Chapter 4

"You're looking good," Bobby said.

She gave him a smile. "You're drunk, but I'll accept the compliment."

"No, really. I'd forgotten." His eyes scanned the length of her.

"You're going gray," she said, one finger touching the hair at his temple. "I like it. Sexy."

"How's… what was his name again?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "What's his name is off with what's her name, and I couldn't give a rat's ass." She saw him struggling with the right thing to say, and took the pressure off. "We broke it off a while ago. I'm on my own nowadays."

"Oh." He swallowed down what remained of his drink.

"You?"

"You know me, Claudia, it's just a revolving door around here."

"So you're…"

"Unattached."

Her grin widened and held a hint of mischief. "Wanna… for old times' sake?"

He scanned her body again, flashes of memories of bare flesh and heat and sex burning his brain. "Hell yeah," he breathed, leaning in for a lustful kiss.

Tongues continued to probe until he leaned in too far and lost his balance, catching himself with his left arm on the edge of the bar.

"Bobby," she said with a grin. "I'd forgotten." He tossed down a few bills on the bar. After a quick pit stop, they were on their way to the subway, arm in arm.

She crossed her legs over his lap on the train, her hands hooked around his neck as they continued to kiss. Conversation wasn't necessary. With Claudia, it never had been.

He led her to his apartment. They didn't bother removing everything; only the items that were in the way. The tail of her blouse bunched up against him, adding a new sensation to the mix. Bobby thrust against her, hard, and they grunted and heaved until he exploded inside her. A wave of peace crashed over him. It lasted a while, and he enjoyed every minute of it. They napped together, still sticky from the sweat and their mingled juices.

He roused her from her sleep, his hands finally stripping her to her bare skin. She was long and lean, and though her breasts looked small, they filled his eager hands. His whiskers scraped the skin of her cheek as they devoured each other again. Bobby felt her tongue swirling hard into the soft part of his neck, and his hips pushed up hard, finding her wet and ready.

Again, they fucked hard and fast, until overloaded senses cried out and shut down. All of time stopped.

In the morning, after a shower and a shave, Bobby found a marker in his desk drawer and scrawled out a note for her before he left for work.

Claudia,

Just lock up when you leave. I'll call you.

Sometime.

Bobby

Although he'd stopped for the coffee and Danish like always, one look told her he was in a mood. "Thanks," she said, accepting the coffee. He grunted a response. "Rough night?" She asked.

His eyes snapped to hers, but he didn't say the first 6 things that came to mind. Instead, he stammered and lied. "Oh, uh, I… uh, you know… couldn't sleep."

The hickey was small, but she caught a glimpse of it peeking out from under his collar. "Hard to sleep when you're attacked by leeches," she joked.

Instantly, his hand went to his neck. He scowled at her. "Funny," he said, but it was clear he didn't think it was.

"You're back with Janine?" she asked.

"I don't think it's your business," he snapped, his voice rising in pitch, "who I'm with, Eames!"

She raised an eyebrow and leaned back. "Geez, all right, already."

Bobby ran a hand through his hair, turned and walked away. He made his way to the john, took a piss, and washed his hands. Aggravated, he stared at his tired face in the mirror. Bobby ran cool water over his hands, bent over, and splashed his face.

Last night had felt terrific at the time, but today, he felt like shit. And Alex, friend though she was, needed to stay out of his business.

"We picked up Rush last night," the Narcotics detective was explaining to the three from Major Case. "Real name's Pedro Garcia. He's 19, has a lot of priors, mostly pot. One domestic violence charge, he hit his mother."

"Sweetheart," Alex grumbled.

"Thanks," Bobby said, shaking the man's hand. Logan took the file from him and the narcotics officer left.

Mike looked through the glass of the observation room. "Draw straws?" he asked.

Bobby just left observation and walked right into the interrogation room. Alex, aggravated with him, followed, leaving Mike to observe.

"Pedro," Bobby said cheerfully. "Come for another visit, have you?"

"I don't know you, man."

"No, well…" Bobby looked at Eames and smiled. "Not me, but you are… making the rounds, aren't you? Trying to see the inside of as many… squad rooms as you can? Make a few… friends along the way?"

"Goren," Alex said in warning. He glared at her.

"So what's the visit for this time? Take a piss on the sidewalk? Or did you pop Mama another one? Or maybe you dropped your lunchbox and spilled your weed all over the damned place."

Garcia gave Goren a scowl.

Alex stepped forward. "I'm Detective Eames," she said, holding out her hand for him to shake. "Sorry about my partner. Detective Goren woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

It was all part of the game, but only Alex would be able to make it real at the same time. Goren stung from the remark.

"It looks like," Alex referred to the file, "you were picked up last night for possession of marijuana."

"Mary Jane," Bobby said. "Is that your mama's name, too?"

Pedro smacked the table and stood, glaring at Goren.

"Oh, come on now," Bobby laughed. "You're gonna protect her, now? Who protects her from you, Pedro?"

"Goren." Alex's voice was firm. Bobby waved his hands in the air and paced over towards the door.

"Mr. Garcia, you know how this works," Alex said. "We book you, you make bail, you go to court and end up on probation pissing into a cup for the next two years."

He stared at her.

"You don't want to go through that again, do you?" He remained silent, but his body language indicated he was listening.

"You see, Pedro, we're not after you. We're after the bigger fish."

"I don't rat on my boys."

"This is bigger than some guys hitting the 420, Pedro. It's about murder," Goren interjected.

His eyes widened. "I don't know no shit about no murder."

Eames moved closer to him, sat on the edge of the table. "I don't think you did it, Pedro. But I think you know something about it."

He slowly turned and looked up into her eyes.