. "And don't forget to call the pilot; I want to be in San Francisco as soon as possible."

"Okay," the bodyguard answered shortly then turned around to leave his boss alone because he knew Red would need some time alone with his thoughts to figure out his next step.

"Thank you, my friend." Red added and finished his tea with a last sip.

…San Francisco, 4 pm. …

"You know what you have to do." it was more a statement than a question from a brown-haired guy who was well-known as Thomas Vincent Keen.

If somebody met with him in the street (s)he would have told that he was an average guy in his mid-thirties with piercing blue eyes and short stubble. He looked nice, dare to say, cute. Especially when he arched his eyebrows under his black-rimmed glasses.

He didn't look like a murder who had just ended up three human being's life a day before.

"Calm down, Tom. Seriously, if I'd known that you would be so wimp I wouldn't have slept with you." grinned Elizabeth Milhoan, aka Elizabeth Keen, aka The Kisser.

He could tell that her grin wanted to hide the embarrassment that she felt because of the other guy who was drawing a complete art-piece to her right lower arm from elbow to palm. "Is this really necessary?" she pointed to her arm with her head.

"Yes. Reddington knows about your scar and if he recognizes it before you could dance with him, he will turn you down."

Of course their coded conversation was necessary because of the third party in the room; 'dance' meant 'seduce and kill' and 'turn you down' was also euphemism to 'kill'.

"Okay, I'm ready. They're prime inks but don't rub it unless you want to remove it. If you change your mind and want me to make it with real tattoo ink, just give me a call." the guy smiled and handed his phone number.

"Thank you." she smiled and hopped down from the chair.

After they left the tattoo salon they went to his apartment to discuss every detail and have a little fun before work.

They weren't in love but it didn't stop them to have sex with each other sometimes. The chemistry worked, they were young, and loved sex.

Simple as that.

And also both of them were aware of the fact that they couldn't love anybody in the world they were living because it was weakness and it was dangerous.

Liz didn't even know if she had ever loved someone with passion; she didn't really understand the chaos around love…why was it such a big deal? You could have great sex without it and you won't get hurt in the end, she thought.

She wasn't heartless of course, she cared about her father, valuable people around her, she even cared about Tom and in some level she loved him but not in a 'classic love' way, however she thought that Tom's feelings were deeper and stronger. She still couldn't figure out how or why she felt this way…maybe his eyes whispered his secret devotion when they were together or when she had caught his gaze on her.

Liz shook her head and concentrated on the task. She had to put herself together because within the hour she would meet with her mother's murder and she would have to pretend that she wouldn't know who he was.

"Don't use make-up. You look younger without it." Tom smiled as he stepped next to her and stared her reflection in the full-length mirror.

"What if he won't be interested?"

"Liz, please. You're young and beautiful. And you also know how to seduce a man." Tom smirked as he kissed her nape then he handed her a syringe. "If you got the necessary data, just stab him with this and use the whole dose; if you just give him half he'll take a long nap and it won't kill him. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes. I can do it." Liz nodded confidently.

"Your dad will kill me if he finds out." he sighed.

"I know that he didn't want me to make a career as a criminal but I don't really care. Raymond Reddington killed my mother and nearly killed me, too. I won't stop until I see his dead body lying in front of me." she hissed.

"Then let's do it." Tom patted her shoulder and before she could walk away he took off his glasses and handed it to her. "Here. It makes you look like as a college student. It's just glass so your eyes won't get hurt."

Liz smiled and left the apartment to finish an unfinished business with the murder or her mother.

Tonight she was going to kill Raymond Reddington and nothing could stop her.

To be continued…

P.s.: I'll ask for beta's help if you want a second chapter but first I wanted to test you guys if you're interested or not (yes, I am very sceptic with my stories). Sorry about my grammar mistakes.