A/N: Hey, guys! I'm back with some more PerSalle for you. This story originally was only meant to be a one-shot, but as I wrote, my plot became a bit more complicated than I expected! Which hopefully is a good thing, for you all. It's somewhat of a murder-mystery which is really exciting. I'm shooting for a 2 chapter piece but I'll see where our story goes. I want to thank all my friends on Twitter for their constant support! I couldn't do this without you. If anyone has another prompt/question for me tweet me soloxsalvatore. Thank you.
[Prompt: Percy and LaSalle as an undercover couple.]
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from NCIS NOLA but all other characters are a creation of my own.
Please review!
…
"You guys will do great! Everyone down here is rooting for you."
"Why does it have to be me? Why couldn't you have gone with LaSalle, or better yet, you and Pride. I just don't think this such a good idea," Sonja protested, fumbling with the vending machine, her shoulder pressing the cell phone to her ear.
Brody laughed.
"You're kidding, right? Sonja, you've worked undercover cases hundreds of times. You're the most qualified agent for the job."
"That may be true but what about LaSalle? That lunk-head could blow the whole operation!"
"Did someone say my name?" a voice chimed in from behind as she flipped around to see Chris LaSalle, himself, toting two cups of coffee and some snacks. He lifted the items with a grin.
"If Pride thought LaSalle would blow the entire operation he wouldn't have assigned him with you. Just take your time explaining any important information and everything should go smoothly."
"Easier said than done," Sonja grumbled, giving up on her struggle with the machine.
"Who's that? Brody?" LaSalle whispered, handing her the coffee and a snack.
"Mhm." Sonja took a sip of the drink while closely inspecting the bag of food.
"Don't worry, Percy. It's vegan, gluten-free, trans-fat free, probably taste free as well," he rattled off with a smirk.
She rolled her eyes.
"Think of the former Petty Officer we're doing this for, okay? Think of Amber Matthews and her parents who are waiting on us to catch her murderer. If you guys don't pull this off I don't know how we'll manage to get close enough to this organization again," Brody informed her.
"You're right," Sonja replied with a somber nod. "We'll get it done."
LaSalle silently stood next to her soaking up any part of the conversation he could.
"Like Pride said the other day, you and LaSalle have a natural chemistry that anyone would be stupid enough not to believe," Brody laughed. "Now your 'work husband' is your fake 'real husband'."
"Oh my God, please stop talking. Natural chemistry? You're as bad as LaSalle."
"What? What did she say?" he chuckled, bouncing on his heels like a little boy.
"Wouldn't you like to know," Percy muttered, covering the phones mouthpiece.
His smile widened.
"You guys have the case file and your papers with your identities and background information on them, correct? As well as your new licenses and boarding passes? And you remember where you're going when the plane lands?"
"Yeah, everything is here with us. I remember where we need to go."
"Okay, then that should be all for now. If you have any more questions or concerns just shoot me or Pride a text. We've been in contact with the local authorities in New York if you guys need back-up at any time. All you have to do is get in touch with us."
Sonja took in a deep breath.
"Alright then. I'll text you later tonight with any updates."
"Good luck, Sonja. I think you're going to need it."
Sonja looked over at LaSalle who was waving around their tickets to hop a flight to New York City, mouthing, 'we need to go!'
"Thanks, Merri," she sighed, hanging up the phone.
"Ready for our newest adventure, partner?" he smiled, nudging her shoulder as they made their way toward the gate.
"As ready as I'll ever be."
…
It was three days ago when the team was called to investigate the murder of former Petty Officer Amber Matthews whose body was found lying in a hotel room in a bad part of town in New Orleans. Initially there was no evidence as to why she was there or who might have been with her due to the lack of fingerprints or blood samples. She was shot, point blank, in the head and the room appeared untouched, as if she let her attacker in. The only clue to her murder was a card the team found in her pocket with the name 'Lawrence Livingston' etched along the bottom with the description of 'Art Dealer: NY, NY,' and his number. After notifying her family, the team came to learn that they were a family of art dealers. Amber's parents, Ken and Lucy, lived in New York City and ran their own art gallery in the heart of the city. Amber and her brother, Ryan, worked in their parents separate art gallery positioned in New Orleans. Lawrence Livingston, the man mentioned on the card, was a fellow dealer Amber had been talking on and off with for a couple of weeks. He came to Ken and Lucy in their shop in New York requesting a specific painting, which happened to be located at the gallery in New Orleans. They told him to get in touch with Amber over the phone so they could plan a meeting over the painting. The last her parents knew, he had finally set up a time and flown to New Orleans to meet with Amber. They hadn't heard a thing from either of them since. Now, Amber turns up dead with no Mr. Livingston or painting in sight. A day after the murder the team tracked the suspected killer, Lawrence Livingston, back to his mansion located in New York City. The local authorities cooperated with NCIS and gave up any information they could on his testimony. Apparently he and Amber had got together for a meeting the night her parents had assumed. They met at his hotel, in an upscale part of town, and discussed the painting over dinner. Amber had the painting safely packaged and was storing it in her truck. Before she could show it to him, he claimed she received an urgent phone call and had to cut the meeting short. She left in a hurry and he hadn't seen her since. Agent Pride, not one to be gullible, didn't believe the man's story one bit. There were multiple witnesses at Livingston's hotel who placed Amber with him at the times he relayed to police but none saw her leave the establishment. However, her truck containing the piece of artwork, was found in the parking lot of her own hotel where she supposedly met her demise. If the killer was after the art wouldn't he have taken it? No money or any other valuable belongings were removed, suggesting it was not a robbery. This sparked Pride's interest in the case, and moreover, interest in Mr. Livingston. Usually, Pride would have suspects transferred to NCIS for questioning, but this time he concocted a new plan. Going undercover. If his instincts were correct, there was more to this case than meets the eye- possibly a crime a ring or something of the sort. This is where Agent Percy came in, having so much experience in that particular area. Though, she would need a partner if the mission was to be a success. That's where Agent LaSalle came in. Posing as Ryan Matthews, Ambers Brother, LaSalle would schedule a meeting with Mr. Livingston to finish the deal with the painting. Sonja, undercover as Ryan's wife, Alicia Matthews, would accompany him to the meeting set at the mansion and unearth any new information she could out of Livingston's wife and other guests. The real Mr. and Mrs. Matthews were being kept at a safe house in New Orleans, closely watched by the team and Pride himself.
Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal for Sonja, who was used to being thrown into dangerous undercover operations. Solo operations. Now, she would have no choice but to let LaSalle run the show as the 'experienced art dealer'. Not to mention the fact they were going to be playing husband and wife for a few days! But Pride wouldn't hear a word. He reassured her over and over again that LaSalle was the perfect agent to play the part of Ryan Matthews. It was imperative that Mr. Livingston believe they were a genuine married couple or the mission would turn into a ginormous failure, possibly resulting in the loss of their own lives. It was Sonja's job to give the situation a sheen of authenticity, due to LaSalle's inexperience. It was safe to say her confidence was dropping by the minute. He's too unpredictable, she thought to herself. There is no way to calculate Christopher LaSalle's moves.
Her worries continued to eat away at her as she glanced through the papers on her background information for the seven-hundredth time. Alicia Matthews. 30 years old. Married to Ryan Matthews for 3 years. No children. Yoga instructor…
"Are ya alright? You seem a bit jumpy," a deep voice questioned from beside her.
Sonja turned her head to see LaSalle sipping a mini bottle of alcohol, his papers in hand.
"Seriously, Christopher? You're drinking while trying to learn important information? This is life or death here!"
"Christopher?" he mused, scratching his chin. "I don't know anyone by that name, darlin'."
Sonja slammed a hand to her forehead.
"Stop. We technically haven't even started the mission."
"Exactly. I'm already doin' better than you! Best start practicin' now, don't you think, Alicia?" he winked on the last part.
"You think you're so smart, huh? How about I test out that vast knowledge of yours."
Being in first class on the airplane gave them a certain amount of privacy where they could be seated far apart from other passengers. It was perfect for a little fun and games without giving away your cover.
"Okay, take your best shot," he grinned, twisting around in his seat. He playfully took another sip of his drink, eyebrows wiggling.
"How long have we been married?" she asked, eyes peeking over the paper to gage his reaction.
"Three beautiful years, Wifey," he chirped, lashes fluttering.
"Oh my God," she grumbled.
"Keep goin'!"
"How many kids do we have?"
He pointed the bottle at her.
"Ha! Trick question. We ain't got no bundles of joy, just yet."
"Yet?" she scoffed. "You're hilarious."
"I know."
"You're up to date on the art lingo and everything you're supposed to know about the painting?"
"Sure. Mostly. I'm gettin' there."
"You better! For our sake," she reprimanded.
"I will, I will. Trust me."
Sonja shook her head.
"Most of this stuff is basic facts so we're going to be making up most of our life story on the fly, like how we met and what we like to do in our personal time. Do you think you can handle that?"
"Yeah. I think so. I know you pretty well by now, don't I?" he asked, eyes bright.
She paused.
"You do. But this isn't me we're talking about- it's Alicia. So adjust your answers accordingly when it comes up, okay?"
"Done. Now we better zip our lips and get some rest because by the time we make it to New York it'll be go time." He gave a decided nod and tucked a pillow against the window to cradle his head.
Sonja snatched the liquor out of his hand and sat it on a cart wheeling down the walkway. He opened one eye at her and gave a low chuckle.
She gathered up all their papers and tucked them away, smirking.
"Night," she whispered, crossing her arms, head laid back.
No matter how much of an effort she gave in falling asleep, for some reason Sonja couldn't. She peered over at LaSalle who was slumbering quietly, outwardly at ease. Sonja wondered why he wasn't as stressed as she was about the whole thing. Was he really okay with the idea of them being married, for God's sake? For Sonja, it was a little too much. During the teams two-week hiatus a couple months back, they spent that night at the jazz club together, and the line between friends and more than friends became increasingly blurred. It was difficult for her to open up to him at first, but when he called her again a few days after that, they talked on the phone for hours like everything was okay- maybe even better than okay. That was a huge step for Sonja to take in accepting the idea of their relationship evolving, which it seemed to be doing every single day. That's why doing the undercover mission with him was turning her emotions inside out, it was like suddenly going from baby steps to huge leaps. To some degree, LaSalle understood her insecurities. She could tell by the ten million times he'd been checking on her since assigned the case. It gave her a sense of comfort to be aware of that. Now, all she had left to do was keep her composure and pray that nothing goes wrong.
…
The pair landed in New York hours later, fully rested and senses awakening to the summer afternoon. They hailed a taxi, asking the driver to take them to a cheap hotel not far from the airport. They had already called to book a room a day ago to have a place to change clothes and hide out if necessary. Otherwise, they were to stay at Lawrence Livingston's mansion for a day or two along with several other guests. Pride had also made sure the painting was mailed to the mansion before they arrived. A car was scheduled to arrive in an hour to pick them up and take them over to the estate.
Once checked in and inside the small room, Sonja laid her suitcase on the bed and began combing through her belongings. LaSalle chose the couch to do the same.
Agent Pride was very particular on how the 'couple' should dress, having met the actual Mr. and Mrs. Matthews in person. This caused Sonja mild distress after viewing the wardrobe.
"Where in the world did Pride get these clothes?! They were already wrapped in tissue paper when he handed them to me so I couldn't really see what was going on but-''
"I see what you mean," he marveled, carefully rifling through his clothes. "These don't look very 'Christopher LaSalle' at all."
"I guess that's a good thing," she muttered. "We aren't supposed to look like ourselves."
"That's one part of the mission that's accomplished!"
After putting aside another outfit, Sonja spotted a small box at the bottom of the suitcase. She reached in and plucked it out, flipping its tiny lid open. She gasped.
"Whoa. What in the…"
"You found a ring, too?" LaSalle inquired, holding up a small box as well.
"Who slipped these into our suitcases? I'll bet you a hundred bucks it was Merri!"
"She wouldn't have done it if Pride hadn't told her to. Besides, we can't be married without the rings to show it, am I right?" he swayed, one hand in his pocket and the other shaking the box.
"Yeah, I know. It's just," she peeked inside the box again, cringing. "It looks like it costs a fortune."
"Mine looks pretty snazzy as well. I'm sure Pride had them rented for the time bein'. Don't stress about it, okay? We got enough on our plate to worry about as it is."
"Like catching a murderer," she sighed, the weight of the situation coming to the forefront of her mind.
"Right. We better get dressed, the car will be here soon!"
Nodding, Sonja grabbed her clothes, shoes, and various accessories before escaping to the bathroom. It only took LaSalle a minute or two to figure out his new wardrobe and put it on without a hitch, not to say that it was comfortable.
Thirty minutes had passed and Sonja was still in the bathroom when there was a 'honk' outside of the building, signaling the arrival of the car. Show time.
"Sonj- Alicia! The car is here. Better get a move on," he called, checking his hair in the mirror one last time. Waiting for an answer, he took a deep breath and slipped on his platinum wedding band.
"Um. Go out there and let them know I'm on way. I just need to grab my suitcase," she called.
"I got the suitcases. Come out when you're ready," he replied.
Sonja heard both the suitcases rolling across the floor and the door open and close before she exited the bathroom, rubbing her hands up and down her legs. Sighing, she took a big drink of water and shook out her arms nervously. She closed her eyes and thought of Amber, Ambers parents, and the sadness her entire family must be feeling at the loss of such a beloved family member. This mission wasn't about her, or LaSalle- it was about Amber. It was about tracking down and arresting the man who took her life.
With determination, Sonja grabbed her handbag and flung open the door. LaSalle was standing next to the car casually chatting with the driver, not surprisingly, one hand tucked in his pocket. Sonja involuntarily sucked in her breath, eyes growing wide. If he passed her on the street she would barely have recognized him. He wore cream colored dress pants and matching jacket, perfectly tailored to fit his body. A white, collared shirt lay beneath it all paired with a plain charcoal gray tie. His dress shoes were polished, black and laced. He appeared to also have lightly styled his hair. His conversation with the man carried on, as he seemed unaware of her presence. He was grinning and offhandedly scratching his jaw, when Sonja caught a glimpse of his wedding band glinting in the sunlight. She blinked, swallowing hard. It was time for Alicia Matthews to make her entrance.
"Hello boys, I'm sorry I took so long! The dress was giving me a bit of a hard time."
LaSalle and the driver halted their conversation, turning to greet her. The man remained calm, politely smiling while LaSalle nearly did a double- take, his mouth seemingly unable to close. Sonja had chosen a skin tight, solid red dress with one inch straps and low neckline, exposing just the right amount of cleavage. The dress landed slightly above the knee, displaying her glowing caramel legs. Her shoes were black, pointed toe three inch heels. Her hair was half down while the other was put into an elegant bun on top of her head. She gripped her bag and anxiously swirled the object around her finger- an oval diamond halo, white gold, wedding ring.
"Well, even though it gave you a hard time it looks simply lovely on you, Ma'am," the older man commended.
"I agree. You truly have-" LaSalle gulped, "Outdone yourself."
Sonja put on a faux grin.
"Thank you! I'm glad to hear it. We should be on our way then, we don't want to be late."
The driver gave a quick nod of understanding and slipped into the car. LaSalle opened the door to the backseat and waited for her to approach, his hand landing on her waist.
"You ready for this?" he asked quietly, eyes inquisitive.
"I'm ready," she told him, gripping his arm. She wasn't sure if their gestures towards each other were Percy and LaSalle or Alicia and Ryan and at the moment she didn't care, feeling safe with him was all that mattered.
She slid into the seat first as he followed after her.
"Your husband said you two are on your way to the Livingston estate?" the driver asked, throwing the car in drive.
"That's correct. Are you familiar with that family?" Sonja replied.
"Not really, only a little bit. I hear they're in the art business. Mr. Livingston seems like a nice guy from what people around town say."
"We wouldn't really know either, this is our first time meeting him."
"From what your husband says about your gallery in New Orleans, you should be able to sell him anything without any trouble," he smiled in the rearview mirror.
"That's what we're hopin'," LaSalle smiled, sweetly glancing at Sonja.
The rest of the car ride was fairly quiet until they finally arrived at the entrance of the mansion, a high security gate blocking their way. The driver exited the vehicle and went over to a speaker, pressing a button.
"I have a Mr. and Mrs. Matthews here to see Mr. Livingston," he announced. It took a few moments for anyone to reply.
"Alright. We'll open the gate and you can pull up to the front," a deep voice instructed.
The driver hopped back in and the trio waited for the gate to slowly pull apart. Once it was fully ajar, they drove through and up to the large stone stairway leading to the mansions huge front door. The building was surrounded by acres of healthy green grass and perfectly manicured bushes and other various plants. There was a small separate building off to the side and also a four-car garage closely nestled beside it. A large group of attractively dressed people with wine glasses in hand came pouring down the steps, smiles on their faces.
LaSalle got out of the car and took Sonja's hand, helping her out as well. The driver had already swooped away and retrieved the luggage from the trunk, sitting it near the steps.
"If that's all, I'll be on my way then. If you two need a ride to the airport at any time just give me a holler," he grinned with a bow. "I appreciate you paying me in advance."
"No problem. Thank you for your time," LaSalle replied, returning the smile. The driver quickly exited the property, leaving Sonja and LaSalle with the ever-so-popular Mr. Livingston and his guests.
"My, my. Mr. and Mrs. Matthews! Such a pleasure to finally meet you," he chimed, reaching out to firmly shake LaSalle's hand.
The man had dark brown hair swept back with styling gel. His suit was white with black pin stripes, paired with a white shirt and tie and also a purple pocket square. His eyes were brown and his jawline was sharp as a knife.
"You as well, Mr. Livingston. My sister never really got a chance to tell me much about ya," LaSalle relayed, a solemn smile on his face.
Mr. Livingston's expression became saddened.
"Ah, yes. Sweet Amber. She was a lovely woman it seemed." He pressed a hand to his heart.
"May she rest in peace," a woman spoke, stepping forward to take LaSalle's hand out of Mr. Livingston's. She held his hand in both of her own, her stiletto nails encompassing his skin. Her eyes were wide and glossy. Sonja wanted to throw her across the yard.
"I'm Mrs. Livingston, but you can call me Jan," the woman explained, her red lips spreading into a smile. Her hair was shoulder length and curly, bleach blonde in color. The dress she wore was long, white and flowing and had a black belt twisted around the waist.
"I'm Mrs. Matthews, but you can call me Alicia," Sonja chirped, looping an arm through LaSalle's as she stared back at Mrs. Livingston with the hugest grin she could muster.
The woman's smile quickly fell as she cleared her throat, releasing LaSalle's hand to shake Sonja's.
"Of course. So nice to meet you," she quietly replied, her smile resurfacing.
Mr. Livingston was motioning a woman in housekeeping apparel to take their luggage up to the house while all the other guests began making their way back up the steps.
"We can finish all these cordial greetings after Matilda shows you two to your room. We have several other guests staying with us, as you can see, and the first floor guest rooms are all occupied. Would staying on the second floor in one of the other guest rooms work for you?" Mr. Livingston asked, escorting them up the steps.
"Does that work for us, sweetheart?" LaSalle asked her, glancing her direction with a sly grin. Sonja fought the urge to roll her eyes.
"Yes, I think it will."
"Excellent!" the man smiled, motioning them through the front door. "I, my wife, and our guests will be in the back yard preparing for dinner and having drinks if you would care to join us. I thought we would start on business tomorrow." He winked, slapping LaSalle on the shoulder.
"That sounds great. Thank you for your hospitality," Sonja smiled.
"Alright then, Matilda? Please show them to their room."
The woman nodded, grabbing the suitcases and lugging them up the grand staircase that lead to the second floor. When Mr. Livingston and the other guests were out of sight, LaSalle swiftly took the luggage from Matilda and gave a reassuring smile at her confusion.
"It would be rude of me to let ya carry these all the way up there. I know it's usually your job but it just feels wrong, as a man, to let ya do that. I beg your pardon," he told her.
The woman stood completely stunned for several seconds before she snapped out of it and smiled back at him. Sonja was nearly stunned herself at his chivalry.
"Thank you, Mr. Matthews. That's very nice of you," she softly spoke.
Matilda continued to lead the way until they were at the door of their room. She pushed it open, patting the doorframe.
"This is it. If you two happen to have any questions or need new towels just pick up the phone next to the bed and dial the 'laundry' button. That's the room I'm in most of the time."
"Thank you, Matilda. We'll be sure to do that," Sonja assured her.
The housekeeper gave a wave and quickly departed, leaving the agents alone to explore their room.
They both took in a deep breath and stepped over the threshold, LaSalle sitting their bags to the side. Sonja shut the door before she exclaimed.
"There's one bed. What are we going to do about one bed?"
LaSalle held a finger to lips and began sweeping over the area, checking inside lamps and under dressers and tables. Sonja raised a brow. After a minute or two he nodded.
"We're good. I was checkin' for bugs in case Mr. Livingston was plannin' on spyin' on us."
She blinked. "Oh. That's smart, LaSalle."
"Thank you," he beamed proudly.
"Now, what are we going to do about this sleeping situation?"
He motioned toward the couch.
"I'll sleep over there. Simple enough."
"That wouldn't bother you?"
"It's not ideal, but it's only for a night. I can handle it."
"Cool."
Sonja sighed, tapping her foot in an anxious manner.
"Should we go down and have dinner with them?"
"I suppose so. We aren't goin' to conduct any business tonight so we might as well pretend like we're relaxed, that way, we can get a lil' more insight into who Mr. Livingston really is."
"What if Pride's wrong? What we have this all mixed up and the real killer is out on the loose?" Sonja asked, her voice laced with concern.
"We won't know until tomorrow when I show him the paintin', I suspect. He seems like the type to not show his cards all at once, if you know what I mean."
"Yeah, I get the same vibe."
"We better get down there before they get suspicious," LaSalle suggested, gently guiding her toward the door with his hand on her back. Sonja was still not used to the constant touching.
Another housekeeper, Angela, pointed them in the direction of the party which was being held in the backyard on an intricately designed stone patio that spanned several feet across the yard. In the middle of the patio was a fire pit which was lit, and to the left side sat a stainless steel grill and wet bar. The guests were seated on some of the outdoor furniture such as the couch and other various shaped chairs.
"Ryan! Alicia! So glad you could join us," Mr. Livingston exclaimed, raising a drink in celebration. All the other guests followed suit, glasses raised. "I hope you don't mind if I call you by your first names. Amber spoke about you two in that manner and I only think it would be appropriate for the setting."
"That's fine. My sister spoke about my wife and me? In what way?" LaSalle replied, graciously accepting a beer a bartender was offering.
"She told me all about your job at the gallery and how she couldn't do it without you," he smiled with almost a hint of mischief in his eyes. "She also told me how Alicia was like the sister she never had. Clearly, she loved you both very much."
"I appreciate the kind words, Mr. Livingston."
"Please, call me Lawrence. We're among friends, after all!"
"That's good to hear," LaSalle nodded, taking a seat, briefly locking eyes with the man for a second too long.
"What can a girl do to get a drink around here?" Sonja laughed, playfully rubbing LaSalle's shoulder in an attempt to break any tension.
"My apologies, Alicia. What would you like? My wife and her friends seem to be favoring a raspberry sangria at the moment."
"Sounds fantastic," she replied, eyes sparkling.
Mr. Livingston snapped his fingers at one of the bartenders who began creating the requested drink in a flurry. His wife, Jan, was seated in a lounge chair sipping her drink. She was eyeing Sonja interestedly.
"I certainly admire your dress, Alicia. Where on earth did you buy it?"
The bartender slipped a drink into Sonja's hand as she stood there, speechless.
"Uh- well, it was a gift. From my husband. So you'll have to ask him," she explained, quickly bringing the fruity alcohol to her lips.
LaSalle was in the middle of a conversation with another one of the guests when Mr. Livingston motioned to his wife.
"My wife has a finer taste for things in life, Ryan," he said, swirling his drink around in his hand. "Unfortunately for my wallet." The guests busted up in laughter. "She was wondering where you bought that lovely dress for your own wife."
LaSalle cranked his head to give Sonja an up-down. She smiled, mouthing 'sorry'.
Without skipping a beat he replied to Mr. Livingston.
"There's a lil' boutique in New Orleans that Alicia just loves. It's a local place, not many people from out of town know about it. The owner buys dresses from all the world and puts them in her shop, so ya never know what you're gonna get! I just happened to be walkin' by one summer evenin' and spotted it in the window. I knew I had to get it for her even before checkin' the price."
There was a resounding 'awe' from all of the female guests. Mr. Livingston's wife seemed enraptured, her drink pulled to her chest with watery eyes.
"You're a good man, Ryan Matthews," Mr. Livingston congratulated, clinking his drink against LaSalle's.
"And an even better husband," Jan cooed, discreetly wiping her eyes.
"Did you hear him, Lorraine? His accent is simply rugged," another woman attempted to whisper to a friend, fanning herself with a magazine.
"Ryan is the best. I don't know what I'd do without him," Sonja piped in, placing her free hand on his shoulder once more with a loving squeeze.
LaSalle smiled up at her, turning his head to give her hand a light kiss. His lips softly caressed her skin but left as quickly as they came.
Sonja nearly jolted and could have spilled her drink if one of the other guests hadn't pulled her away from LaSalle to sit with the other women at a dining table.
"Sit with us, Alicia. Relax. Your feet must be killing you!" an older woman with dark hair styled in a pixie cut insisted. "I have no idea why you young girls like wearing those kind of shoes."
"Don't listen to her, darling. They're absolutely gorgeous," another woman piped in, crunching on a piece of celery from her Bloody Mary.
"Thank you. Are you all friends of Jan's?" Sonja asked, reluctantly taking a seat at the table.
"Yes, more or less. Our husbands are close friends with Lawrence so we always get dragged along to these business parties. After a while we all eventually became pals," a small woman with a red bob explained, adjusting her glasses.
"What sort of business do you all do?" Sonja continued, careful not to pry.
"Our husbands don't really involve us in the process, but it's pretty much buying and selling of valuables, mainly artwork of course. That's the biggest commodity, right girls?"
"Right you are, Lorraine. It's always Van Gogh this, and Picasso that," the woman with the red bob sighed, downing her drink.
"Don't complain too much, Macy. I'm fairly certain your husband sold a Picasso not long ago which bought your children's way into college and you another house," Mrs. Livingston smirked, breezing by on her way to the kitchen.
Macy, the woman Jan called out, slumped further down as she ruffled her bangs across her eyes in embarrassment.
"What do you mean by 'valuables'? What else do your husband's sell?" Sonja asked softly, feigning innocence in her intentions.
"I'm not sure, honestly. There was a necklace one time, and maybe a watch here or there. I'm never around for the transactions," Lorraine replied.
"You seem like you don't know much about this stuff. Is this your first business party?" a woman further down the table questioned.
"Yes, I'm usually not a part of any business to do with the art gallery. That was more an Amber and Ryan thing, but now that she's gone…"
"I understand. He didn't feel comfortable coming here alone," the woman nodded.
"Poor man. He must be so terribly lost in grief," said the woman with the bob.
"We're all so sorry for your loss. If you need anything just let us know," Lorraine kindly smiled.
Before Sonja could open her mouth to continue with her questions, Mrs. Livingston showed up in the doorway with a bell.
"Dinner is served, everyone!" she loudly rang. "Please find your seats at the dining table."
Damn it, Sonja thought. I was so close.
"Mind if I join ya, Mrs. Matthews?" a husky southern voice inquired from behind her.
Sonja glanced and saw LaSalle smiling, eyeing the spot next to her at the table.
"Don't mind me, let me make so more room," said a woman who was seated close to Sonja, sliding away to make a space for him.
"Thank ya, Ma'am," he grinned in her direction.
He quickly sat down next to Sonja, laying a hand on her leg.
"Are ya doin' alright?" he whispered, leaning closer to her ear.
His warm breath tickled the skin on her neck, causing a shiver to run down her spine.
"I'm okay. What about you?"
"I'm good. Just can't wait to get out of this darn suit," he lowly chuckled.
"You're telling me. This dress is awful."
"At least it don't look awful," he smiled, eyes traveling over her figure.
She elbowed him.
"Cut it out. I'm never wearing this again," Sonja intensely whispered, suppressing her laughter.
"That's a cryin' shame," LaSalle replied, softly nudging her.
The housekeeping staff along with the assistance of the bartenders, cleared any empty glasses or plates and brushed off the table in preparation for the meal. In a matter of minutes, a dozen platters were set and fresh new plates were getting piled with food. The bartender refilled the alcoholic beverages and offered to create night-caps for anyone looking to wind down after a long meal. Sonja tasted all of the vegetarian portions due to their being no vegan option. LaSalle, of course, went straight for the meat and starch part of the meal which was no surprise. The conversation remained casual throughout the dining process, Mr. Livingston being adamant about no 'shop talk' at the table. Sonja had no chance of receiving any new information regarding business deals or how Amber Matthews may have been involved. But, tomorrow was another day.
It was nearly eleven o'clock at night and one too many drinks over before the pair bid everyone good night and left for their room. Halfway up the stairs, Sonja slipped off her high heels and flung them over her shoulder with a big yawn. LaSalle couldn't help but yawn as well, sneaking a grin at her behavior. Sonja pushed open the door to their room, her bones aching to take a rest in the bed.
"Do you mind if I use the bathroom first? I have to take off my makeup, and work on my hair, and brush my teeth, and- ''
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. No need to explain, Percy. I get it. Go do what ya gotta do," LaSalle hushed, already undoing his tie.
Sonja nodded and quickly grabbed the items she required from her suitcase. Slipping into the bathroom, it only took her fifteen minutes to get herself in order and ready for sleep. Her hair was taken care of, teeth were brushed, face clean, and body clothed in basketball shorts and an oversized t-shirt. She quietly exited the bathroom in case LaSalle had fallen asleep while waiting. He hadn't. She found him seated on the edge of the bed, shirtless, wearing a pair of shorts. A toothbrush was in his hand.
"All better now?" he asked, lips spreading into a smirk as he rose to his feet. Sonja clutched her discarded dress and shoes to her chest as he approached. She took in a shaky breath.
"Yes, actually. I'm all ready for bed."
"Good. We're gonna need our rest to get through tomorrow. Why don't ya text Brody before you go to sleep so she knows we're still alive."
"That's a great idea. I'll do that," Sonja nodded, dropping her wardrobe back into the suitcase.
LaSalle went into the bathroom a moment later, leaving Sonja alone to send a text and get settled in bed. She tossed and turned relentlessly until LaSalle finally emerged from the bathroom and shut off the remaining lights in the room. He retrieved a pillow and blanket from a nearby closet and arranged them to his likeness on the couch. She heard him release an audible sigh as he lay down. Several minutes of silence ensued to the point where Sonja thought he had gone to sleep.
"What do ya think about Mrs. Livingston and the other guests? Do they seem shifty to ya at all?" he suddenly asked, voice quiet.
"They're okay, I guess. I don't sense anything suspicious yet." She paused, flipping on her side to face his direction. "They're annoying as hell, though."
He laughed.
"Why do ya say that?"
"Seriously, LaSalle? They're the most uptight, snooty, downright dramatic group of people I've ever met. I had a migraine ten minutes into a conversation with them. My cheeks hurt from all that smiling."
"Did they tell ya anything important to our case?"
"I don't know. They mentioned they do these business parties a lot but they don't get involved in the transactions their husbands conduct. Apparently they do a little bit more than just selling paintings, though."
"Like what?"
"One woman said her husband was selling jewelry on a couple occasions."
"Stolen jewelry, ya think?"
"Possibly. We can't be sure until you spend a little more time with Mr. Livingston."
LaSalle was silent.
"How was he, anyway? Did his friends seem like legit businessmen?" Sonja continued.
"He seemed nice enough, just like our driver told us earlier today. His friends were the same too. If they're master criminals they do a damn good job of hidin' it."
"Did any of them mention Amber or want to talk about painting?"
"Mr. Livingston said the paintin' was in that smaller buildin' next to the four-car garage. That's apparently where they talk business.As for Amber, they only offered me their condolences. That was about it."
"Interesting. Well, we should get some rest. Who knows what tomorrow has in store for us," Sonja whispered, another yawn escaping her lips.
"Yeah, you're right. Good night Percy," LaSalle replied, fluffing his pillow.
"Good night- and thank you for coming up with that story for the dress. I'm sorry I threw that on you."
"Don't mention it, partner. I told ya I could handle thinkin' on the fly. Not to mention the fact that I got the waterworks flowin'."
"Mrs. Livingston is practically in love with you," she scoffed.
"Most the women seemed to be interested in me. Why do ya think that is, Percy?"
Sonja finally rolled her eyes for the first time that night. It felt good.
"Because you're the 'rugged' southern man most of them fantasize about on their TV shows."
His laughter filled the room.
"I see. You wouldn't happen to have any experience fantasizin' about me too, would ya?"
"Go to sleep, LaSalle," she barked, covering her head with a pillow.
…
Sleep eventually took her as minutes morphed into hours, and the warm blanket wrapped around her was a comfort after a long flight and a long day. Suddenly, the quietness of the room was interrupted by a shuffling noise. Sonja thought she was dreaming until it happened again, louder this time. She sat up in bed, subconsciously reaching for her nightstand which usually housed her gun- except not this nightstand. Her senses alert, she gazed around the dark room and saw no signs of movement. The door was closed, lights off, and bathroom empty. What could the sound have been? Then she heard it again, but in this instance she saw where the noise was originating from. The couch. LaSalle was tossing and turning, flipping from side to side. The shuffling noise was the sound of his body rubbing up against the piece of furniture.
"Christopher!" she hissed. "Knock it off. Why can't you stay still?"
"I'm sorry, Percy," came a groggy response. "This just ain't very comfortable."
"Have you tried sleeping on your back?"
"Yeah. The arm rest keeps diggin' into my neck."
"Even with the pillow?"
"It's a thin pillow."
She sighed.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Nothin'. Just try to go back to sleep."
"I can't sleep with all that noise!"
"Then I don't know what to tell ya."
Sonja was silent, quickly weighing her options. She groaned.
"I cannot believe I'm saying this, but, you can…"
"I can what?"
"Share…the bed with me. If you stay on your own side and behave!"
LaSalle gave a boyish laugh as he bounced off the couch excitedly.
"Thank you, Percy. You're too kind."
"Yeah, I know. Just get over here before I change my mind! I'm only agreeing to this because you have an important job to do tomorrow."
"It means a lot. Truly."
He smiled, pulling back the covers and sliding under. Sonja inched farther away from him, turning to face the opposite direction. At first, his presence was awkward and a little bit intimidating, but after a while Sonja felt her muscles relax and her heartbeat return to a regular pace. She heard him breathing deeply, slowly, in the midst of slumber. Peeking over her shoulder, he was positioned on his back, one arm behind his head. His bare chest was fully exposed, the blanket only covering his abdomen and down. His eyelids were closed and his expression was soft. It amazed her how carefree he was, how he approached any situation with lightheartedness and an open mind. Sonja chided herself for not being that type of person, it made things so much more complicated. She had a huge wall built around her that she barely let anyone touch, let alone, tear down. But then came along Christopher LaSalle, a man she thought she understood completely the moment she met him. Cocky, stubborn, outspoken, charming. She wasn't wrong, but she wasn't exactly right either. She underestimated him and that was her biggest error. Now, so many months later, he had somehow managed to chip away at the wall she had built without her approval, against her will, and for some reason she didn't care. A part of Sonja had begun to accept that as a function of their relationship, an inevitability. It happened, and it was going to continue to happen whether either of them liked it or not. If she walked away, he would follow her. If she hung up on him he would call right back. If she told him to leave her alone she would never be lonely again. And if she told him she wasn't falling in love with him he wouldn't believe her. Love. Was that how she really felt about him? Pretending to be married opened Sonja's eyes to how it would actually be like if she were married to LaSalle. Even though he was under the pretense of Ryan Matthews, much of the characteristics she admired so much remained the same. He was honest to Mr. Livingston, kind to Matilda, and took every chance he got to make her smile and see if she was okay. Despite what she thought about LaSalle going into the mission, he was once again, proving her wrong. He had an annoying habit of doing that.
…
It was extremely early in the morning and the moon's ray of milky light poured through an opening in the curtain, illuminating her face. She suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of peacefulness and clarity. The questions that had been whirling through her mind ever since the jazz club that seemed unbelievably perplexing were now plain as day. Being with him made her feel safe, happy, and free. She would do things no one else could ever convince her to do like go on a spontaneous outing, try new clothes, and dance until the sun comes up. That's what he did for her- and she loved him for it.
To be continued…
Post A/N: things are just starting to heat up between Percy and LaSalle but could Sonja change her mind in the morning and toss away her love confession? Are Mr. Livingston and his friends truly criminal masterminds? Only time will tell…. (look for chapter 2 soon!).