FULL MOON AND DENVER SEVEN
By AJ
Chapter Two
The case of the missing securities trader blessedly came to an end at noon on Friday when he was found in Aruba without any explanation other than he had 'freaked out' and fled to save his sanity.
Danny yanked the man's photo from the white board and began to erase the timeline that had taken nearly five days to compile. Also during the week the team found a lost teenager who had run away to have an abortion. Since the team had been split between the two cases, Martin had only seen Samantha in passing.
Finally together again, the team sat back and enjoyed an unharried few minutes before the end of their work week.
"Quite a first week back, huh?" Danny quipped as he finished with the board. Martin and Samantha gratefully leaned back in their desk chairs, simultaneously spinning around to face Danny.
Martin stretched. "Talk about being thrown back into real life," he yawned. "I was getting used to a full night's sleep."
"Welcome to reality," Samantha said with little sympathy.
"Gladly," Martin replied, twisting his chair further around to face her. When he smiled at her, he was pleased to see her cheeks flush a delightful rose color.
"We should celebrate your crashing back to Earth," Danny suggested. "Quick drink before . . . ?" his eyebrows rose as he tilted his head toward Samantha.
Samantha exhaled loudly and rolled her eyes as Martin laughed. "Sure, I think we have time. Sam?"
"One drink," Samantha shortly agreed. "I'm starving for real food." She gathered her purse.
"Sheesh, she's a pushy broad. Sure you want to take her out?" Danny quipped to Martin.
"Absolutely," Martin replied with a sure smile. Samantha threw Danny a smug look. The couple rose at the same time and he collected his coat. By the time Martin had slipped it on, Samantha was beside him. His hand rested on her lower back as he guided her toward the exit. "Meet you down there," he threw over his shoulder to Danny.
Danny watched the two of them as they walked away, their heads bent together intimately as they spoke. Vivian broke his gaze as she stepped up to Danny's chair with coat on and purse tucked under her elbow.
"Well?" she asked. "Are we joining them for a drink or do they want to be alone?"
Jack walked from his office and joined them, shrugging on his jacket.
Danny immediately grabbed his jacket and grinned mischievously. "Oh, yeah, we're joining them. I want to see how long we can make 'em stick around."
Jack snorted. "I say they'll be gone before we even get there."
"I say ten minutes," Viv said dryly.
"Five bucks says I can keep 'em there for over twenty," Danny offered.
"You're on," Jack replied.
The three moved quickly in pursuit.
Martin and Samantha managed to ditch the others after twenty-two minutes and one drink. As they left, Martin was sure he heard Danny say "pay up!" He didn't look back to see what happened but mentally figured that Danny owed him something and made a note to press him later his share.
The restaurant was pleasantly alive but the atmosphere was intimate enough to carry a conversation. While waiting for their order to arrive, Martin's hand sat warmly on top of hers and they talked about whatever came to mind. The food came and left, as did the patrons seated around them, and still they talked. They each had an espresso and shared a dessert, hands touching at every opportunity. Every now and then exploring fingers caressed a chin, a cheek, a knee, the touch light and trembling. The spark of the touches undeniably grew with each encounter.
Their chairs moved inexplicably closer with time until their foreheads nearly touched. Time slipped by, and eventually, Martin raised his head and noticed that the restaurant was practically empty. The maitre de regarded them with polite curiosity and a faint smile.
"I guess they want to close now, if I'm reading my polite dirty looks correctly," Martin said softly and finding her warm eyes. He stroked the back on her hand with his thumb, each line stoking a fire within. "Shall we?"
Martin rose, reluctant to release her hand, and she smoothly followed. Finally, he released his grip in order to help her with her coat. He guided her out the door with his arm resting lightly around her waist. Outside, they exchanged a smoldering look as their fingers entwined. They shared a cab in silent agreement and huddled close during the ride. When they arrived at Samantha's apartment, they were still unable separate. She pulled him from the cab leaned in close, her hand over his heart.
"Pay the man," she said huskily.
Martin threw in more than enough cash and was quickly pulled inside the building by his elbow. Samantha unsuccessfully tried to control a satisfied grin as she pulled him in snugly to her side. They made it to the elevator under the amused and watchful eye of the doorman and by then, Martin was so entranced there was no way in heaven that he could leave. Samantha Spade had him entirely and completely ensnared.
She pulled him through her doorway of her apartment and found his lips with hers as soon as the door closed. He gathered her soft hair at the nape of her neck and pulled her in, allowing her tongue to explore first. Entwined, they stood together as possessive hands pushed away any clothing blocking their way.
Samantha fumbled with his belt as Martin's hands found their way under her blouse to caress her smooth skin. He groaned in anticipation as his thumbs found the front of her lacy bra, the material tight against her erect nipples. His belt finally undone and waistband released, Martin's hands felt their way around her body to unfasten the delicate cloth that separated them.
Samantha's hands slid down his back and under the hem of his boxers, kneading his flesh, forcing his hips to hers. The feel of his hardness against her made him groan again and before he lost complete control right there Martin scooped her up and claimed her mouth with his as he carried her to bed.
Her arms circled his neck and they tumbled down on rich linen, locked in a hungry kiss and scrambling to discard any remaining clothing. With that freedom finally attained, they slowed, each stroke of hand impossibly releasing more desire. Martin traced her neck with his mouth as he firmly cupped her breast with one hand and teased the hard nipple with his thumb. Samantha's moan caused his other hand to search down under her undulating body until he gripped the roundness of her ass, forcing her tight to him. His mouth dropped to her other breast and he nibbled and tongued the nub until she writhed in want.
Martin's mouth released her and traced a burning trail up her neck. He felt her heart's pulse quicken against his lips. He moaned at his need and pulled her impossibly closer.
When he entered her, her entire body shivered and arced to meet his. Martin struggled for some bit of control but when her smooth legs wrapped around his thighs, he was lost in desire.
oooooOOOOOooooo
It was early Saturday morning just outside Denver and Ezra Standish was not pleased.
He had received the call for this meeting late the previous evening so his plans for sleeping in had, yet again, been dashed. The only solace he could glean from this was that it would be another step in nailing the Hanna cartel's gun runners. So far, the family had been frustratingly elusive.
The undercover ATF agent brushed a bit of imaginary lint from the lapel of his silk blend jacket. For a fleeting second he was able to enjoy the feel of the expensive weave under his fingertips before he tugged the sleeve to finish his smooth look. It was definitely worth the hour of verbal fencing with the bean counters in finance, and, in reality, he had to admit that his oratory skills were not entirely the reason that he won the purchase; Team Seven's impressive track record did a lot of speaking on its own.
Teams Four and Six constantly griped about the inequality of budgets in this regard and that thought made Standish smirk. Ezra remembered his boss' comment to the respective team leaders on that subject: "It's all about bein' the big dogs, boys," Chris Larabee had said. "And my big dogs can hunt."
It wasn't the most eloquent way of putting things, he mused, but it did get the job done. And that was what Ezra admired about his team - they got the job done time and again.
A stifled curse muttered under hot breath caught the undercover agent's attention and he rolled his eyes heavenward for a moment in search of patience. They'd pulled together the plan for this meeting in the wee hours of the morning and they were all tired.
"Mr. Tanner, must you fidget so?" he sighed. "My good humor is tenuous as it is." Turning his head slightly he narrowed his eyes in the direction of his partner, not surprised in the least to see him tugging on the collar of his custom shirt. His expression could only be described as 'disgusted'.
"Still don' see why I gotta dress up in a monkey suit to set up a buy. Money's money."
"In this case money is a show as well, Mr. Tanner. You know that. Appearance betroths success in this particular circle so cease accosting your collar - silk cannot take the abuse."
"Would you two can it?" Chris's voice was tinny as heard through the ear pieces, his snarl clearly signaling that his patience was gone. They all needed sleep and waiting in the early morning hot sun did not help attitudes. At least Ezra and Vin had the luxury of the car's air conditioning up until they had to exit for the microphone check. The others were divided between the boxy, hot surveillance van and the brush that surrounded this open area.
"I am not the one prancing in place like a virgin on her wedding night," Ezra stated firmly, twisting away from his partner to cast his gaze in the direction he expected their contact to arrive. The microphone tested clear and now it was down to the waiting.
"Prance? I don't prance!" Vin snapped, releasing his collar to give Ezra's shoulder a push. "And virgin? Do you wantme ta belt ya?"
"Tanner, knock it off!" Chris' limit had definitely been reached. Ezra heard snickering in the background from the other team members through his earpiece. "Stand still or I'll belt ya myself! You're causin' static."
Unfazed, Ezra's mouth twitched to successfully control his urge to laugh – Vin, although usually quiet and at peace, was easily riled when tired. And they were all tired. Ezra lifted his hand and studied his nails as he acknowledged their boss and smoothed his facial features. "I would appreciate that, Mr. Larabee. I surely do not need to ruin my manicure on one of my own teammates."
Vin snorted. "Dream on, Ez. You'd never touch me."
"Stop it, children. Lannen's inbound." Buck's voice was all business as he reported the arrival of their current suspect.
"And so the dance begins," Ezra said lowly, falling into the role of Edward St. James, illegal weapons broker.
"Dance? Shit, Ezra . . ." Vin grumbled as he gave his jacket an irritated tug.
"Shut up, Tanner!" Chris ordered.
Standish allowed the exchange to pass with a grin then plucked the earpiece from his ear. Vin followed suite and held out his hand. Ezra dropped his listening device into Vin's palm and the items were stowed inside the car. The only piece of equipment now active was the microphone on Ezra. He tugged at the shirt sleeve, insuring the device was clear of the jacket sleeve.
Ezra stood square in front of their dark Mercedes with his hands clasped loosely together in front of him. Vin quietly joined him, adjusting his dark glasses and now all business. They both found and followed the approach of the sedan, their mutual curiosity about the meeting bringing them focus.
Ezra had closed a minor arms deal with Billy Lannen only a week ago. For the team, it was a precursor to a bigger buy they wanted from the Hanna cartel; Ezra and Vin had to gain Lannen's trust. No one had expected another contact so soon.
As they waited for the arrival of Lannen, Ezra quickly replayed the first deal in his mind – it had been for a crate of assault rifles, a small buy that promised bigger fish later. After Vin had checked the weapons by shooting them in this very field, the deal was quickly closed. The rifles had been top quality and Ezra had stated that he could take as many as Lannen could supply.
Lannen's vehicle pulled to a stop and before the thin wash of trailing dust curled over the car, the passenger side door flung open. A beefy man stepped out – Lannen's bodyguard. The man stepped forward and both agents prepared to be patted down just like the first time they had met.
Ezra noticed the annoyed clench of Vin's jaw at the unwelcome touch, taking it without comment. When he was done, the large man stepped back and nodded toward the sedan. The driver exited the vehicle and opened the back door. Lannen stepped out, slipping on sunglasses in the glare of daylight.
Billy Lannen was a small man with rat-like features. His fingers sparkled with expensive and gaudy jewelry and his clothes, although cut in a radical style, were top quality. The man was too flashy for Standish's taste, but had been impressed by his negotiation skills; he'd underestimated the man at first and their initial deal was a lesson learned to not judge a book by its cover.
"Mr. St. James, Mr. Nicklin," Lannen greeted, his hand extended. Ezra firmly shook it, as did Vin. "I'll get right to the point, gentlemen."
"Always an outstanding idea," Ezra quipped. "Our previous encounter was mutually lucrative and I can only believe we can arrange more of the same. What brings us together on this glorious morn?"
"Yeah, we did good on that last deal, but this is something different." He removed his sunglasses a gave Vin a lingering look with beady, rodent eyes. "I have a proposition for Mr. Nicklin, actually. A little freelance work."
Caught off guard, Ezra glanced at Vin and quickly disguised surprised at the comment. Ezra regrouped in a few seconds quickly and recalled one of the first rules of undercover work: Never get separated from your partner. Then Agent Ezra Standish did what he did best – negotiated on the fly.
"I speak for Mr. Nicklin as his agent and partner, Mr. Lannen. We find that arrangement to be mutually beneficial in the long run."
Lannen's smile seemed predatory in nature. "And safer, I would think." He replaced his dark glasses and paused in consideration, his gaze traveling up and down Vin in a way that gave Ezra a chill.
"What is it that you wish to discuss?" Ezra inquired, his voice thickly Southern.
"I must confess, Mr. St. James, that I have investigated your partner's background since our last meeting." His eyes drilled into Vin as he spoke, and the agent returned the stare is spades. "An opportunity has come to my attention and I believe Mr. Nicklin's . . . skills . . . can be used in an, um, mutually satisfying and lucrative way."
Ezra kept his eyes on Lannen but he saw in his peripheral vision that Vin shifted slightly, uncomfortable with this subject. He, too, was uneasy with the direction this conversation was taking but the fact that Vin did not protest in any way told Ezra volumes about the trust his partner had in him; Vin's silence signaled Ezra to continue speaking for him.
"Well," Ezra stalled, thinking furiously, his face bland. "This is certainly an unexpected turn of events."
The man shifted his attention to Ezra, continuing to speak as if Vin was deaf. "I couldn't help but notice Mr. Nicklin's skill with a rifle at our last meeting. Recently I was contacted by someone looking for such talent and I checked further into your partner's background. Army weapons expert, Ranger, hand to hand experience, black ops – I have no doubt that what I found was only a fraction of your actual experience and skill, Mr. Nicklin." The small man's attention reverted back to Vin.
Ezra recognized Vin's planted history, the past of one James Nicklin. A lot of the experiences listed in the fictional background were based on Vin's true history. Tanner's real Army Ranger profile was much deeper and heavily shrouded in secrecy. Ezra knew no one in their team – including their boss Chris – would ever know the full extent of Vin's past missions.
Vin openly glared at Lannen. As Nicklin, he was as protective of his past as Vin was of his reality. "You gotta point somewhere?" Vin growled.
Lannen shook his head and laughed shortly. "My customer is looking for a gun. A specific kind of gun. Your kind, Mr. Nicklin." He turned back to Ezra. "My buyer has cash and solid backing. I daresay you could name your price, but I would require an appropriate broker's fee, of course."
"Of course." Ezra's mind worked quickly with this unexpected offer. "I do not have to point out the risks in such a venture, I am sure," he started. "This will cost your client, Mr. Lannen. Such a deal puts our entire business and both of our futures in jeopardy."
"I understand. I am authorized at this point to guarantee two million if Mr. Nicklin is chosen. He also must follow directions exactly, no questions asked."
"What? No one picks my shots!" Vin snapped. Ezra placed a restraining hand on his partner's forearm.
"You do not seem to understand our situation," Ezra said evenly, his practiced poker face unreadable even though his thoughts raced. "That is not enough to risk our current business. Our livelihood is at stake, Mr. Lannen." He paused and shifted slightly, never dropping his eyes from Lannen's. Finally, he took a gamble. "Five million minimum guarantee or we are not interested."
Lannen cocked his head. 'He is actually considering it!' Ezra realized. He'd hoped that amount would break the deal, a deal which made him extremely nervous due to the lack of information. Right now, all he was trying to accomplish was to get both of them out of this situation and save face with Lannen at the same time.
Lannen's small grin did nothing to appease Ezra's bad feeling. "I will extend the counter offer. Please wait." He retreated to the car, pulling out a cell phone as he walked.
Ezra turned his back to the sedan and pressed his lips tightly together. Vin also turned and moved in closer. "What the fuck is going on, Ez?" he whispered hotly.
"I do not know, Mr. Tanner, but it seems our Mr. Lannen is shopping for a shootist for someone else. This is totally unexpected, I assure you."
Vin's jaw muscles worked furiously under his skin. "I don't like this," he ground out.
"Neither do I, Mr. Nicklin. I do think, however, that we need to keep our options open at this point." He flicked his eyes to Vin's and they locked gazes. Even without details, they both knew that this was something big. After a moment Vin gave a short nod, in essence giving Ezra the rein he needed to keep them both in play. Ezra knew that their team leader must be having apoplexy at this point; Chris Larabee loathed surprises.
When Lannen stepped from the sedan again his face was unreadable. He slipped the phone into his pocket and walked quickly toward them.
"That price is within reason," Lannen said shortly. He held his hand out and quickly shook both agents' hands. "Bring your rifle to the McMillian Gun Club tomorrow, 9:00 sharp." He handed Ezra a business card with the address.
Ezra smiled charmingly. "Until tomorrow, then."
Lannen grinned that infuriating grin and turned on his heel, disappearing into the limo which then left in a dusty cloud. Ezra slipped the card into his inner coat pocket as Vin exhaled sharply. After a moment they retreated to the coolness of idling sedan's interior. Vin retrieved the earpieces from the back seat and held them up in the palm of his hand.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" Chris's tinny voice could be heard as the earpieces sat in Vin's hand.
The two agents looked at each other.
"You first?" Vin offered up his palm cradling the tiny electronic pieces.
Ezra raised an eyebrow. "I propose a coin toss."
Instead, Vin held up his other hand as a fist. "Rock, paper, scissors."
With an unhappy frown, Ezra complied. He lost. Vin smiled crookedly as Standish plucked up his earpiece and inserted it with a wince. "Can we wait until Lannen's vehicle is out of sight, Mr. Larabee?" he calmly suggested. "I am afraid he can hear you at this juncture."
"Ezra, you and Vin get your asses over here! NOW!"
"Yes, sir. Our collective asses are enroute as we speak."
Vin laughed as he dropped his earpiece in the ashtray and the Mercedes into gear. "D'ya think he'd notice if we took the long way 'round?" he said lowly.
"I heard that, Vin!"
"I am afraid so, Mr. Tanner."
TBC