Well, well...here we are again. Thank you so much for all the input and the reviews, they're great! For those of you worried about the lack of Callen/Kensi moments, don't worry - we're just going to take the roundabout way of getting there!
Short one again, but the next one should make up for it. For reference, the italics in this chapter are being spoken in Russian - so Kensi still doesn't know what's going on. I really enjoyed writing this arc to the story, and hope you like reading it. Please enjoy and review if you'd like!
After leaving with Hetty's cryptic message, Kensi found herself sitting in her car, looking at an old, run down bar. The outside was exactly as she had pictured it on the phone. Dingy windows sat with dirty panes, sunk into a crumbling brick facade. Definitely not a place an unsuspecting tourist or Average Joe would stop to have a few, and she doubted the patrons minded.
For the second time that day, Kensi briefly wondered if she was about to be caught red-handed by the man she was about to follow. She blamed it on his reputation. Everyone saw Callen as this legendary, untouchable operator and everything she'd seen told her the same. But she'd also seen that he was working on something else and looked very preoccupied with it, if the phone calls and abrupt exits were any indication. Her own phone call to him earlier had sounded innocent enough to her, and nothing in his voice told her that he thought otherwise. So she told herself to calm down and stick to the course.
She had no idea of knowing if Callen was still in the bar or not without a GPS lock on his phone, but decided to drive around the area anyway. Because whatever Callen had done recently, he had been an agent in the past. A very good agent, and as such he knew all the standard procedures and would be as discreet as possible.
Sure enough, she was two blocks down before she spotted his red Mustang parked by a curb. Circling back to the bar, she swore loudly as she spotted three men walking out the door and quickly pulled her silver crossover into the closest lot. She resisted the urge to duck in her seat as Callen strode out of the building and toward his car.
It seemed strange, almost surreal to see him calmly walking down a downtown street when no one had been able to find him for over two years. But appearances were deceiving, and Kensi wondered when Callen had last been able to walk, or even breathe, easy. After his blue shirt had disappeared around the corner, Kensi cautiously pulled out and headed the opposite way around the block.
Contrary to common sense, Los Angeles was one of the best cities to tail someone. While the streets became congested and overflowed quickly, those same problems allowed you to avoid being noticed. The quickly closing darkness also helped. While Kensi was admittedly following a lot farther back than she normally would, she could still keep an eye on Callen. Regardless of his years of experience, Kensi had confidence in her skills and was soon rolling past a seedy motel as he pulled in and parked.
After finding a secluded parking spot across the street (with a decent, albeit unspectacular, view of the building), Kensi watched as he knocked on a door at the top level. The door opened a crack and Callen entered, quickly shutting it behind him. Kensi was about to get out and look for a closer position to spy from when a thought stopped her in her tracks. What if he… No. It couldn't be that, could it? He is a man. And like any human, he had to have those…feelings. The motel was right for it and two years on the run was a hell of a long time. He wouldn't. Would he?
Was he with a woman?
Somehow the thought both embarrassed and bothered her more than it should have, but she shook it from her head. Thinking along those lines only got her into trouble.
She didn't have to wonder long though, as ten minutes later he emerged and got back into his car. After following him back through the inner city, she realized he was going back to the bar and briefly wondered if she should have checked the motel room out instead of tailing him in circles. Maybe he knew there was a tail and was giving her the run around? Her decision proved to be right, however, when he pulled up across from the bar and was greeted by two other men.
The dim lamp they stood under threw enough light for Kensi to see their lips, but reading didn't help when you didn't know the dialect. She caught a few words and determined that these must be some more of Callen's Russian friends. The one on the right was speaking quickly and sending a fiery glare Callen's way, which he returned in kind. The other man, older than the first, shook his head vehemently and motioned to Callen. She watched as the first man's hand flicked dangerously toward his belt, where she could only guess he had a gun.
Kensi shifted in her seat and prepared to jump out of her car if need be. No matter what Callen was involved in, she couldn't have him getting shot by some Russian mobster days before her own mission was about to be green-lit. Luckily, the older man seemed to be the one in charge, and after a few more words they entered a black town car and pulled away from the building.
Kensi hated alleys.
They always smelled like someone had just thrown up and there were never any good people to be found within them. The doors that opened into their dank darkness usually led to places just as bad as the alley itself. But regardless of her personal feelings on them, she found herself creeping down the damp (Why were they always damp?) and dark street.
There was an old light hanging above the door she was after and she paused behind a chipped wooden crate, reassured by the weight of her gun at her back. She could hear quiet voices breaking through the usual din of the Los Angeles night, and as they stopped outside the door she could hear them clearly.
"We need to move her. Tonight. Clearly, they can get to you anywhere," a voice she recognized as Callen's stated. A harsh voice answered.
"You should not have brought him here, Alek. This is a mistake. We do not know this man."
"Quiet Nikolai," the third, older man responded frantically. "You saw what happened yesterday! It is because of him we are still alive. No, we will finish this tonight. We will not move her; we will kill her now and wash our hands of this."
"Whatever you think is best, Alek. I will take care of it," Kensi heard Callen say just as they disappeared into the building. Kensi scanned the area and crept closer to the building. There were no windows on the side of the factory, but she could make out the faint lines of raised skylights on the roof. She was about to look for access to them when the cold, metal barrel of a gun was pressed deeply into her back.
"Кто вы?" Kensi felt the gun dig deeper as the voice asked again, more insistent. "Кто вы?"
Placing her hands up and in front of her, she slowly spun around and faced her assailant. Another man had joined him and they were both pointing guns into her face. She knew she had no chance of taking them both at the same time, so settled on shaking her head.
The closer man's face screwed up in a glare. "Приходите," he spat and pushed her forward toward the steel door. Kensi couldn't quiet the cynical voice in her head as she walked slowly ahead.
Well Callen, it's time to see just what kind of man you are.