A/N: This is the seventh part of the 3.01 premiere AU that was originally posted as Chapter 20 in "Reconnecting."

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3.01 – The Enemy of My Enemy – Part 7

An alternate for Season Three and beyond following on from 2.11 – Hot Spot

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Isla Mujeres, February 14, 2019

"I will be looking you up the next time I'm in Miami…" the buxom blonde with a big smile said as she bussed his whiskery cheek.

"I'm counting on it," he answered, throwing an arm around her waist and kissing her on the mouth passionately before releasing her entirely.

"You're a devil, Mr. Finley," she declared, spinning out of his embrace after the younger man let her go and then sashaying down the wide concrete dock, leaving the cruise ship behind her as she made her way with the crowd towards Cozumel.

"You know it, baby," Sam Axe laughed as he joined the surge of people walking towards the popular Mexican port of call. A low chuckle greeted his ears as he walked toward a young man who was grinning at him broadly as he approached before wolf whistling at him.

"Look at you, JJ," he said to the muscular youth. "You've grown two feet since I saw you last."

"Ya haven't been gone that long, Mr. F," he replied, reaching out to take the small bag from the older man's grasp. Jojo's eldest son had gotten taller and filled out considerably from the gangly sixteen-year-old he had met when he'd first come to the home of his smuggler father.

"So, how's things…? You guys staying out of trouble?"

"Got a new girlfriend," Mr. Delaney announced with a hint of pride.

"It's the scar… Chicks dig scars," the former navy man assured him. JJ grinned in response, crinkling the slashes of pink that criss-crossed his dark skin on the side of his face where he had almost lost his eye at the hands of a merc who had kidnapped him at the behest of a rival.

Sam had to admit that he hadn't had much use for Fiona Glenanne or gun runners in general to begin with, but the insane Irishwoman had grown on him, as had the arms merchant's family.

But he hadn't really understood why Jojo had been so generous to his best friend, Michael Westen, and his crazy girlfriend when the duo had gone into hiding after the fire fight at sea which had freed him from the organization that had burned him. That is until he'd heard the tale from the victim himself of what that redheaded firecracker had been done to take him back from the killers who'd abducted him and almost killed him nearly ten years ago.

"Are Ria and Ricky packed up and ready to go?" he asked as they came to the smaller dock off the main egress from the cruise liners where the red and white 50' Marauder SS was tied up with two of the Delaney's most trusted bodyguards standing next to the bow and stern of the sleek cigarette boat. He nodded towards Jeniel and Shaunice as the ex-SEAL climbed abroad, wedging himself between the heavily muscled, deeply tanned men as JJ took the helm.

"Yea, it's all they've talked about for weeks. They can't wait to go to the aquarium."

The trip to the small private island off Isla Mujeres always seemed to go quickly despite the distance because Sam Axe was still had the heart of a squid and a love of the open ocean. Going upwards of 140 mph across the deep blue expanse, salt water spraying in his face, the former naval commander could not have been happier with the way his life was going right now.

He did the odd job here and there, sometimes with SEAL teammates like Virgil and Pete, and surprisingly he had managed to teach Nate Westen a thing or two about helping the other guy without an ulterior motive. He kept an eye on Madeline under the guise of giving her a helping hand with various home improvement projects and still had plenty of free time to romance the ladies and help his best buddy, who was allegedly dead, not only by tapping his vast network of contacts but by performing the occasional babysitting duty, which was actually his favorite one.

Sam was on his way to take the youngest two Delaney children on a field trip to Cancun with his niece, Destiny Victoria Finley, along with Trini and a few obvious and not so obvious additions to their cadre of personal security guards. He wasn't sure what her parents were going to be up that the nine-year-old needed to go on a road trip with her uncle, but he usually didn't ask.

If it had been anyone but Michael Westen, then the fact that Valentine's Day was in a couple of days might have made Sam think that he had planned something romantic… But this was Mikey after all, so they probably had a job to do for Roger that required both of their attention. On the other hand, with what he knew about the pair of them, a job might be the best sweetheart gift available.

He chuckled to himself as the boat began to slow, approaching the secure dock that fronted the rocky island near the Delaney compound that his friends inhabited. The large boat eased itself into the natural opening in the rocky cliff face where a panel of bullet proof clear Lexan covered the metal pier that ran half the length of the opening. Sam stood up and waved, watching as one of the sections moved aside to admit him onto the dock. Stepping off the edge of the bobbing craft, the bearded man nodded to the passengers as he turned around on the decking.

"We'll be heading out early on Thursday, so pick us up around seven and say hi to your dad for me."

"Will do, Mr. F," JJ called as he put the boat in reverse and started to back away from the platform slowly so as not to splash water into the corridor Sam was retreating into.

Mr. Axe knew he was being monitored on a security feed; otherwise he wouldn't have been permitted entry on the dock to begin with. Approaching the heavy metal door set into the rock face, he pressed his palm onto the reader while presenting his eyeball to be scanned.

"Chuck Finley is forever," he intoned to the hidden speaker and then grinned at the camera he knew was sending images to the facial recognition software scanning over his features.

Finally, the door slide aside and he stepped into another corridor which led into the underground lobby below the main house. Several equally impressive slabs of steel covered entrances to other parts of the complex, including the building where Michael kept the intelligence gathering and monitoring center he used to ply his trade as an information broker and part-time operative.

"What took so long?" Sam asked as the elevator doors in front of him opened. "Don't tell me the beard messed up the program?" He paused as he realized he was talking to empty air where he expected his best friend to be.

"I was in the middle of something," a slender dark haired girl replied. Destiny Victoria was only half her dad's height, but every bit her father's daughter. Amused blue eyes sparkled before she launched herself at her uncle's waist, capturing the older man in a bear hug which he returned.

"How did you get here so fast?" she queried as they stepped into the cab before quickly keying a complicated sequence of numbers into a panel and the elevator began to ascend.

"You know JJ, showing off his dad's latest toy," Sam remarked, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair that was now more salt than pepper. "Surprised I've got any hair left on my head at all after that trip from Cozumel… So, what were you in the middle of, Dessie?"

"Helping Dad," she returned succinctly.

"Helping him with what?"

"It's complicated."

It amused the ex-SEAL endlessly that his daughter had picked up Michael's minimalist speech patterns and the spy's typical evasiveness at such a young age… although it made sense given her upbringing. "You'll have to give me a little more of a mission parameter if you want my help, missy," Sam said with a wink.

He could see it was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she didn't need any help, but there was not a Westen yet he had met that was immune to the Sam Axe charm.

"Come on, I'll show you." She entered another series of codes into the keypad.

The pair exited the elevator underneath the outbuilding off the main house that nominally looked like a workshop but in truth contained the ex-government operative's operations center. Sam had, tongue in cheek, deliberately steered the design to look like something out of a James Bond movie or the Batcave… a chair centered in the middle of a console covered in monitors and data feeds with several keyboards arranged in a semi-circle in front of the main seat, a high backed swivel chair with thick padding on the arms, back and head rest. Destiny hopped up into it.

"I'm trying to figure out how many roses it will take to fill up— "

"Hold on a minute…Your dad asked you to order flowers?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "My Dad? Order flowers?"

"Point taken… so why are you trying to order up a bunch of flowers? Is there a funeral?"

She huffed. "Maybe. Mom told Dad that if he had to count on his in person skills in the field he wouldn't last ten seconds. You've already told me that Dad was the best at what he did in the field…" Her confusion was obvious. "But you also told me he could be pretty dumb sometimes."

"True, but I'm not sure I'm following you, Dessie."

"Remember you told me when you said you were coming this week that you were going to bring me a present for Valentine's Day cuz I was your best girl? Isn't Dad supposed to get Mom a present or something instead of a card? You told Dad he was hopeless at romance compared to-"

"I'm pretty sure you weren't supposed to hear that, Des…" Sam had the good grace to be embarrassed, though his new beard covered up most of the redness in his cheeks. He would have to remember to make sure his niece was not sitting right next to her father next time apparently.

"Yes, but Mom said that if he didn't get this right, she was going to make him pay -"

"Uh, Des, I'm pretty sure you weren't supposed to hear that either. Have you been spying on your parents too, young lady?"

"Spying on people who keep other people's secrets?" she countered, the picture of innocence. It almost scared the former military man how good she was at this stuff already. "I can't help it if I walk quietly," Destiny added defensively. "I'm trying to help him not mess up and make Mom mad. You know what Mom is like when she's mad. Are you going to help me?"

If it was true that the old Sam Axe charm never failed on a Westen, it was also true that if there was one thing he was a sucker for, it was a Westen asking for his help.

"Okay, missy, what is it exactly you were trying to do again?"

()()()()()()()

"Then Fifi tells her to have fun and be careful and Des gets that look on her face, same one you used to, and she says, 'I'm always careful.' Man, I thought Fi was gonna choke, brother... We're all good here, Petey. You two enjoy your VD… Oh before I forget, we left Fifi a little surprise in the guest room."

Peter Michael Finley, much like the man he used to be, was both relieved and worried, a condition he spent more of his life in than he cared to admit. He was glad to have his only child under the care of the former SEAL who had saved his life on more than one occasion as well as her companions' mother and personal body guards, happy that Destiny was able to have a vacation with children in her age range and as well as attending school with Jojo Delaney's offspring under her cover ID on Isla and pleased to have a job that allowing himself and his flame haired wife to remain sort of in the business without getting shot at every day.

And yet paradoxically, he was also worried about all those exact same things… that he couldn't take her anywhere out in public himself without the risk of being recognized outside of the tight knit smuggler community they lived in, that she required cover ID's and bodyguards in her everyday life, that he and Fiona sometimes still did dangerous things for work. Every aspect of his life was a balancing act between being who he was meant to be and making sure that his friends and family didn't suffer for it.

On the upside, it was now his decision which jobs were too dangerous or too political. He was no longer at the mercy of faceless bureaucrats deciding what was in their best interests instead of those of his countrymen. He'd done the US more than a few favors that they knew nothing about over the years. Best of all, he knew who he'd be working with, either Sam or Fiona depending on the job, as they were really the only operatives who knew he hadn't actually gone to the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico along with Carla's people and Victor Steckler-Epps…

Of course, Management knew; however, in the last ten years since his showdown in a sleepy little Mexican town with the organization that had burned him, he hadn't had any trouble from them… the fact that he might have pointed the leader of that other intelligence network that he had worked with on that particular rendezvous in Management's general direction might not have had anything at all to do with that…

He smiled as he remembered Sam's call, via burner phone, to let him know that they had arrived safely at their destination. Destiny's continual head butting with her mother, which was getting worse as the girl got older, was a source of mostly amusement for him, although he would never let that become public knowledge, particularly if he wanted to keep all his limbs intact.

In any event, his child was off on vacation and he had the house and his wife all to himself, with the exception on the guard dog, Mac10, that Fiona's mother Maeve had insisted they needed to watch over her granddaughter and the pair of cats, Lane and Harris, who kept all the vermin on the island at a minimum. Not much of a pet person, he did appreciate that they did their duty.

Whether by subconscious design or happenstance, Michael Westen had rarely been around on the 14th of February and certainly not with the entire island to themselves. But there was a job to do over the weekend that required both of them, an extraction of a biological weapons designer and his spouse from a couples resort in Venezuela, and since Valentine's Day was the Thursday before, it certainly seemed like an opportunity to fully celebrate the day.

As his daughter had been participating in El Día del Amor y la Amistad at school for the last four years, he hadn't had much of an excuse on the date; however, work always seemed to coincide with that date and he had tried to make up for that with appropriate flowers and erotic massages.

His plans for this year hadn't changed. He was just going to do it on the actual day, tell her they had job in an increasingly dangerous country at a five-star resort and let nature take its course.

Michael put some food in the cat's bowls before he exited the out building that doubled for his work shop above ground, having retrieved the large bouquet of a dozen long stemmed roses surrounded by a cloud of baby's breath from the back of the large drink refrigerator within.

While it wasn't from the most expensive florist in Belfast, it was from the nicest floral shop on Isla Mujeres. He had gotten her flowers for the first time twenty-one years ago today… He had just discovered that she was really working undercover for the PIRA, actually on the same mission he'd been sent by the CIA at the behest of MI6: to neutralize the Real IRA.

After he'd helped her sabotage the weapons in Derry, he'd left her just outside of Belfast to deliver the damaged goods on her own. He'd felt bad about that, but he didn't dare go with her. Not only couldn't he risk being seen or associated with the defective merchandise as McBride, the spy needed to get the information he discovered to his handlers immediately.

By Saturday, Valentine's Day 1998, he'd gotten everything into place, including permission to now pursue Fiona Glenanne as his primary asset instead of working on her brother, Sean. After their trip to Derry, the idea of romancing his target had seemed like a brilliant strategy.

Destiny's dog acknowledged his master's entrance in the main house with a wag of his tail and a yawn. Michael chuckled nervously as he approached the guest room at the far end of the large sprawling hacienda-style abode. He knew now that he had already started to fall in love with the flame haired Irishwoman, but at the time his head told him that she was the perfect choice to complete the mission and he certainly wasn't going to object if that meant spending time in her bed. It was one of the reasons that although he had brought her flowers, they were never roses.

The only other time he'd bought her roses was in apology for ignoring her after they had slept together for the first time at the loft once Jason Bly had handed him his burn notice dossier. The former agent took just a moment to feel ashamed of himself for how he had treated the mother of his child very early on in their relationship and decided that feeling probably had something to do with him not actually managing to be home on this particular date for the last ten or so years.

The ex-government spy wasn't too alarmed that his navy buddy friend had claimed to have left something behind in the room the ex-SEAL always used whenever he made one of his infrequent but always welcome visits. He was more worried about taking Sam up on his suggestion that his bride would really appreciate some roses. The red blossoms had significance for him they obviously lacked for the other man. However, he was planning on discovering what the 'surprise' awaited his wife before he went to presented his flowers to her and lost track of everything else.

Slowly opening the door, Michael peered into the darkened room, wondering why the lights were so low. The next thing that caught his attention was the sweet smell of roses, a far stronger aroma than what was coming from the large bouquet right under his nose. With his curiosity piqued, he cautiously stepped fully inside only to stop short just over the threshold.

There were by rough estimation twenty vases of all shapes and designs full of what he assumed were a dozen long stemmed roses in each placed in various strategic points around the space and for a brief couple of seconds he remained frozen to the spot... What the hell had Sam been thinking? He swallowed thickly. This was either going to go very good or very, very badly…

Which was naturally the precise moment his beloved chose to silently come up and wrap her arms around his waist from behind, her warm breath on his neck causing him to startle…

"I have ta admit ya surprised me, Michael," she purred in her native accent and then nuzzled the back of his neck before her teeth sought out and found his earlobe. "Ya certainly know how ta make fer lost time."

As a spy trained to maximize every opportunity, former CIA Agent Westen was not about to not take credit for something that had clearly pleased his beloved even though he had no freaking idea what the hell was going on. He was happy for the moment that she had come up behind him and he had a chance to get his expression under control and wipe the look of shock off his face.

To be a spy, you need physical fitness, a facility with languages, a tolerance for exotic foods, and the bugs that come with them. But ultimately, there's no greater qualification than the ability to think fast on your feet and when your best friend throws you a curve ball, you need to have the quick reflexes to run with it.

It was a mystery why Sam Axe had chosen to help him out in the romance department, which his brother in arms had been teasing him about extensively over the last week ever since he had asked the older man to escort Dessie on vacation while they were on job, but it was a question he was happy to leave unsolved for now… Especially as his beloved's hands were no longer linked about his waist, but rather were tugging impatiently at his shirt.

Another thing he'd learned in spy school was to focus on the immediate threat… His smile widened as he realized his good fortune. Or take advantage of an opportunity….

"I take it you approve?" he asked, although the query was largely redundant as her body language said quite clearly she was pleased, for which he was totally grateful. Fiona hummed a positive affirmative as her hands, which had finally wrenched his shirt hem free from his pants, began to wander over his toned stomach and muscular chest.

"Do ya have ta ask…? Tis been a long time since ya brought me roses, Michael." She slipped around in front of him as she spoke, her fingers gliding up and down his torso before taking a firm hold of the waistband of his pants. "Come wit' me, I have sommit fer ya thot needs unwrapping."

As she led him the few short steps across the dimly lit room to the guest bed, his eyes swept over the woman he loved, noting the untidy bun holding most of her hair out of the way and the figure skimming white kimono, which did nothing to hide the fact she was naked underneath before lasering in on something else over her shoulder: strips of white silk hanging from the head board.

The kimono, the ties... Like their trip to Paris just over two years ago for his fiftieth birthday, a mix of business and pleasure at which his wife excelled at that had turned out very pleasurable indeed. A successful job followed by a near re-run of an earlier Paris assignment where Helmut Hermann had woken up naked and tied spread eagle to the bed by his beautiful wife Claudia.

"I thought about ambushing ya as soon as ya opened tha door." his lover informed him as she sat down on the foot of the bed. "O' ripping yar clothes off ya whilst wrestlin' ya ta tha floor… And then after I had wrestled you into submission… I thought about tying you down to the bed and drizzling warm chocolate all over every…. Single... Inch… of you before having my wicked way with you..."

He gulped and swallowed deeply, his mind filling with thoughts brought to life by his wild woman's words and all of a sudden he felt very, very hot.

At least the second time she'd asked before whipping out the silk ties. His gaze flickered over to where a bowl was sitting on a tripod over a trio of tea light candles.

"Or do ya have sommit different in mind, Mr. Finley?" She raised an eyebrow.

The sensual undertone in her softly spoken question caused a shiver to run down his back as blood rushed to another part of his anatomy.

"Er, um, that sounds good to me... I was thinking of something a little different." His eyes darted to the en-suite. "I know how much you like to soak, I thought -"

She stopped his words by abruptly getting to her feet. They were so close the knot on the belt of her robe pressed against the front of his jeans.

"Why dontcha unwrap your present and we'll see where things go from there?" Fiona challenged.

"I'd love to."

He smiled and looked deeply into her eyes, letting the bouquet drop gently onto the edge of the bed, before gently cradling her cheeks between his calloused palms.

"You know, there is a certain beauty in occasionally taking things a little bit slower," he said.

Michael tenderly stroked his fingers up through her hairline and then pulled the pins out of her hair so the long auburn locks fell tousled about her shoulders. "After all, we have the whole island to ourselves and there is no risk of anyone spying on us."

He trailed his hands down her arms, to her waist… with one quick tug the thin belt holding her robe closed fell to the floor and with a small shrug of her shoulders, the fine Chinese silk garment joined it on the carpet.

For a moment all he could do was stare. It didn't matter that he saw Fiona's slender naked frame every day when he awoke in the morning. She always and forever would have the ability to take his breath away.

"You're beautiful, Fi." He drew her into his arms, his lips seeking out hers in a deep kiss as he sought to show her how much he loved her.

"Happy Valentine's, Michael," she whispered as they drew apart.

"Same to you."

He gave her a light push, aiming to drop her down on the bed and then pin her down with his bodyweight; however, it seemed the auburn haired vixen had other ideas as she resisted, her body stiffening when she pushed him away.

"Fi?"

"You're the one who wanted to go slower." Her smile took the sting out of her words and she surprised him yet again by dropping onto the bed and shuffling backwards until she was sitting with her back on the pillows. "Strip for me, Michael."

"Excuse me?"

"I want you to strip for me. I don't expect anything Chippendales, but I want you to strip for me."

"I -" The words of protest dried in his throat as she continued to stare. He was fifty-two years old and blushing like a school kid on a first date as he carefully unbuttoned his shirt.

It was very disconcerting, stripping off before his wife of close to a decade. There was something about the way she was watching him, her blue-green eyes skimming over each bit of flesh as his clothing fell away.

But, as uncomfortable as he felt, there was also something very arousing about it too, about the way the slender redhead remained totally still, only the deep rise and fall of her chest revealing the effect he was having on her.

Finally, Michael stood at the end of the bed, his eyes devouring every inch of the equally naked woman before him, who in turn was staring back at him as if he was some tasty morsel she was just waiting to take a bite out of. He shuddered slightly, as his manhood twitched in anticipation. Fiona did like to bite... Among other things...

Kneeling on the edge of the bed, the dark haired man began to crawl up the mattress when she raised a foot to his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

"Fi…?" From out of nowhere, he felt a hint of apprehension. There was something about her expression which he hadn't seen before.

"You surprised the hell outta me with' all this, Michael." She gestured with a quick look around the flower-filled room before turning her attention back to him. "I didn't think you had it in you... So, I thought about changing things up too, just a bit."

"I'm happy with…"

He forgot what he was about to say as with a look of determination, the beautiful flame haired woman before him raised her arms, slipped her hands through the loops in the silk ties and pulled them tight about her wrists.

"There, I'm all yours. Do with me what you will."

"Fi…" He was an experienced operative, had worked on three continents, faced death daily…

Michael was totally at a loss for words.

He didn't know what had happened to her in her past. She'd refused to give him even the briefest of details after he had taken a beating while trying to awaken her from a nightmare which had had her screaming and crying out loud enough to wake the neighbors… But it didn't take a genius to guess the likely event based on the few words he'd managed to discern at the time.

"You don't have to do this."

He loved her wildness in the bedroom, her aggression a massive turn on. She had been right all those years ago when she had reminded him that violence was foreplay for him too.

"I've already told you I want to. Now, what are you going to do with me?"

He moved slowly, almost hesitantly. Wrapping his hands about her feet, running his thumbs over her soles watching as the sensation caused her toes to curl. Toes which moments later he was sucking on as his hands moved up to her calves, running his palms over the soft sleek skin, massaging the hard tight muscles underneath until they were soft and pliant to his touch.

Where his hands went, his lips, tongue and teeth followed. Kissing, licking and nipping their way up her long lean limbs, which writhed and twisted in his grip, her moans, sighs and the occasional cuss words were like music to his ears.

It was as his nose brushed against the narrow 'landing strip' of light brown curls at the apex of those legs when he stopped and looked up, his eyes alighting on the bowl of warm chocolate on the small bedside table.

Scooting up the bed, he ignored her disappointed call 'to get back there' to lift the bowl off the tripod and away from the heat.

"Michael?"

"You mentioned drizzling chocolate all over me." He smiled down at her and dipped one finger into the thick dark liquid, testing the temperature before smearing a thin line over her lips.

He leaned forward and took a taste. "Dark chocolate, you remembered..."

Taking his time, he poured a thin line of the sweet and bitter substance from the hollow of her throat, between her breasts, over her stomach down to her pubic bone before using a finger to draw a circle over the darkened skin around each of her pebble hard nipples.

Standing upright, he placed the bowl down, blew out the tea lights and then turned all his attention back on to the woman he loved as he began to lick… Every... Single... Inch of her…

Starting at her neck, he worked his way down, his hands gliding over skin as his mouth left no part of her untouched. Dipping his fingers into the chocolate again, he gave special attention to the peaks of those small soft pliant mounts before circling back to that oh-so-special spot.

"Mi – Mi – Mich – e-al... Oh – Oh – –" Fiona's lithe supple body writhed as she gasped his name, her sweet sweat mingled with the after taste of the last of the chocolate. Rising up again, he looked down at the woman he loved and, seeing her chest heave and her fingers clutch uselessly at the air, all of a sudden he felt a wave of longing crash down over him.

This isn't what he wanted... He missed her razor sharp fingernails dragging over his skin, her strong fingers gripping his hair so tight he sometimes feared that at some point he was going to end up bald. He even missed her teeth latching onto his ears or throat and in the throes of passion, cracked ribs from the hold of her powerful legs. His Fiona shouldn't be tied up and even if she had done it to herself, Michael suddenly couldn't stand it another second.

Lightning fast, he reached past her to the knife hidden between the mattress and the headboard, cutting her free and then dropping the blade to the floor. The dark haired man brushed his lips over both her wrists, attempting to soothe away the striations on her skin before touching them tenderly on her forehead.

"Mi— Mi—Michael…?" his lover panted.

"Not you," he muttered low and then his mouth sealed over hers, the kiss had such passion and urgency that it took the rest of her breath away.

He rolled them over until she was lying on top of him, his large hands caressing her spine from the back of her head to her bottom while he placed butterfly kisses to her face, neck and shoulder. Recovering some of her senses, Fiona's threaded her fingers through his hair, her nails scraping over his scalp and sending chills through his frame again as her skin slide against his.

Now she was kissing him back, hard and demanding, her tongue pushing past his teeth and commanding his surrender. He squeezed her backside and attempted to pull her towards his awaiting erection, but she resisted. With her long hair cascading around him, she sat up slightly.

Her eyes held a question he was incapable of answering for just a moment before she reached over to dip her fingertips into the cooling confection and then she drew a large heart on his chest. Smiling broadly, she licked from the bottom point just above his navel, around his ribs and Michael moaned as his lover paused to give extra attention to his nipples and then down again.

"Fi…" he said, his voice full of adoration with just a note of pleading.

"You wanted to take this slow, remember?" and her hands ran over him, squeezing and stroking as she kissed and nipped her way back up his body before settling on his neck and now he was the one writhing under her ministrations as her lower half rubbed over him in all the right ways.

Her grin was wicked when she finally settled onto him, pulling a groan from deep within his chest as she encompassed him fully and then she was riding him hard, her small breasts bouncing to the rhythm of her movement, grinding their pelvic bones together with each down stroke.

Michael came in a rush and lost sight of his beautiful vixen sitting triumphantly astride him as his vision whited out for a few seconds and then she collapsed over him, those muscles reserved for only him rippling against his manhood as her own passion reached its peak.

For a long time, there was only the sound of their labored breathing as they held each other close.

"I think we need that bath you mentioned now…" she whispered against his neck.

"Please…"

And later, after he had been enjoying the feel of the steaming water with the woman he loved settled in his arms, her back against his chest, her soaked auburn locks floating about his forearms, the redhead asked her husband what had upset him so and Michael found himself unable to immediately articulate exactly what about it had driven him to act the way he had…

It was more than not wanting a passive partner. He had figured that out seeing Fiona and Samantha standing side by side and trading barbs over the breakfast bar back at the loft years ago, even though at the time he was engaged to the brunette, he'd thought being so completely in control of the relationship was what he had wanted.

But then he had met Fiona Glenanne and she was so different... And that was what it was… seeing her like that… it violated the essence of her, even if it had been voluntary on Fiona's part.

"It's not who you are…" was all he could or would say on the matter.

But soon enough, his stomach rumbled and they agreed that since they had the house to themselves that they would finish the chocolate after dinner, so there was no need to get dressed again beyond putting enough terry cloth over their bodies so as not to drip on the tiles.

()()()()()()()

It had been Brandon Jensen travel writer and idle rich guy who, along with his beautiful wife Christina, had gotten off the plane in Mexico City and then, after strolling confidently through customs and immigration, had taken a small private transport back to Cancun and followed by a boat ride to Isla Mujeres. Senor Jensen was a happy man. The job had gone well...

Actually, more like it had ended well after a few minor problems. A fist fight in a sauna while wearing nothing but a towel and then losing said towel in the midst of the brawl for him and a dip in the Puerta de la Cruz Harbor followed by a motorcycle chase under fire for her.

Rescuing his beloved from being trapped in a rundown equipment shed with the frightened little bunny of a wife of his target and the resulting firefight had been another of the highlights of the trip along with the moment they had finally handed Kevin and Nikki Skylar over to an armed escort waiting to deliver them into the hands of a CIA interrogation team and then the Jensens had headed back to their hotel room to pack.

He had barely made it through the door when his wife had slammed him hard up against that wooden barrier, crawling up his body thoroughly wetting his own clothes with her damp garments before half ripping them off him. He had been in the process of taking her right there against the wall of the suite when there was a knock at the door that caused him to both freeze.

He told the bellhop in a somewhat strangled voice that they would bring their own bags down in a minute and then they both collapsed against one another laughing like idiots. As it turned out he ended up pinning her against the slick tiles of the shower stall instead, her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck as he slid into her, an amazing flurry of entangled limbs, bites, nips and kisses as they took each other to paradise.

But as utterly incredible as everything had been on their mission and before they'd even left, there was something even better awaiting him back on that private island in the Gulf of Mexico.

Because it was Daddy who got down on one knee and enfolded his daughter in a huge bear hug when she ran into the living room and straight into his arms, having returned from her trip with her uncle and best friends… They chatted for a minute before she went off with her mother to sort out her things and no doubt tease and annoy each other massively in the process.

It was Peter Michael Finley who sat in his kitchen with his older brother Chuck drinking a couple of cervezes while in the background they listened to the two women in his life discussing rather loudly the state of young Miss Finley's best shoes.

"Beer already…? You must've had quite the week without me." Sam laughed. "I take it the roses worked out pretty well."

"Yeah about that," Michael replied. "What made you think I needed enough the flowers to cover my own funeral? Or was that just in case she killed me anyway?"

That made Mr. Axe laugh even harder. "That wasn't me, brother. I just helped plan the logistics of the operation."

Then the dark-haired man remembered that his friend had said 'we' left a surprise. The incredulous look on his face must've said it all.

"Yep, it was Dessie's idea. I guess she overheard me telling you about not messing up with FiFi on Thursday and she decided dear old dad needed some help. By the way, Petey, you need to be a little more careful around her now. The girl's a lot sharper than you think she is."

"Apparently so," he mumbled, lost in thought for a moment. "So, what made her decide on roses?"

"I think she got into your browser history and looked up what you had ordered from the florist. Smart of you to take up my suggestion, but not so smart to let your daughter figure out your password."

At that moment, the object of their discussion walked into the room.

"Thanks again, Uncle Chuck," she said, smiling at the older man. "I had a great time."

"Uncle Chuck has just been telling me all about it, Dessie. Are you all unpacked now?" her father asked. It amused him that his little mini me as Sam called her had picked up so many of his habits and routines.

"Gear stowed and laundry commenced?" the other man asked.

"Ah-hah, all done," Destiny agreed.

"Well, then, Uncle Chuck is going to leave you two to talk while he goes to see how long it takes to aggravate your mom. Nobody's hit me in almost a week. I'm feeling deprived."

Left alone, Michael turned to his daughter and smiled softly. "Thank you," he said simply as his seemingly not so little girl took the seat that her uncle had just vacated.

His dark hair daughter cocked her head, her curiosity evident. "For what?"

Part of him thought about thanking her for bringing such light into his life, but since she was very much like him he knew it would only embarrass her.

"For helping me with your mom's Valentine's Day present."

Destiny flushed with pride at the compliment and ducked her head.

"But, I have a feeling I'm not going to be thanking you quite so much when I get a look at my credit card bill."

"Uncle Chuck paid for some of them," she defended. "And Jeniel, JJ and Elena helped to go pick them up, so there was no delivery fee and nobody without proper security clearance got access to the house."

Michael wasn't sure whether to be proud or appalled that his child could parrot his procedures so successfully. In the end, he decided it was a little bit of both.

"Okay, so in the interest of closing the security breach, exactly how did you get my password?"

She bit her upper lip. The gesture was so familiar that it almost made him laugh. "Well, it's not something anyone else could have done."

This time he did laugh out loud at her evasiveness. "Then, just tell me to set my mind at ease."

As it appeared her father wasn't angry at her, it encouraged Destiny to speak.

"Umm, you know that program you put on, so like during an emergency, if anyone got in here you could find out if they got on your computer and what they did... I sort of figured out how to turn that on, and last time you logged in you must have forgotten to log out all the way when you were done... So, er, it was open sort of... I didn't think you would mind if it was to make mommy happy."

Michael was momentarily speechless. Sam was right. She was a lot smarter than he had giving her credit for.

"I just wanted to help you," she blurted out when her father didn't immediately respond. "I don't like it when mom is mad at you."

The dark-haired man who looked so much like the little girl sitting across from him stood up and drew her into his arms for a hug before planting a kiss on the top of her head.

"You did help, honey," he told her. "More than you'll ever know. I'm very proud of you, Destiny."

He rubbed her back and then took a step back. "Let's go. I think I need you to help me plug some holes in my security. Come on, Mac," he called to the dog that was watching from the corner.

And they walked out of the house to the out-building where the former American operative had spent so much time with his daughter in the bunker below, were greeted by the two felines who were always looking for a snack and followed by their ever loyal Belgium Shepherd. For a man who had never thought of anything other than the solitary life of a spy in service of his country, having a family that included dogs, cats and computer hacking children was more than Michael Westen could have imagined and better than he had ever dreamed of.