A/N: All characters within belong to their respective creators (except for the random original characters that I invented). No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from anything you read here.

Written for domina_tempore and betaed by the awesome DQ!

Okay, I'm going to just get it out here before you read this. I know absolutely nothing in regards to insurance investigations. There is an incredibly high likelihood that this story is preposterous in terms of real life. But it's a short little fic and I didn't feel like doing research to make sure all 1,500 or so words were factually correct. Basically, I'm taking artistic license and playing hard and fast with any and all rules. Just go with it and enjoy (and please don't kill me for any discrepancies). 0:)

The time Lance Hunter learned to properly vet his clients

There were a number of things that had been in Lance Hunter's plan for the day, although to be honest, he never really planned out his days ahead of time. He was more of a roll-with-the-punches type of guy; life was more exciting that way. Sure, he worked out some of the big stuff ahead of time, like work or meetings for work, but the in-between details? Not really relevant until they happened; things changed a lot in the course of a day anyway. But, if he had made a plan for today, it would definitely not have taken the turn that it did.

The day had started out like any other where he had a job lined up. Work as a freelancer was sometimes sporadic, so he was grateful to have a gig, even if it was just a bodyguard thing. He was good at hitting people and shooting guns, so it should have gone without a hitch. He had reported for duty at a museum, where he had been told his job was to provide security for the moving of an exhibit that was going on to another town.

That was cool; he could do that. Just watch for any bad guys and make sure that the sealed crates made it safely to the airport. There was apparently another security team coming in on the transport plane.

It had been dark and quiet when they arrived at the museum, which Hunter's employer had stated was because it was easiest to move shipments when the parking lot wasn't packed full of patrons' vehicles, and the men working to load up the truck had been able to do so without a hitch. Hunter had kept watch for any signs of trouble, but there had been none. The packing of the truck had gone quickly and smoothly, with the back door of the trailer soon pulled shut and locked. Their employer would follow in a car behind them to supervise, and they would be going directly to the airport.

Hunter had been feeling good about the success of the job as he climbed into the cab of the truck next to the driver. There was just a fifteen minute drive to the airport ahead of them, and once he had signed off his duties to the guys waiting at the plane, that would be it. It would have been the easiest paycheck he had made in a while. But no sooner had they pulled out of the museum parking lot than they were stopped by bright lights and ordered out of the truck. There were handcuffs and rights were read, and then Hunter, the driver, and the occupants of the car behind them were carted away in unmarked police cars…

Just then, the door clicked open, and Hunter was pulled out of his thoughts as a man entered. Hunter looked up. This was not the same man who had been questioning him for most of the night. That man - Nathan Ford, as he had introduced himself - had gone to get a coffee and still had not returned. Instead, Hunter was getting this newcomer, who was shorter and a little stockier than Ford.

"Hello, Mr. Hunter," the man greeted. Hunter noted the man's accent, which was much closer to his own than Ford's American accent had been. "I'm James Sterling; I work with Nate."

"Uh-huh." Hunter was not impressed, and he made sure his facial expression conveyed this. "Can't say as I'm pleased to meet you."

Sterling snorted a small chuckle and strolled over to the table. He remained standing, however, and folded his arms. "So," Sterling began, looking down at Hunter across the table, "let's go over this again, shall we?"

Hunter groaned inwardly and leveled a very unamused look at Sterling in return. "Is this interrogation going to end soon? I have things I need to do, you know."

"It'll be done when I say it's done," was the reply.

"Okay then." Hunter yawned and shrugged. "Whatever you say, mate. I don't suppose you'll let me take any kind of break though, will you? I saw a little boys' room when we came in and I really could use it right now, if you know what I mean." He shifted in his seat for emphasis, putting on the most pained look he could manage.

Sterling ignored the question. "Why don't you tell me why you were at that museum?"

"Really? I'm sure you were listening in on my conversation with your friend for the past hour or whatever it was. Did you forget already?" Hunter asked sarcastically. He had been in this tiny room for hours, and he had been seated for most of those hours. His back side had moved from complaining to demanding and then had simply gone numb. It was yet another reason he was not at all pleased with his current situation. "It's not like it's that hard to remember. I. Was. Working. Now can I go or not? You people arrested me - wrongly, I might add - and you've interrogated me, and it's all been quite fun, but I really need to be going. Things to do, people to see; you know the drill."

"Working…" The other man nodded slowly. "Yes, that's what you said. But I can't help wondering how you didn't know what you were really doing there." He had yet to uncross his arms as he glared down at Hunter.

"Uh, because I was hired for a simple security job and they didn't tell me what it really was?" Hunter asked exasperatedly.

"Come on, man," Sterling rebutted. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"

Glancing around the room, which was still as brightly lit and sterile as ever, Hunter sighed ever so slightly. "You know, I'm starting to get the feeling that there was more to that job than me just being hired for security. Mind telling me what's going on?"

"Are you sure you don't already know?"

Hunter raised a hand. "Is there any way I can talk to the other guy who was here again? I'm, uh, I'm detecting a bit of hostility here," he pointed his finger down and circled it, "and, you know, it's dampening what enthusiasm I have left." He trailed off and looked up at Sterling with a 'But what can you do?' expression on his face.

"Huh." Sterling tilted his head as if in thought, then leveled his gaze back at Hunter. He moved forward and rested his hands on the table as he leaned in with a threatening air. "You know, Mr. Hunter, it would behoove you to cooperate. Just tell me who your contact is to sell the goods, and things might go a lot better for you."

'Nice try, mate,' Hunter thought. 'But intimidation never worked on Lance Hunter.' It probably wasn't a good idea to voice that thought to Sterling. The man would see it as a threat to the macho masculine thing he had going on. So he settled for shrugging nonchalantly and shifted into what was the least uncomfortable of the possible positions on the chair and sighed. "Yeah, well, I'd like to help you, bud. Really I would. Except, well, I don't know what you're talking about. I got hired to do a job, I showed up and did it, only to find myself arrested before I could complete it."

Sterling sat back in his own chair and crossed his arms as Hunter continued.

"Now look, it's quite obvious that there was some illegal activity going on, for which I apologize." He spread his hands and continued, "But I had no idea any of that was going on. It was just another security gig."

Sterling was about to reply when the door swung open and another man poked his head in the room. Hunter recognized him as Ford, the investigator who had questioned him earlier that night. Ford took in the room and its two occupants, then returned his gaze to where Hunter slouched in his chair.

"Welcome back, Mr. Ford. What's new?" Hunter asked with a cheeky grin.

It seemed as if Ford was holding back a heavy sigh, but his look of frustration appeared to be directed more towards Sterling than their suspect.

"You know, it seems like there are some issues you need to work out," Hunter spoke up. "If you want, I can just step out and you two can go at it."

Ford pulled his gaze back to Hunter. "Mr. Hunter, things have taken a turn, and we no longer need you here. You are cleared to go."

"Oh?" Hunter was surprised to actually be done, but he wasn't about to argue with this sudden turn of fate. "Well, then, thank you very much for the hospitality, boys." He offered a nod and wasted no time heading for the door. Unfortunately, his exit was less smooth than he would have liked as the numbness from sitting on the chair so long stilted his long strides, but he managed not to lose too much of his dignity along the way.

Ford nodded to a young woman waiting just beyond the doorway. "Ms. Wilkins will take care of the rest of the details for you. Thank you for your time."

Hunter couldn't get out of there fast enough, although part of him wanted to wait to see what was about to go on between the two investigators. It wasn't a big enough part that it interfered with his exit.

Now if only he could find out about his paycheck… It was highly probable all of this mess meant he wouldn't get the fee he'd been promised, but it wouldn't hurt to ask… right?