A/N – Thank you so much for the HUGE outpouring of reviews. It was amazing to hear from so many of you. If that's the kind of response a long chapter gets me, then I'm doing it again. This chapter is so big that NY mayor Michael Bloomberg is going to have it outlawed like he did the super gulp.
RE: the last chapter - a few of you were not happy with Logan's behavior in the hallway and called it OOC. What can I say? I can't please everybody with every scene, but I try. I think the tone didn't translate the way I wanted it to. He wasn't supposed to seem devastated by the lie, just thrown for a moment. Having it happen in front of Keith didn't help his mindset. I probably could have finessed that better- and maybe I'll go back and do that at some point.
For those of you who thought Keith was OOC, I respectfully disagree. He just found out his unmarried daughter, who just got stabbed, was pregnant. He was irate and reactionary. We've seen him like this on the show before (when Alicia accused him of treating V like she was 40, when he found out she helped Duncan/Lilly). He doesn't take humor well when he's pissed off. Just know, I'm definitely taking all of your comments to heart, so know that you've been heard.
I know I've been a little slow about responding to all of your reviews, but I've been working on two multi-chapter fics at once (the other one is called 'The Morning After' and it's for 'That 70's Show' fandom), so I've been swamped. I promise I will get to them eventually, but I figured you'd rather have a faster update than a response. The comments are all very much appreciated, I swear.
FYI - this chapter is rated M. There's (finally!) SMUT in the MaDi scene!
Without further ado...on with the show!
Previously: Veronica told her father she was pregnant and they had a big family dinner to celebrate. Wallace agreed to go with Logan to Solvang to track down the artists who made the stationary, on the condition that he agree to tell Keith about his stalker if nothing came up. Duncan arrived in prison to discover Hector, Weevil's former PCHer friend and leader of the Latin prison gang, was his roommate and paid bodyguard. Chardo (in prison for theft) staged a fist fight with Duncan in the mess hall to establish Duncan as a prison badass, not to be messed with. Liam caught wind of Duncan's arrival, and He (with Danny Boyd in tow) tried to convince Duncan to have a private chat, away from Hector. Tensions were eased by a sudden riot breaking out, forcing all inmates back into their cells. Upon arrival at their beach house, Veronica noticed fingerprints on their alarm keypad, and through the use of fluorescein powder and a UV light, she discovered a set of bare, female footprints in her living room leading to the kitchen, where she discovered the latest rose and note from Logan's stalker.
CHAPTER 13
"Oh Logan, you idiot." Veronica stood dumbfounded in front of her boyfriend's 'Mothra' of an espresso machine, staring at the crime scene, with absolutely no idea what to do next.
It was a new sensation for her, being two steps behind. She wasn't exactly a fan.
What did you do, Logan?
The rose lying in front of the coffee maker was as delicate as the one she'd found days earlier in the foyer. The rose Logan lied to her about when she assumed he had left it for her.
The note, which she held open with a fork, was a poem. A haiku, to be specific, about love and loss and the writer ominously promised to be 'always watching'.
Always watching?
How long has this been going on? How many times has this person been in our house?
Veronica glanced at the strange set of footprints in the foyer, illuminated only by her UV light and the moon on the other side of the glass wall, and felt her anger rise.
Who is this woman?
She needed time to figure things out without Logan complicating matters. He'd been lying to her for God knows how long, and she couldn't take the chance that he'd lead her down the wrong path – whether by accident or by misdirection. He couldn't be trusted.
Trust. Not that it's a hot button issue with us or anything...
But she was well within her rights not to trust him now. She was the professional. She had the expertise and experience. He was just a pulp fiction writer of crime novels based on her life. Whatever he thought he was doing, if he was even doing anything at all, clearly wasn't working.
I knew he was hiding something, but this...what was he thinking?
Logan was in way over his head trying to deal with this alone, especially with the simultaneous death threat being aimed at her. In his own misguided way, she knew he was was trying to shelter her (as asinine as that idea seemed), but this was absolute insanity.
I'm paid by the government to protect other people. He's a civilian, and he thinks he's better qualified to protect me? I can protect me! The ego on that man!
It all came down to bravado. Men and their stupid bravado. The irony is that by trying to protect her, Logan may have been doing more harm than good. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that evidence had been compromised or even lost on his watch. How could it be otherwise?
I can't trust him with this. I have to get him away from the crime scene and upstairs until I get a chance to bag and record everything. He can't know I know or he's going to interfere and screw up the investigation.
Veronica pulled out her cell phone and drafted a message to her dad, briefly explaining the situation and asking him to swing by after she and Logan fell asleep. He had a copy of their house key and knew their alarm code. He would do a quick and efficient job. She just had to keep Logan away from the kitchen until sunrise.
Just as her finger hovered over the send button, she heard the front door jostle. "Shit!"
The send button was touched, and she hopscotched her way to the front door, careful not to step on any of the prints. "I'm coming! Hang on!"
She caught her breath and then unlocked the door, letting it open just a crack.
"Is she still asleep?" Veronica asked at top volume, rousing Lilly from her comfortable slumber in Logan's arms.
He sighed his annoyance. "She was asleep."
I woke her already? Awesome!
"Lilly? Lilly honey?" Veronica stroked Lilly's cheek with one hand while covertly tickling her side with the other.
Come on, girl. Do what you do best. Give him a hard time.
"What are you doing?" His eyes narrowed in accusation at Veronica. "Are you trying to make my life difficult?"
No more difficult than you're making mine, darling.
She affected a smile and pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth. "Always."
Her fingers continued to poke at her goddaughter's ribs, out of sight.
Wake up, kid!
"Auntie Veeeeeee." Lilly grumbled and then started kicking at her. "Stop it!"
Jackpot!
"What is wrong with you? I just spent half of her childhood trying to get her out of that car seat without waking her and you undid all of it in less than 30 seconds!" He gave her a cross look, which quickly morphed into a triumphant smirk. "You are so going to make this up to me later."
If anybody has some making up to do, it's totally you.
Veronica rolled her eyes. "Just get her upstairs and bathed and if I'm still awake when you come to bed, I'll see what I have energy for. Just make sure you come directly to bed. I might be passed out if you stop for a midnight snack or something."
"Be still my heart." He echoed her eye roll. "That's the kind of sexy talk you're going to need to curb once the baby arrives."
She pursed her lips seductively. "Then you'd better get her upstairs quickly, if you want a piece of my hot action."
"Promises, promises..." Logan dropped a swift peck on her lips as he attempted to pass through the door.
"Uncle Loooogan." Lilly deliriously lolled around in his waning grasp. "I want to play x-box!"
He looked at Veronica with venom. "Now, look what you've started."
Logan walked over the threshold and Veronica threw herself in his path once again. "Oh, hey listen. I had a little bit of an accident with the fluorescein. It was leaking, I didn't notice. Long story short, it's looks like the surface of Mars in our living room."
"Well, if you had to make it look like any planet..." He shrugged. "Nneka will get to it in the morning. I'll leave a note."
"I'll do it. You just get Lilly upstairs." She shut the door behind them and guided Logan through the darkness toward the staircase, careful not to let him tread through the red dust.
He stopped at the base of the stairs. "I know this is a crazy question, but could you possibly, I don't know, turn on a light?"
Veronica clung to his arm and lifted her mouth to his ear, speaking with a breathy whisper. "This is more romantic."
Okay, maybe I went a little overboard. He's going to think I'm a lunatic.
His eyes shifted suspiciously toward her. "Keith said you'd get weird while pregnant."
"Hormones." She threw her hands in the air, in a 'What can you do?' gesture.
Logan shook his head and muttered to himself as he carried a struggling Lilly upstairs.
Come on, dad. Time to hustle. We're burning moonlight here.
Four hours of searching for a tiny piece of plastic and metal. Just a micro USB outlet with a chip at the end. It was small, but at the same time, it was everything. Mac's future was riding on it.
There's no way I lost it. I'm not the type of person who loses things!
Dick was still there by her side. Diligently assisting her in her madness. Uncomplaining, even as she continued to keep him in the dark as to the purpose of their mission.
They'd taken a break for an early dinner around the time word arrived of Veronica's visit to the ER. Hearing of her friend's knife attack brought back memories of Leo's death.
Mac's anxiety over the missing item escalated. She could have an 'accident', or at least, it would look like one. Playing the pawn of two dangerous men put her in exponential danger. Either way, somebody would be shafted, and she just hoped it wouldn't be her. Or worse yet, him.
And it would be all my fault.
Dick made them veggie burgers, (although he refused to call them burgers) referring to them only as Soylent Green patties. He'd acted out the death scene from Hamlet with each bite, claiming she'd orchestrated a widespread soybean holocaust.
For a brief moment, he'd taken her mind off of her troubles. And for that alone, she knew it was stupid to fight what they had together. It was what it was and who was she to judge? Only the girl who hadn't dated somebody she truly liked in years.
The boy ate mung beans today for me. Mung beans! Then he spent hours on his knees looking for a pen drive.
Mac watched as Dick gathered the covers off of her bed into a ball and tossed them into the corner. She wished it was for the purpose of having his way with her, rather than to search for a pen drive she wanted no part of.
Except I'm the one person in Neptune Dick Casablancas refuses to have his way with!
He said he was in it for the long haul, and that she should stop thinking so much and just believe him. Mac figured that after the time he put in today, she at least owed him that much.
"I know it's all hush hush, but can you at least tell me what it looks like? All you ever said was 'It looks like a pen drive'." Back in search mode now, Dick was diligent in his technique.
She had no idea he could be so exact and organized, but the man did run several successful businesses, so he must be doing something right, even if it was just surrounding himself with the right people.
Cassidy was meticulous too. Maybe they're not so different after all...in the good ways, at least.
"It looks like a pen drive, because it's a pen drive." Mac pulled from the hamper the silk dress she wore on her date, and shook it roughly.
Dick looked at her blankly and in response, she let out a primal scream.
"Damn, Mackie, dial it back a notch. You're scaring the neighbors' dogs." He dropped to his knees and peered under her bed to look for the drive.
They'd gone over her steps at least three times today, but the problem with getting drugged, is that you don't always remember all of your steps.
I should burn this dress.
Mac's thoughts dissolved into a foggy haze, where large hands roamed her body freely and she was helpless to do anything to stop them.
She crushed the offending garment into a tight ball and pegged it at the opposing wall. "Sorry. It's just very very important that we find that drive."
"So you have mentioned..." Dick stretched his good arm under her bed frame and felt around. "And yet, it's kind of hard for me to grasp exactly how important when you're not givin' me the 'Full Monty'."
"I'm going to choose to assume that's your own little metaphor for me divulging information, rather than you asking me to flash you my lady parts?"
Lady parts? Way to class things up, MacKenzie.
"I'm game for either, but since I already got an eyeful of your 'Downtown Abbey' earlier, how about we go just with the information first?"
It's not Downtown, it's Downton. Okay, I need to stop and focus.
She ran a tired hand through her air-dried hair and grimaced. The last make-out session on her bed must have mussed up and knotted it while it was drying.
Nothing like having that 'freshly fucked' look, sans the actual fucking.
I'd rather have things the other way around.
With a scowl screwed onto her face, Mac continued to try to work out the knots in her hair, with a little too much vigor.
Dick groaned. "Come on. I'm not getting any younger here. I mean, it's not like the pen drive contains government secrets or something."
Her expression dropped and she bit the end of her thumb nail.
"That pen drive contains government secrets?!" Dick popped up from under the bed and climbed on the mattress to face her.
Wiedman would probably kill her, but what choice did she have? It's not like Dick would just let this whole thing go. Not after she staggered home drugged the other night with a hickey she had no memory of.
"Sort of." She dropped backward onto the mattress to rest her head. "It has proprietary information from the CIA embedded into it, but no actual government secrets, per se."
"Per se?" Dick slid down next to her on the bed and turned on his side so she could see his amused expression. "Espionage is supposed to be sexy, Mac."
Mac rolled her eyes. "Sorry I couldn't accommodate your needs."
"I didn't say that." His fingers walked over to her side of the bed and onto the outside of her thigh, where he absentmindedly drew shapes as he spoke. "But seriously, what's on the drive and where did you get it?"
Here we go...
"Clarence Wiedman. He was at the restaurant that night." Mac stared at the mattress, needing a blank space to focus on as she collected her thoughts. "He sent me a message through a waiter to meet him in the bathroom. And so I did. That's where he gave me the pen drive."
"You met this dude in the bathroom?" Dick's eyes looked vaguely alarmed at her account. "He wasn't the one who - - ?"
"No." Mac shook her head. "I started feeling weird just before I saw him."
...though he was the one who had the waiter put the message in the drink. Could he have paid the waiter to drop in a little something extra?
The seeds of doubts started to take root in her mind and grow. Just remembering how she felt when she woke up the next morning drove a shiver down her spine.
"Hey." Dick's hand decamped her thigh for the side of her face. "You look a little...are you okay?"
No.
She smiled to ease his worry. "I'm crackerjack."
His eyes crinkled as he observed her closely. "Well, that's a load of horseshit. But since you're not one of those Chatty Cathys, I'm just gonna let it go. Just know, that I know that you're full of shit."
Mac's eyes fell on his face and she nodded.
How does he do that? I'm a kick-ass poker player, but I must have some kind of 'tell' that only he can see, because he can always figure out when I'm lying.
"You and Ronnie, man. Peas in a pod." Dick scooted over to her side of the bed and took her in his arms, guiding her mop of matted hair on his chest.
This feels good. It's still way too weird to be like this with him.
He is Cassidy's brother!
Screw that. I've known him way longer than I ever knew Cass, and way better, too.
Cassidy is HIS brother.
Once Mac was settled, Dick stroked the side of her arm to prompt her. "You didn't finish."
She closed her eyes to help herself remember. The events were fuzzy. "This wasn't the first drive Wiedman's given me. He gave me one that day he caught me snooping through Jake Kane's study while I was dressed as Veronica."
Mac flashed back to playing tag team with Gory Sorokin, dropping Jake's stolen drive out of the window for him to retrieve and hand off to Veronica.
They went through all that trouble, only for her to return it an hour later in exchange for Wiedman's protection.
Clarence was at the restaurant that night. He knew I was with Alexei. How did I get drugged and molested if he was skulking around in the background? It's not like the guy is bad at his job. He's the head of Kane's security team, for fuck's sake.
Did he knowingly allow me to get drugged or did he do it himself?
Either way, nothing made much sense to her anymore. Everything about the past couple of months had been like a morphine-tinged dream, and she was beginning to wonder if for her, the nightmare was just beginning.
"Back up. You did what?" Dick raised his head to see her better.
"We did our little Mission Impossible routine at the Kane estate. It was the morning after your...'accident'." A puff of laughter escaped her lips at the absurdity of that description. Only in Neptune would one describe getting shot and having your car run off the road was an 'accident', for lack of a better description. "Anyway, I stole the hard drive from Jake's computer and Wiedman caught me. Then we worked out a deal."
Dick slid out from under her and then hovered over her small frame. "You're a double agent, aren't you? Like Inspector Gadget."
"Pretty sure Inspector Gadget was not a double agent." She squirmed a bit at his accusation. "But, yeah. I guess that's the gist of it."
His lips quirked into a lopsided grin as he looked down on her. "Cindy MacKenzie. You little badass."
"That's me," Mac said flatly.
She could feel the flush rising through her body even before it reached her cheeks.
"Can't deny it, Machiavelli. You as a spy? Getting me kinda hard. Can't lie."
Her mouth dropped open and she sucked in a hit of air.
"Aww, you're embarrassed. That's only going to make me harder, so just stop." Dick tightened his mouth into a hard line. "Stop."
Like I would stop if I could! Why can't he just throw me down on the carpet and have his way with me, already? I feel like a middle-aged divorcee on the prowl!
"Okay, I'm stopping." Mac took another breath, trying to exhale the embarrassment from her body.
"You were saying?" Dick inadvertently pressed his erection against her leg and she forgot what she was about to say.
"I...uh..." She shook her head to get the cobwebs out. "I just didn't know how I was going to get out of the Alexicon situation without a heavy hitter involved."
Plus, he promised to keep you safe.
"So how's he getting you out?" Dick licked his lips as his eyes toured her body through her clothes. He was making her feel naked, which only brought the blush back into her cheeks.
"He wanted me to release a virus."
Dick sat up and ran a hand through his hair. "Shit. That's really serious, Mac. I don't like it."
"Yeah, well neither did I, which was why I refused." She grabbed his free hand and helped herself sit up.
"Good." Dick's expression hardened. "It's not like you need more of a reason to be a target."
You're the target.
"Right. So, I came up with a new plan." Mac reached for her handbag and brought it onto the bed, dumping out the entire contents in front of her to look in it one more time for the missing drive. "I told him I could program the software I'm making in reverse."
She handed Dick her empty bag, which he searched thoroughly, turning each pocket out to check inside as she examined all of the dumped items one by one.
"You're doing an anti-hacking software, right?"
Mac nodded and handed him her comb and lip balm to replace into the bag.
His eyes narrowed. She could feel the weight of his stare on her as he worked out the consequences of her plan. "So what you're designing...is a hacking program? Kane wants to break into the mainframe of Alexicon?"
"Kinda."
"Damn." Dick rubbed his injured shoulder to get a knot out. "That's some Trojan horse action, you've got goin' on."
Ha. And people say he's stupid. Rubes.
"Wiedman's been feeding me bits and pieces of proprietary software to help build it. It's the kind of software that the government uses to hack into the computer systems in other countries, specifically the Russian Federation. It's not enough to leave a trail, but enough to shave six months off of my development."
"So, you think Alexei drugged you and stole the drive?" Dick grabbed her cell phone off of the pile and placed it in her satchel.
Mac handed him the last few items to replace and shrugged. "I did...but now I'm not so sure."
"Wiedman?"
"He was there, but I don't know." For a woman who was used to having all of the answers, she was feeling very lost. "I just don't know. It could have been either of them."
"Maybe my fist needs to sit down and have a chat with this Wiedman?" Dick puffed his chest out.
Mac ran a hand through her knotted hair. "Please don't. I don't need two scary men threatening to kill you. Plus, Wiedman's like, former CIA or something. You don't want to mess with him."
When he didn't answer immediately, she nudged him with her foot. "Dick, please?"
He expelled a long breath, but she could tell he was anything but relaxed. "Yeah, okay."
Crap. He is the worst liar.
Dick stretched out his uninjured arm and wrapped it around Mac's waist, pulling her slight body onto his lap with no effort. He rested his chin on her shoulder. Her pulse quickened with the sudden contact. It was all still so new.
She tipped the side of her head against his. "What are you doing?"
"You were too far. You said we needed to put our heads together on this one."
Mac smiled against his cheek. "When did I say that?"
Dick shrugged. "Just go with it."
He pushed her back down onto the bed and closed the distance between them.
"This is going to be a long fucking week." With a labored exhale, he buried his face into the curve of her neck.
You have got to be freaking kidding me!
"It doesn't have to be..." Her hands found their way down to the bulge in his pants.
Dick grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head. "Bad Mackie!"
Her face crumpled into a pained frown. "I'm trying to be!"
"I know. It's just...I'm trying not to be, okay?"
The look of affection he was giving her made her breath catch in her chest. "Okay."
This is going to be a long fucking week.
"Although..." Dick fiddled with the button on her cargo pants. "You can be as bad as you want."
Oh thank God!
She cleared her throat. "How does that work exactly?"
Dick lowered the zipper on her trousers and sighed. "If you don't know how this works by now, you've had some pretty craptastic lays."
Her mind flashed to the 30 seconds that Cassidy had been inside of her and she felt ill.
Hello? Sexy guy with his hand down your pants. This is not the time to be skipping down the grimy, back alley of memory lane.
His fingers paused under the waistband of her underwear. "You want to do this, right?"
"Do you want to do this?" She gripped the sheet on either side of her as she braced for his response.
Dick snickered. "I'm a dude. The girl I'm into has given me an all-access pass to her 'pleasure dome'. What do you think?"
I think you need to stop making veiled 'Max Max' references and get on with it.
"I think you have a interesting way with metaphors," she offered.
"Take your shirt off."
Mac was caught off guard by the demand, but followed orders without a second thought. She lifted the hem of her t-shirt and slowly pulled it off over her head, feeling the heft of his gaze on her body the entire time.
"Your bra."
He nodded at her to continue undressing, and she fell in line.
She heard an intake of air as she exposed her breasts to him and smiled. Then she remembered her hickey and her forehead knit in consternation.
Sure. A hickey from another man. Something every guy wants to see the first time he fools around with a woman he likes.
Dick brushed his fingers over the bruise gently with a vexed expression on his face, then lowered his head and kissed the area of marred skin.
"You should never wear clothes." He murmured into her chest and traced the outline of her puckering nipples with his tongue. She drew in a sharp breath and held it. "Relax, Mackie. I don't bite."
He proceeded to nip lightly at the peaks of both breasts, and she moaned at the sensation.
Why does he pick now to have principles?
"You are a beautiful liar." She exhaled, releasing all of her inhibitions with the puff of air. His hair still smelled like the ocean from that morning's surf, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost feel the sand in-between her toes.
"Pretty much." Dick leisurely kissed his way up the column of her neck, stopping several times along the way to give her pulse points some extra attention, before working his way up to her lips. "I can't wait to taste you."
She might've come right then, if she weren't so surprised by his directness. "Good."
The response escaped her lips before she could sensor it, and Dick laughed. "Somebody's eager."
What has gotten into me?
Pulling her pants down, along with her underwear, Dick flung them both through the air so hard they smacked the back wall and fell into a heap on the floor. "Now that that's out of the way..."
Mac swallowed hard and tried to keep her pulse from racing. At the rate she was getting worked up, she was bound to come the moment he touched her there.
That wouldn't be embarrassing. Not at all.
His hands caressed the outside of her thighs as he took in the view. "Remember when I said I was gonna crack your nut?"
That old threat? It's kind of my prime masturbation material.
"Uh..." Mac chest was heaving with anticipation. "Oh yeah."
Oh yeah.
"Prepare to get crushed." He parted her legs at the knees and rested them on his shoulders.
Shit. This is happening. Do I really want this to happen?
YES.
He grabbed her left ankle and let his lips drift over her skin, down the inside of her leg until he reached her thigh. He licked slowly, covering a wide swath as his tongue carved a path around her bikini line, barely grazing the center as he passed from one side of her to the other.
Mac's breathing became insistent at the torture. "Just remember, Dick. One day you're going to want me to return the favor..."
Hot breath tickled her core as he chuckled into her skin, but he continued teasing, earning a frustrated whimper.
Her hips bucked up against his mouth but he pulled away laughing. "Somebody's a control freak..." he said in sotto voice.
"Not a control freak." She grabbed his face between her palms. "You have carte blanche. You can call the shots Dick. Do whatever you want, just do it quickly."
He looked pleased with himself, then pulled her closer to the edge of the bed and got on his knees. "If you insist..."
"I do. I do insist," she said between hiccups of air as he pressed between her thighs and plunged his warm tongue into her as far as it could go.
Holy shit!
Mac gasped and her thighs tightened against the sides of Dick's head. As with everything, Dick attacked this task with enthusiasm.
She knew he'd been with women. The entire female population of Neptune had been picked over by him at some point or another, but for whatever reason, she still wasn't expecting him to bring this level of skill to the table.
She'd never seen him exhibit this kind of focus on anything in her life, not even the various European holiday theme parties he loved to throw. The sheer amount of passion he was pouring into his efforts humbled her.
He sucked in and out, alternating in a fast rhythm, then began thrust his tongue into her, over and over again as his fingers found their way to her 'pleasure dome' and pinched hard, sending shock waves throughout her body. She was on the knife's edge. One more push and she'd be gone. "Oh God! Don't stop, Dick. Don't stop."
She was close.
So close.
There was a hint of a smile in those mischievous eyes that she'd grown to adore, as well as a look of determination. Dick wanted to make this good for her. This was what he looked like when he was giving the best of himself.
Fuck.
Mac's fingers and toes curled the moment she fell over the cliff and she cried out louder than she'd ever done before.
Dick lifted his head and watched her come down from her orgasm with a look of self-satisfaction. It was a job well done, and he was proud of his work.
As he should be.
She'd had orgasms before. Great ones. But something about being with Dick allowed her to let herself go in a way she'd never done before.
That was the moment she realized she actually trusted him.
"I'd ask you how that was for you, but since your legs are still shaking, I'm just gonna assume it was the best you've ever had." He licked his lips and swiped the back of his hand against his mouth, before lowering her legs to the bed.
Mac was panting too hard to speak right away. She wanted to say something snarky - something to wipe that smug grin off of his face - but she couldn't help but share his sentiment. "You're such a cocky bastard. You know that, right?"
"Hmm. What I do know, is that you get this little quiver in your lip, right before you're about to come..." He stroked her bottom lip with his finger. "It's totally cute."
I give up. Let the dog have his day. He deserves it.
Mac locked her ankles around his waist and pulled him closer. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him so hard that it shocked them both.
Then she laughed.
Not because of anything he did or didn't do, just because the whole situation was so absurd. If somebody had told her ten years ago that she's be calling out Dick Casablancas' name while tearing the sheets from the corners of her bed, she would have shown them the door.
"A whole week, eh?" Six more days suddenly seemed like an eternity to her.
Dick pulled her closer. "I'm a businessman, Mac. I'm always open to negotiations."
"6-ball, corner pocket," Weevil tapped the tip of his cue on the edge of the table, leaving a chalk mark in its wake. He rested the stick on the knife's edge of his index finger, lined it up with the cue ball and took his best shot. The ball rolled slowly toward the lip of the pocket and then stopped short. "Fuck!"
Molly laughed hard, then tapped her cue on a side pocket. She'd barely aimed the stick when she took her shot and sank the 8-ball in one swift move. "Owned."
First Vee whips my ass playing poker and now this? Maybe it's time to brush up my skills?
Weevil shrugged half-heartedly with an embarrassed smile. "Yeah well, not all of us works next to one of these babies every day." He slapped the biaze of the table, rubbing a circle over the spot he had covertly taken a fiber sample from the other day. "Say...didn't there used to be more of these in the front room?"
"If you came by here sometime in the last few years, maybe you'd know." Molly began racking the balls in the plastic triangle.
The blue #2 ball escaped her grasp and rolled to the other side of the table and ricocheted. As it made its way back over, she leaned over to snatch it up. Weevil fought to look up the rising hem of her skirt, but gave up the battle pretty quickly.
Phase one of this gig would be easier than he thought. A night or two in the sack with Molly Fitzpatrick was not exactly a sacrifice, no matter how much he bitched to his partner about her request. "My invite must've gotten lost in the mail."
"As if you've ever waited for an invitation to go anywhere." She piled her hair onto the top of her head and secured it with a few hair pins snapped to the waist of her apron.
Her neck was long, graceful even. He hadn't noticed before, since he was always too busy looking at her ass.
Shit. Now I even think her neck is hot? Get it together, vato.
Molly ran her fingertips along the edge of the table as she made her way over to him. "Anyway, let's just say Uncle Liam and I have a different vision for this joint."
"What? You don't want a bunch of strung out lowlife's hanging around you all day?" She extended her arm and he handed her his pool cue.
"Guess I just attract a bad element?" She cracked a smile and turned toward the back wall. There was a little something extra going on in her hips that he'd hoped was for his benefit.
He watched her ass without a break the entire way, and he couldn't even make himself feel bad about it.
That. Ass.
Molly leaned forward and pressed the sticks into the wall holster. "Anyway, the sheriff took care of most of the lowlifes for me."
"You talking about Van Lowe?" Weevil leaned casually against the wall and nursed his beer.
Her mood changed with the mention of the former sheriff's name. "Fuck Vinnie Van Lowe. The only thing he ever did to clean this town up was call OSHA on all the titty bars, and I think he only did it because he was sick of drinking out of dirty glasses."
"Sounds like you're not a fan?"
She shrugged, and positioned herself against the opposite wall, with her glass in hand. "The only way Van Lowe was gonna send Uncle Liam up the river was if somebody else was driving the boat. Keith Mars ain't my favorite person in the world, but I'm grateful to him for putting that sick fuck into prison. Somebody had to."
Girl knows how to hold a grudge.
Weevil's eyes widened at the admission. "You won't get any arguments outta me. Your uncle and me? Not exactly poker buddies."
She laughed. "Yeah, I'll bet."
"Didn't realize Liam was persona non grata around these parts." Weevil tipped the beer back and let the last of the suds slip down his throat. "Maybe I woulda come by sooner if I'd known."
"You think I'd actually forgive him? After what he did?" Her face clouded over with a look of menace. "I'd take care of it myself if he weren't already in jail."
Take care of it? Slow down, Don Corleone?
"The only way a guy like Liam gets taken care of is in prison."
Molly seemed lost in thought as she drifted across the room in his direction. "What do you mean by that?"
"You know, bad shit goes down all the time on the inside and people look the other way. Especially if they're paid enough to."
She seemed to contemplate what he was saying for a moment, but then laughed self-consciously. "Killing Liam...that's not an assassination attempt a person wants to fuck up. As long as he still had a pulse, he'd come after the person, and God help them."
Weevil wondered if Liam had screwed Molly over in some other way, beyond what he did to Felix. He'd been dead nearly a decade and her anger sounded too fresh.
What did that piece of shit do to you?
Molly's focus was momentarily distracted by something beyond Weevil's head.
When he turned, he found the redheaded waitress flagging her down. "Cillian won't pay his bill again and he's refusing to leave."
She released an exasperated groan and placed her beer on the edge of the table. "That's his third strike."
"Yeah well, he also grabbed my ass." The redhead made a sour face. "And he's a shitty tipper. I don't know why you put up with some of these assholes. It's not like you have anybody to answer to now."
Molly waved her off.
"I'll take care of it." She grabbed one of the pool cues she'd just replaced from the wall and stormed toward the other room, stopping only to give Weevil a brief look of apology.
Damn. She ain't playin'.
His eyes followed her into next room, but he remained in the doorway. If things got ugly, he'd be better off seeing the big picture before jumping in.
Weevil recognized the troublemaker as the racist who lunged past him in the doorway on his way inside.
"You can't get rid of me! I fucking live here!" Cillian shouted obscenities at the top of his lungs, spilling the contents of his beer all over himself and the floor with his animated hand gestures.
"Consider yourself evicted." Molly dropped the edge of the cue down on the table in front of her unwanted guest with a loud whack. "If you leave now, I'll even let you take your balls with you." She edged her head toward the pool room and then down at the man's crotch. "Both sets."
He blanched at her threat. "Fuck you! I'm still finishing my drink."
She lifted the pool cue high in the air and swung it like a bat, easily knocking the man's glass of beer out of his hand and onto the floor in an explosion of glass. "Not anymore. Now get the fuck out of here before I go for your nuts next."
Cillian rose onto his unsteady legs, with both fists balled in anger. "If your daddy were here, he'd take you over his knee for talking to a regular like this."
Weevil heard a loud creaking sound come from behind him and he turned his head.
Nothing there.
What the hell was that?
With a face flushed from ire and a haughty scowl at her lips, Molly took a step in the drunkard's direction. "Yeah? Well, in case you're blind, my daddy's dead. He's been gone for about six years now, so either get used to the new rules or get lost. This is my bar now."
Shit. Roadhouse Barbie ain't afraid to tell them what's what.
"Any place is better than this shithole!" Cillian slurred, as one of the other regular's approached the older man to help him out of the bar.
"Good. Don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out." Molly rested the cue on her shoulder and turned toward the back room, where Weevil was waiting for her. "On second thought...do."
She'd barely taken five steps when Cillian broke free from of his helper's hands and lunged at Molly's neck from behind.
Motherfucker!
Weevil's heart thumped out of his chest as he took triple strides toward Molly to beat down the assaulter. The guy was in his 60's, but Weevil knew better than anyone that booze had an uncanny way of making a weak man strong.
The pool cue dropped to the floor as Molly's hands grappled with the Cillian's, desperately trying to peel his iron-like fingers away from her neck. Her face turned a bright shade of pink and Weevil could hear her gasping as her air supply was being closed off.
A gaggle of crusty truck stop matrons cackled loudly, blocking his way, oblivious to the disruption taking place mere feet from where they gathered.
Are these people fucking deaf or just animals? How can everybody just stand there like this shit is business as usual?
Weevil tried to jostling them from their positions, but they were too drunk to respond to his prompts, so he had no choice but to go the long way. He yanked a man up by his collar and hauled him out of his chair, then slid over the table top and careening gracelessly into the pile of glass below.
Glad I decided to take the hog.
He wasn't too cut up, beyond his hands. Leather jeans protected a guy from more than road rash.
Grabbing the nearest beer mug he could get his hands on, Weevil smacked the side of the man's head with it, knocking him out in one swift move. Cillian's hands slid from where they'd been choking Molly, and he fell unconscious into a puddle of glass shards mixed with his own beer.
Molly dropped to her knees and grabbed her own throat, as wet coughs racked her chest.
This is messed up. He coulda killed her and nobody lifted a damned finger.
"I'm calling the police!" the redhead screeched as she ran behind the bar.
Several of the patrons filed quickly out of the bar at her announcement.
Weevil placed a soft hand on Molly's shaking frame. "You okay?"
She was bent as the waist, and supporting her body weight on her knees as the hacking continued.
"Hey, let's go sit down." He grabbed her around the waist with one arm and forced one of hers around his neck, then carried her into the back room.
After depositing her in a chair, he grabbed the beer she'd left on the table and tipped the glass to her lips, while kneeling at her feet. "Oooh, you got a mouth on you, Molly Fitzpatrick. And you got a pair of cojones to match. I sure as hell wouldn't want to get on your bad side."
But I sure do like watching other people make that mistake.
It was then that Weevil realized he almost definitely would get on her bad side if she had any idea what he was up to. A sinking feeling invaded his gut.
She swallowed the amber liquid and sputtered a few more coughs before a smile overtook her reddened face and she spoke in broken, breathy spurts. "Never...forget...it."
He placed the pint glass in her waiting palm and raised his own hands in surrender. "Like I could forget the sight of you playin' Mickey Mantle with that asshole's beer glass. I'll bet you nobody fucks with you again for at least a week."
"Yeah, that was kind of the idea," she said between pants and then finished off her beer. "You rescued me twice in one night, Eli. Didn't figure you for the hero type." She placed the empty glass by her feet and looked with bemusement at his hand on her knee. " Or me for being so easily distracted."
You think you're distracted?
He was so caught up in phase one, that he'd completely forgotten about phase two. Getting into her bed wouldn't be that tough. Getting out? That was a whole other story.
A heavy wave of guilt washed over him, threatening to drag him under in its rip tide, but he managed to escaped its pull.
She's just a job.
Molly's smile lit up further, arousing a strange twinge within his chest that he hadn't experienced in years. When she smiled, she was beautiful in ways that he hadn't noticed before, ways that defied logic.
Her face was softer, and she seemed younger to him, somehow. Her eyes, which always had a sadness lurking behind them appeared less jaded than before.
Those eyes locked onto his and his whole body tensed.
Shit.
When Molly looked at him the way she was looking at him now, he almost found himself forgetting who she really was. Who he really was.
At that moment, Weevil didn't care that none of it was real. He didn't give a shit that the game he was playing could turn dangerous at any point in time. It was getting harder and harder for him to separate fact from fiction.
Sometimes, I wish Vee had just stayed gone.
Golden strands tumbled into Molly's eyes and before he knew he was doing it, Weevil reached out and swept them from her face, tucking them behind one ear. "Come on. Anybody decent would have done the same."
Not in this joint though.
His eyes toured the finger-shaped bruises framing her neck like a multi-strand choker and he swallowed the bile rising in his throat.
I'm not done with that old Mick. Not by a mile.
Molly's face stilled and she looked pensive, though her gaze never left his. "Except they didn't. Only you did."
What are you waiting for, man? She wants it. You can smell it all over her. Seal the deal!
Just as he was about to speak, Molly's eyes dropped to the ground and he lost his nerve.
The deep creaking sound resurfaced again.
Okay, I definitely heard that.
Her head lifted at the noise.
Looks like she did, too.
He waited for her to comment on it, but nothing was said.
"You got Casper living in your attic?" He pointed in the direction of the noise.
"Rats." Molly kneaded the edges of her chair with her hands, then took a deep breath and plastered on a smile that looked as phony as a Chinatown knockoff. "You wanna get out of here? I could use some air."
I'll bet.
She was definitely hiding something. Of that, he was positive. Looks like he would just have to squeeze her for more information.
I'll squeeze her for information, all right...
Molly rose from her chair and headed for the back door, stopping only to drop her chin over her right shoulder. "You coming or what?"
The usually bright eyes of Connor Larkin had a dull sheen to them, as a scantily-dressed blonde plunged a hypodermic needle deep between his toes. He had been caught off guard. Some one probably called out his name to get him to look up at just the right moment. And it was the perfect moment.
Veronica frowned as she zeroed in on the woman in question. Her hair was dropped like a scrim, blocking her features, but if these pictures were taken at The River Stix, as she suspected, she could really only be one person.
The Fitzpatricks had long been put away by the time these photos were shot, which meant they were either snapped right under Molly's nose, she'd turned a blind eye or she'd orchestrated the whole thing herself. There was no fourth option.
Looks like baby's all grown up now, pulling her own jobs and everything. Nothing like learning at the master's knee.
I hope Weevil has his antennae up.
Logan pushed through the bedroom door, looking like he'd just gone four rounds with Mike Tyson.
Veronica quickly closed out of the photo app on her iPad. "Is she finally down?"
"Don't know about her, but I sure as hell am." He collapsed backward onto the mattress, the force of which nearly bounced Veronica on to the floor. "Shit. Sorry Ronnie."
"Don't mind me, I'm only pregnant," she grumbled.
He reached out to pull her back up and she flinched at the movement. "I'm sorry. Is your back okay? Do you need anything?"
"Not unless they've suddenly approved morphine for use during pregnancy." Her fingers pressed the bandage lightly to make sure it was still in place, prompting a wince. She shifted a few more inches from the edge, then relaxed into the pillow and closed her eyes. "It's okay, it was an accident. I know if you really wanted to hurt me, you'd hide the ice cream."
The events of the day wore Veronica out. Coming home to the scene in the kitchen was the last straw. Whatever Logan was hiding would have to just wait until morning, because the only person she felt like tangling with right now was The Sandman.
Even superheroes need sleep.
Logan turned onto his stomach and crawled toward her, until he was close enough to lay his head on her lap.
Veronica's hands instinctively found his hair and combed through it, scratching his scalp with her fingertips in a lazy pattern.
How can he relax like this when some psychopath is stalking him? In our home.
Stop it! You're supposed to be relaxing, too.
"If I said this felt better than sex, would you say I've gone soft?" Logan nuzzled her belly.
She laughed. "You could never be soft, Logan. Not while I'm around."
"That's true." He peeked at her through one eye. "Despite the whole stabbing incident, and your father nearly killing me in the hallway of his house this evening, it wasn't a bad day."
I wonder if you'd feel the same if you knew about the love note you received.
"You're only saying that because you got laid."
Logan shook his head and let both eyes flutter open. "I'm saying that because I realized today that I finally have everything I ever wanted." He chuckled nervously, a tic she noticed always seemed to spring up when he let himself feel too vulnerable around her. "Cue: tsunami or other natural disaster."
Shouldn't that be 'Cue: stalker'?
Veronica snorted. "There you go again, with that Logan Echolls optimism. Sometimes, the glass really is half full."
Why won't he ever let himself believe we can stay happy? I guess I don't, so why should he?
"...says the woman who spills out half her glass, just so she can beat the gods to it." Logan reached up and took a lock of her hair between his fingers. She watched him brush the ends back and forth over the top of his hand.
He looked so young to her when he opened himself up like this. A lot like the boy she used to know, who still had a bit of earnest hope buried beneath his sarcastic veneer. The boy who would wake up early, just to make a pot of coffee for his mother when she got back from the set after a long night shoot. He would have done anything to spend time with her sober.
She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on to his mouth. "Two half empty glasses do make a full glass, though. We should probably tell ourselves that occasionally."
I sound like Dr. Phil. Please tell me it's the hormones and that this isn't permanent.
"Probably." He continued playing with her hair mindlessly.
She marveled at his ability to diffuse his anxiety. Compartmentalizing it, she could understand. She'd done that nearly her entire life, to varying degrees of success. But diluting it into a low-grade panic that would constantly reside at the pit of her stomach like a bad Thanksgiving Dinner? Hell no.
There's no way he'd ever have one moment of true happiness that way...but her way wasn't any more successful. Living with the boogeyman hovering just beyond her shadow, even when she chooses to ignore it, was not exactly the pain-free alternative.
Speaking of the boogeyman...is he ever going to tell me about his stalker? Does he honestly think he can hide this from me?
"I wonder what it's like for other people," she mused, changing the pattern she was scratching on his scalp.
"Normal people?" The words were said thick with disgust, as if being 'normal' were a crime. "We don't know any of those."
Veronica frowned. Was he right? "Wallace. Wallace is normal."
At least there's one.
Logan laughed hard at her suggestion. "He's willingly friends with us. That doesn't say much about his character."
"Ever the cynic." She hated having to play the positive one. That was supposed to be his job. "Just so we're clear, today I'm Mulder and you're Scully?"
"Nope." He stretched his long arms out over his head and yawned. "We're both Scully. There is no point to our counterpoint."
"That sounds like a healthy environment to bring a child into." Veronica gazed through the glass walls out onto the rough water below. She watched it slam up against the rocks with each pull of the tide. From a distance it was hypnotic and calming, but if she put one leg into the current, she knew her life would be over in a flash.
Our kid hasn't got a chance in hell of an innocent childhood. We have no idea what we're doing. We need help.
"You, um-." She cleared her throat a few times with apprehension. This was not in her comfort zone, which was precisely why she had to do it.
Just spit it out!
"I promised you that we'd go to therapy together."
Logan raised an eyebrow. "You want to go to therapy?"
Not remotely, but I know we can't keep doing what we're doing. Not if we want to make it as a family.
Her eyes remained fixed on the window. "I promised you I would." She tried to keep her face free from expressions of any kind, lest he think he'd done anything to prompt this request. They were both equally rudderless when it came to their emotions.
His entire face came alive with curiosity. "Let me try that again with the correct emphasis. You want to go to therapy?"
"Do you – do you think we need to?"
Please say yes.
He contemplated the question. "I'm the fucked up kid of two Hollywood megastars who were hardly ever home. My dad beat me on the regular and killed my girlfriend. My mom drank like a water fowl and threw herself off a bridge. If I don't need therapy, Bobcat, nobody does." A smirk crossed his face and he started to sit up. "In fact, I'm probably late for a session now..."
She pulled him back down onto her lap by his shoulders. "I meant with me."
His face paled at her response, and he slowly rolled to sit up. "You really want to do this? Couples therapy?"
You're the one who suggested it in the first place!
Veronica's eyes shifted toward the door of the room unconsciously, but he caught the action right away and recoiled from the implication.
"Don't let me stop you," he said tightly, gesturing to the door. "I know how pesky long goodbyes can be."
She felt like she'd been slapped.
He still has no faith in me. Maybe he never will?
Veronica hadn't planned on leaving, but when his last dig stuck its landing, she briefly considered it. His vitriol almost always made running seem like a tempting option. Part of her wondered if he pulled this kind of shit just to test her.
It's the anger talking, Veronica. It's what he does. Calm down. Don't react.
"Are you finished?" She leveled her steely eyes at him.
Logan's anger broke, along with his confidence. "Are you?"
He was referring to something entirely different, and the uncertainty in his voice nearly killed her. She didn't want to make him suffer or put him on egg shells at every bump that crossed their path. What was she doing wrong?
Veronica swallowed the acid rising in her throat and wrapped her arms around him, drawing him tightly to her chest. "I love you. Nothing will ever change that. You know that, right?"
He let out a shuddering breath and returned her embrace. "Even if I do something horrible?"
I've seen your horrible. Can't say it was a picnic, but I lived through it.
"There's nothing," she mumbled into his shoulder. Logan pulled her onto his lap, cradling her to his chest.
He tittered with relief and took another breath. "Even if I lie to you about something really important?"
I know you're lying to me right now, and I'm still here.
She held back the strong desire to make a quip.
"I won't leave you."
Like I did after Felix. Like I did after Madison.
She shook her head. He needed to hear it, and she would keep saying it as long as he wanted her to.
He kissed her long and hard, and it wasn't until a minute into it, that it hit her. "You don't believe me."
Logan urgently covered her mouth again with his own and guided her back to the mattress. She slid out from under his grasp.
"I'm trying here, Logan," she said with a wavering voice. "I'm trying. I thought this was what you wanted?"
They stared at one another in silence.
"I'll go to therapy." He sat in the middle of the bed, the picture of dejection, fear and shame oozing out of every pore. His fingers twisted in his own hair as he tried to form the right thing to say. "I'll go. Just...just don't leave me, okay?"
I have to do something about this. I'll do anything to make him see.
Veronica's feet dropped to the floor and she rose to stand, her muscles shaking with the effort.
"Veronica?" Logan's voice broke. He watched helplessly as she crossed the room with determination, circling back around to his side of the bed.
She stood at his night stand for a full minute, staring a hole in it, trying to work up the nerve to do what she should have done days ago.
Logan said nothing. He simply watched and waited for his future to unfold.
You can do this. It's not a big deal. You have to do whatever it takes. For him. For the baby.
Her hand quivered as she rested it on the handle of the drawer. It was like jumping without a parachute, exhilarating and terrifying all at once. She pulled the drawer open and retrieved the small, black box that he'd placed next to his grandfather's lighter and a first edition print of 'The Maltese Falcon'.
When Logan saw what Veronica had in her hands, his jaw dropped.
She opened the box and admired the contents.
It's beautiful. Of course it is. Like he'd be capable of picking out something ugly. He has better taste than most women.
Without a word, she slipped the ring on the forth finger of her left hand and carefully placed the closed box back into the drawer before shutting it. "I'm not leaving you. Ever. Okay?"
Logan grinned stupidly and wiped the back of his hand against his nose. "Okay. I believe you, Ronnie."
A/N2: Well?
- Okay, I could not squeeze Duncan in this chapter, but 32 pages was really my limit. I promise you'll see him in the next one and things are only getting harrier in the clink.
- Dick is about to get himself involved in the Wiedman mess, much to Mac's dismay. Who do you think drugged Mac? Petrenko? Wiedman? Door #3?
- Are you into Weevil and Molly yet? I'm shipping them hard, I can't help it. Hopefully, you'll dig where this is going. Hey, what's that creaking sound...
- The ring is on, but Veronica is nowhere near ready to get married. Not until they can both stop lying to each other.
PS – endless affection goes out to the best beta money can't buy, silverlining2k6. Thanks for talking me through the embarrassment of writing the 'Downtown Abbey' scene.
PPS – If you have the time, you know I'm dying to hear your thoughts! Please review :)