Happy New Year!

Thank you to everyone who continue to read this story and comment and send messages with their conspiracy theories about what's really happening :) It's really inspiring that so many of you like the story and the writing.

I'm sorry it's taken so long. My only excuse is that it's truly been a hell of a year.

I hope you enjoy this update and I promise I won't take so long to update again.

Enjoy!

Chapter 4

"Eliot," Kennedy's soft call and gentle nudge brought him back to the present. He immediately remembered that they were in the open and they'd lingered longer than they should have. A renewed sense of urgency spurred him on.

"We should go," he answered finally and turned to duck back toward the door.

"Where," Kennedy asked as she followed closely.

"Somewhere safe," Eliot responded, shutting the door behind them as soon as she was clear.

The entire situation was becoming increasingly more volatile by the minute and Eliot was beginning to feel a very pressing need to level the playing field.

He led Kennedy to the top floor's laundry room hoping that he'd find what they needed.

The whirring tumble of the dryer machine was a welcomed sound to his ears.

Eliot took a closer look at one of the dryers- thankfully close to the end of its cycle, and found what he'd hoped for: an assortment of men's and women's clothing, different enough from what they were wearing to provide a disguise.

He opened the still steaming-hot machine and grabbed a swath of pale pink material and shook it loose to find out what it was. It rolled out into a maxi-dress. It was perfect; light and feminine and totally different from what Kennedy'd been wearing. He held it out to her and she understood he meant for her to change.

"Quickly," he instructed firmly and she went into action without objection.

Eliot turned back to the dryer and grabbed a deep blue tee shirt and khaki cargo pants; red, hooded sweater; and navy green knitted hat to hide his hair. He hesitated for a quick moment before deciding to pull out his wallet and retrieve two hundred dollar bills to throw into the waiting dryer.

He gathered up his new wardrobe and turned in time to see Kennedy pull the short brunette wig from her head to reveal a long, thick fall of wavy strawberry-blonde hair.

Seeing the cascade of decadent waves again drew an immediate reaction. His breathing caught and he became acutely aware of how desperately he wanted to run his fingers through the languished curls.

Then he snapped the hell out of it.

'It's hair...she's a woman...this is not the time...get a god dammed grip'

He gave himself a metal slap as he tore out of his suit. His mind briefly wandered to the reason he'd worn it in the first place- Joshua's first day of school. Bella. The thought of the children- unaware and vulnerable, make Eliot's stomach clench with new urgency. He needed to get word to Hardison: his omnipresent eyes and ears.

He needed a public phone. He knew he couldn't trust cell phones right now. Their location would be compromised within seconds.

He looked around to see if fortune would fall on them again but there was no phone in the laundry room.

"How's this," Kennedy called his attention.

He turned to see her roughly passing her hands against the dress to smooth out the creases. The pale pink of the dress looked luxurious against the glow of her skin. He remembered every one of the freckles that dusted her collarbone- he remembered them all intimately. Then she plucked and fluffed her hair, so that it fell in messy, ruffled waves. She was flushed from adrenaline and her cheeks and lips were pink and dewy. She looked like she'd just rolled out of bed...

Damn- it!

He didn't need any distractions. Not at that moment. He knew he had more discipline than his body was displaying, but looking at her, he was having trouble finding it.

"Good...," he answered, his voice thick. He cleared his throat and began again, "it's good...you look different...from how you looked before...it's...good."

'What the hell was that?' He growled at himself.

He turned back to the task of putting on his disguise.

The clothes fit well enough to be his and the hat hid his hair completely.

He turned to Kennedy- who seemed to be watching him with a little more than passive interest, and nodded to let her know they were good to go.

He gathered their discarded clothes and checked the pockets. He ensured that they'd left nothing behind that could be tied to them then loaded the clothes into a washing machine filled with already wet clothes and set the machine in motion once again.

He looked over to Kennedy and nodded. She knew intuitively what he was trying to communicate. They were about to make their run for it.

Eliot went to the door and peered around the corner. Kennedy was at his elbow again, closer to him than his shadow.

He felt her heat and turned quickly when a thought occurred, "Look Kennedy, if things go sideways, I want you to run. Do you understand?" He paused and held her gaze while his message sunk in. She nodded silently. "Don't try to contact anyone, don't try to be a hero, just find a safe spot and lay low. I will find you."

The full weight of what he was saying reached her, "Will she be safe?" She asked the question more for to remind him of where her own safety ranked on her list of priorities than for any real reassurance he could provide. He knew instantly she was referring to Isabella.

"She's safe. This isn't about her," he answered definitively.

A quick flash of wariness crossed her face, "You seem very sure about that," her tone more curious than accusing. "What is this about Eliot? Please tell me if you know."

Eliot groaned inwardly. There wasn't time for explanations. He needed her to trust him fully and do as he instructed. But he knew three things about Kennedy, she was as stubborn as granite; she didn't trust easily if at all; and he'd already had- and lost- the tenuous faith she placed in people.

He shepherded her back into the laundry room, lest someone rounded the corner they'd have time and space to react.

Kennedy eyed him intently, practically willing the words out of his mouth.

"I recognize one of the men at the house," Kennedy hung on the word but leaned in as if waiting for the rest of the story to halt her fall.

Eliot found himself searching for the right words. He was so unaccustomed to having to explain himself, to offering glimpses into his past, to revealing his weaknesses, vulnerabilities.

He sighed heavily.

"The man was once my Commanding officer..." Eliot stopped and closed his eyes, "He's supposed to be dead."

He could feel Kennedy's agitation growing.

"I... I don't understand...what does that have to do with..."

"I killed him," Eliot ground out finally, the weight of the words forcing their way thorugh his chest. "I killed him," he said again as he opened his eyes and found her deep-green, saucer-wide gaze.

"He was the first person I ever..." he couldn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. "I think this thing is all about me."

Kennedy stared at him blankly for a few moments, her mouth open, her brows furrowed. An unending stream of questions barreled through her mind, constipating her speech.

Eliot released a rushed breath. He was not a man known for his patience. He wanted her to spit out the question or thought that was causing her to look like a fish in a desert.

His exasperated expulsion of air was just the fuse that Kennedy needed to spark her back to life. Her thoughts became immediately clear.

"This is all because of you?!" She began softly, her tone already telling him that there was trouble. Her thinned lips, gnashed teeth, lowered chin, glowering eyes and the steadily rising red flush creeping up her neck telling him that she was going to go nuclear. "My life, Isabelle's life...my brother... Matt...Jared, this is all because of you?"

She was building slowly. He had to get a handle on this and quickly, they didn't have time. "Kennedy, look..."

But she wouldn't be appeased and her voice got louder, "Don't, Eliot..." She rose her palm to stop him cold. "I've given up a lot to have a normal life. To give Izz a normal life, a safe life. You have no idea the things I had to do. And once again you bring your mess into my life and I'm left with the fall out."

It was his turn to release some righteous indignation, "What the hell are you talking about?" He barked, "I didn't invite you into my life, Kennedy. You found me, remember, with a gun pointed at my face, if we're strolling down memory lane. So before you jump on your woe-is-me high horse, remember who brought mess to who."

They glared at each other, both breathing hard, nostrils flared, fists clenched, chests rising and falling in syncopated agitation. Each leaning into the space between them willing the other to cower, neither having success.

Ten, palpably-tense seconds passed.

Then Eliot lost the delicate control he had on his discipline. He reached out and wrapped his arm around Kennedy's waist, pulling her middle to his as his lips sought and found hers. Kennedy's raging fury channeled instantly into the passionate kiss and she wrapped herself around him, her hands roaming his back and shoulders. She couldn't get close enough.

It was like riding a bike. An extremely hot, exceedingly sexy, explosively passionate bike.

They kissed each other hungrily, the memory of every one of their many encounters pinging to life with every touch, every shift of their heads, every inch of unhappily clothed flesh that screamed for shedding.

Then common sense reared its unwelcomed head.

"Kennedy," Eliot called softly, her name falling from his lips. His eyes still closed, his breathing evening, he willed his yearning to quell. "We have to get out of here."

Kennedy's shock and protest of his sudden absence from her lips, abated quickly when she remembered where they were. She nodded silently, more for her own affirmation than to answer him. She looked at his closed eyes, his moist, kiss-reddened lips and she felt the gentle tug of her reawakened love for Eliot Spencer.

She closed her eyes and exhaled as the realization settled over her. She didn't want to fall in love with him again. Or, rather, she didn't like knowing that she never stopped.

"Where do we go now?" she asked him quietly, the defeated tone of her voice stirring Eliot to open his eyes.

He reached up to touch her face, "Hey," he called and she opened her eyes warily. He leaned in to hold her focus, "I am sorry that you got dragged into this...but I can make you a promise right now that I'm going to get to the bottom of this whole thing and you and Isabella can go back to the most normal of normal lives that you can imagine." He gifted her with a small smile and her heart clenched in warning.

Eliot took her hand and led her cautiously out of the laundry room and Kennedy knew that the self-warning was useless. She loved Eliot. And knowing all of the trouble she endured the first time she tried to overcome her love for him, there was no more terrifying thought than that.