AN: Hello. Before I begin, I want to say a massive thank you to the people who reviewed. Seeing that new message in my inbox really makes my day and makes writing so much more worthwhile. So, please, if you're reading please review. Even if it's constructive criticism. I promise I won't call you a troll. :)


Hush

12. Exhibit


Seven days and seven nights.

In that space of time, Nick and Amanda set aside their alter egos to return to their true detective forms. They pursued the money laundering lead, each dedicating a day to follow local business owners meet in classified locations with potential partners. They imagined the exchange of illicit money, unscrupulous deals in a back alley by some dumpster, a loaded gun and a loose finger on the trigger. Not an hour and a half's drive outside of town to watch a coffee shop owner pick up bulk toilet paper from a wholesale supplier.

Watching paint dry would've been a more worthwhile activity.

But those days weren't all a waste. It had been a week since the Fourth of July party. A week since that seismic shift that would forever change the course of their partnership.

One could argue that they used that time to rehearse their roles as husband and wife. So it began, the process of learning what each other liked. Nick familiarized himself with the sensitive spot behind her ear. He reveled in her breathless gasp every time his touch skimmed the back of her knees. And Amanda wasn't far behind either. There were things she could do with her mouth that he had never quite experienced; and she was so receptive to the way his hips bucked and the way his grip tightened around her hair. It was seven days and seven nights of satiating each other's appetite - a sinful cycle of hunger and feasting, hunger and feasting….

Nick felt it reawaken something inside him, and he could tell that he wasn't alone in this. She reacted to him when he made the first move, but she also didn't shy away from initiating. She was the kind of woman who knew what she wanted in bed, which was more than he could say for his ex. Not that sleeping with Maria was bad; it was just different. It was all intimacy and making love, whereas with Amanda, it was raw and powerful, frenzied and rough. With Maria, it was about fulfilling the conventions of a marriage. With Amanda, it was about reckless abandonment and an animalistic desire to mark every corner of their loveshack. Morning, noon, and night, their bodies intertwined.

Resting his cheek on the pillow, he found her lying on her back asleep. The blanket draped over the smooth plane of her stomach and stopped at the swell of her breasts. He was so lost in this hypnotic worship of her body that he failed to notice the first few vibrations of his cell phone. It rattled against the nightstand, the screen blinking to alert a new call.

With the stealth of a ninja, Nick shifted off the bed and crept toward the moonlight seeping through the French doors. Slowly, he turned the knob and stepped out onto the balcony, feeling the evening air envelop his naked form.

"Olivia?"

"Nick, hey, sorry to wake you -"

"- You didn't," he started, but stopped himself before he admitted he was only awake because he was deep in thought about Amanda. "What's going on?"

"I looked into your guy. You were right; there aren't any checks on Ben Finch - no warrants, active restraining orders, probation records, and not even a single demerit on his driving record."

"Thanks for looking into it," Nick sighed and squeezed the nape of his neck. "But that just puts us back to square one."

"Not so fast," Olivia said, her voice spiked with the possibility of a push in the right direction. "I spoke to a woman who works security for a private agency in Jersey. She was a former colleague of Ben's up until 2007, when she filed a sexual harassment claim against him."

"No kiddin'?"

"Their captain advised them to settle it privately without getting 1-PP involved. And they did… well, until a couple months later at a staff Christmas party. Ben was drunk and he made a pass at her. When she denied him, he got angry and forced her against the wall in an empty stairwell. He would've raped her had he not been scared off by the voices of two co-workers from a few floors up."

Nick's hand instinctively coiled into a fist, his jaw clenching at the thought of Ben Finch still having a badge. There wasn't a more bitter irony than a corrupt cop.

"The woman filed another complaint, hoping to take him to civil court. But she wasn't expecting for their captain to claim that Ben was with him at his office the time the attack took place; thereby, solidifying his alibi."

He exhaled deeply to calm himself. If Ben wasn't already doing a bang-up job representing police officers, here was his captain to hammer the final nail in that coffin. "How is she?" he asked. "What was she like when you spoke with her?"

"A little shaken up, but she said even if she didn't get the justice she hoped for, she still got some payback," Olivia said. "Before she left the NYPD, she made sure the rumors and accusations stuck with Ben. He was only able to work in his precinct for about four months before the brass advised a transfer to another county. That's how he got the job at Suffolk PD."

That explained for the backsliding career move, and his captain covering for him would've likely explained for the clean record. Unfortunately, this wasn't the first case Nick was hearing of records being expunged on account of friendships within the force.

"Did you find anything on DV?" Nick asked, thinking back to that day they followed his wife home.

"Domestic violence?" He could hear Olivia clicking through the options on her computer. "He and his wife divorced in 2008 due to irreconcilable differences." That didn't give much away. 'Irreconcilable differences' was one of those catch-all phrases that encapsulated the dissolution of a marriage without having to rehash all the painful details. It was the same reason he and Maria used in their divorce proceedings, but the difference was he had never laid a hand on his wife.

"Wait," Olivia added. "He was in a civil union before… Nineteen and a fresh recruit in the Atlanta Police Academy program. They were getting DV calls from his mother's house, where he lived in a basement apartment with his pregnant girlfriend. Nothing came of it though. But six months after the first 911 call, the girl went back to her hometown without her boyfriend… and without her baby."


High tides and a cool breeze set the summer morning apart from the rest. Nick sat out on the deck with his coffee, appreciating the seasonal oddity of gray skies and a brewing thunderstorm. It was scheduled to pour in less than an hour and he hoped Amanda would be back from her run by then.

Although, the idea of helping her out of her wet clothes was highly tempting.

Before the male one-track mind took control of his body, he heard the light footsteps of Nikes on sodden earth. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled as. Amanda joined him from her morning jog, carrying a roll of The Society Pages in her hand. She returned the smile as she slowed down and caught her breath.

Throwing the paper on top of the table, it uncoiled to reveal a square envelope with a red seal. Nick didn't think much of it as his eyes were settled on the woman who shared his bed. She was dressed in black leggings that revealed her shapely legs, a loose tank that dipped low enough to reveal a glimpse of a hot pink sports bra. He didn't take her for someone who liked pink; but the hint of it underneath her top was like an invitation to learn an intimate secret.

Amanda walked around the table and began to pull a chair, but Nick wrapped his arm around her waist and hooked her onto his lap.

"Nick!" she shrieked, squirming away from him. "I'm sweaty and gross."

"Don't care," he groaned, burrowing his face in her neck and planting soft kisses on her damp skin. She was still squirming in his hold, but it was now a response to the ticklish sensation of his lips and his feather-light touch on her waist. His tongue slipped out to brush against the shell of her ear, his teeth nibbling on her earlobe. "C'mere."

"Hey…" Amanda sighed as her hands trailed up his chest, basking in the attention his mouth was delivering to her body. "Easy…" Placing a little more pressure on his chest, she pushed against him and watched as his bottom lip jutted out and his eyes widened in confusion. "I got something to show you," she rasped, startled that his naughty act had been enough to steal the breath from her lungs.

Without losing the stare of his cinnamon eyes, she reached behind her to feel for the stiff envelope. She dangled it in front of his face to show the seal - an intricate 'W' pressed in crimson wax.

"What is it?"

She ripped the seal and pulled out a black card decorated in metallic gold ink. It was an invitation to a local artist's exhibit two days away. Amanda read the description of the event aloud, "An inquiry into post-modernist expression of the naturalistic state." She snorted and tossed the invitation on the table. "I have no idea what any of that means."

"Hey, don't look at me," Nick said, raising his hands in surrender.

Sighing, Amanda matched her palms with his and led them back to her waist. She glared at him - an unspoken warning that he could touch but he couldn't tickle. Shifting on his lap, she pulled one leg over so she could straddle him. His throat bobbed as he felt himself harden at the proximity separated only by thin swatches of fabric. Her skin was cool to the touch but it warmed as his fingers ascended her torso to the elastic band of her sports bra. He teased under the material with the tips of his fingers, mesmerized as her lids fluttered shut like moth wings circling a flame. The elastic snapped lightly against her skin as he relinquished contact, palms rising to skim over the surge of her breasts. In her impatience, she crushed into his hold and captured his lips in a torrid kiss.

And even when the first drizzle of rain grew into a downpour, Nick and Amanda never parted until they were drained of every last drop.


"Mmm… yours tastes better."

Nick glanced down at his pistacchio gelato and then at Amanda, who was ignoring her choice of chocolate-hazelnut. He tilted the cone in her direction and allowed her to taste the ice cream for a second time, but she surprised him when she took a large bite. The crunch of the waffle cone signalled his brows to furrow together in mock anger.

"Ok, I said you could try some of mine; I didn't say you could finish all of it."

They were walking down the boardwalk under the wide open sky, clear and bright after yesterday's storm. The lobster catch was always better right after the rain, so the fishing dock was lined up with boats loading up supplies and blowing their horns. People came out in droves to walk and bike along the path, making the most of the weather after being forced indoors.

Amanda pulled him by the crook of his elbow as she stuck her tongue out, trying to get another lick.

"No." Nick pouted like a petulant child. "My ice cream."

"I'll trade ya."

"No thanks."

She raised a brow and bit down on her bottom lip. "I haven't even told you what I'm willing to trade."

He stared at her in awe, falling head over heels into the palm of her hand. She seized him and he didn't give a damn if she ever released him because he had no plans of going anywhere.

She got on the tips of her toes as her mouth turned up into a naughty smirk, ready to whisper in his ear.

But his phone rang.

"Hold that thought," he said, immediately regretting his words and actions as he reached into his back pocket to check the name of the caller. "It's Fin."

She nodded, taking a step back and pointing to a nearby bench. Nick mouthed a 'sorry' before he answered the call, "Fin, this better be good."

"Am I interrupting something?"

"Uh, no." Nick cleared his throat. "What's up?"

There was a lull on the other line as Fin wasn't totally convinced by his answer and the quick change of topic. But he was never one to pry, and he figured the younger detective wouldn't have told him anyway. "Man, I got that text you were waiting for."

Nick wanted to pump his fist in the air and celebrate. It was a small victory, and he wasn't even sure if it meant anything, but he was hoping this information would turn out to be the ace up his sleeve.

Flashback to Leo's yacht party, Nick was in the smoking room with some of the men. The entire time, he was observant of the hushed bickering between Owen Walker and Doug Livingston. He couldn't hear them very well from where he was standing, but he tired to read their lips and noted the words 'access' and 'girls'. Walking closer, Nick poured himself a drink from the liquor cabinet and listened to the rise in Doug's voice as he hounded the other man for a number. Owen, then, proceeded to call him an idiot for misplacing and forgetting it. But after more prodding, Owen finally resigned and said he would forward him the number later that evening.

Nick knew it was a risky move with all the eyes in the room, but he took security in the fact that most of them were either drunk or high. While Owen was on the leather couch with one of Leo's interns on his lap, Nick found the man's sport coat draped on a chair by the door. He swiped the phone from the pocket and searched through the contacts for Doug's phone number, erasing the existing contact information and redirecting it to the number of a burner phone he left in the second drawer of his office desk.

After slipping the phone back into the jacket pocket without any witnesses, Nick asked Fin to keep an eye on the burner phone and let him know if a message was received.

"Dude came through," he said. "I'll forward it to you. Maybe you can make sense of it, 'cause all it says is 3074-B 646-7595."

Nick pondered the meaning of the numbers as Fin told him he had already tried to call the second number, but it was no longer in use. It had a Manhattan area code so it was slightly reassuring that the scope of the prostitution ring hadn't expanded further out of state.

"First set of numbers could be an apartment."

"Or a locker," Fin suggested. There was noise coming from the other end, and he could hear Fin shushing someone before he spoke again, "... Uh, by the way, how's the wife?"

"She's uh -" He turned around to see the unoccupied bench and Amanda standing a few feet away; she was talking to Carter Baines, the firefighter from the town meeting. "- she's not my wife, but nice try."

He could hear Munch laughing in the background.

"Am I on speaker phone?"

"Hey kid," Munch said as he dropped in uninvited. That was Nick's cue to end the call. Well, that and the possessive urge to interrupt Amanda's conversation with the caveman. "Are you playing nice with Detective Rollins?"

Fin chuckled. "You should be asking her. The day she showed up, she looked like she was going to bust a cap in his ass!"

"Funny, guys," Nick said sarcastically. "Look, I gotta go. Thanks for all the help with the phone."

As soon as he dropped the call, he stalked over to Amanda and Carter, just in time to hear the tail end of their exchange.

"The pub down the street is doing half-price shots. What do you say, sweetheart?"

Amanda crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm married."

"Aw, come on. I heard you been hangin' around Mr. Fiorentino's crowd. Don't think a wedding ring ain't ever stop your kind of woman before."

"You heard wrong."

Although she looked like she could handle herself, Nick's jealousy and protective instinct merged into one hasty ball of rage that needed to step in and make itself known. Carter plastered a crooked smile and attempted to close the gap between the two of them. Steps away from the scene, Nick felt that all too familiar slip of control over his emotions, like all he could see were the sparks and smoke emitted by his short fuse.

His fingers curled against the palm of his hand, ready to strike a face only a fist could love.

But Amanda took a step back and hovered her palm over Carter's chest to stop him. She was about to tell him off when she felt Nick's arm drape over her shoulder.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

Amanda was caught off-guard as she stammered, "Y-yeah. I was just waiting for your call to end… You ready to go?"

"Ready when you are." Nick smiled and hoped it was enough to ease some of the tension that gripped the muscles on her shoulders. He turned to the other man, cocking his head to the side and squinting his eyes. "I'm sorry, your name was -"

"- Carter," he completed with a grimace.

"Right." Nick snapped his fingers. "The dumbass who makes a pass at my wife when I'm standing right there." He gestured to the direction he came from, keenly aware of Carter's deepening scowl and the twitch in his jaw. Nick smirked as he felt the air from Amanda's chuckle graze over his skin. "Have a good one, bud."

Together, the couple turned on their heels and left Carter seething and staring them down. Amanda took the opportunity to sprinkle salt into his wounded ego, slipping her hand in the back pocket of her husband's jeans and squeezing his ass for good measure.


July 13

It was already dusk by the time Nick crawled from under the 1973 Ford Mustang. The sudden return under the fluorescent lights dazed him, and he blinked to see Phillip still sitting on the sidelines, dictating a how-to on car maintenance. Nick didn't mind being the only set of hands actually working on the car; there was something gratifying about restoring it on his own.

The night of the art exhibit was upon them and while he would have preferred to hang out in the garage and tinker with wires and engines, he needed to get himself cleaned up if they wanted to arrive on time. He picked up his t-shirt from the bench and threw it over his shoulder, using the hem to wipe the sweat off his brow. Once he was through inspecting another potential improvement under the hood, he rushed back to the cabin, heading straight for the stairs to gather his change of clothes.

But Nick's feet rooted to the ground.

It was a case of déja vu. Amanda, clad in a dress that perilously hung from her shoulders, stood in front of a full-length mirror whilst holding up another dress over her body. She looked deep in thought, deciding on what to wear for the evening. She didn't even notice his intrusion until their gazes locked in their reflection. The shade of blue in her eyes swirled with indigo like the twilight beyond the open doors of the balcony.

Amanda hooked the second dress on the rail, then she readjusted the straps of the white one she barely had on. The back of the dress remained unzipped, but the skirt was tight, hugging and lifting every curve of her bottom.

Nick felt his cock strain against the roughness of his jeans. Thoughtlessly, he reached down to adjust himself and caught on as Amanda's stare drifted lower.

Her pink tongue traced over her lip like she couldn't wait to unwrap and taste him. That little stunt was all it took to uproot him from his position and close the gap between them. Standing behind her, he looked at the mirror as his fingers dipped below the straps of her dress, pulling them past her shoulders. He swept her hair to the side so he could plant searing kisses from her neck to the subtle slope of her jaw. His eyes flitted up to watch her restrain a moan as her delicate fingers coursed through the back of his head, urging him to continue his sensual study with his lips.

She tugged at his hair as his mouth sucked on that spot behind her ear. She hissed as she held the falling garment flush against her body. At the point her chest heaved for oxygen, Nick placed his hand over her heart, imploring her to loosen her grip.

The top fell to her hips, her breasts spilling into his waiting hands, caressing her flesh to the point of aching tenderness.

"I wanted to touch you like this the other night," Nick hummed against the curve of her shoulder. "You were standing here in that red dress… asking me to help you…" He groaned, his fingers tweaking stiff points while his mouth was drawing blood beneath the surface of her skin. "It was torture."

She arched into his touch and dug her nails deep against his skull. "I was trying to get to you," she confessed in a breathless rasp. "I knew I was playing with fire, but I did it anyway."

"So, you admit you were bad?"

"Maybe." She placed her hand over her stomach, drawing in as his fingers twisted and plucked with an absence of fragility. Sinking lower to her pubic bone, she was proving her sinfulness in her actions and it was driving him absolutely mad with desire. He swirled his tongue around the faint mark on her neck and brushed his thumbs lightly over her nipples, before he backed away completely. Removing any trace of his touch was his way of telling her that he wasn't convinced by her answer. And just by the way her body arched and trembled, he knew she was trying to keep the truth behind lock and key.

Amanda missed his touch the second his body withdrew, but she still had her own fingers to ease that longing between her legs. She skimmed lightly over her clit, craning her neck and sealing her eyes as she found a semblance of relief. She began to knead with more urgency, and didn't even stop when she felt Nick's jean-clad erection press against her ass.

"What about now?" He stared at their reflection and waited for Amanda to open her eyes.

She spun around and crashed her lips on his, tangling tongues and stealing the air right out from under him. Her teeth tugged on his bottom lip before she pulled away. "What do you want me to say, Nick?" she asked as her heart bounded loudly against her chest. "That I've been a bad girl?"

He swallowed hard.

"You get off on that shit?"

He shook his head. "That's not what I meant."

"Shame." She clicked her tongue against her teeth, her thumbs hooking into the band of his jeans to reel him in. "I could'a been if you wanted me to."

"Forget it." He began to twist around and call off the entire thing. He didn't like feeling embarrassed, and he especially didn't like feeling played.

Still, she had her hooks on him - literally and figuratively - and she tugged harder, carving into the hard planes of his body with her soft and smooth flesh. He ached to hold her, but the little that was left of his pride yelled at him to exercise some self-control. "Amanda."

"Relax," she murmured, kissing him a few times on the corner of his mouth until she finally locked with his lips. "I was just teasing."

She backed up until her back felt the edge of the dresser. She pushed on her hands to sit up on the four rows of drawers, letting her feet dangle off the floor. Crooking a finger, she motioned for him to come closer. When he was close enough, she peeled off his jeans and pushed them down to his knees with her foot. She palmed his hardness and felt him twitch in anticipation of skin-to-skin contact. His hands rested on the edge of the dresser and his head bowed low as his breaths became more ragged.

Amanda supported herself on his tense shoulders as she lifted her hips and slid off her panties, letting them hang off her left ankle. Keeping the dress bunched at her hips, she drew one leg to her chest. The position exposed her in the most vulnerably erotic way, her folds glistening in a layer of her arousal.

"Fuck me," she told him, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the framed mirror above the dresser. "Don't tell me what you're about to do; just do it."

He licked his lips and studied the depth in the rise and fall of her chest. Her nipples were a deep rose, swollen from his fingers' earlier ministrations. He was tempted to let this last into the night, to take one bud into his mouth and let his tongue soothe the sting. But she asked him to proceed without caution, and he didn't want to fall short of those expectations.

"Oh G - God!" Her eyes shot open as the prayer cried out from the deepest recesses of her lungs.

Nick filled her to the hilt, his body slowly rocking to adjust to the tiny muscle spasms that clenched around his cock. She was so slick and so responsive that he ached to push, pull, and stretch her to her limits.

She rested her cheek on her knee, her head tilted to observe their reflection on the full-length mirror. "Keep going."

Listening to her plea, he drew his length until only the head was swathed in her entrance. He followed her gaze on their reflection as he entered her again fully, inch by inch, just as enraptured by the moving image of their sex. They were bearing witness to their own obscene act, pupils blowing out like ink blots from the indecency. But when it became too much and it threatened to release the coils before he was ready to let go, he searched for her kiss.

A claim on her lips to stake a claim on her heart.


They were late.

Too lost in their haze of lust to realize that time hadn't stopped for them. Skin slick against skin in a dirty duel when they should've been cleansed and clothed. Distracted by the rhythmic motions of each other's bodies when they were supposed to be driving to the gallery.

They considered not showing up. How much information pertinent to the case could they get from a stupid art exhibit anyway?

After Nick parked the car on a side street, Amanda looped her arm under his, both of them laughing like naughty school children playing hooky. What excuse were they going to use on the other guests? 'Sorry, we're late but my husband was fucking me six ways to Sunday'.

They headed toward the frosted glass doors of the gallery, pulling it open to step inside. Only a single bright spotlight was pointed to the door. Around them, four white walls were void of any art. In the center of the room, three thick columns cast long dark shadows.

"Uh… Where is everyone?" His voice echoed against the walls of the cavernous space. "Are you sure this was the right address?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," she replied with a tinge of annoyance. She took a few steps further into the room, stopping abruptly when her ears picked up on an unwelcome sound. She slowly glanced over her shoulder. "Nick, did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

A piercing scream sliced right through the silence.

Before he could react to the imposing figure that crept in the shadows, her head disappeared under a bag, muffling her scream. "Amanda!" he cried, leaping toward her to stop the masked man from hauling her away. His fingers only caught air as he was forced to the ground. Someone behind him held him down with a firm grip on his wrists and a knee on the base of his spine. He lifted his head and caught the last glimpse of the white dress and golden hair dragged into the darkness.

Nick struggled in the hold, but his movements ceased as he felt a sharp prick on the surface of his neck.

The man grunted. "Move and I'm going to have to sedate you."

The needle scratched along his vein, causing Nick to hiss sharply. He wanted so badly to resist, but he knew he was more powerless unconscious than tied up. With Amanda's life at the foreground of every thought and every impulse to protect, he wasn't giving up on her; but he had to stop fighting.

Bag over his head.

Can't see.

Chokehold.

Can't breathe.