Sanchez left the chocolate covered strawberry. That was very personal. He had remembered her comment about strawberries dipped in chocolate. She reread his message. See you soon, sweetheart. The promise in that line was chilling. An involuntary shiver went through her. She checked her surroundings again. Was he watching? Quickly she got into the car and locked the doors.
Her mind raced back to the morning she had breakfast with Sanchez, when Reddington had left her alone with him. In her imagination she could see his face as he held her hand in that vice like grip, his pleasure at her pain evident in cold eyes. She flinched from the memory.
Elizabeth started the car and pulled away from the curb, watching in her rear view mirror. How long had Sanchez been following her? As she drove, she took precautions to make sure she was not being tailed. Reddington needed to know about Sanchez. After several miles, she found a public place to park and made the call. Dembe answered.
"I need to speak with Reddington," she said.
Within moments his familiar husky voice was in her ear. "Hello Lizzie, what can I do for you?"
"Ernesto Sanchez is here. He just left a calling card on my windshield. How the hell could he find me?"
There was a pause, then, "This calling card, what did it say?"
"See you soon, sweetheart."
"How do you know it was from Sanchez?"
"The card came with a chocolate covered strawberry."
"I don't follow you."
She shared the conversation she had had with Sanchez in his absence.
"Where are you?"
"I'm on my way home. I found the card when I finished my workout at the gym."
"Were you alone?"
"No, Meera was with me. She was showing me self-defense moves."
"Good, you could learn a thing or two from her."
"What about Sanchez?"
"You should come and stay with me."
"What about my husband?" Anger flared in her. "I'm not leaving Tom alone. The last time one of your so called friends showed up, Tom wound up in the hospital."
"You're over reacting."
"The hell I am. You want to protect me? Find Sanchez and stop this sick little game of his." She ended the call abruptly and found her hand trembling. The thought of Sanchez stalking her was unnerving. She took a deep breath. She needed to think clearly. What was the reason for this madness? It didn't take her long to reach a conclusion: Sanchez wanted revenge on Reddington and she had been the easy one to find. She didn't like the way Reddington's clandestine life had enfolded her in this chilling embrace.
Over the next week Elizabeth varied her routine as much as possible, always checking to see if she was being followed. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, but she couldn't shake the feeling she was being watched. It was a palpable thing. Sanchez had been clever with his gift of a strawberry. He wanted her to know he could reach out and touch her at any time. She was wound up tight from the constant vigilance. The only place she could let down her guard was at the Post Office surrounded by fellow agents. The old adage safety in numbers allowed her to relax. But they weren't her only comfort. Reddington had made one brief phone call.
"I've confirmed Sanchez's arrival at a private airport."
"Anything else?"
"Unfortunately no. He's not called 'The Fox' for nothing. He's a clever bastard."
"Funny, he said you were the sly one."
"Out of necessity. By the way, I have people keeping an eye on you."
"They're good. I haven't spotted them." She appreciated their skill. If she couldn't see them, maybe they were invisible to Sanchez too.
"Not good enough. They haven't spotted Sanchez yet."
"He's playing a psychological game. He'll make personal contact at some point."
"Not if I find him first." His voice was deadly.
"Red, I…." She wanted to apologize for her earlier flare of anger. Instead she said, "Thanks."
"Watch your back, Lizzie."
He cut their connection.
Elizabeth paused in the doorway of the western bar and ran a long searching gaze over the room. She wore tight blue jeans and a sleeveless tank of neon coral chiffon. It was low cut with pearl buttons down to a scalloped hem that revealed her belly button. A pair of black crackle leather boots with green and beige fancy embroidery completed her outfit. She spotted Meera at a table between the bar and dance floor and joined her. She wasn't about to let Sanchez intimidate her and restrict her movements.
"Cute tank top," Meera said. "I like the eye catching color." She wore a brushed brown shirt with multicolor scroll designs on the front. A black tank was layered underneath.
"Looks like a good crowd," Elizabeth said, as she looked toward the crowded dance floor and the band playing beyond.
"The band is a popular one."
At the table next to them three women were chatting and flirting with two men standing with beer bottles in their hands. Their bursts of drunken laughter were loud.
A waitress came up.
"I'll have what she's drinking," Elizabeth said, indicating the bottle in front of Meera.
After the waitress returned with her drink, she asked Meera, "So, what do you really think of Ressler?"
"You work more with him than I do."
"He's a stickler for procedure."
Meera grinned. "But not bad looking when he's not scowling."
"Easy on the eyes," Elizabeth agreed and took a sip of beer. She intended to make her bottle last the evening. They continued talking, commenting on the music, their likes and dislikes, getting to know one another.
A tall blonde from the next table bumped into Meera's chair as she got up. "Sorry honey, the ladies room calls." She walked away on unsteady legs.
As soon as she vanished from sight, one of the men she had been talking with came over and placed his big hands palm down on the table and leaned toward Elizabeth. He looked big and cocky, sure of his good looks and black wavy hair.
"Say pretty lady, how about a dance."
"I don't think so." She displayed her ring finger.
"I like married women. Come on." Before she could decline a second time, he pulled her up out of the chair and swung her toward the dance floor.
Meera watched her go with interest, waiting to see how she would handle herself. Apparently Elizabeth decided not to make a scene, because she danced with the man.
The blonde came out of the restroom and spotted them dancing. A scowl marred her pretty features. The woman was trouble, Meera thought.
As the song ended, Elizabeth quickly excused herself and headed back toward their table. The blonde deliberately clipped her as she tried to walk by.
"Stay away from Nicky," she told Elizabeth.
"I'm not interested in him. I'm married."
"You were dancing with him."
"Not my choice." Elizabeth tried to move on. The woman was obviously drunk and jealous, a volatile combination.
The woman blocked her path. "What are you saying? Nicky's not good enough for you?" Her loud voice carried across the room.
Meera got up from the table and approached. "Liz, we need to go. My sitter needs to be home by one."
The blonde glared at Meera. "Liz and I are having a conversation." She waved her two girlfriends over. They flanked Meera.
They've done this before, Meera thought.
"I don't want trouble," Elizabeth said. "Sorry for any misunderstanding."
Meera moved slightly and the blonde's friends, like trained dogs, grabbed her upper arms.
"Stay out of this," the red headed one said.
Meera made no attempt to resist.
Elizabeth tried again. "I said I'm sorry."
"If you're sorry now, you're going to be real sorry in a minute." The blonde grabbed Elizabeth by her shoulders and shoved hard.
She lurched backwards off balance and bumped into a man sitting at the bar. "I'm sorry," she said as the man turned. Surprise and recognition flooded through her. "What are you doing here?"
Reddington smiled and gestured with his drink toward the woman who had just pushed her. "Watching the floor show." He was wearing blue jeans, a long sleeved blue shirt unbuttoned at the neck, and a black lambskin leather vest.
A hand clamped on Elizabeth's shoulder and spun her around.
"You bitch, do you have to talk to every man you see," the woman said, and swung a roundhouse punch at her. Distracted by Reddington's presence, Elizabeth blocked too late. The woman's fist struck on the side of her head. It was only a glancing blow, but enough.
Elizabeth staggered as her vision waivered with sparks. Her legs refused to cooperate and she went down. From somewhere above her she heard Reddington's voice.
"I told you to watch your back."
The woman sashayed back to where her two girlfriends were holding Meera. Several men grinned and whooped their approval.
Reddington turned to the grizzled hair man next to him and laid a twenty down on the bar. "My money is on the Indian."
"That little gal? You're on."
A crumpled twenty covered his.
It took a moment for Elizabeth's vision to clear, and she saw Reddington's face peering down at her. He didn't seem too concerned. If anything he seemed mildly amused. Damn him, she thought when her mind could focus. Why wasn't he helping her?
He held out two fingers and asked, "How many?"
"Two."
"You're all right."
She extended her hand. "Help me up."
He pulled her to her feet. She swayed a bit before she caught her balance.
"Watch and learn," he said, when she had steadied herself.
Meera assessed the woman in front of her with an experienced eye. So far things had gone as she expected. The tall blonde was all show, throwing back her long curly hair after each remark, taking her time to check out the reaction of her audience, especially the men. She reveled in the attention.
"Your man stealing friend got what she deserved."
"You are mistaken," Meera said in a mild tone. "Your so called man asked her to dance. It's obvious you can't keep his interest."
The woman's anger was evident behind her mocking smile. "You've got a big mouth. Come on girls; let's take this trash outside."
"I don't think so."
"Did you hear that? She doesn't-"
Meera moved into action. She stepped down hard with her boot heel on the redhead's foot. As the woman released her arm, she elbowed her dead center in the solar plexus. The woman doubled over gasping for air and sank to her knees. Meera turned to the brunette, bent back a finger and forced her hand off her arm.
The blonde rushed her and Meera side stepped. The woman crashed into her finger clutching friend, and they both went down in a tangled heap. The drunken women lay in a disbelieving daze.
Meera backed away keeping her eyes on the women.
"Damn, I wouldn't want to mess with her," the grizzled man said, and downed his drink. Reddington collected his bet. He looked approvingly at Meera as she approached the bar. "I made twenty dollars betting on you."
Elizabeth's mouth dropped open. "You bet on her?"
"I didn't want to lose money." Reddington grinned at Meera and nodded his head toward Lizzie. "She needs more lessons."
Her big bright eyes fixed on him.
"This calls for a celebration. Name your poison." He waved the twenty he had won.
Meera reached over and took the twenty from his hand. "I did all the work while you watched, and I have a babysitter waiting to be paid. Good night." She turned and walked out of the bar.
Reddington chuckled and turned to Elizabeth. "She has a point. You look like you could use a drink."
"That's the last thing I need. I have to drive."
The band started up again with a slow song. Reddington glanced toward the dance floor. "One dance," he said softly, watching her face.
"And you'll tell me why you're here, I suppose."
He held out his hand.
Elizabeth hesitated. She could feel that soft warmth beginning to spread through her body when he looked at her like that. She knew she shouldn't, but she placed her hand in his.
They circumvented the blonde and her friends who were being helped to their chairs. On the dance floor, he pulled her close within the circle of his arms and guided her away from the tables.
"I found one of Sanchez's men, Flores. Remember him?"
"The tall man in the alley."
Reddington nodded. "His loyalty was certainly misplaced."
"What does that mean?"
"He died before telling me anything useful."
"You killed him."
"He had a choice."
"And what choice was that?"
"I gave him a gun with one bullet. He could talk or shoot himself."
Elizabeth drew back from him. "I would have tried to shoot you."
He grinned crookedly at her. "He tried too."
She stared at him. He killed with such ease. There was a heartless core of steel beneath that charming, witty mask he wore. There were reasons and she wanted to know.
"Sanchez will be forced to act with Flores out of the picture," he said.
"Why?"
"He'll know I'm hunting for him."
Reddington pulled her close to his chest so that every movement of his body transmitted to hers. He placed his cheek next to hers and whispered in her ear, "I won't let him hurt you, Lizzie."
She shivered from his warm breath on her ear.
They danced, and Elizabeth found herself floating in his arms, the reality of his heartbeat more of a rhythm than the music. His fingertips moved in small sensuous circles along her spine. She felt like she was melting into him. Her hardened nipples betrayed her through the thin tank she wore. His heartbeat quickened.
He pulled his head back to gaze in her eyes and then down to her soft parted mouth.
The music stopped.
"A pity the song is over," he said, and released her.
The male musk scent of him faded from her nostrils. She shivered as if shaking herself from a trance. She ached with the wanting of him. How could he do that to her with just a dance?
He guided her toward the door.
"Where are you parked?" he asked, as they stepped outside.
"Over on the right side." She welcomed the chill that caused goose bumps on her bare arms. The night air in her lungs cleansed his scent.
When they reached her car, she turned to face him.
He raised his eyebrows in innocent inquiry.
They were close, the distance between them intimate.
"You are very good at dancing and kissing," she said.
"I am very good at many things." The soft seductive voice caressed her.
She looked into his green eyes, and the profiler in her wondered if he had ever made love to a woman and later killed her.
She gave him a little smile. "I don't imagine any woman would be able to hold out against you."
From out of the darkness came a voice. "You're right, my dear. He's quite the charmer."
Ernesto Sanchez stepped into the lamp light.
