Sorry I took so long to update this story. Hope you like this chapter :)


Chapter 9

"If only I went for someone younger..." Red had been constantly at it ever since Liz put the dress on, commenting on how flattering the blue dress looked on her and making overly flirtatious and praising comments.

Even as Dembe drove them to the restaurant so that she could put her plan into action in nabbing this man's credit card who owed Red money, he was still at it.

"Stop it," she mutters under her breath with irritation as she stares out the window, though a part of her secretly likes it. She feels nervous about what's coming ahead; Nervous about failing and disappointing Red, especially. This is so unlike anything she has done before, but it feels good, having a purpose and someone relying on her for once.

At the same time, she feels anxious and self-conscious in the dress and the pair of heels she is wearing for the night. She knew his remarks were only to make her feel better about what she would be doing once they reached the restaurant, and honestly, his comments were effective. It was becoming hard for her to keep the smile from showing on her face.

As the car pulls up in a side street, Liz breathes in and out deeply, clasping her hands together tightly as she looks out. It's the restaurant that she will be going into, alone, and they've finally arrived. She doesn't feel prepared at all, despite knowing who her target is and who she has to look out for.

"Okay, so I take his credit card when he's not looking," she says nervously, hashing out her plan again. "Then I return back out here to the car with it. It should be easy enough."

"Don't worry. Dembe will be joining you to oversee that everything goes smoothly, though... he'll be sure to keep his distance."

She watches in confusion as Dembe exits the driver's seat, standing out on the street while fixing the lapels of the black tuxedo he is wearing.

When she glances over at Red from where he is sitting in the backseat opposite from her, he continues explaining while reaching over to pat her comfortingly on the forearm with his fingers, "Dembe will be going in there with you to ensure everything goes to plan and that you won't find yourself in a spot of trouble that you can't get out of easily without him there."

"That wasn't part of the plan," she argues, her voice shaking. God, it will be difficult enough as it is, without Dembe watching her every movement and action. "It was just meant to be me going in there, operating alone, remember? I can't have Dembe there watching over me and every move I make. He'll just end up distracting me."

"Tough," Red says, with no compromise in his voice. "Dembe will be there inside with you for your protection."

"For my protection?" she hisses out, beyond pissed off by the nerve he has. "I've been doing this kind of thing since I was fourteen years old. I don't need anyone to protect me, least of all Dembe!"

"This won't be an ordinary civilian that you are playing with here, Lizzie. This isn't you stealing candy bars and chocolates. The man that you are going to be securing the credit card off of... he's hugely notorious for being a paranoid schizophrenic. He'll be heavily armed, with paid and hired bodyguards surrounding him, beating off anyone who appears to be a possible threat."

Heavily armed? He hadn't even told her that. She had no idea what she would be expecting. "You didn't think you should have told me that in advance when you asked me to do this for you?" she mutters in annoyance, arching her brows. "I was thinking this was gonna be a fairly easy job, and now you're telling me that this guy is heavily armed and that he has bodyguards all around him?"

"You'll want to locate yourself up at the bar where he can easiest spot you," Red says, ignoring her panic. He reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out his wallet. She watches suspiciously as he pulls out a twenty dollar note, holding it towards her between his forefinger and middle finger. "No doubt you will probably want to buy yourself a drink while you're in there."

She doesn't take it from him, unconvinced. Not even when he waves it near her face impatiently.

"Not only for the sake of realism, but if you get a bit of a drink into you beforehand, it will take off the edge to those nerves that you are feeling." Liz wondered if she was truly that transparent to him, or whether he had simply grown good at reading her? Sucking it up, she takes the money from him, opening her clutch to shove it into it. He's right, she supposes; An alcoholic drink would do her good to calm her nerves.

He makes a waving gesture through her side of the window. Just like that, at Red's beck and call, Dembe steps forward to open the door for Liz. She realizes she doesn't want to move out of the safe confines of the car, especially not now that she's learned that this man will be heavily armed and dangerous. It hadn't occurred to her how much of a life and death situation this job was going to be.

She'll have to be extra careful that he does not catch her wandering hands moving towards his wallet. But knowing its important that she does this, she moves reluctantly, sliding her legs out of the car. It's difficult to maneuver in the dress, but she manages, bending down to yank it around her legs before stepping away from the car.

"If I die, then it's your job to pay for my funeral costs," she retorts bitterly as she bends back down to meet Red's eye in the car.

He chuckles at her words and shakes his head, irritating her further. "Nonsense, Lizzie. You're going to be perfectly fine. Just be yourself and think of it as you doing what you would normally do when stealing someone's food or money."

"Yeah, with the exception of this victim having a gun. I really wish you had told me in advance, instead of throwing me into the deep end with the sharks."

"You'll be fine," he assures her strongly, and for a moment there, she can't help but believe him. Slamming the door shut, she pauses, rearranging her dress so it sits modestly around her cleavage.

As she walks with Dembe to the door of the restaurant, she realizes how much her body is shaking. "Please, whatever you do, don't let him shoot me," she pleads to Dembe worriedly. "I really don't want to die tonight."

"Of course not," he says reassuringly, the first time she has really had him speak to her. "I will keep watch at all times."

"Well, I certainly hope so."

Dembe opens the door for her, standing back to let her go in first. As they head inside, they go their separate ways. Liz tightens her fingers over her clutch as she glances around, trying to tame the shaking of her fingers.

The restaurant is posh as posh can be. Orchestral music plays in the background, and it's reasonably crowded. She has no idea how she can possibly manage to find this man when its so crowded the way she is. Her eyes find the bar area, surrounded by separate lounges. A group of men are particularly loud and rowdy as she makes her way up to the bar. Two men are standing together in black suits, surveying their surroundings with solemn looks on their faces.

When she steps closer in her heels, making her way to the bar to get a drink in order to relax herself, she spots him then, and her heart races. He's one of the men sitting at the lounge; the men standing over him evidently his bodyguards. He's her target, and he's not alone. He's with a party of four, one a blonde woman in a rather revealing dress. The scar on his face that she noticed in the photograph gives him away completely.

Breathing in deeply through her mouth, she turns to the bar, stepping up to sit on the vacant stool. When the bartender turns to give her his attention, she forces a smile on her face.

"Good evening, ma'am. What can I get you?"

"Yeah, good evening to you, too. I'm feeling like a drink actually. What do you recommend?"

"Here's our cocktail menu." He reaches over, placing a menu in front of her. "The most popular ones are at the top of the page."

She scans through them, her heart hammering in her chest now that she knows she has located her target. She rests an elbow on the bench,playing with one of her earrings out of nerves as she tries to focus on what drink to select. All the names of the cocktails are so confusing and fancy, so she settles on what she knows best.

"I think I'll just have a martini, thank you," she decides, sliding the menu back to him. It was the drink she had drunk in the hotel room with Red and, despite how strong it was, she had enjoyed it.

"Yes, ma'am. Dirty?"

Liz is thrown at his words for a moment, until she realizes he's asking about the drink. "Um, yes. A dirty martini is great, thank you."

"Very well then, ma'am."

Liz busies herself in opening her clutch and pulling out the money Red gave her in the car. As she glances around the restaurant again while trying to be subtle about it, she catches Dembe's gaze as he stands opposite her at the bar, a long glass of beer in his hand. She really doesn't understand why Red insisted on Dembe coming in with her, as if she actually needed to be protected. As far as Liz was concerned, she could take care of herself. She was perfectly capable of it; After all, she had been practically taking care of herself for years while surviving on the streets.

"Your dirty martini, ma'am," the bartender announces once he has made the drink, plopping it ceremoniously on the bench near her elbow. "That will be eighteen fifty."

She's just about to hand the bartender the money Red gave her when suddenly a man's voice stops her.

"No, no," a man says. "Allow me to buy for this beautiful woman."

She turns her head to find her victim for the night staring fixedly at her dress. Up close, the scar on his cheek seems disturbing, but she forces a thankful smile on her face all the same.

"Oh, thank you," she murmurs. "How kind of you."

"It is my pleasure." He hands the bartender some money, then leans against the bench near her stool, a little too close for comfort.

"It would seem that tonight's my lucky night then," she says, trying to sound light and flirtatious as she shoves the money back into her clutch. When she tries to hold his gaze while picking up her martini, bringing it to her mouth to have a sip, she feels her hands tremble.

"No, no. If anything, the luck is all mine." He has an accent; a thick and odd way that he pronounces things, though she can't place which country he comes from. "What's your name, beautiful young lady?"

Liz hadn't been prepared to know on what to call herself as a name to give him. But she assumes a fake name is right. "Katarina," she says, her throat burning from the strength of the gin as she takes in another small sip.

"What a beautiful name Katarina is."

"And you are?" She lets her tongue linger on the edge of the martini glass before swallowing another sip, feeling bolder.

"Let's not talk about me, it's so uninteresting," he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, his eyes drifting down to her crossed legs under the bar, checking her out. Red hadn't told Liz the man would be such a pervert. "What beautiful scars you have there."

His eyes linger on her bare arms and Liz wonders if he's mistakenly said it, until she drops her eyes to her arms herself. Her insides clench in discomfort. No one has ever talked so boldly about the scars on her wrists before. But the man has a very prominent scar on his face, so naturally, of course he'd want to talk about scars.

"Yes, thank you," she says awkwardly, knowing little else to say.

"You cut?"

"Yeah, I... I did for a while there. I went through a, um, suicidal phase."

"Oh, that's sad, pretty woman such as yourself." He brushes his fingers over the healed scars along her wrist, making her feel sick.

With all her effort, Liz tries to smile as seductively as she can. "I detect an accent?" she forces out, wishing he would speak of something less uncomfortable.

"Oh, yes. I am from Russia."

"Russia. How wonderful."

Remembering her goal, Liz tries to act drunk, bringing up her arm to curl it over his back. He laughs at her, that sickness still there in her chest for him.

"I think someone is a little drunk?"

She forces a silly laugh herself, as though he's being so charming. "Yes, I think so too. I've never had a dirty martini before, but it's the way I find myself liking things. Dirty." Inside, she's screaming with embarrassment at the ridiculous innuendo, but outwardly, she tries to keep up her flirtatious act. "My goodness," she laughs, dragging her hand along his shoulders and downwards. "You feel so strong." When she brushes her hand in bold strokes around the front of his chest, the man laughs again.

"You should come home with me, Katarina? Something tells me we will have a good, good time. Are you alone here tonight?"

"I'll let you in on a little secret," she says, leaning closer in the stool towards him conspiratorially, "I'm actually supposed to be meeting my husband here, but he hasn't shown yet."

"Husband? How disappointing."

"The thing is, I've been cheating on him every week with other men." She can tell the man is actually buying it; His eyes are holding hers, steady and constant, and she can tell by his expression that he is downright delighted.

He tusks his tongue at her, playfully scolding. "Naughty, devious woman. Cheating on your husband!"

While he's distracted and close in proximity, she dips her fingers into his trouser pocket, finding his wallet. As she edges it out, she laughs, keeping up the act. She needs to hold his concentration. "I know, I'm so terrible! But I just can't help myself when one man is not enough for me!"

When she drags her clutch into her lap, she manages to pluck it open, shoving his wallet inside. Feeling huge pleasure and accomplishment at her success, she tries to find a way to say goodbye. She's just about to ask him where the ladies rooms are as she slides off the stool onto her heels, brushing up against him all the while, when it happens.

"You just love putting your greedy, grubby little hands onto my things, don't you, Sergio?"

Red's sharp voice comes from directly behind them and Liz stiffens, closing her eyes momentarily. This is not part of the plan at all; She was meant to be operating alone, yet here he was, having materialized suddenly behind them near the bar.

"Reddington," the man spits out like a curse-word as he faces him. "Long time, no see."

When she spins around to face Red, though he's smiling like he's greeting an old friend, there's a predatory cool gleam in his eyes that unsettles her.

"Yes, and I wonder why that is." Red laughs, though there's an edge to it. "You're always so hasty to evade me, aren't you, Sergio? You know, I cannot believe how low you can sink these days. First, stealing my money and now, look at you!" His voice has risen dangerously as he waves his hands at Liz theatrically. "Putting your greedy paws all over my beautiful wife, for Christs sake! You just cannot help yourself, can you?"

"I was just getting ready to finish my drink and leave," Liz says, extricating her arm from around the man quickly. She senses that something terrible is about to happen. Red's going to do something, though she isn't sure what. "Should we leave now?" She tries to meet Red's eyes meaningfully, to tell him through non-verbal contact that she's succeeded, that she has the man's wallet and credit card in her clutch, only he doesn't look at her.

"Yes, I suppose we should leave now, shouldn't we, sweetheart?" Relief fills her when Red at last meets her gaze, smiling. When she comes closer to him, he startles her by slipping an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close into his coat.

"You bitch," Sergio spits out in betrayal, when Liz sees him pat down his trouser pocket hurriedly, searching for his wallet. "You set me up all along! You were with him!"

"Yes, that's right," Red confesses, with another laugh. He's gloating. "She's with me. And isn't she just wonderful?" Startling Liz, she can do nothing else but remain still when Red suddenly bends down, pressing his lips into hers dramatically. She finds she can hardly think straight when he pulls back, one hand slipping inside the pocket of his coat. "And if I were you, Sergio, I would take care to mind your tongue. I have half a mind to cut it out and shove it down your throat. Hasn't anyone told you that is truly no polite way to speak to a woman?"

It happens so quickly that Liz isn't so sure she's following what's happening; One minute the man is standing there, seething. In the next, a loud bang sounds out across the room and Sergio is thrown backwards to the floor, knocking over the stool Liz had previously been sitting in, blood spilling out from his head from a bullet hole. People scramble to their feet, screaming and crying as they rush out of the restaurant and Liz steps back instinctively from the body in horror. Red's hold around her shoulders seems to tighten, preventing any further movement.

She doesn't even realize where the gun came from or who made the shot, until she sees Red is holding a small handgun in his left hand. As she stares at him, wide-eyed and shaking in fear, he shoves the handgun back into his pocket, concealing it when the man's bodyguards dart around the room frantically, trying to work out where the shot had come from.

"Sorry to end your little dalliance with Sergio short, Lizzie, but we really should go before his bodyguards grow half a brain. Did you get what we were after?"

She can't even seem to find her voice, let alone force herself to stop staring down at Sergio's body. She has never seen a man actually die in front of her before, and it's a numbing experience.

"Um, y-yes," she answers finally in a tight voice, tearing her eyes aware from all the blood to meet Red's gaze. "Yes, I secured his wallet."

"Very good." Red nods once as he inspects her face, warmth glistening in his eyes for her. It's as if he couldn't care less about murdering a man. "Shall we make a move then?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she whispers in shock when Red starts pushing her towards the exit, Dembe following close behind them. "What was that? You were supposed to wait out in the car until Dembe and I came to you!"

"I just couldn't help myself," he chuckles, like its all some big enjoyable game to him. "You see, I'm a man of action, Lizzie. It's just no fun if I don't join in."

"You just killed that man! You're a cold-blooded murderer!"

"I told you I was a criminal, Lizzie," Red retorts back at her in irritation, guiding her towards where the car is waiting. "It isn't my fault if you didn't believe me."

"It wasn't part of the plan, Red," she says, her voice lifting to a higher level when he drags her to the car. He opens the door to her, waiting expectantly for her to get inside, but now she realizes she doesn't want to be anywhere near him, she doesn't want to associate with him. How did she let herself get into this mess with this man? "You weren't supposed to kill him! You never told me that was part of it! If it was and I knew, then I never would have done this for you!"

He shakes his head at her, chewing the inside of his cheek. She can see that she is testing his patience already. "Lower your voice, Lizzie," he warns her sharply, glancing around them. Then with a firm hand on her back, giving her no choice, he guides her into the car. "Just get in the car. This is hardly the appropriate time to discuss this."

Liz didn't realize how dangerous and cold-blooded the man can be, until then.