One year later…
A prickling shiver ran down his spine; forcing the young, lanky man to gather his old pea coat at the collar as he continued the long walk up the slippery cobblestone path leading to the back of the Morgan estate. Cursing himself for forgetting his wool gloves as the howling wind bit at his fingertips. Glancing around; catching sight of the flickering shadows of the ancient rustling trees that surrounded the manor. The eerie yellow glow of the full moon; peeking through the storm clouds, forcing him to quicken his pace.
On nights like this Spencer Reid was grateful that he had a quaint, though slightly cluttered cottage on the edge of the property – considering there was plenty of space for all of his literature, knick knacks, trinkets, and not to mention his magic kits; his home was basically perfect, though the hike to get back was quite a workout.
A sense of warmth washed over him as he got closer to the massive estate, and he couldn't help the appreciative smile from appearing; knowing that Derek's trusted housekeeper kept a fire going in order to keep the offices from freezing, and on nights like this she always kept a freshly brewed pot of coffee on the old iron stove. Something the genius would need to get through the night, especially with the weight of the magazine that he had tucked securely into his coat, urging him forward.
Reaching the back door that led to the kitchen; doing his usual quick, rhythmic knock, before patiently waiting as he bounced from foot to foot; grateful when Anya finally opened the door. The aroma of her savory fisherman's soup wafted over him; the distinct smoky spice of paprika flooded his senses and as he took a deep breath in, he also discovered her famous sugary sweets; watering his dry mouth and awakening his hunger.
"Dear get in here before you freeze to death," Anya chided; ushering him inside – chuckling when she reprimanded him in her thick Serbian accent, something about him being a silly man that was determined to freeze to death.
The woman was barely over five feet and her long, dark locks; with wisps of silver were typically pinned in a tight knot atop her head – giving her a fierce presence, that went perfectly with her headstrong and no bullshit demeanor, though her dark emerald eyes; filled with warmth and amusement, revealed her loving motherly instinct.
Anya took Spencer's coat, hanging it on a coatrack by the door and quickly offered him a hot cup of coffee; flashing her signature toothy smile, that little gold tooth winking at him even under the dim lights.
"A little warning Spencer, he's in quite the foul mood tonight," she tutted; giving him a plate with double fudge chocolate chip cookies; smacking his hands away when he greedily reached out for them.
"What set him off this time?" sighing; letting his shoulders slump as he dropped the magazine on the pristine, granite counter top and took a seat on the raised bar stool.
"Strauss," came her simple response; unable to hide her look of distaste as she poured him a heaping bowl of soup.
"Fantastic," mumbling; trying to steal a cookie only to get caught – giving an impish grin; taking the proffered silverware as she placed the large ceramic bowl in front of him.
"Eat up," she chirped; fondly patting his shoulders. "Then, you get cookies!"
Sitting down next to him, spotting the glossy print; her thick brows narrowed as she reached out for it; ignoring Spencer's shaking head.
"I mean, that woman," huffing with irritation; quickly flipping through the pages. "Who does she think she is?"
Reid could only shrug his shoulders; discreetly spitting the piping hot soup back onto his spoon, blinking his eyes as he tried to soothe his burnt tongue.
"You know, when I was just even a bit younger," crossing her arms, leaning back; eyes sparkling with mischief. "I had men, begging at my door…like cats in heat!" head going back, with a hearty chuckle.
"Are you comparing the women Morgan brings home," his lips quirking just the slightest. "To animals?"
Her lips pursed and she shrugged. "I mean, my Pa used to tell me, you can put makeup on a pig…," catching his curious gaze. "But it's still a pig!" getting back up; pulling off her apron.
"Wait what?" scrunching his nose. "Why would a pig wear makeup? That doesn't seem sanitary, and I'm certain that's against the law-..."
"Oh, Spencer," giggling, messing up his hair. "Settle your mind."
Confused, watching as she put a new pot on the stove; deciding to chance it and quickly grabbed a cookie – shoving it into his mouth as she whipped around.
Glancing at his still full bowl, she was about to go on her tangent of how he needed a bigger appetite, with those slim shoulders and skinny legs of his – it was winter after all and he needed to bulk up…blah blah blah, only for the shattering of glass; somewhere from an upstairs window, stopped her mid sentence.
His shoulders tensed, waiting with bated breath for any more destruction – relieved when silence greeted him. Taking another bite of soup and grabbing a few extra cookies, he caught her concerned eyes from across the kitchen and nodded – it was time to head upstairs.
Following the spry older women up that old mahogany staircase; avoiding the few steps with their signature creaks, passing the new antique art décor that Morgan had just bought from yet another auction – one he hadn't even attended but had forced Reid to go, which he admittedly had been upset about but the old Regence chess set; made of polished marble that was now sitting in his living room next to the crackling fireplace, making the eight-hour trip completely worth it.
Not paying attention, he bumped into a solid force known as Anya; those narrowed eyes with that coy smirk telling him he was the one who would be going in first.
Squaring his shoulders; he twisted the intricate brass knob, opening the heavy oak door – revealing the dim office, with its enticing jasmine aroma. The furniture; a unique modern-vintage blend of crimson and onyx, matched perfectly with the dark walnut wooden flooring and the exposed brick wall in the back of the room. It was every inch of masculine sophistication.
Blinking; letting his eyes adjust as he took a few steps into the room – settling himself into his favorite leather ottoman, the one that reclined and sat catty corner to the old globe; resting on its wooden stand, something he loved to get distracted with as his fingers grazed the smooth surface of continents and oceans.
Anya placed the tray of soup and cookies on the coffee table next to the giant leather loveseat; raising her head as a throaty moan and feminine giggle infused the rather quiet space.
Reid blushed; instantly realizing their mistake.
"You didn't knock," came the surly growl from behind the enormous mahogany desk; the whites of Morgan's eyes and teeth were glittering under the moonlight that was peeking through the thick drapes across; what was now, a broken window.
"Um," Reid sputtered; eyes glancing around the room, trying to find an excuse.
"It's time to eat," came Anya's stern, and unamused response.
Reid arched a brow, lips twitching with the faintest of smirks – when the older woman pulled out the magazine and dramatically fanned herself with it.
Morgan huffed, sitting up from his relaxed position as he pushed away from the desk – rolling those amber eyes, when a pouty squeal from the women; kneeling between his legs popped her head up – short red hair bouncing as she indelicately whipped her mouth.
"Awe, baby," she cooed; flashy red nails crawling up his already opened buttoned up shirt. "We were just getting started."
He quickly grasped her wrists, nostrils flaring. "We're done."
The young woman huffed in exaggerated irritation and stood up…completely topless – her perky breasts something Reid hated he knew was not Morgan's type; forcing the young genius to quickly look away, suddenly finding interest with the southern hemisphere as he twirled the globe around, listening to Anya mumble something rather crass under her breath.
Morgan didn't bother to help; who Spencer recognized as lucky-day-of-the-week Miss Thursday, with looking for her clothes, and he was just about to let her know that her bra was dangling off the palm plant in the corner, when she glared at Morgan and suddenly twirled around on those deathly stilettos to give Reid a rather sultry look.
"What about you?" cocking her head to the side; licking her faded, and smeared red lips.
"Me?" Spencer croaked out, nearly swallowing his tongue; wide eyes locking on her puckered nipples.
"You think I'm talk'n 'bout her?" Brooklyn accent thick as she glared daggers at Anya.
"I-I…um, what?" Adam's apple bobbing; fingers clutched into the dark leather of the chair, as his intellectual mind raced to make sense of something so insanely out of his depth.
"You busy?" snapping her fingers, taking a few steps closer.
"Cherry," Derek barked, causing the taller woman to shrug her shoulders and slowly put her coat back on.
"Too bad," she giggled, light eyes trailing up his legs until she locked with his bewildered ones. "You look like you'd be a lot of fun," winking, and blowing him a wet kiss.
Walking towards the door, pushing her way past a fuming Anya – she looked back; giving the man still seated at his desk the middle finger, before haughtily storming out.
Anya tossed the magazine on the table; narrowing her eyes before going into a Serbian prayer as she quickly followed the woman; leaving Reid with a rather tense and disgruntled Morgan.
A few awkward minutes of silence passed with neither man saying anything – though it didn't take long for Reid's curiosity to get the better of him.
"The soup is delicious," clearing his throat; staying with a safer and neutral topic.
"I bet it is," came Derek's clipped response; followed by him pulling up his zipper.
"You know, this is exactly what she's talking about," locking his gaze, needing to emphasis the importance of this problem.
"Hmm," buttoning up his shirt as he headed for the coffee table.
"Strauss thinks your…," pausing, needing to pick the right words. "Your, um…ways with…women, are distracting you."
"Does she now?" stirring the soup, which had since cooled, before pushing it away from him.
"Morgan, it's all over the papers," uncrossing his ankles only to re-cross them.
"You think I give a shit, what this says?" teeth gritted, as he tossed the magazine on the floor.
"Almost half a million dollars," Reid gulped, feeling the darker man's fiery gaze on him. "That's quite a bit, to lose."
Morgan stared him down, but when all he saw was sincerity looking back at him, his face softened and he slumped back into the couch. "I fucked up," kicking his feet onto the table. "But I can get the money back in less than three months. Hell I'm gonna add another half right on top of it."
"Do you think Strauss cares about that," he admonished, doing his best to reign in his boss' cocky attitude.
"It was one chick," he growled; foul mood flaring back to life.
The pulsing headache behind Reid's eyes grew just a little more. Yes, it was one chick – one chick who Morgan brought home, allowing her the perfect opportunity to roll out of his bed and hack into the main computer – files were gone in an instant, as well as a minor dent in his bank account. It was a mistake of complacency that they could not afford to happen again; not when so many financial deals were on the line – making security their new top priority.
"You need to be more careful," adjusting his sweater vest, frowning when he spotted a hole by his pocket.
"Did you find her?" Derek arched a brow, taking a huge chunk out of a cookie.
"Yes."
"Did you send it?"
Reid furrowed his brows, and Morgan rolled his eyes.
"Thanks pretty boy," tossing the rest of the cookie on the plate – ending the conversation.
Spencer stood up, taking the plate of cookies with him – they were his favorite after all, and headed for the door; stopping just short of the hallway.
"By the way," mumbling through a mouthful of chocolate chips. "What did you throw out of the window?"
"My cell phone."
"Seventh one, this month," Reid reminded him, shutting the door; making sure to shout. "You really, need to feed soon!"
The pulsing techno beat; a constant rhythmic thrum filled with bass and electric static, from the club downstairs; filled the small, cramped San Francisco apartment right above it.
The stagnant, stifling heat, coming in from the open windows, made ringlets of sweat curl the loose hair of her spunky updo – the bright indigo and black highlights paired with a sparkling flower clip, gave the feminine blonde an edgier appearance.
"Jesus, you're beautiful," the man mumbled under his breath; scrunching her nose as the faint smell of liquor wafted over her.
"Yeah, less talking," hands; with dark plum nails that matched her glossy lipstick, quickly worked the knot of his tie.
"Whatever you say, Baby Gi-…," her fingers pressed firmly over his lips; dazzling hazel eyes narrowed.
"No, talking," waiting until he nodded; she finally shucked his tie across the room and then ripped his shirt open – receiving a low whistle in return.
He sneakily snuck his hands under her flouncing black skirt; fingers grazing her fishnet stockings, causing a low growl as she pushed him back onto the bed.
He bounced on her floral quilt and then chuckled. "Damn you're fucking feisty!"
Straddling his waist, fingers scratching down his chest; leaning close as she latched onto the salty skin of his neck. "Um hmm," arching a manicured brow as his fingers quickly worked the lacing of her maroon corset; feeling the stirrings of arousal pulse to life between her legs, grinding down as she rocked back and forth over his denim waist.
Anxiously waiting as he peeled the colorful fabric away; dropping the thick material and exposing her bare chest. "Oh, fuck," he gritted out.
"Are you just gonna stare at them?" she purred, fingers gliding against his belly button; teasingly dropping underneath the waistband of his jeans.
He quickly scooted a little higher up the bed, strong arms wrapping around her waist as he hiked her closer to him – those thin lips were just about to touch her smooth skin, when her phone went off.
The vibrating chime alerting her that she had a new email. The man looked up at her; waiting, and she shot him a toothy grin of encouragement; making him smirk, as the prickling hairs of his goatee grazed enticingly over her puckered nipples.
Oh, sweet Microsoft!
It had been, so long…so very long, since she had a man in her bed, and the little goddess on her shoulder was clapping with glee, when the man finally surged forward and latched on; suckling gently and her eyes narrowed.
She didn't choose him for love making, she wanted – no, needed to be fucked. Her busy schedule didn't have time for that, nonsense.
"That feels nice and all," leaning back, trying to get his attention – only for him to bring his hand up to her other breast; rolling the soft flesh, pinching just the slightest…and she smiled.
Only to curse, as her phone went off again – this time followed by her desktop flashing to life across the room.
"Fuck me!" she growled, pushing against him as she sprung up.
"Hey, come on!" he groaned, trying to grab her waist, but she was still sober – and thankfully a lot quicker.
Adjusting her cat frame glasses; she quickly scanned the message on the screen – unable to suppress the coy little grin from gracing her full, pouty lips.
"Uh, sorry Tom," whirling around, picking up his shirt and chucking it at him. "You need to go."
"It's Todd!" he huffed, sitting up.
"Whatever," looking through her dresser, grabbing the first shirt – an old cotton Wonder Woman jersey; quickly putting it on, having the urge to tap her foot as she waited for him.
"What the fuck," he growled. "Really? You're gonna leave me like this!" indicating the bulge in his jeans, and she couldn't help the longing regret from flaring to life.
"Rain check!" she smiled, walking to her door – ignoring his heated glare and cursed-filled tangent as he stormed passed her.
Locking the deadbolts and chain behind him; she headed to the little kitchen – putting her old kettle on the stove with her favorite chamomile tea. Jumping when something furry rubbed against her feet.
"Oh, Zelda!" she cooed, picking up the tabby fur ball. "Mama, forgot all about you."
Her only response was a meow and a purr as she scratched behind the cat's ears; quickly filling up her food bowl, she headed back towards the bedroom – hopping out of her stockings along the way.
Sliding out of her skirt and slipping into her soft purple Snoopy pajama bottoms – she practically bounced over to her computer and plopped down; grinning when Zelda curled up into her lap and stared at the screen with her.
Reading the message three times, she still couldn't believe it.
Thee Derek Morgan – the mysterious financial mogul, with connections all over the world; one she had admittedly hacked before – not that she stole anything, she had just wanted to test her skills; grinning when she remembered how successful she had been, wanted her help.
Oh Garcie, what are you going to do?
Looking down at Zelda; whose bright green eyes sparkled back at her – she knew her answer.
Quickly typing up a message, and hitting send.
"Looks like we're moving to Virginia."
