Disclaimer: I don't own these characters… well I could argue that I own Gina, but she's more of an expository device than an actual character.

Author's note: You all might hate me for something that happens in this chapter… um… please don't? I promise this is a Jolie story in the end, I swear!

From Chapter 1

Natalie shook her head. She was about to say something else but the door swung open with a chiming of bells and she moved quickly away from him as a woman walked in. "Hey Gina," she called out.

"Carlotta called me," Gina said, "I told her I could cover the lunch shift. I can take over from here if you need to leave."

"Yeah," she said wiping her eyes one more time, "thanks." Hastily taking off her apron while avoiding eye contact with him Natalie said softly, "Thanks for listening."

"Anytime," he assured her.

"See you around," she called as she hurried out of the diner.

Chapter 2

John watched her go, barely able to suppress the urge to follow her. He reminded himself that he wasn't here to befriend a lonely young heiress; he was there to solve a case. Besides, he reasoned with himself, if someone in her husband's family was involved with organized crime he was doing her a favor by figuring out who and putting a stop to it.

He noticed the woman who had stepped behind the counter eyeing him curiously. She was a dark-haired, caramel skinned woman who he would have guessed was in her early thirties. "You're not from around here," she said.

"No," he shook his head, "I'm just in town visiting my brother."

"Anyone I know?" she asked.

"Michael McBain," he said, not having any idea whether this woman would know Michael or not.

"The doctor?" she half-asked, half-said, nodding.

"Yeah," he said, "you know most people here in town?" It had been his experience that service professionals often knew more about what was going on in a particular area than most anyone else. They were often in a position to witness most of the goings on in town and yet people didn't bother to pay attention to them, didn't bother to put of a façade in front of them.

"Most of them," she said, "by sight at least. It's a small town—there aren't many places to eat. Especially breakfast or if you want a quick cup of coffee. Most everyone in town winds up walking in this diner sooner or later."

"So you've worked here for a while?" he asked casually.

"Longer than I ever planned on," she said with a laugh. "I went to school with Mrs. Vega's son—she's the one that owns the place. She offered me the job when I needed something. I always planned it would just be for a little while till I settled down and had kids. I've got two of them now but it turns out we still need my income."

"Mrs. Vega's son," he said thoughtfully, "that was his wife who just left?"

"Oh, not him," she explained, "I mean yes, Natalie is married to one of Mrs. Vega's sons… I gotta tell you Carlotta was not happy about that at first. You'd think she would have been thrilled—I mean the girl's a Buchanan. She's loaded. Fine, upstanding family all that. But Carlotta's very traditional, very Catholic and Natalie… well she was a little bit of a wild child when she first came to town."

"Was she?" John asked thinking that based on what he knew that Natalie wasn't the one whose behavior Mrs. Vega should find objectionable.

"Yeah, but she straightened up. And Carlotta came around. But oh yeah, like I was saying I went to school with her older son, Antonio. Except I guess it turns out he's not her son."

"What?" he asked innocently.

"I probably shouldn't say anything," she said sounding flustered suddenly. "Carlotta raised him from the time he was a little boy. I mean she's his mother in everyway that counts but I guess it turns out he's actually her brother's child."

"So she's his aunt?" he translated.

"Yeah, I guess," she said, "but no one knew that until this past summer. And when Antonio found out he didn't take it real well."

"Well I'd imagine it's tough finding stuff like that out," he said.

"And that's only half of it," she continued wiping down the counter, "because it turns out his real father was this big drug lord from Puerto Rico. I mean no one even knew Carlotta had a brother and she's such a sweet lady. Complete law abiding citizen, you know? I mean Antonio got in some trouble when he was younger—spent some time in jail-"

"Really?" he asked pretending to be surprised.

"Oh but he was a really good guy," she corrected, "He'd really gotten it together. I mean he was a cop. But when he found out about his father…"

"What?" he prodded, wanting her to continue.

"He just didn't take it well," she said starting to sound uncomfortable, "pushed away his mother, his brother, his fiancée… everyone who cared about him. He lost his job, left his little girl to be raised by her grandparents, hooked up with this tramp Sonia… And poor Carlotta it just broke her heart."

"What about the rest of the family?" he asked, "I'd imagine finding out you had a drug lord in the family would be a shock to all of them."

"I guess so," she said, "but they didn't really react like that. Then, of course, you have to throw Tico into the mix…"

"Who's Tico?" he asked though he was perfectly aware who Tico Santi was.

"Antonio's brother as it turns out," she said, "Agustico Santi. He grew up in Europe, he's nothing like the rest of the family. Has a lot of money, throws it around at every opportunity."

"Sounds like you're not his biggest fan," he said with a smile.

"Oh," she blushed, "I don't really know him. It's just… he comes off as a bit fake to me. And he seems to be-"

Whatever she'd been about to say she cut herself off looking at someone walking in the door. John turned and followed her eyes to see Antonio Vega walking into the diner. He looked different from the picture in his file; his hair was shaved off and there was a harder edge to the set of his jaw. Reminding himself that he had no excuse to recognize the man, he pretended to look at him blankly. "Hi Antonio!" Gina called out.

Antonio didn't seem to notice him but walked directly to the counter. "Gina," he said, "Carlotta called me and said that Jamie was sick but I just went by her place and they aren't there. Do you know where she might have gone?"

"No," Gina said looking somewhat guilty, probably for gossiping about him, "Did you call her?"

"Got her voicemail," he said with a nod.

"Well she might have run out to the drug store," she suggested, "or maybe to the clinic. She did say she was pretty sure it was strep throat and if they're at the clinic or the doctor's office they probably made her turn off her cell phone."

"You're probably right," Antonio said.

"How have you been?" Gina asked with a mixture of pity and nervousness, "I haven't seen you around lately."

"I've been okay," he said sharply, "busy. I'm going to go look for them. If you hear from her tell her to give me a call."

"Speak of the devil," Gina mumbled after he left, "see—he's really a decent guy underneath. All worried about his little girl. He's just convinced that being the son of a drug lord he puts her in danger by being around her."

"Has there been any sign of danger?" he asked.

She shrugged, "Not that I've seen, but I don't really know about those things." The door chimed and a couple walked in and sat at one of the booths. "Excuse me."

"I should run," he said standing up, "nice talking to you though."

"Yeah," she called, "I'll see you around."

Natalie hastily slipped her top back over her head and picked up her purse. Paul was still asleep. She always made sure to leave before he woke up. Before she had to have the discussion about what they were and what this meant and how she felt. Because all they were were two fools looking for a quick thrill and this didn't mean anything, except that her life was more out of control than it had ever been.

And she didn't feel anything. She never did. Just a brief thrill of physical pleasure and the rush of power that came from knowing a man wanted her that badly. But once it was over she was just numb again. She couldn't even take pleasure in the fact that she was betraying Cristian the same way he was betraying her because deep down she knew he wouldn't care.

Paul stirred and she reminded herself she needed to get out of there quickly. She grabbed her purse and stepped into her shoes before slipping out the door.

John was walking into the hotel lost in his own thoughts when someone collided with him. He mumbled a "sorry" as he stepped back and was surprised to see that the other person was Natalie. He was about to ask her what she was doing there, absurdly hoping for some unknown reason that she might be looking for him, when he noticed her appearance. Her hair was mussed, her make up was smudged, and the neckline of her blouse was stretched strangely out of shape and ripped slightly. She hugged her arms around herself tightly and her expression was a mixture of hurt and fear. His first instinct was to think that she'd been assaulted.

"Natalie?" he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said sounding somewhat dazed.

"What happened? Who did this to you?" he demanded.

It was only when she flushed crimson that it occurred to him that whatever had happened to her hadn't been against her will. An embarrassed "Oh" was all he managed to murmur. It was none of his business but mentally he began to scan through the men he'd seen around the hotel wondering who she had been with. It didn't take him long to figure it out. "That guy… Paul Cramer?" he asked, unsure why he needed confirmation.

She nodded. He expected her to make a quick escape but instead she stood there, awkwardly silent. "Not the first time," she said softly. "Every time I swear it's the last but then something happens… Cris does something and I get mad… He's at his studio. That's where they meet. He has this little cot there because sometimes he gets really caught up in a painting and just stays there for hours and hours until he's exhausted. I bought it for him. Damn it! I bought him this cot so he could rest without breaking his little creative bubble and he uses it to fuck my sister." A tear slipped from her eye and she wiped it away in annoyance. "You don't want to hear this," she said embarrassed, "I don't know why I keep dumping on you, I don't even know you."

"Maybe you just needed to talk to someone," he offered, "and sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger about certain things. You wanna take a walk or something?"

She shook her head, "All I really want to do right now is take a shower."

"You're welcome to use my shower," he offered, hating the part of himself that reminded him that in her vulnerable state she was likely to divulge any information she might have about her husband's family.

"No thanks," she said hugging herself tighter, "I'd better get out of here before somebody else sees me."

"Okay," he nodded, not able to bring himself to push for information, "I'll see you later I guess."

"Yeah," she said blushing again as she hurried past him.

As he let himself into his room he glanced at his watch. He needed to check in with the field office but he wasn't looking forward to it. He could get them to acknowledge that he was better off working this one on his own but that wouldn't stop them from trying to tell him how to run his investigation. That was the last thing he needed. But if he didn't call and check in they'd start bugging him so he might as well get this over with.

He sat down on the bed and dialed the field office. "What's up, McBain?" Peterson answered.

"Just checking in," he said.

"How's it going?"

"Okay," he said, "settling in."

"You made contact with any of our players yet?"

"I met Cristian Vega briefly this morning," he said, "talked to his wife a few times. Also saw Antonio Vega but didn't get a chance to talk to him." He didn't provide any details of his encounters with Natalie figuring it wasn't particularly relevant.

"Any new leads on who it is taking over Santi's empire?"

"Not yet," he said, "but the wife might be willing to help."

"You haven't told her what you're doing, have you?" Peterson asked tensely.

"Of course not," he said, "but she seems pretty sharp. If she's seen or heard anything she'd remember. Might have pieced some things together."

"But would she be willing to squeal on her husband?"

He hesitated, unsure why he didn't feel entirely comfortable disclosing all the details he'd gleaned about the Vega marriage. "I think there's trouble in Paradise," he said, "She might not feel as much loyalty as you'd expect."

"Well I'll trust your instincts on this," he said, "find out what she knows and get back to me." Peterson hung up without a goodbye. That was how he was; only interested in the business end of things and once that was concluded, he was gone. John ran his hands through his hair—it was never that clean in the field. He could probably convince Natalie to help him infiltrate her husband's family and find out which one of them was trying to fill the power vacuum left by Manuel Santi's death, but she wouldn't be able to leave town like him once the case wrapped. Dysfunctional though it was, her marriage clearly meant a lot to her; if helping him on this case meant the end of her marriage could she live with that? Not to mention just getting involved could put her in physical danger; if she got caught in the crossfire could he live with that?

He flopped back on the bed and told himself that if he could take down a multinational drug empire it was worth the cost. He couldn't make the world fair; he was just trying to make it a little safer.

His phone rang; he expected it to be Peterson with further instructions on the case but saw Michael's name instead on the caller ID. "What's up Mikey?"

"I was just calling to see if you would let your adorable younger brother buy you dinner tonight," he said.

"I thought you had to work," he said.

"I did," Michael explained, "but I laid a guilt trip on one of my colleagues about how I never see my brother and he's here in town to visit me and I don't have any time to spend with him and she agreed to cover the last part of my shift so I should be able to get out of here about seven."

"You didn't have to do that," John said hoping he sounded pleased rather than annoyed with Michael for changing his plans.

"I know," he said cheerfully, "but it'll probably be another five years before I see you again so I figured I might as well make the most of it. You don't have plans, do you?"

"No, of course not," John said.

"Great!" he said, "I'll come home, change and knock on your door."

"See you then," he said as he hung up. John groaned. Just what he needed—more guilt. He hadn't seen Michael in years and the last time he'd seen him he'd been a self-absorbed punk. That's why he'd agreed so readily to use Michael as a cover for his investigation in Llanview. But arriving here he'd found a Michael who had changed completely and genuinely seemed interested in spending time with him. And all he could think was that spending time with Michael would only slow down his investigation.

On the other hand, part of the FBI's logic in assigning him this case was that having a brother in Llanview would make it easier for him to get the real story on the life of the town. Drinks with Michael last night had led inadvertently to his meeting with Natalie who was so far the best angle he'd found for gathering information on the Vega family.

An angle he wouldn't be able to pursue any further tonight since he'd be tied up with Michael. Why did that disappoint him so much? He felt bad for her—she was in a nasty situation which was likely to get worse and when she left the hotel a little while ago she hadn't been in the best of shape. Running his hands through his hair he had to remind himself once more that Natalie was just part of the case and that her personal life didn't concern him.

Natalie heard her cell phone ring as she was getting out of the shower but didn't move to answer it. She was dripping wet and there was no way she could towel off and get to it before it flipped to voicemail. Besides, there was no one she really wanted to talk to anyway.

The shower had helped a little. The hot water couldn't drive from her memory what she'd done anymore than it could make her forget that day when she'd walked in on Cris and Jessica, but at least she didn't feel quite so grimy. Blotting her damp hair with a towel she walked into the bedroom to check her cell phone and saw that she had a new voicemail from her mother. She switched the phone to speaker mode so she could play the message while she got dressed.

"Hey sweetie it's Mom. Listen I'm not sure if you're working tonight but I thought if you're not maybe you me and Jess could get together for dinner just us girls. I know Jessie's been a little down lately and I think it might help cheer her up. Besides, I never see you anymore. Well anyway, give me a call. Love you."

Taking a deep breath to keep from crying again, Natalie erased the message. So her mother was worried about Jessica. Of course she was. Everyone always worried about poor little Jessica who these terrible things kept happening to. They had no idea. A bitter laugh escaped her mouth as she thought how shocked her mother would be to find out what Jessica was doing to cheer herself up.

She started to formulate an excuse for why she couldn't come. She could tell them she had to work but it would be like her mother to take Jessica to Rodi's so they could say "hello" and if she did she'd discover someone else behind the bar. Then a thought occurred to her—Jessica had no idea that she knew. She thought about sitting opposite her sister, playing the blissful newlywed, the naïve wife who thought her husband loved her as much as she loved him.

Dabbing the corners of her eyes and smiling slyly she dialed her mother's number. "Mom? Hi, it's Natalie. Dinner sounds great! Okay, I'll see you at 7:30 then. Love you too. Bye." She knew Jessica well enough to know sitting across from her tonight would torture her. Any unpleasantness she might feel herself would be well worth it.

To be continued.