Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters

A/N: This chapter contain some intense violence that might be too disturbing for some readers

CHAPTER 10: THE VISITOR

Kensi blinked opened her groggy eyes, finding herself alone in bed at the cover beach house. Dawn was wanly streaming through the bedroom window, overlooking the peaceful beach and the soothing ocean.

The red neon mudflap girl lit the room like an overgrown blinking nightlight. Kensi had to inwardly admit that she sometimes had difficulty sleeping under that infuriating blinking hussy. She consulted the also glowing digital clock across the room. It was almost 6:30am.

Deeks was out of bed and already dressed. He looked ready to leave. Kensi alertly sat up, sporting a black tank top, her lap covered in sheets. "Hey, where you heading to this early?"

Deeks looked at her, surprised that she was awake. "I was going to scribble you a note," he sheepishly tried to assure her.

"You don't need to," Kensi countered. "Where are you going?"

"I just got a text from Granger," Deeks explained. "He wants to see me at the boatshed."

"I'm coming with you." Kensi moved to get out of bed, but Deeks halted her. "No, he specifically texted that he wants to see me alone."

"I'm coming anyway," Kensi argued stubbornly. "I'm not afraid of Granger."

"I can handle Granger." Deeks found himself in awe of her feisty devotion to him. He stretched out a smile, something he hadn't done since that nightmare with Ray the previous day. "Besides, there's something I want you to do for me."

"What?"

"Check in on Ray," Deeks murmured.

"Yeah, sure," Kensi replied gently with a nod.

"Thanks." He gave her a quick kiss. "I'll catch you later."

Kensi reluctantly watched him go, loathing that he had to face whatever Granger was going to lay on him without her. But she was also honored and humbled that he trusted her to check in on his closest childhood friend.

The morning sun brightly glared off the water of the choppy ocean by the time Deeks arrived at the boatshed. The detective steadily grew more nervous. That old unsettling feeling like he was about to step inside the principle's office suddenly resurfaced. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside. He was a little relieved to find just Granger alone, waiting for him at the table. For a moment, Deeks had worried that Bates would be present as well.

"Sit down," the Assistant Director ordered the liaison in his signature gravelly manner.

"Good morning to you, too, sir," Deeks commented lightly, taking his seat across from the Assistant Director.

Granger stared at Deeks with characteristic seriousness. "Detective, the op at the Vista got intense."

"I admit it was heavy, but everything is still smooth," said Deeks.

"Maybe so, but the unexpected involvement of Ray Martindale has thrown you off guard," stressed Granger.

"It hasn't thrown me off guard," Deeks denied. "My cover is still intact, and I'm now in Angelo's circle."

"Maybe," said Granger. "But the distressing situation with Martindale, combined with your personal relationship with Agent Blye..."

"Hey, me and Kensi still gel as partners," Deeks cut him off defensively. "We went out of our way to prove that, and it hasn't compromised the op."

"I think you've grown too emotionally involved with this case," Granger stated flatly.

"I want to get Ray's wife and daughter back," Deeks admitted.

"We don't know if they're even alive, detective," Granger countered gravely.

"I don't want to believe..." Deeks shook his head, running a hand through his shaggy locks. "Do you want Ray to get his family back?"

"I do," Granger answered.

"Then we're all on the same page," declared Deeks.

"I want to get Martindale's family back because it's my job. The duty I've chosen. You're desperate to help your friend. There is a difference; it's called perspective," argued Granger.

Deeks shot him a deep look.

"What?" Granger was confused by the look.

"Are you expressing concern for me?" Deeks looked at him curiously. "I mean, real actual concern. You? Granger-Danger?"

"I won't allow this op to be compromised," Granger stated in a no-nonsense tone. "And don't get cute. I'm not growing soft on you."

"You're showing in your own crusty way that you care," Deeks persisted. "I've seen it before. You actually warned me when Bates found out about me and Kensi."

"You think I approve of you and Blye?" Granger asked bluntly.

"You're not interfering with our relationship," Deeks pointed out.

"That does not mean that I like seeing fraternization on a clandestine team whose chief function is protecting lives," said Granger.

"But you know Don Blye's daughter deserves happiness," countered Deeks.

Even though the detective used his old friend to make his point, Granger wouldn't take the bait. "I don't want your emotions clouding your judgment."

"I was heavily involved with this case before Ray popped up," Deeks reminded. "I intend to see it through. You need me to see this through to the end."

"Okay, detective." Granger didn't look at him fully.

"There's one thing I do want to talk about," said Deeks. "Do we know why Thapa's here?"

"Not yet," Granger answered. "But we will."

"I will provide that answer myself, sahib."

Granger and Deeks shot their surprised gazes across the room to the door. Thapa had snuck his way inside the boatshed like a skilled – well – Gurkha.

Kensi peered through the glass door of Ray's sparse hospital room. The battered man himself laid on an adjustable bed in his drab hospital gown, sulking. His wounds had been cleaned up, but his face and arms were marked by severe cuts and bruises. He spotted Kensi through the transparent door.

She stepped inside. "Hey." She graced him with a smile.

"Hey," Ray returned. "Marty sent you to check up on me." He said that very knowingly.

Kensi didn't know what to say. She stood guiltily with her back pressed against the now shut door.

"It's okay," Ray assured her. "I promise that's not a jab at you. For better or worse, I just really know Marty." He gave her a reassuring grin.

Kensi released a little sigh, relieved that he wasn't irritated by her unexpected presence. With this assurance, she planted herself on the chair next to his bed.

"I know you're very important to him," Ray told her. "He wouldn't just send anyone to check up on me."

"Not even his own partner?" Kensi raised a questioning brow.

"I'm not blind." Ray chuckled with a slight grimace. "You two obviously have a thing. I picked that up the last time I was here in LA."

Kensi formed an amused smile on her lips. At the time, she thought it was hysterical that Ray was so confident, to the point of clairvoyance, that she and Deeks were destined to be together. A notion Deeks himself was perturbed by. Of course, in hindsight, Ray deserved to let out the last laugh.

"That smile just confirmed everything I suspected." He pointed a light accusing finger at her. "Marty is totally your guy."

Kensi continued smiling despite herself. A smile reading that she was happy. "You should be the detective." She smirked.

"When did it finally become serious?" Ray pressed her eagerly.

"We – realized our feelings for each other last year." Kensi felt hesitant. She'd never been one to wear her heart on her sleeve. But Ray deserved to know how his best friend finally achieved real actual love in his life. "We got separated because of an op. We were both tortured."

Ray gasped, but Kensi went on. "It's okay, we helped each other. We officially went 'all in' last Christmas."

"Really? Just last Christmas?" Ray's good mood dissipated.

"Ray?" Kensi grew concerned by this sudden mood swing.

"That's when Jenna and Carrie were taken." He absently rubbed his bruised face, tears stinging his eyes.

Kensi comfortingly patted the back of his hand. "Ray, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "God, this happened to you on Christmas?"

"That gorgon lady said you guys have a good track record rescuing kidnapped people?" Ray croaked.

"Yes," Kensi said gently. "Do you remember our partner Sam Hanna?"

"That big guy that hangs with the snarky buzz-cut guy?"

"Yeah, and that's his partner, Callen," Kensi explained. "Anyway, just a few months ago, a little girl Sam was close to was kidnapped along with her father. They were held captive. Sam was hellbent on finding them alive, and he did. I promise we'll do the same for Jenna and your daughter."

"I'm not going to sit uselessly by." Ray seethed. "I'm going to search for Jenna and Carrie, too. With or without you guys!"

"Your daughter's named Carrie?" Kensi found herself uttering.

"Carrie's my baby," Ray murmured brokenly.

"You need to get well for her and Jenna's sake," Kensi implored him.

"I can multitask," Ray bullheadedly insisted.

Knowing it was clearly pointless to argue the issue with him, Kensi decided to instead inform him of the most useful factor of the investigation. "We have the world's best tech team. I have total confidence they'll locate where Angelo is holding Jenna and Carrie."

"Who are these tech people?" Ray asked.

"Eric and Nell," Kensi replied. "They're total wizards when it comes to the internet. They're geniuses when it comes to hacking and data analysis. In fact, Eric broke the internet once!"

"You guys were behind that debacle?" Ray was gobsmacked. "I heard that was Russia!"

"Yeah." Kensi smiled wistfully at the memory.

"You think your nerds will find my wife and kid?"

"Definitely."

"Marty has clearly joined The Avengers," Ray quipped with a scoff.

"We're good at what we do," murmured Kensi.

"I hope it'll get Jenna and Carrie back." Ray angrily rubbed more tears from his stinging eyes.

Kensi tenderly squeezed his hand.

Ray pushed his sorrows aside and adopted an optimistic outlook. "Hey, have you ever met Marty's Mom Roberta?"

"No, but he's hoping to have her moved back here, soon," Kensi informed him. "His Dad's old friends aren't around to harass her anymore."

"Good." Ray was pleased to hear that. "Has Marty met your parents?"

"My Mom," answered Kensi. "She's babysitting his dog Monty while we work."

"Proof positive that you guys are serious," Ray gloated. "Your Mom's babysitting his dog." He found that incredibly humorous.

"It's a unique situation," Kensi admitted awkwardly. "My Mom's not used to taking care of a dog. We've never had one, let alone one with PTSD. But Monty seems to be growing on her. Or so she says."

"I always knew you were right for Marty," Ray said sincerely. "I know you'll take care of him."

"Hell, yeah," Kensi responded absolutely.

Deeks stared at Thapa in open amazement as the Gurkha quietly seated himself next to the detective. He wore his standard jeans and windbreaker. He was glad to be rid of his turtleneck, too.

"You gave me a hell of a surprise yesterday, brother," Deeks told him in a complimentary tone.

"And you surprised me as well," Thapa returned with just as much respect.

"Well, Thapa, why's a nice guy like you hanging out with a psycho like Angelo?" Deeks questioned.

"He hired me," Thapa explained. "He wants me to watch over his weapons."

"Why are you really here?" Granger pressed dryly.

"I'm investigating Gurkhas who are inexplicably selling their honor to this Angelo," Thapa softly filled in.

"Sounds a little like our situation," Granger grumbled.

"Why's a nice lawman like you investigating a psycho like Angelo?" Thapa inquired of Deeks.

"We're trying to find out who's giving him his weapons," Deeks explained.

"I thought that could be it," said Thapa.

"You have access to Angelo's weapons?" Granger asked the Gurkha pointedly.

"Yes." Thapa nodded. "But only the ones he has on hand, and only under tight supervision. Like most cowards, he trusts no one."

"Will you help us get access to what you can?" Granger further pressed.

"Of course," Thapa replied with no hesitation. He trailed his gaze over to Deeks. "I came to speak with you, sahib. There's something I must tell you."

"What?"

"I overheard Angelo talking last night," explained Thapa. "He's having his man look into you. He is perhaps searching for signs of disloyalty?"

"Figures." Deeks snorted.

"Angelo also called you 'paloka' and 'coast trash'," Thapa continued. "I don't understand what that means."

"I doubt Angelo knows that paloka isn't even a word." Deeks shrugged.

"I fear you'll soon face danger," Thapa said in great concern. "You and your partner."

"Thanks for letting me know, brother." Deeks appreciatively patted his friend's back. "Me and Kensi know the risks. We've got this covered."

His smart phone made a familiar tingling noise. Deeks received a text from the devil himself. Bridal suite! Now! It read.

"Angelo wants to see me," said Deeks.

Thapa received the same message on his phone. "He also wishes to see me."

"I guess we're off to see the psychotic wizard," Deeks drawled as he got up from his chair.

When he reached the end of the room, he made a quick phone call. "Kens, I just met up with Thapa. He's on our team."

"Good," said Kensi's voice on the other end. "Not that you had any doubt."

"I always knew he was cool," said Deeks. "Listen, Thapa just told me that Angelo is looking into Max. He's likely looking into Fern, too."

"I'll keep vigilant," Kensi instantly responded.

"That's my girl," said Deeks proudly. "I'm seeing Angelo at the Vista's bullet-riddled bridal suite. Thapa's gonna be there, too."

"Okay, I'll catch up with you."

"Okay." He ended the call.

At the cover beach house, Kensi, dressed in Fern's purple tank top and trendy tattered jeans, arrived at the squalid residence. She parked Fern's tacky purple Cadillac Convertible. Briskly getting out of the car, she headed for the beach house. She unlocked the door and stepped inside. She needed to grab her sniper rifle and some backup weapons.

The living room was desolate and silent. The only noise came from the crashing waves from the ocean out back.

Kensi went to the bedroom closet to collect the case containing her trusty sniper rifle. It was hidden in a secret compartment under the floor boards. She also grabbed her old revolver. As she returned to the living room, she absentmindedly gazed into the kitchen. Something alarming caught her eye. The grimy sliding glass door was opened. She set her case aside and drew her revolver. She and Deeks never left any of the doors open or unlocked.

She heard a creak on the floor. She swiftly pointed her weapon at a man exiting the bathroom. He was a large, burly man. Mr. Benedict, Angelo's muscle.

Kensi lowered her gun. "Oh, you scared me," she exclaimed in Fern's bubbly voice. "I've seen you before. You're with that Angelo dude, right?"

"I work with him," Benedict confirmed.

"If you're looking for Max, he's not here. He's at a meeting with Angelo."

"I know Angelo's schedule." Benedict eyed her revolver. "You shouldn't be playing with that. It's not safe for little girls."

"I'm not a little girl." She raised her weapon again, her tone even. "Why the hell are you here?"

"You and Max got an impressive arsenal." He eyed the case on the floor. "I've been rummaging through your stuff."

"Then you have found that me and Max are fine outstanding citizens," Fern said sardonically.

"Obviously." Benedict snorted. "Is that a sniper rifle? I didn't know you even had one. Didn't see it anywhere."

"Why do you care?" Fern merely shrugged, still aiming the revolver at him.

"Put that thing down, doll face." Benedict sharply slapped the revolver out of her grasp, sending it sliding across the chipped laminate floor. "It's making you look ridiculous."

Fern kicked him hard on the shin, causing him to grimace.

"Who the hell do you think you are!?" She sneered at him.

Benedict pressed his massive hands to her slender shoulders. He roughly shoved her against a neon sign on the wall, smashing it. He pinned her there. "Listen, babe," he snarled. "You got a sniper rifle on you and I want to know why!"

"Me and Max are outlaws, honey," Fern shot at him flirtatiously. "Like Bonnie and Clyde."

"You and Max don't rob banks." He wrapped his meaty hands around her delicate neck.

"How do you know!" Fern countered, undeterred by his throttling. "People like us always pack heat! Doesn't Angelo?"

"Someone tried to take him out yesterday during his banquet," Benedict growled. "A sniper."

"What?" Kensi feigned bewilderment.

"We think it's someone close," Benedict hissed. "Someone like Max."

"What?" Fern repeated with a girlie giggle. "You think Max wants to waste Angelo?"

"They're not exactly bosom buddies!" Benedict sniped. "And lo and behold, you guys have a sniper rifle in your crappy love shack. Now, tell me, you guys cooking up a little backstabbing entree here that I need to know about?"

"Look, man, I'm not in on Angelo's business," Fern told him heatedly. "I don't know what he's up to. Max doesn't talk to me about him. We got better stuff to do."

"Angelo has brought to my attention that you have some serious skills," Benedict barked. "You're not just some slut screwing Max. But I have to say, since you're cowering beneath me, I'm not impressed."

Fern shot him a death glare. She intended to kick him brutally between the legs, but he slammed her harder against the razor sharp shards of the neon sign still hanging from the wall, pinning her even tighter. "Stop dancing around! Did you and Max try to pull a hit on Angelo?"

"I told you I'm not in Angelo's business!" Fern snapped.

"I did some digging, and you were gone yesterday," Benedict drawled cockily. "You were nowhere to be seen."

"I have my own business," Fern hissed.

"I bet," Benedict mocked. "The business of wasting people." He slapped her hard across the face, knocking her senseless. "I'm not stupid! Max clearly has it out for Angelo! I need you to send a message to him." He violently tossed her over the couch, sending her crash landing on top of the coffee table, smashing it on impact. "The message being your mangled, dead body."

Benedict confidently approached his seemingly unconscious victim. Towering over her, he tried to grab hold of her neck again, but Fern stabbed between his index and middle knuckle with the knife she'd swiftly pulled from the back of her jeans. The knife that was lovingly handed down by Don Blye. The sayoc blade sliced through his entire hand, all the way to his wrist. It looked like a scene from a horror movie. Benedict screamed shrilly as he tried to pull it out.

While he was distracted, Fern dived after her revolver on the floor. Pulling the knife out of his bloodied hand, Benedict stumbled after Fern with the slick blade still in his grasp. He wrestled with her, trying to stab her. But Fern was faster, quickly rolling on her back, pressing her revolver straight to his beefy face. She let out three shots – she blew the thug's brains out. The bloody knife dropped to the floor next to her. Benedict fell dead on top of her.

Kensi frantically pushed the heavy corpse off of her. She slowly climbed to her feet. Severe flashes of Afghanistan attacked her. Vivid flashes of Taliban thugs as they beat her to a bloody pulp. Kensi noticed her father's knife soaked in Benedict's blood. The dark memory of a barbaric terrorist with a machete assaulted her.

… We sawed them slowly...

Kensi shook away the hellish memories. She calmly collected her father's knife.

At the moment, she wanted nothing more than to call Deeks and have him cradle her safely in his arms. But she couldn't do that. Their op was on going. They still had a job to do.

She decided that she must see Angelo herself. He must know she was not to be trifled with.

Max showed up at the Vista's bridal suite, begrudgingly obeying Angelo's summons. Thapa arrived ahead of him. Since Angelo valued the Gurkha over Max, it was sensible for Thapa to try and remain in the mobster's good graces.

Angelo assembled a little meeting in his large, bullet-riddled suite. A motley collection of mob bosses and arms dealers were present. Many of the same people who attended the banquet. None of them wore stuffy suits this time around. Various weapon cases were laid out on the canopy bed. Max noted that the heart-shaped pillows that Kensalina blasted were now absent. It helped to leave more space for the weapons.

Max joined the other criminals at the center of the suite. He looked levelly at Angelo, who sat in the cozy breakfast nook. His left ear was bandaged up, but his pale eyes were sharp as ever.

"Weird that you want to meet here of all places," Max remarked.

Word got out fast of the attempted hit on Angelo. The mob boss scoffed at Max's 'concern.' "Max, I got a business to run, and this is my turf. I'm not letting anyone steamroll me."

"That's either really badass or blindly stupid," muttered Max.

"It's the former," insisted Angelo. "Now, enough with the yackity yack. Let's get this meeting started."

"So far, I'll at least give you a point for not forcing me to wear a turtleneck," Max drawled.

Angelo sternly ignored the snippy quip and began his meeting. "All right, listen. I called you all here to let you know that I trust every single one of you. Together, I know we can't be matched. With the hardware I have at my disposal, and the manpower and connections you distinguished fellows bring to the table, we'll be a force to be reckoned with. I appreciate all of you for being my allies in this great endeavor. So, I come bearing humble gifts. They lay before you on the bed."

Surprised, Max and the other criminals came up to the weapon-laden bed. Thapa, however, stayed put standing by the breakfast nook near Angelo.

The criminals latched opened their respective cases. "You're giving out grenade launchers?" spoke the mob boss Felix.

"My gift to you, Felix." Angelo smiled broadly.

"This must've cost you a pretty penny." Felix closely inspected his gifted weapon.

Angelo snorted. "Oh, please! I'm rolling in artillery! This is like giving away candy."

The criminals gawked at him.

"You have impressive military connections," Thapa chimed in.

"That's been established." Angelo scoffed in a bored tone.

Max was occupied inspecting his new weapon, testing how to load it.

A knock came from the door.

"Are you expecting anyone else?" Felix queried Angelo.

"No," said Angelo. "Go see who it is, Zapa."

"Thapa," the Gurkha corrected automatically.

"Yeah, Thapa," Angelo said a little jittery.

Thapa crossed to the door. He looked through the peep hole with a puzzled frown. He hesitantly unlocked the door.

Fern Corelli brazenly barged in. She was covered in cuts and bruises and was clearly beaten up, but she carried herself in a peculiar nonchalant way. She spotted Max by the bed, holding his grenade launcher. She casually stride over to him. "Hey, baby, what you got there?"

"Grenade launcher," drawled Max. "What the hell happened to you?" He eyed her cuts and bruises.

"Angelo's goon roughed me up," Fern explained heatedly. "He tried to kill me, so I gave him a manicure and made him eat lead."

Angelo, however, was genuinely shocked by her claim. "Francesca, Mr. Benedict laid his hands on you?"

"Don't buy his bullcrap!" Fern spat at Max. "Angelo thinks you're planning a hit on him, so he sent his bitch to kill me to send you a message."

Max harshly glared at the mobster. "So, there's no trust issues between us, huh?"

"Max, I'm just as shocked as you are!" Angelo stammered. "I-I would never order the murder of such a lovely creature."

"I'm pissed, honey," Fern told Max angrily. She gazed at his grenade launcher. "Can I look at this for a sec?"

"Sure, but it's loaded." He indifferently handed her the grenade launcher. With hostile rage lighting her two-toned eyes, she swung the weapon around on the mob boss. The criminals and Thapa watched on, shocked and nervous.

"Whoa – whoa!" Angelo frantically raised his hands. "Francesca, wait! I don't blame you for being angry. I mean, I'm upset, too. But let's not lose our heads. That weapon can cause serious damage, maybe to you, too."

"I like blowing stuff up," Fern said in her bubbly voice. "All you business crooks know how to run like bats out of hell?"

The obviously terrified criminals took that as their cue to bolt out of the suite. Thapa, on the other hand, decided to watch what was going on with the fiery brunette.

"Max, call her off!" Angelo begged hysterically. "This is getting nuts."

"You want to send me a message?" Max coolly demanded of the mobster, folding his arms.

"I did want to know if you were loyal." Angelo looked like he was about to wet his pants. "But I never wanted anyone hurt."

"So, we still have trust issues," Max concluded. "Okay, waste him, baby."

Angelo's eyes bulged as Fern locked the grenade launcher on him, ready to fire.

Next Chapter: Fern's Stance