Close Encounters 29

Kate Beckett came to a halt before the conflagration, the nail salon in a fiery ball of angry flames. The fire department was keeping everyone far back across the street, the radius large as the heat of the blaze was too intense, the fire itself wicked and hungry.

For a moment, all she could do was stare at those flames and the darkness that outlined them.

Three women had been inside just before she and Castle had taken their stroll through town, acting the cute couple, not quite acting. And now to this.

Her cop instincts screamed at her to rush forward to the investigator on scene to explain who might be inside, or at least coordinate services, offer a pair of extra hands. But a skirt and sandals reminded her that she was undercover, and she couldn't.

She couldn't.

She felt Castle tug at her arm. When she turned, he was trying to lead her away from the front lines, the crowded spectators. She followed him blindly through the night, his body lit up with the same shadows and angles as it had in the restaurant under those torches, but this was a brutal light, and his face was garish as he turned back to take her hand.

"I want to get a better look. Bit too coincidental, don't you think?"

She definitely thought so.

They slunk between buildings, backtracking a few blocks to avoid the cordoned area. Castle slipped them past the facade of the main street to the auto body shops and warehouses, the grittier side of the tourist town. She followed him down a delivery alley, stepping around puddles but hurrying after him as she felt the heat of the fire.

When they came to a fence at the end of the alley, Castle stuck a toe in the chainlink and started climbing. Now she mourned her choice of footwear for sure. But pushed against the fence was a stack of wooden pallets, and then with her super husband to help, she was bound to get over the fence.

"Rick," she called. He was at the top, but it looked like he'd already thought of her. He put a leg over and got situated, straddling the top, and he leaned back her way with his hand outstretched.

She got a foot onto the stack of pallets, climbed up them like a ladder - precarious as it was, the wood rotting and shifting under her weight. She grabbed Castle's hand, his knees clenched around the fence, and she lifted a foot and pushed it into the toehold his calf made.

Good thing espadrilles and not heels.

Castle grunted, but he stayed steady, and she climbed his body to the top of the chainlink fence. His breath was fast and hot against her neck as she sank down and straddled his thighs. He let go of her hand to grip a fistful of her shirt.

"Let me lower you down, baby," he panted.

"Are you-" She laughed and kissed him fast for being aroused in the middle of a mission, and then gripped his offered hands, her grip around his wrists and vice versa. Gymnast's grip. "Okay. Ready?"

"Ready." He leaned back to counterbalance her weight, and she got both of her feet on his thigh, slowly. He nodded and she lowered a leg over the fence, digging her other foot into his calf to help climb down.

A draft of hot air from the fire two blocks over swirled under her skirt, and she huffed, but she pushed her seeking foot against the chainlink to steady her descent.

"Now the other leg," he said, grunting as he took her full weight in his hands. He leaned with her body, lowering her down, his torso bent double until her feet dangled only a few feet off the ground. "Can you land?"

"No problem," she told him. "Let go."

A strange look went over his face, as if suddenly that was the last thing in the world he wanted to do - let her go.

"Castle-"

And then he did, and her platform wedges hit the pavement, turning both ankles. But she was strong and she caught herself with the fence, didn't fall, her ankles barely felt it. She stepped back and shot him a thumbs up and then Castle was scaling down the fence like a monkey.

He dropped at her side and took her hand, and they headed briskly through the alley and up the next side, coming around the back of the block where the trash was collected. They had to be more careful as they moved because police officers and firemen were stationed here to keep the fire from spreading.

But it looked like they were failing.

The fire was raging out of control; it had caught the side of the building next door, and a fire truck had pulled up to another hydrant, opening its hose wide to soak the rest of the block. The cordon had been loosened on this side, no pedestrians or onlookers, but there were still police officers blocking their way.

Castle pulled her to a stop beside a dumpster and they squatted down, watching the flames, the water that didn't seem to make a dent.

"Arson," she said tightly.

"Can't know that just by looking," he told her. They had to practically shout to be heard over the roar.

"It's too hot for an accident," she growled.

"Faulty wiring."

"You saw that place," she said. "New. Built within in the last ten years."

"Built badly maybe."

He was playing devil's advocate but she could tell by the concentration on his face that he thought the same. Concentration that was highlighted demonically by the fierceness of the flames.

"Why do this?" she murmured. And then it really hit her, why. "They were inside. Oh, God, Castle, those woman were all inside, weren't they?"

"At this time of night?" He shook his head. "Shouldn't have been."

"Then what would be the point?" Not that she wanted them dead, but if someone had done this deliberately, then wasn't it to wipe out the last of their connections to Salome? Cleaning up loose ends. That's what this felt like.

Something popped and groaned, and Castle hunched lower, dragged her down with him. "Attract attention." She ducked completely out of view, but he shook his head. "Not to us. Attract our attention."

"Damn. Who?" She eased away from him, glanced towards the massive fireball. The building next door was doomed, though the fire department was still soaking everything on the block, hoping to contain it. "Who wants our attention?"

And then she felt Castle stiffen, and the unmistakeable click of a gun.

She froze.

"Damn it. Who do you think?" he growled. His hand tightened on her knee and she turned slowly.

Salome.

Holy fuck, she was a super model.

Salome Fernandez del Solar - AKA the asset known only as Lo - was holding a damn gun on him.

Which she immediately pointed away when she saw his face, though she didn't holster it, and her wicked grin lit up in the firelight like a jack-o-lantern.

(They were supposed to carve pumpkins this year. He and Kate had talked about a hay ride and pumpkin patch and how it would be the baby's first, and what the boy would think about it, how James would have so many firsts this coming month.)

Salome put a hand on her hip. "Well, if it isn't El Máquina."

Kate snorted. "Machine is feminine," she muttered under her breath.

Well, of course Salome knew that, as did he - la máquina - but that had been the point. He was so damn neutral, so cold, such a machine. And Salome had been the one to name him; he'd somehow forgotten that.

Damn.

"Lo," he said tightly. "Do I see your handiwork in this?"

"You want to come away from here?" she said, her voice still that lilting, reluctant accent. As if she had, at one point, practiced a long time to get rid of it, but it hadn't worked. She spoke as if her root language was something completely different from Spanish or English both.

He realized he didn't entirely know her; he had no idea where she'd come from originally.

"Why don't you tell me if there were people inside?" he said quickly, still crouched on his haunches with Kate at his side. He felt the need to prove he didn't need to prove anything. So he stayed where he was. "Lo. Did you check to see it was clear?"

"Oh, were there people inside?" she gasped.

Fucking hell.

Kate sprang to her feet, her fury as blazing as the fire behind them, but her control - as always - impeccable. "She was your contact." She advanced on Salome and Castle jumped up as well, but he didn't stop her. "She was your responsibility."

"Well, now she's not," Salome said, rolling her eyes. She looked at Castle. "Who's the fucking killjoy over here?"

"Agent Hunt," he answered. "She's in this sector."

Salome smiled that evil, cold-bitch smile. "No, she's not, baby. I know all the agents in this sector. And I've had most of them."

"Or killed them off?" he accused. "Well, now she's what's left."

"Killed them?" Salome gasped, playing it up so there was no way of knowing. "Me? Of course not. Don't be foolish, Castle. What would that get me?"

Kate stiffened. Damn, he forgot to mention that Agent Castle had been his code name for this one, back when he'd been trying out different names to distinguish himself from his father. He'd been Black in the Army, Castle in the field. Fuck.

"It's Sam Hunt," he said, not looking at Kate. "For this mission. If you fuck it up, it's our lives. Remember?"

"Sure, baby, I remember. You think I don't know how this works? I set this in motion. And now that you've come at my call, you're going to help me beat these fucking pendejos."

Kate turned a dark look to him and he pretended he didn't see it. "We're exfiltrating you, Lo. We're not playing your game."

She pouted prettily, turning on all that empty and terrible charm. She was in dark black pants that had no shine but which clung to her curves like a mystery, while her blouse was delicate and flimsy and feminine in a way that looked incongruous on her. Dark hair, raven's wing dark, and those soulless eyes that threatened to suck out a man's soul.

He hadn't had a soul before, so he'd never been in trouble. But now-

She stalked towards him, brushing past Kate, and she slid her arms around his neck.

He caught her wrists and stepped back, not subtle about it. "Did you not hear me? We're not playing a game here. Your cover is blown; your life is forfeit. You're coming with us."

"Coming?" she teased, all lilting vowels and purring consonants. She turned her head to Kate, for the first time assessing his wife. "I suppose she's alright. Nice ass. But you and I are the main event, Agent Castle, don't forget."

"We're not having a threesome," he said, keeping the ice in his voice. "We're getting you out of the country to a safe house. What you do from there is not my concern."

She pouted. "Oh, but baby, where's the fun in that?" Salome leaned in and licked the side of his face before he could jerk back. "She's such a drag for a fake wife. Want me to kill her?"

Before his anger snapped, Beckett stepped in with a move he hadn't seen coming - and apparently one Salome had discounted as her being capable of. But Salome's foot was swept out, her arm pinned behind her back until it threatened to break her elbow. Salome was doing the splits just to keep from falling flat on her face.

"Yes. I'm a drag," Beckett said sharply. Voice emotionless. "I do it by the book. So either you're coming in or you're not. Makes no different to me. Your ass is flat."

Salome hissed like a cat and tried to flip out of the hold, but Beckett still had her, seriously had her, moving into Salome's attempt to roll, and shoving Lo's face into the dirty pavement. There was an angry scratch on her cheek now, and honestly, Castle wasn't sure Salome didn't like it.

"Was that a no?" Kate said, her voice mild.

"Castle, get your fucking sidekick off my back before I do something she'll regret."

"I think she has you well in hand," Castle answered, entirely amused. But at the same time, he kicked Salome's knee out, knocking out his support, and she went all the way down. He pressed his palm to the middle of her back, leaned in over her. "We don't kill civilians, Lo. Not on purpose. Are you in or are you out?"

There was a moment where he thought she was actually going to capitulate. A moment of her harsh breathing (like arousal, he couldn't help noticing), her body heaving, her mind working over the problem.

And then she lashed out with a kick that caught Kate hard in the lower back, toppling her into him, and Salome was ripping out of his all-too-light hold. Castle untangled from Beckett and scrambled after Lo, running full tilt, but he'd taken his eyes off her when he had caught his wife, and now Lo had disappeared into the darkest shadows. There was a clang of boot on metal and he scanned the balconies above his head, but she was gone.

He returned to the dumpster where they had been made and found his wife on her side, a hand planted in the pavement.

"Becks," he hissed.

Kate groaned but she didn't rise.

Beckett batted his hand away and eased to a sitting position, her legs tingling. "Just pinched a nerve," she told him. "Give me a second. You couldn't follow her?"

"No," he scowled at her. "She disappeared into the darkness. I think she had an escape route planned."

Kate knew she really needed to get to her feet. He didn't like her down. She knew that, and she could fake it till she made it. "Help me up?" She held out her hands to him and he immediately had her pulled right up to her feet.

Of course, she couldn't quite feel her feet and her ankles were apparently a little weak from that climb over the fence, because she nearly fell right back down again. Castle caught her up against his chest, but she pushed him away, shaking her head.

Only enough for appearances though. She had a tight grip on his forearm. "She's watching," Kate murmured.

Castle stiffened, stepped away. "What?"

"She went up, above, right?"

His eyes narrowed.

She shrugged. "I've been studying up on her. She's doing recon on us. She lured us - you - out here so she could pick up our trail. I wouldn't be surprised to find her with a knife to my throat in the middle of the night."

"Fucking hell," Castle growled. He stalked away from her, heading towards the alley where apparently he had lost Salome. She didn't expect him to find the woman, but Beckett bent down and picked up the weapon his ex had left.

Interesting. So Salome hadn't been as in control of things as she'd planned. She wouldn't have dropped the gun and run without it. Had it been the change in Castle or had it been Kate's addition that had done it?

She walked slowly towards her husband, the weapon at her side, the warm metal heated by hands and flames.

Metal with her fingerprints on it now.

If the fire had been set, and it sounded like it had been, and by Salome more or less, had she dispatched her contact inside? Was this a plant now, a deliberate effort to tangle Castle in a police investigation?

Fuck.

Kate used the hem of her skirt to wipe down the gun, cleared her throat to gain her husband's attention. He turned very slightly, just enough that she knew he was listening to her while still scanning the rooftops.

"She dropped this. Accidental or purposeful, I don't know."

Castle muttered a curse and took the suppressed Ruger Mk II from her with the hem of his dress shirt pulled up, and then he ejected the magazine. She watched him push out every last round into a sewer drain, and then he tossed the clip in a dumpster. He held the piece steady and began dismantling the firing mechanism.

He kept the firing pin and tossed the gun itself behind plastic packing crates that looked like they hadn't moved in years. He handed her the pin and she slid it down into her bra with her lightweight burner phone, the model Ryan had given them earlier. She had to adjust a little, and Castle smirked, so she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Let's be circumspect," she told him quietly. She didn't plan on allowing Lo to just follow them straight back to their safe house. She wanted to make it damn difficult.

She also trusted Castle's instinct. If he wanted her to play the part of another agent in the Colombian field, maybe a little green, and definitely not his wife, she would do that. She didn't relish being marginalized, but she thought the element of surprise might be all she had here.

"Becks," he murmured.

She glanced away from the burning building, and for a moment, the darkness was so complete and the afterimage of flames so searing, that she couldn't see his face.

And then he reached out and hooked his finger in hers, a brief touch, before letting her go.

All she needed.