A/N: The usual preamble. The LOCI's are not mine. Everyone else is... :) Here is a flashback of the last case Bobby worked before being assigned to Major Case. A bit outside the box for me, so let's see how it goes. I take full responsibilty for any editing gremlins.
"Where are you going?" Bobby awoke to find himself alone in the bed. He stretched and looked at the clock, surprised to see it was near 6:00pm. As a narcotics detective, he had been working nights. There was an amazing amount of sitting around that came with being a detective. Most people seemed to think a detective's life was full of street chases and throwing felons around. Quite the opposite was true. Being a detective was more of a game of watch and wait. He had spent the morning in bed with his favorite snitch, Amelia Green, and the rest of the day asleep. As soon as he asked the question, he realized he didn't need for her to answer; he knew that she was headed to work.
"Some of us have to work today." She smiled, running a towel across her curtain of nutmeg colored hair. Her smooth, pale skin was still pink from the heat of the scalding shower. She looked incredible as he watched her finish toweling off her lithe nude frame in the evening light of the bedroom.
"I worked last night." Bobby pushed himself up onto his elbows.
"So did I." He watched her run the towel down her legs. She was exceptionally limber, and could do some amazing things with her long, shapely legs.
"Right." Bobby sighed deeply, his chest rising and falling. She bartended at a club they were in the middle of surveiling. The club was owned by someone they were trying to charge with a wide variety of illegal things, including drug trafficking and involvement in several homicides. The drug charges were what currently interested Bobby. For now, he was leaving the homicides to the homicide detectives.
"Are you working tonight?" She asked, he watched her slip into a tiny pair of black panties and a lacey black demi-bra.
"Yeah." He replied. She was standing at the foot of the bed, looking at him. He really hadn't done much with his apartment. By looking at the bed, she was really looking at a box spring and mattress on the floor. She surprised him by gently jumping forward and loosely straddling him, the sheets and blankets between them. She leaned forward and kissed him softly on his lean hard stomach.
"Well I guess I'll see you at work tonight." She looked up at him, her denim blue eyes catching the fading light.
"I hope not, it's kind of my job not to be seen. You know, Camilleri is not supposed to know he is under investigation." Bobby looked at her smiling at him. "Well, he's not supposed to know we are sitting on his club." Bobby allowed, Camilleri was a major player, he of course knew he was under investigation; he just hopefully didn't realize how close they were to closing in and making arrests. He watched Amelia move back off the bed and wriggle into an incredibly tight, low slung, black skirt. She slipped into a cotton white shirt, impossibly tight across her full breasts, and left it unbuttoned low, so he could see the edge of the intricate lace of her bra. Then she slipped into a pair of tall, smooth, wickedly high heeled black boots.
He looked at her for a long, quiet moment. She really could stop an entire room. But that wasn't actually why he was so drawn to her. Well, maybe that was what had caught his attention at first. But, now he was intrigued by something different. He knew that she had just a twelfth grade education, but Amelia was extremely bright. She had lived a rather strange life, moving around within the United States, Italy, and a few other countries, getting knocked around by her father, who was always on the take or the make in some shady deal. Amelia was smart and resourceful and had an amazing gift for languages. Bobby knew that she was receptively multilingual in at least four languages outside of English, including Italian and Spanish. She knew the street side of the languages, and even though she could not converse in them, she understood just about everything she heard. And the beauty was that no one around her seemed to realize that she could understand what they were saying. They all just assumed that she was how she appeared, a slightly knocked around piece of eye candy. Camilleri did recognize that she was a fabulous bartender. A lot of customers would come in for her visual appeal, but just as many other customers stuck around because she made incredible drinks. So, Camilleri made a lot of money by keeping Amelia in his employ.
"Well, I'll think of you out there, in your cold, hard car." Amelia replied. Bobby smiled, not revealing that they were in the building across the way, not outside in a car. Some things were better just kept to himself. He reasoned that the less Amelia knew the better. She snitched on the conversations she overheard, providing information, names, locations, but, Bobby did not provide information to her about what they did with all of that information. So, in that way, theirs was a one way relationship. In other, more physical ways, it was definitely more mutual, which is why he moved to kneeling on the bed and softly kissed her breasts, his unshaven face leaving her skin a little rashy for a moment.
Bobby sat in an ancient office chair, placing an unbelievable amount of pressure on the back of the chair as he pressed his feet against the window ledge and looked down at the club. He was alone for the moment. His partner for the night, Masters, had gone out to grab some take-out. The guy he was usually partnered with, Stephen James, was off for the night.
Bobby often inwardly smiled when he thought about the guy's name – two first names. Bobby had never commented on that, but he noticed that everyone else often did. And, actually, it could promote some confusion. People called him James, and sometimes someone would try to get friendly with him and call him Jimmy, as if James were his first name. So, Bobby found a good bit of humor in having two first names.
He remembered that James had mentioned he had a date with some recently widowed detective. Bobby felt fairly certain that the date would be an unmitigated disaster. First of all, he couldn't imagine many women being able to tolerate Stephen James in any kind of prolonged way, let alone another cop, let alone someone who had lost a loved one rather recently (Bobby thought James had mentioned she had been widowed in the past year or so). Bobby realized that he would get to hear all about it, whether he was paying attention or not, the next time he was in a car with James.
In the room he was hold up in, there was a computer set up, broadcasting the wire tap on some of the main phone lines in the club. However, the wire was pretty useless. These guys were smart enough not to talk about anything of any importance over the phone. Bobby watched the people on the street, coming and going out of the club. They had another computer where they had tapped into the video feed of the club's security cameras, so he had some nice shots of the inside bar area, some of the back hallway, and the back entrance to the club. Bobby glanced at the screen to see a spectacular shot of Amelia leaning forward, balanced with her upper body completely across the bar, her legs kicked up and off the floor behind her, with Camilleri's right hand, Anthony Bonello, talking with her, taking in a nice view of her wonderful breasts. Bobby felt something strange tighten and move inside of him. He didn't want to become deeply involved with Amelia. She was kind of a nice distraction, a means to an end on the case, but he was not interested in a deep and personal relationship, and perhaps more to the point, neither was she. So, it felt a bit weird that he should take notice of Bonello taking notice of Amelia. He reflected that detachment was easy in theory, perhaps a bit more difficult in practice.
"Anything going on?" Masters asked as he walked into the room, two large bags of Chinese takeout in hand, with a couple of giant caffeinated sodas.
"Not really." Bobby replied, standing up off the chair, which barely had the engineering left to spring back into an upright position. Masters moved to stand in front of the video feed, looking at the various areas of the club while Bobby rooted through the Chinese food. Chopsticks in one hand, lo mein in the other, he turned back toward Masters.
"I'd say we've got something going on." Masters said, and Bobby shoved in beside the other man to see the screen. A very tall, formerly muscular, guy was leaning over the bar making a grab for Amelia. She was no longer at the far end talking with Bonello; she had moved to the end closer to the door and looked like she was pouring a beer. The guy grabbing for her was drawing a lot of attention. Bobby couldn't get a solid look at Amelia's expression, but he got the feeling that she knew the guy and that she was a little bit scared of him. This was unusual for Amelia, she didn't scare easily. Bobby watched, chopsticks now frozen in hand, as the guy lunged forward, grabbed Amelia by the wrists, causing her to drop the beer glass, and hauled her forward over the bar. He was holding her in front of him, barely on her feet, she struggled against his hold. Bonello and another guy rushed down the bar and grabbed the guy off Amelia, and, none other than Joseph Camilleri came around the other side and caught Amelia before she fell to the floor.
Even on the bad video, Bobby could see that Amelia was shaking, and he thought that part of her was shaking out of anger, and part out of fear. Bonello took the guy that had manhandled Amelia and knocked him forehead first, hard against the bar, clearly knocking a bit of sense out of him. They guy was yelling and struggling, red in the face. Bobby could see that he wasn't yelling at Bonello, he was still yelling at Amelia. Bonello slammed the guy face first again into the bar, and he stopped physically fighting so much, but he was still yelling. Bonello turned him, and started moving him toward the door, and Bobby caught a clean look at the guy, which caused him to set the chopsticks and lo mein aside. When Bobby had gotten involved with Amelia, even back when she was just his snitch, he had pulled details on her. One of which was the jacket of her father Kenneth Green. So, Bobby recognized the guy that had just pulled Amelia over the bar, as none other than Kenny Green.
"Who the hell is that guy?" Masters asked. He could practically feel the seething anger emanating from Bobby. Masters did not know of the personal relationship between Bobby and Amelia, so he was at a bit of a loss as to Bobby's visceral reaction to what had just gone down.
"Somebody that's about to ruin about 3 months of work." Bobby replied, realizing that Bonello was probably going to pop Kenny Green. Bonello was not exactly known for his level headed thinking. Camilleri usually had to talk him down and through things. But Camilleri was busy with Amelia. However that was only a small part of what had Bobby seeing red. Bobby's gut was twisted up by something much more deeply personal, which was having to watch Amelia's dad come into a bar and beat on her while he stood across the street and couldn't do a damned thing about it. Bobby had zero tolerance for dads who were always on the make, leaving bruises on their kids.
A/N: (hopefully someone had a "hey, that's Alex!" moment). Drop me a line and let me know if you are hoping for a chapter 2.