Disclaimer: I don't own any of these guys except Keeva, so please don't sue me. I own nothing...
A/N: Sorry it took so long to add a sequel but I felt this chain of events had to happen and they were very difficult to put together. BTW, I flubbed on the last chapter of Courting with Danger, sorry! The family rum is Irish, not Scottish; don't even know where the Scottish came from. Anyway, on with the new :)
It was the simple comment she had let slip that piqued Mac's interest so abruptly that he'd not had something to add to the conversation as the three of them had sat in a local pizza parlor after a long work day. Maybe it was the fact he didn't know her very well, or the fact he saw Keeva in a much different light than the young detective sitting next to her did, but either way, what she had said made his stomach churn with uncertainty. It was why he was still sitting in his office as the clock ticked closer and closer to eleven, his fingers dancing lightly over the keyboard of his computer as he debated whether or not to betray a trust Flack never distributed freely, a trust Mac cherished among his coworkers.
"Well, when we were on a job in Vegas last year I just remember how homesick I'd been for Angelo's pizza."
She had recovered casually with a little side-note that she and Justin could never hold down a job for more than a few months, and followed up with a light, airy laugh, but the only one she had fooled successfully was Don. Mac knew the kid's mind was elsewhere, and had been for the last week when he had stolen away in Mac's office to model the small teardrop diamond for him. Danny had been the first to hear of Flack's intentions, but without really saying so, it was the elder's opinion that mattered more and at the time he'd felt himself swell with pride. Those who worked under him and with him had gradually become his children, and presently as he mulled over the events of the last week his heart ached to be wrong. Just for once he wanted to be wrong and to be able to pass Donnie a cold beer at his wedding reception.
Even as he was fighting his options in his brain, his fingers had begun to absently type in her name. Surely with such a strange spelling her name would pop up instantly, good or bad. Mac could have his results instantly, so easily it almost felt like a crime and in essence it was. Don had no idea of his intentions, no clue that Mac suspected the woman he loved of ulterior motives.
"...when we were on a job..."
What kind of job? A legitimate, honest American, taxable employment? Or was it exactly as he suspected. A con...money laundering...drugs?
His computer beeped rhythmically at him, the screen flashing in time with the words "Match Found" screaming at him in a putrid green text he never used to mind until this evening, and he wondered when he had pressed the Enter key.
"Okay," he said aloud, reading her name at the top of the monitor and immediately recognizing her mug shot that was to the left. Her hair had been pulled back clumsily to allow a better view of her face but the photograph was hardly flattering. Mascara was blotted around the lower rim of her eyes and creased deeply into the corners. Her nose was bleeding and the blood had trickled over her lips, and Mac briefly cursed the booking officers for not wiping it for her then laughed at such a trivial emotion of protectiveness.
Traveling further down, he was sadly not surprised to see she had a rap sheet, and while it wasn't a novel, it certainly made for a somewhat lengthy read. Aliases included Leslie Taylor, Aislynn McAllister, and a few others Mac had never come across, but below that was the real meat of it all, the worst of Mac's fear. Multiple arrests for petty theft were sprinkled among various fraud charges and a few possessions, but he noticed she had rarely done any time, her freedom likely won by a very good defense lawyer.
Mac's stomach churned faster and he stood abruptly as his eyes reluctantly read the final line of text, these words emblazoned with bold, green letters. It was an arrest warrant and Mac knew he had no choice but to call Don.
Thirty minutes had ticked by slowly, Danny sitting at Flack's desk while he watched the clock and spun back and forth in the weathered green chair. In his mind he ran scenarios of what could be happening inside the interrogation room, all of them ending positively now that he'd had the chance to mull over his feelings. The girl had tried...she'd really tried...
"Are they still talking?"
Danny sat up abruptly, his gaze meeting Stella's, and he nodded, briefly wondering how shed found out. News always did travel fast among them no matter the attempts at keeping it quiet. "Yeah. Its been half an hour already. I woulda thought they'd come out by now."
In a smooth motion, Stella rounded the corner of the desk and sat down, leaning her weight on her knees and looking intently at Danny, her eyes telling her feelings and when he looked away from her, Stella took his hand.
"I know," she said quietly. "I know."
Another few moments passed by agonizingly slow. The precinct was quiet aside from the dull roar of various detectives interviewing witnesses or booking perps, so when the door to the interrogation room exploded open, everyone took notice. Heads popped up everywhere to look as Detective Flack stalked out into the arrangement of desks, his eyes shooting daggers at anyone who dared to make eye contact, and with a sharp, angry cry he turned and threw a fist into the window of another room. The glass shattered and rained all over the floor, the tiny pieces bouncing as they scattered in various directions and Flack stumbled back, almost surprised at what he'd done. Both Danny and Stella jumped to their feet, staring at Don's bloodied hand before finally gaining their senses and hurrying over to him.
"Here," Stella began, reaching for the handkerchief Don kept in his jacket pocket but he brushed her away, sidestepping her and heading for the door. "Wait! Flack! Would you come back here?"
"Not while she's still here," he spat immaturely, walking toward the double doors. Moments later he was gone and before Danny could make it to the door to follow him, Stella grabbed his arm and shook her head.
"No…let him vent," she said quietly. She glanced back at the interrogation room where a uniform was escorting Keeva to booking and the two of them caught eyes for a brief moment. Stella saw that her eyes were puffy and black-rimmed with mascara and running in watery tendrils down her red-raw cheeks. She was still in handcuffs and her ring was no longer on her hand and Stella felt her chest clench uncomfortably. Her possessions hadn't been taken yet and wouldn't be until after she was booked, and once Keeva saw the knowledge dawn in Stella's eyes, she tore her gaze away and followed the uniform without struggle.
