Spagnetti dutifully (and gleefully) made sure to share the transcript of the wire with Robbery / Homicide's Captain as he, and a number of other Vice Detectives found it both humorous and illuminating. Captain Tidwell found it neither. He schooled his features, while his ire rose as he read the lines in black and white on the page.
"She's got a repuation," Spagnetti offered chuckling. "Sounds like she earned it."
His grin was slightly malicious and he took great pleasure in disclosing the transcript and what the language hinted at. The Vice cop had both a mean streak and a grudge against Dani Reese. She'd used him for the tool he was years ago and then dropped him like the proverbial hot potato.
"Get out," Tidwell growled.
"We just thought you should know," Spagnetti advised. "You know? As her Captain."
It was the worst kept secret in LAPD that Tidwell and Reese were an item and had been for several months. Of course, that was before. Before Roman Nevikov took her, held her hostage and chained her to a chair and had her beg Crews to help her. That hurt. She asked Crews to come to her aid; Crews, not him. He wondered if that was her idea or Roman's; they'd never talked about it. Come to think about it, they'd never talked about anything.
Tidwell wasn't stupid; he knew Crews loved Dani. Why else would you give up everything – forfeit your career and your life to save another guy's girl? He also knew Crews would not allow himself to go there; to subject her to the dangers that were his life. What had changed?
He walked past the two of them in the bullpen. They sat at their desks looking completely normal. He knew neither one of them was normal, not by a long shot. She was typing a report as he talked to someone on the phone. He watched Crews switch the phone to his other hand and cradle it on his shoulder, writing something down. He spoke sharply to his partner and she shushed him, clamping a pencil between her teeth and finishing her thought before looking up. Crews sighed and waited. He saw no evidence of any change in them, but for the sheaf of papers in his hand.
The elevator dinged behind him and the doors opened. Tidwell got on the elevator and left the office. He took the afternoon to cool off. If he was going to talk to the mercurial little detective, he needed to be sure. She'd be furious either way, but something in her had changed after Roman. Something changed between them. It was as if her trust in him was shaken. Maybe it was her trust in herself, he imagined.
A week after her rescue, he'd convinced her to stay over at his apartment. For a fleeting moment, he wondered why he'd never slept over at her place, but he didn't give it a lot of thought. His invitation did not turn out as he'd hoped. Dinner went well enough, even though conversation between them was awkward and stilted. When they sat together on the couch to watch a movie, he sensed and felt her profound unease. His arm around her lay against tense shoulder muscles and when they went to bed the tension remained. He didn't even try anything remotely romantic. He tried to be supportive and loving as he kissed her on the cheek and rolled over and tried to go to sleep. He listened as she lay in the dark, being still, breathing evenly, but not sleeping. She fled in the morning at first light and hadn't been back since.
She'd been short with everyone after the shrink cleared her to return to work – even Crews felt her temper on occasion, but he accepted it, as he accepted her – without comment or judgment. Perhaps that was his secret. Nothing changed in the way he interacted with his partner. While the rest of the squad treated her with kid gloves and her lover walked on eggshells, Crews acted as though nothing had changed. But everything had changed and it would never be the same.
At the end of the day, he called her. He knew she'd be walking to her car.
"Uh…can we talk?" he asked awkwardly.
"We are talking," she replied caustically.
"I meant…"
She was patently annoyed. "I know what you meant," she finished his sentence.
"Got a hot date?" he replied.
Empty air met him. His quick wit would be the death of him.
She'd stopped walking. He could envision her reaction. Her tongue was tucked in her cheek and she chewed on a suitable response. She'd raise her sunglasses and squint into the setting sun. "I will talk to you tomorrow, Captain." The call ended abruptly and he knew somehow tomorrow was not going to be fun.
"What's up?" she asked leaning into Tidwell's office door. She was dressed in a white shirt, a dark blazer, black jeans and black boots. She looked clean, neat, healthy and well rested. She was obviously not falling apart or crawling back into the bottle. If she'd chosen to dump him for Crews, it certainly because of distress or lack of options.
"Shut the door," he directed curtly.
She glanced at Crews, who was seated at his desk peeling an apple with a dangerous looking four-inch stainless steel folding knife. Crews grinned at her as she shut the door. She was smiling when she turned to face her boss and former lover. That smile wouldn't last.
"Talk to me about this," he said handing her the transcript.
She hid the shock well, but not well enough. "It's Crews. You know him…he's nuts."
"So you're not…"
"Not what?" she inquired as her eyes narrowed, her posture stiffened and he could feel her getting angry.
"Nothing," he tried to walk it back.
"Not what? Not fucking? That's what you're asking isn't it? If I'm fucking my partner," she hissed at him in a terse whisper.
"Yes, that's what I'm asking," he stuck his chin out.
"That is none of your business, Captain," she said in clipped tones emphasizing his rank on purpose. She also pointedly had not answered his question. She turned on her heel and walked out, effectively ending the conversation.
"You okay?" Crews inquired curiously as she emerged and it was obvious from her body English that she was pissed.
"He knows," she growled under her breath.
"Knows what?" Crews played dumb.
She scowled at him and motioned to the stairwell left of the elevator bank. Once inside, she spoke in a low tone, "he knows about us."
"There's an us?" he questioned in a teasing tone.
"Isn't there?" she wondered suddenly unsure.
"Do you want there to be an us?" he bantered back.
"I want," she began determined to dress him down and then she realized he was somewhat serious and earnest. Dani Reese was not a 2.5 kids, mini-van and white picket fence kind of girl. She wasn't looking for a marriage proposal and happily ever after and he knew it. It was his advantage and it made him cocky. Luckily for him, she liked cocky.
"Tell me what you want," his tone was suggestive and full of gravel.
"I wanna drag you into the corner and kiss the smirk off your face," she threatened.
"I would willingly submit," he smiled, "but…" he pointed up at the closed circuit camera in the corner. "Rain check?"
She nodded once curtly and walked back to the bullpen.
"Did you volunteer us for undercover again?"
"Yep, Thursday," he advised. "Spagnetti thinks I'm a natural," he grinned.
"I'll bet," her voice dripped with sarcasm.
A look between them heated the air. Want shimmered. God damn him, she thought.
"Will you promise not to talk to me all night?"
"No, I don't think I will," he smiled.
She rolled her eyes in mock protest.
"You are my favorite person to talk to, Reese. Well, my favorite since I stopped talking to myself." He paused for a moment and then whispered loudly, "I did that after the second year in solitary. Even in prison talking to yourself is considered kinda crazy."
"Ya think?" she shot back tersely.
They were fine. They were better than fine; they were content with what they were, which was nothing more than they'd been before. Only now they were that completely. Neither was reliving their past, nor concerned with their uncertain future. They were in the now. Now was pretty great.
"Crews?" she called after him as he readied to leave for the night. "Thursday? I'm coming with you. I'll be in the club with you." The look on her face was both pleased and predatory. It was mildly frightening.
Now it was his turn to be off balance. He smiled, but he didn't know what he was in for. Dani Reese was a wild woman and he knew it. He just didn't know what kind of wild he was going to Ritual with on Thursday night.
Thursday night, Charlie pulled to the street corner two blocks away from pickup the wire from Spagnetti. A swarthy fireplug looking cop taped the antenna to Charlie's chest before the red head pulled his t-shirt down and tucked his dress shirt in.
Not much conversation occurred, but Spagnetti couldn't resist a parting shot. "Where's your hot partner tonight Crews?" he asked chuckling.
Charlie turned and looked at the Vice Detective Sergeant. "Say that again…" he requested calmly.
"I asked you where your hot little partner…" Spagnetti began. Charlie's hard right hook interrupted him. It was a quick, snapshot of a punch; so quick in fact, most of the Detectives milling about missed it.
They just heard Spagnetti stop speaking and Dani Reese pipe up. "I'm right here," she said drawing every eye in the group.
She was dressed to kill. She was wearing a black mini dress speckled with glitter. It was cut down the back and her skirt showed off her legs, which were covered with a patterned stocking Crews found fascinating. Her dress accented her curves and her bust, which was generally smothered by her coat, but not tonight. Her sheer femininity was obvious and impressive. Her hair was down in loose curls. Hot did not come close. Half the men's jaw's dropped; some actually began to drool.
She reached for Crews and pulled him by the hand back to his Maserati. "Come' on, Crews. Let's go have some fun…" she murmured to him.
They climbed into the car and he sparked the engine to life. His hand left the gearshift and caressed her knee before travelling up her thigh. He said nothing, but his smile said a lot.
They left the Maserati with the valet and as the velvet rope was unclipped, Charlie asked her under his breath, "How do you wanna play this?"
"Haven't you ever had a threesome Crews?" Dani was having fun with both the listening audience and the transcript of their night, which she knew would find it's way to Tidwell's desk in the morning.
His suit suddenly felt very hot and incredibly tight. She was going to shave five years off his life tonight – and that was before the undercover op ended and he took her home.