Unlike other areas of the US, particularly the Midwest, Miami did not have many basements. In places like Oklahoma and Illinois they were touted as safe havens, shelters from the type of natural disasters that could cut a swath through the middle of town, ripping the walls and roofs from homes and sending livestock flying. So when tornado weather hit the message was always the same: head for the basement! And if you don't have one, head for the centermost room and pray.
In Miami, and most other coastal cities located anywhere from Florida to Texas, they too had storms that ripped the roofs from homes, turned trailers into flying saucers, and even launched a croc or two. But the residents of these fair states got a bonus: hundred-mile per hour gales and temporary waterfront property. With a couple hundred gallons of water pouring from the sky, head for the basement and you better be able to hold your breath for a real long time.
So while basements themselves were a rare occurrence, catching an apparent double homicide in one of those basements was even more unusual. And after spending the better part of three hours confined in the damp and dreary bowels of a skyscraper, Eric decided he preferred it that way. It would be all too soon if he never again had to hear the click and moan of boilers and air-conditioning units or smell that mind altering mixture of mildewed concrete, dirt, and cleaning supplies, all while breathing the same air he had exhaled only a moment ago.
He packed the last of his materials in his case, glad to finally be getting out of there. A few feet away Calleigh did the same, the closures on her case clicking milliseconds after his. They made their way down narrow corridors, empty and silent save for the hollow echo of Calleigh's heels on concrete.
"There should be laws against murdering someone in a basement," Eric muttered
Calleigh shot him a look, eyebrow quirked. "As opposed to the laws against murder in general?"
"No…" he paused as though thinking it out. "More like in addition to."
She shook her head, smiling slightly. "There are times I worry about you."
Eric laughed. "Yeah well, maybe if I hadn't been breathing my own air for the past three hours…"
"Then you'd be only marginally delusional?"
Eric gave her a cocky grin. "Admit it; you love me, delusions and all."
"You're the only reason I get up in the morning," she deadpanned.
He chuckled. "You flatterer, you."
She said nothing, smirking as they stepped in front of the stainless steel double doors. Eric reached out to press the call button but stopped and looked at her expectantly. "Going up?" She gave him a look and he shrugged, pressing the call button. "A guy tries to be nice."
"No, a guy tries to be funny. It really is a wonder no one laughs at your jokes," she replied just as the elevator dinged. She stepped aboard, an innocent smile curving her lips.
He followed, giving her a wounded look, and opened his mouth to reply but the elevator jolted to life, groaning as they began their ascent, the machinery just below their feet making any immediate retort impossible.
The racket did not last long. Just past the landing for Lower Level 2 the overhead lights flickered and the car slowed to a halt, gears grinding and rumbling like thunder in the distance. The florescent bulbs flashed again and then went out completely, plunging the criminalists into darkness as empty and black as the depths of the Atlantic. For a moment, Eric was pretty sure that neither of them moved, breathed even, as though absolute immobility would help or hinder whatever was going on. After a moment of total silence a new sound reached their ears, a softer groan followed by a low hum and Eric thought that maybe it had just been a random thing, some sort of self contained rolling blackout. But after another long moment the only change was the materialization of a soft glow, the product of energy-efficient emergency lights.
Eric ran his hand through his hair, sighing. "It's probably just a power surge or something. Shouldn't be too long before we're moving again."
Calleigh blew out a breath, obviously annoyed. "I hope so. I was looking forward to dropping off our evidence and heading home for a long shower."
Eric squelched the impulse to comment on the hoped for shower. Calleigh was an excellent shot no matter the lighting and he didn't think a joke would go over too well at the moment. He nodded. "We'll be out of here in no time."
But 'no time' soon stretched to thirty minutes and then to an hour, during which it became increasingly apparent that the air-conditioning did not run on the emergency generator. As both the temperature and stuffiness rose, they tried vainly to get comfortable in the seven-by-six-foot steel box, stripping down to dress shirt and camisole.
At some point Eric must have drifted off since the next thing he knew he was opening his eyes and as the cobwebs cleared it hit him that Calleigh hadn't said anything in a while. He looked at her, wondering if she'd been dozing too, but it was obvious that she hadn't. She sat Indian style in the corner, her gaze focused not more than three inches past her nose. Clearly she was lost in thought and he wondered what it was that had put that deep V of concentration between her brows and had drawn her mouth down at the corners. Then he wondered what it would take to erase the vaguely troubled expression from her features—a touch? a kiss?
He continued to watch her, studying the contours of her face, the delicate slopes and shadowed valleys, and knew that this was dangerous territory. He shouldn't be thinking that way, not with her so close and not with her having the uncanny ability to read his thoughts. Logically he knew this but logic often lost out to natural inclinations. The stolen glances were like a drug to him, intoxicating and invigorating all at the same time. And as he drank it all in, he realized that she hadn't said anything about his lingering gaze. No chiding, no questions, and most notably no avoidance of the ever present tension hovering between them, always more palpable, more overwhelming when alone.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Eric surprised himself with the question, but apparently his subconscious knew that it had better do something to stop thoughts from becoming actions.
The fog cleared and she looked at him, shifting slightly. "Nothing worth mentioning," she said, offering up a small smile.
Had he been anyone else he would have accepted her words and smile at face value and moved on. But he wasn't anyone else and his expression said exactly that.
Her smile deepened into a more sincere grin. "Don't give me that look. I might be starting to feel a little claustrophobic and some food wouldn't hurt, but I'm fine."
Eric nodded, knowing that it wasn't true, but if she didn't want to talk about it he was willing to play along. Insisting that something was bothering her would only result in her going into laconic mode and shutting down. He patted his pockets coming up with a few Lifesavers mints. "It's no steak but…" he shrugged, handing them to her. "And since when have you been claustrophobic?"
"Since getting trapped in an elevator," she said wryly. "This thing is smaller than my closet."
He nodded. Though he hadn't really thought about it, it was a little unnerving to be stuck in a space scarcely bigger than your average bathroom.
He squelched those thoughts, not wanting to get paranoid or panicky, emotions not conducive to giving comfort, even when it was alleged to be unneeded. "We'll be out of here soon."
"That's become your mantra," she teased, leaning her head back against the wall.
"Well they'll have to wonder what's taking so long. We're thorough, but come on."
"Not to mention this is over time." Calleigh added, closing her eyes.
He chuckled. "Yeah, that'll definitely get them to send out the search parties."
She nodded and they lapsed back into a comfortable silence, the humidity making them both lethargic.
A few minutes later Eric stood, wincing a little as his back sent up a silent protest against sitting in one spot for so long. He stepped to the middle of the elevator, gazing thoughtfully at the ceiling. Calleigh, lids at half-mast, watched him through her lashes. "What're you doing?"
He glanced at her and then went back to examining the ceiling panels. "Looking to see if there's a way out of here."
Her eyes opened all the way and lifted her head from the wall. "Well?"
He reached up and with his arm fully extended he was able to touch one of the panels set four across and three deep. He pushed, felt it give a little but that was all. He let his arm fall to his side and turned to Calleigh, who was now watching intently, equally entertained and intrigued.
"Get up."
She raised an amused eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
He reached up again, fingertips brushing the panel. "I can probably move the panels but I'm going to need you to do the rest."
"The rest of what exactly?" she asked warily, thinking she already knew what he had in mind.
"When you move the panels there's usually a trap door. If we're close enough to the next floor we can pry open the doors and get the hell out of here," he explained reaching out a hand to help her to her feet.
For a moment she merely blinked at him. She was hot and sticky and did not relish the idea of climbing into an area that was no doubt small, dusty, and cobweb infested. But if it got them out of there, it would be worth a few dirt smudges. She sighed and took his proffered hand and he pulled her to her feet. Reaching down she pulled off one pump and then the other, setting them neatly by her field kit and taking out her flashlight.
She straightened to find Eric grinning, his gaze on her feet. She glanced down and was met with the sight of 10 toenails polished a bright pink. The manicurist had called it Shockwave. She wiggled them unconsciously before looking up to meet his gaze.
"Cute," he said, his tone teasing.
"Glad you like it, I'll buy you a bottle. Now give me a boost."
Still grinning, Eric obliged, kneeling and forming a foothold with his hands. When she placed her foot there, he was surprised that it wasn't even as large as his hand and wondered if the little trill he felt at the knowledge meant he'd finally lost it.
She placed her hands on his shoulders, taking a moment to find her balance. "Okay, lift."
He nodded and stood, surprised by how light she was for a grown woman. When she was situated, her left hand on his shoulder for stability, he shifted his grip so that his arms were now locked around the back of her knees and tried not to think about the feel of well-toned legs through thin cotton.
"So now what?"
He looked up and had a short-termed memory lapse. She'd moved the panel and was now half way through the opening but her movements had pulled the camisole from her waistband, exposing a decent amount of skin and giving him relatively clear view up her shirt. The dim lighting didn't allow much to be seen except a taut, milky thatch of belly and the dark lace underside of a bra, but that was enough. Too much actually, seeing as now he wanted nothing more than to see what would happen if he kissed that exposed skin or cupped a hand around that lace covered breast.
"Eric?"
The slightly annoyed way she said his name snapped him momentarily from his thoughts and he managed to get out the logical question: "Do you see the hatch?"
"It's directly overhead. But I don't see any kind of release lever or lock—wait…" she grew quiet and shifted in his grip. He heard a click followed by a frustrated sigh. "Got it, but it doesn't matter. We're too far from the next landing."
"How far is too far?" he asked, congratulating himself on a steady voice and coherent question.
"You'd have to be an acrobat to make this one work, Eric."
He took a breath, tried to stop the blood rushing due south. "Well, it was worth a shot."
"Easy for you to say, you're not the one with your head in the ceiling. Feel like letting me down anytime soon?"
"Oh. Sorry." He loosened his grip on her legs and as she slid partway down the front of his body Eric may as well have not been wearing any clothes at all, for all the good they did him. He felt every second of contact at the very tips of his nerve-endings, the friction causing what little blood was left in his northern extremities to pound in his ears. At some point she'd reached the floor, but Eric's arms were still loosely encircling her waist. She was talking, he heard her voice, saw her lips moving but damn if he could make out anything she was saying.
Finally, she must've gotten a good look at the expression on his face because she stiffened, her gaze hardening ever so slightly but hell if that didn't turn him on too. He wondered, briefly, why that was.
"Eric," she said, or more like breathed, his name. He heard the warning there, knew she was serious about it too. But it was far more telling that she hadn't simply moved out of his grasp. It would've been easy enough and they both knew it.
He reasoned, as well as any red blooded male in his position could possibly reason, that he may as well push the little red button and see what blew. If it happened to be him, well then so be it. He would die a happy man.
He brushed his lips against hers, lightly at first, testing because he knew he was handling TNT and her gun reminded him of this as it brushed his hip, and while she didn't melt into a puddle at his feet but she didn't blow him away either so he took that as a good sign. His lips moved against hers a bit more firmly, his tongue now demanding a response, negative or positive, and it felt like forever but finally her lips parted. She moved into him, hesitantly at first, her touch light and uncertain as her hands traveled up his arms to his chest, pausing there for a moment before trailing downward, over his stomach to the ends of his shirt and then underneath, her nails scraping against his flesh, before reemerging to undo buttons.
He broke away from her mouth, moving to her neck, biting and sucking, and his shirt undone her hands now ran along muscles of his back. She let out a soft sigh, which was nice, but he wanted more. He wanted her panting, and moaning, and calling his name. Hands moved to her hips, guiding her closer so that their bodies were flush and she could feel exactly what she was putting him through, had been putting him through for years.
Her hands moved from his back and started on his buckle, working the leather belt through the loops with quick, agile fingers and he couldn't help but grin as he reached down to stop her. She narrowed her eyes at him and issued another warning in the form of his name. "Eric..."
But this time her voice was throaty, her breathing uneven, and his grin grew. "Calleigh…" he teased, even though he knew it might get him killed later. Now, though, that didn't matter. He'd waited too damn long for this and hell if he wasn't going to enjoy every second. So he took her wrists, both of them, in his hand and moved them away from his belt, a kiss stopping whatever protests were about to be made.
Her mouth, warm and tasting faintly of spearmint, was distracting as hell but he managed to maneuver them so that her back now pressed against the cloth covered wall. He pressed open mouth kisses down the slender column of her neck and along her collarbone, her sharp intake of breath loud in his ear. Releasing her wrists he pushed up her camisole, too impatient to take it all the way off, and was rewarded with the full view of that lacey blue bra, rising and falling with Calleigh's uneven inhalations. He kissed her chest, following the outline of the bra with lips and tongue, nipping soft flesh with his teeth, loving the way she arched against his mouth, a low moan rising from her throat.
He chuckled, warm breath brushing her skin and she shivered, the speed of her breaths increasing as he placed a long, wet kiss in the valley between her breasts. His mouth, hot and wet, pressed against her through the lace, the flimsy material not providing much of a barrier, and she bit her lip, her body reacting automatically, pressing into his mouth. He ran his tongue against her hardened nipple before biting down, just hard enough to elicit a gasp, her nails digging into his shoulders. He reached up a hand to knead her left breast, rubbing the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and she moaned.
Now the material of the bra, no matter how thin, was proving a hindrance and Eric pulled away, pressing a firm kiss to her lips as he deftly unclasped the bra and pulled it away from her body, letting it fall to the floor. He cupped the soft mounds, squeezing gently and she sighed into his mouth, biting his lower lip and pulling lightly as his thumbs grazed her nipples. He kissed her again before lowering his head and taking her left nipple in his mouth, his tongue darting across the pebbled flesh in quick, practiced strokes.
His right hand snaked between them and he ran a finger lightly over the crotch of her pants, her movements momentarily stilled as the sensation went through her. He pulled back to watch her and did it again, not so light this time, and she ground out his name through clenched teeth, testing his self control. He hissed a curse and took a breath to steady himself before moving his hand back to her waistband and delving beneath the cotton pants and silk panties. He rubbed the swollen nub of her clit in a slow circle, her breath hitching, one palm pressed flat against the wall, the other hand balled in his shirt. He continued the unhurried swirls, knowing it was driving her crazy as she moved against his hand, urging him to go faster, farther. Twice she tried to take control, gripping his hand or arm, and on the third attempt he gathered her wrists in his hand again, holding them above her.
"Eric…" her head lolled back against the wall as he hit a particularly sensitive spot and it took a second for her to catch her breath. "Eric…please."
His chuckle was hoarse. "Please?"
Her eyes opened and she looked at him, an odd but appealing mixture of desire and threat written there. Her voice and expression was serious, no matter that she was flushed and out of breath and her hands were pined above her head. "I will shoot you."
He laughed again, leaning in to kiss her at the same moment he slipped two fingers slowly inside of her, her muscles clenching. She muttered something incoherent against his lips, and Eric knew that he was about to give into her demands even before he began to pick up the pace, his thumb still rubbing her already tortured clit. She groaned, her head falling forward to rest against his collarbone, her mouth open and wet against his bare flesh.
It wasn't long before she was nearing the edge, her entire body tensing in preparation, and Eric sped up, pushing deeper, rubbing harder, determined to send her catapulting over the edge. And catapult she did, her orgasm coming over her in waves, wracking her body as her back arched, her head once again pressing back against the wall as she muttered his name on ragged breaths.
As she came down, she placed a kiss against his chest, running her hand along the smooth, damp flesh of his chest and stomach, finally looping her fingers through his loosened belt and pulling. He let her this time, at this point the confines of the material all but painful. She unbuttoned and unzipped his fly, slipping her hand inside, instantly brushing up against his erection. His sharp intake of breath belied the overall calm he had displayed up until this point and she smiled knowingly, kissing the hollow in his neck, feeling the racing pulse there. She pushed aside the flap on his underwear and gripped him, her lips still pressed to his pulse point, gauging the reaction. She felt his pulse quicken, felt him swallow, and she kissed him again as she began to move her hand slowly up and down his shaft, knowing her movements were beyond torturous, bordering on cruel. She watched him, watched his eyes close, saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed again. Watched him open his mouth, try to speak, lose his thought as she squeezed just the teensiest bit harder, then try again. "Cal…"
"Eric…" she said, mimicking him as he had done her earlier. She increased her speed a fraction, and he leaned forward, bracing himself on the wall.
"Christ, Cal."
"You know what they say about payback."
His laugh came out strangled, and even in the bad lighting she could see the tremble in his arms. She lightly ran her thumb across the tip of his cock and he rolled his head back, struggling to keep his breathing in check. "You're killing me here."
She simply smiled, leaning forward and placing a wet kiss to his chest, just above his nipple and speeding her hand's movements. He let out a low hiss, cursing under his breath. She moved faster then, firm strokes along the shaft, the muscle hot and solid underhand.
"Cal…Calleigh…Stop" his breath was coming in jagged rasps now but she ignored him, continued stroking, even faster now, the friction damn near pushing him over the edge. She watched him, mesmerized by the rippling and tensing of his muscles, the expressions fluttering across his face.
And suddenly he was lifting her, a surprised noise escaping her lips as she instinctively wrapped her legs around his torso, his sex pressing firmly into her own through thin fabric.
He cursed, having momentarily forgotten the clothing issue. Reached between them, he tugged at her waistband, all pretenses of nonchalance and calm having gone out the window. The need to be inside her was so intense that he feared he may actually expire right then. And after what felt like an eternity he managed to get one smooth, creamy leg free, wasting no time positioning himself at her opening. He pushed in slowly, the tightness and warmth almost doing him in before he could get all the way inside. A raw, primal noise pushed its way past Calleigh's lips and she leaned back against the wall. "Oh, god, Eric…"
He didn't respond, couldn't. It took all his effort to keep from coming too soon as he buried himself of inside her. He paused a moment, reveling in the feel of her before he began to move; slow deliberate strokes sending a shiver down Calleigh's spine. Gingerly, she bit his shoulder, trying to stay under control, already feeling herself draw close to the abyss.
Eric felt it too and he grunted, pushing into her faster, the last of his resolve killed at the feel of her tightening around him. He slid a hand between them and began to work her clit again, a low whimper instantly hitting his ears. His fingers slid over her flesh, slick with her natural juices, and he pounded into her, her breasts bounced with each thrust. She arched forward, her nails digging into his arms and back, and he felt her internal muscles began to clench around him, the added friction making him groan. He leaned forward kissing her and she responded eagerly as he increased the tempo once more. Her breath caught as spasms of pleasure raced violently through every muscle and vein in her body, leaving in their wake little tingles that coursed through her blood like a drug. She stilled, crying out his name before collapsing against him, lingering tremors still pulsing through her. One last hard thrust and he was there too, his release coming in a flash of burning warmth and pleasure that radiated throughout his entire body.
Spent, he leaned forward using his body and the wall to support the majority of her weight. He rested his head against the coarse fabric, breathing hard, Calleigh doing the same, her cheek resting on his shoulder, expended air warm on his neck. They stayed like that for a long moment, the only sound in the small space the rasp of their breathing.
Eventually Calleigh stirred, unwrapping her legs from around his waist, her bare feet settling on the carpet. He looked at her and knew instantly that in those few seconds something had changed. His stomach knotted, an impending sense of disaster settling right behind his ribcage.
He pushed away from the wall, watching her warily. She avoided his gaze and he felt like he should say something. "Calleigh…" he began, but stopped when he realized he didn't know what to say.
She slipped away from him, redressing in silence, her movements quick and precise. Instantly recognizing that she was in avoidance mode, Eric followed suit, zipping his pants but not bothering to redo the buttons on his shirt.
He bit back a sigh and tried again. "Calleigh—"
She faced him, a sunny smile pulled tight across her features. "I'm fine, Eric. A little cold, that's all."
If she realized just how ridiculous that was she ignored it, bending over to retrieve her hastily removed bra. She looked at it, as if the full reality of what they'd just finished doing was only now settling in. Her gaze hardened and she folded it in half shoving it forcefully into a pocket, her features completely blank.
Eric ran a hand over his head, unsure of what to do. This was bad, and he knew it was liable to get worse. "Don't do this."
She looked up, eyes flaring. "Don't do what, Eric? I don't think I can do anything to make this any worse."
"I didn't mean that, I meant—"
"Eric?"
They looked up in surprise, the gapping hole in the ceiling having long been forgotten.
"Eric? Calleigh?"
Calleigh stepped under the opening, her expression a mixture of surprise and relief. "Ryan?"
"Calleigh, hey. We've been looking all over for you two." His voice grew muffled as he addressed someone else. Eric's gaze never left Calleigh, but she ignored him focusing her full attention on the hole. "The building had a power outage; the elevators aren't on the generator for some reason."
"So we noticed," Eric said, irritation seeping into his words.
"Yeah, well we'll have you guys out of there in a minute. They're getting someone to manually reset the circuits. It should only take a minute or two"
"Thanks, Ryan," Calleigh said, turning and walking to the corner farthest from Eric, her arms crossed under her chest.
He covered the laughable distance in two steps, standing directly in front of her. "Calleigh, listen to me—"
"I don't want to talk about it," she said, face averted to the left, her voice low and even, revealing absolutely nothing. "You should probably button your shirt."
He didn't move, a muscle in his jaw working, and when she finally looked at him, her eyes as empty as her voice, he could've punched a hole in the wall from the frustration he was feeling.
He backed off, nodding slowly. "Fine" His hands moved to his shirt, and he began to redo the buttons, holding her gaze. "But this isn't going to just go away."
Something flickered in her eyes, and he knew she got it, knew she understood he was serious. There would be no running away from this.
The lights flicked and came back on, the sudden brightness causing them both to blink, giving Calleigh the distraction she wanted. The car began to rise, his promise sitting in the air between them, no matter her feigned ignorance. She was damn good at ignoring things but he was better at reading her and he knew that she understood what was going on. She may not like it, but that didn't change a damn thing and he was going to be sure she knew that if it killed him.
The elevator pulled to a halt on the first floor and Calleigh was out the doors before they were fully open. He watched her as she met up with Ryan halfway across the lobby, all smiles and false cheer, but none of it fooled him. He could see past her varied emotional disguises and he knew that he had gotten to her, finally, after years of space and time, innumerable false starts, and too many unspoken promises made and broken. But that was then. Now there was no way she could keep ignoring the obvious, no chance of going back to business as usual because he was not going to let that happen. That was a promise.