Vegas in Red: Ring of Fire6

John flung the newspaper onto the table. As if he was issuing a challenge. "What the hell is this, O'Meara?"

Moira almost dropped the prehistoric mandible she was holding in her gloved hands. She whirled. The white lab coat flapped at her sides. John was glowering, hand on the paper, under the bold headline PSYCHO KILLER STALKS VEGAS! She set down the delicate jawbone. The elongated teeth made a clinking sound as they hit the hard surface of the table. "It looks like a newspaper to me, Sheppard. Are you sure you're a detective?"

"Funny. You know what the hell I mean!" He was angry, infuriated, even. Yet his gaze roved over her white lab coat, her latex gloves, her ponytail. A kinky scenario came and went in his mind. His lips quirked.

Moira frowned, seeing his sudden sordid interest. She glanced past him to the open door. Back to him. To his slovenly appearance. Gray shirt open at the chest, under a dark sports coat. Dark slacks and shoes. Belt askew. Shirt haphazardly tucked into the pants. "How the hell did you get in here?"

He flashed the police badge at his hip. Smiled. "Does wonders."

"The badge? Or that warrant you're packing next to it?"

He smiled. A genuine smile this time. "Both. Well?" He stabbed the paper with a forefinger.

Moira pulled off the latex gloves. They each made a sharp, snapping sound, causing John to jerk in his pants. "I was setting the record straight, is all. Actually, John, I was going to call you. I finally got my passport in order, no thanks to you, and I am—"

"Whoa, back up! You set the record straight? Care to inform me as I am the lead on the case?"

Moira was enjoying his ire. He was incredibly sexy when he glowered. Full, perfect lips pouting. Green eyes darker with a laser focus. Handsome face set in hard lines. She removed the lab coat, revealing her pale pink shirt and blue jeans. "What I said. That wasn't an animal attack, John, and you know it. The last thing we need is every Tom, Dick, and Harry out there in the desert shooting everything and anything that moves. The wildlife suffers enough without having every yahoo shooting at them!"

"I see." He moved to her as she turned away to hang the coat on a rack. His gaze roving along the fall of her bound hair to her rear. "Moira, you and I know this was no animal attack, but the general public doesn't need to know that. Would you rather have them thinking a psychotic killer is on the loose?"

"Yes."

"Yes? It's called a cover story, baby, and now you and that mouth of yours have blown it. More's the pity as you could have blown something much more—"

She made a disgusted sound, interrupting his crude suggestion which made him smirk. She turned to glare at him. "Your cover story, detective. Not mine."

"It's called disinformation, doctor."

"Really? Sounds like lying to me, John. Move!" She stepped round him. "I don't care what it's called." She grabbed a stack of files.

"You should care. I didn't say you could talk to the press, Moira! This is serious."

"I didn't know I needed your permission, John! I'm not under arrest or anything."

"I could haul that pert little ass in for something, but I think I'd rather just spank it."

"Funny. Get out of the way!" She shoved past him again to grab a soft, zippered bag.

"I'm serious, Moira." He moved to the table. Fingered the ancient jawbone. "Next time you feel like spouting off to the press about an active case, don't. Just don't, or I will haul that pert little ass in for obstruction or libel or just because I can. All right? What the hell is this anyway?"

She snatched the jawbone from him. Set it carefully into a case with other fossils. "Creodont. Specifically Hyainailouros sulzeri. An extinct order of carnivores from the Eocene but they weren't true carnivores which developed later. See the teeth? They're adapted to a mixed diet of meat and bone and scavenging as opposed to—"

"Whoa, whoa, doctor, that's more than enough, thank you!" John surrendered, hands in the air.

Moira smiled at him. "Sorry, detective. That's what you get for asking a scientist."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind next time," he wryly noted.

They stood, eying each other for a moment. Softer emotions surfacing. Feelings neither one would acknowledge or put into words. Until John's phone interrupted with a buzzing sound. He sighed, shrugged, slid it out to check the caller. Slid it back into his pocket.

"The case?" she asked, disappointed.

"Yeah.

"I did talk to Carson and Evan for you."

"And?" he asked, watching her every move. She slid the files into the soft case. Zipped it shut.

"It's a no go unless they can see the alien. They want irrefutable proof, John." She slung the bag over her shoulder. Met his gaze. "We all do."

"I'm expected to take you all on a field trip to see the alien?" he asked, amused and irritated.

"Yes. Sorry, but that's the deal breaker. If you want a team of consultants those consultants will need to know everything. And they won't sign a damn thing until they have proof. They want solid, hard evidence. Are you coming?" She was heading for the door.

He smiled. "Hell yes, when you talk like that, baby."

"Shut up! And don't call me baby!" She led him out of the lab, down the hallways. "I have to get to the museum to present these reports and shore up any additional investigational parameters before I leave. I don't suppose you could give me a lift to the museum, could you?" she asked, as they exited the building.

"Leave?" he asked, catching her arm.

"Yes, haven't you been listening?" she snapped.

"I was distracted, Moira. All that sex talk."

"Funny. You need to show them the alien, John, simple as that or it's a no go. Show them everything, the alien, the facility, the ship, all of it."

"I see. My word's not good enough?"

"Afraid not. Not for them."

"Is it for you?"

She hesitated. "I would like to see it all too, these things you keep talking about."

"Wonderful," he grumbled. Feeling an odd dismay that his word wasn't good enough for her either. That she didn't quite believe him even after all they had seen.

"John, don't take it like that," she said, seeing a glimmer of hurt that surprised her. Made her start to say something else but she refrained. Keeping her emotions close, confined.

"How should I take it, then?" he asked. Licked his lips. "I know exactly how you are going to take it, baby." His gaze roved along her all too suggestively.

"Stop calling me baby," she complained. "Well? Are you going to give me a lift to the museum or not?"

"No. Consider this discipline for running that mouth of yours when you shouldn't have."

She sighed. "Fine. Just don't expect me to run it anywhere else." She turned, headed down the street. Smiling as she could imagine what he was thinking. Could imagine his ire at being denied.

John smiled, watching her. "Oh, you will, baby, you will!" he called after her.