DARK ROADS & OPEN DOORS
CHAPTER 13
Liz followed Red's suggestion and sat in the bath with a glass of Chardonnay and a battered novel she had pulled from the shelves and was now fully ensnared by. This was how Red found her on his return from a bracing winter afternoon stroll with Hudson, whom he had found to be a most agreeable canine companion, if a little excitable; he was no guard dog, that was for sure. Lizzie finally looked up at him, wine glass in hand held above the copious bubbles that hid her submerged form from his roving eyes.
"Good walk?" she asked conversationally.
"I think we've tired each other out," he remarked, casting his gaze down the hall to see Hudson flopped on the living room floor – he would need to get the cleaner around twice a week to deal with the fur the dog was leaving around the apartment. Liz smiled softly at him. "What is it?"
"This bath is amazing," she said. "So is the wine; hope you don't mind me helping myself."
"Not at all. Did I not insist you make yourself at home?"
"I well and truly have."
"Indeed. I'll start on dinner." He disappeared from the doorway to the kitchen.
Red's return caused Liz to think on their earlier conversation; would she truly elope with him? A farmhouse in Florence sounded all well and good, but they'd still be on the run – her especially. What if he didn't retire? She would surely rack up the same charges if they were ever caught. She would be putting herself in danger purely to stay with him. Was he that important to her in the long-term, or did she feel closer to him due to the current circumstances in her life with Tom and her employers? He had said that if she still felt the same once they were finished with Number Nine then she could join him, but how long would that take? Would she still feel the same?
Things had changed between them again; she was now aware of his feelings toward their interactions, however he had not pressed her to reveal her own. The ball was, it seemed, in her court. She thought on their situation deeply and concluded that it would be more fulfilling to go with him; he could show her things she'd never otherwise see, and teach her all sorts of cultural... stuff. She shook her head at the stupidity of her thoughts; the wine was working.
Reluctantly, she got out of the cooling bathwater and wrapped herself in a large bath sheet, eyeing the red silk robe handing on the back of the door. She thought on his explanation of Luli's state of dishabille the day before and still wasn't entirely convinced they had been merely been playing chess; the notion of strip chess briefly entered her mind but was swiftly quashed. She would keep an eye on future interaction between Red and his pretty Asian assistant; she pulled herself up at the realisation she was already thinking possessively about Red.
She towelled off and slipped into her underwear – the same black set she had worn in Edison, she realised – and put the red silk robe on over the top. Still detecting Luli's perfume on the robe, she made a quick detour to her room and spritzed some of her own perfume before she made her way to the living room. Red caught her scent as she passed the kitchen door.
"Marking your territory?" he remarked with a wry smile, but she said nothing. She opened the book she had tucked into the pocket of the robe and continued to read the novel, curling herself up on the sofa. Hudson soon joined her for some affection. Red joined them shortly after, selecting a tome of his own – Nietzsche – and they sat in companionable silence until dinner was served.
Dinner itself was an affair of few words but many meaningful glances; a brush of their fingers on passing the salt to Red had sent a bolt of electric longing to her core. She shifted restlessly in her seat as she chewed on the coq au vin Red had made. He watched her intently over the rim of his wine glass, and while the intensity of his attention bothered her it also made her flush with a heat that pooled in her belly. She admitted to herself that she wanted him, and at her acceptance of the fact there could be no going back; no Tom, no terraced house – work was going to be hell. Red smirked at her knowingly, reading her like an open book; he knew exactly what he could do with a well-practiced look borne from years of experience. After dinner they returned to the sofa, Liz lying with her feet in Red's lap as they read, one of his hands kneading her instep as they sat quietly with Hudson at their feet.
When it came to adjourning for the night, Liz bade Red goodnight and made the bold decision to enter his room, shedding the robe and her bra before sliding underneath the thick duvet. She waited and listened for any indication that he might be retiring for the night. After what felt like an age she nodded off to sleep, alone in the kingsize bed behind the antique screen.
Liz was awoken by movement behind her; she felt him draw her across the bed and into the warmth of his body, chest hair scratching pleasantly against the skin of her bare back.
"Did you really think that I didn't know exactly what you were trying to do?" he drawled, breath hot against the shell of her ear as he spooned himself against her.
"Just throwing some signals out there," she uttered lamely, brain ceasing to function altogether as he palmed her breasts, fingers gently swirling then pinching lightly at her nipples which responded readily to his touch. He hummed in agreement, dropping his mouth to her neck and littering the skin there with open-mouthed kisses.
"You have no idea what you do to me, Lizzie," he all but rasped, his tongue tracing a line from her shoulder to her ear lobe, catching the flesh of her earlobe gently between his teeth. She wriggles her ass against his burgeoning cock, softly moaning her approval and reaching a hand back to knead his hip and ass to maintain the contact between them as his own hand trailed down her body to stroke at her thighs which she parted readily. He chuckled into the nape of her neck. "Patience," he chastised. She gave a moue of disappointment, eliciting a rumble of humour from him which vibrated deliciously through his chest into her back. He was apparently as impatient as she, as he was soon sliding the black lace down her legs; she kicked the garment off and attempted to turn to face him but he stopped her, fingers brushing through the trimmed curls of her sex to find her wet; undeniable proof that she wanted him. He growled at his findings before one, then two, fingers entered her, spreading the slickness to her waiting clit which stood engorged from the stimulation he was providing the rest of her attention-starved body.
"Don't make me wait," she moaned wantonly, pulling his hand away from her by his wrist before reaching behind to tug awkwardly at his boxers.
"As the lady wishes," he murmured into her shoulder, divesting himself of the garment separating their bodies. He slid his cock to her and she guided him home herself, both releasing a groan at the sensation of their joining. The moved together, finding a steady rhythm, before she twisted to find his mouth with hers. As they kissed and thrust against each other his hand found her clit and massaged it; Liz reached around to gently fondle the sac between his legs, earning a whimper from the – usually composed – man behind her. After what felt like hours he squeezed her legs tightly together and placed the hand that she had been pleasuring him with at her clit, encouraging her to bring herself off as he thrust heavily into her, his sharp breaths hot against her shoulder. As he neared completion she worked frantically at her own pleasure, the combination of her fingers and his movements sending her over the edge quickly; hands convulsing at her hips, he soon followed her into oblivion, clutching her to him as his hips reflexively thrust into her through his own orgasm. Breathless and sated, they curled up together and soon drifted into sleep.
Waking alone was becoming a habit for Elizabeth Keen. With a deep sigh she rose from the rumpled bedcovers and darted across the hall to her own room to fetch her clothes. On her way to the bathroom she heard Red's voice from down the hall; he was on the phone. She padded down the hall with the intention of letting him know she was up and would be heading into work, however she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the grim look on his face as he hung up the call.
"Ah, good, you're awake," he said by way of greeting. "Dembe has turned up some information on suspect three; a pseudonym, which is as good a place to start as any. He's making further enquiries on my behalf; perhaps I will be able to arrange a meeting with the man himself." He stopped thinking aloud and looked at her. "Get dressed," he instructed, "you'll need to go to Harold with this now."
"Good morning to you too," Liz mumbled, turning back down the hallway and shutting herself in the bathroom. She showered and dressed quickly before leaving to meet Dembe in the lobby of the apartment block, calling Cooper on her way down the stairwell; he sounded suspicious, and rightly so as she refrained from telling him anything over the phone, but agreed to call a meeting nonetheless. She didn't comment when he said he'd have Reddington brought in, instead she insisted that Dembe drive her to the FBI black site as quickly as possible.
After giving Cooper and, by proxy, Ressler a quick overview of the situation with Blacklister Number Nine, Liz made her way to meet Reddington. She carefully schooled her emotions and reaction when she saw Red handcuffed to the unforgiving chair in the cavernous space that housed his temporary cell. Once Cooper and Ressler were in the viewing booth she requested that Red repeat the information he had told her 'over the phone' that morning; he had left a message on her cell to cover the tracks of how she came to receive the information from him.
"As you well know," he began in his usual theatrical tones, "I've been doing some digging regarding Number Nine..."
She zoned out as he regaled the FBI agents with the tale of Izzah Ahmedi and Andrei Balcescu, thinking about a farmhouse in Tuscany, the warm sun on her shoulders, Hudson bounding through vineyards with a little boy- She stopped her train of thought abruptly, but couldn't help one last question flitting across her mind; would he want a child? Unwilling to think on the question, Liz tuned back in to hear Red beginning to speak about the new information about suspect three that morning; she turned to look back at Cooper – his attention was fixed on Red, his features set in a frown as he nodded along with the information he was being given by the criminal.
"Suspect three in this... cell that forms Blacklist subject Number Nine is known as 'Lacerta'. I will say this once to you: he is very, very dangerous, and incredibly well protected. I cannot begin to tell you the lengths I have gone to for this information, and I have Dembe currently scouting for more scraps in the hope we might piece the puzzle of Number Nine together." He looked directly at Cooper, breaking his rule of speaking only with Liz. "I cannot emphasise how important it is that your agents do not make any move on Izzah, Andrei or 'Lacerta'; not that you'll find the latter. Do you understand me, Harold?" Liz turned and watched as Cooper and Ressler debated with each other; eventually the Assistant Director nodded his affirmation and Red sank back in his plastic chair, the picture of serenity, apparently done talking to the Bureau for the day. Liz had the distinct impression that Red wasn't telling them everything, and she made a mental note to press him for more information once they were back at the apartment.
She left Red in his chair, flinching as the mechanism that moved the cell back around him squeaked, and headed up the steps to the viewing booth to speak with Cooper.
"What are your thoughts, Sir?" she asked politely.
"Reddington's theory of a cell had some merit," he began slowly, "but without solid links established between all three suspects, the Bureau's hands are tied."
"Why don't we investigate this 'Lacerta' ourselves?" Ressler piped up from his seat in the corner.
"Personally, I'd take Reddington's advice on this one," she said; "leave his people to deal with the legwork. If this guy is dangerous is Raymond Reddington's book, we could end up losing valuable agents in the process. We can't get too close to this yet; by the sounds of it these people will go deeper underground if they catch so much as a sniff of the FBI," she reasoned levelly.
"Alright," Cooper agreed, "we'll leave it in Reddington's hands for now, but we'll keep in close contact with him; I want regular updates on the progress of his investigations. I leave that task to you, Agent Keen," he said.
"What do you mean, Sir?"
"We've not been able to access the building his apartment is in; he's thrown a wall of legal jargon up against us and we can't get around it. I need you to stay in the building and keep your ear to the ground; do you think you can do that?" Cooper asked. Liz's mind screamed 'Yes!' but she remembered that nobody at the Bureau knew of her current living arrangements.
"I'll check with Tom tonight, but it shouldn't be a problem, Sir," she responded dutifully.
"Good," Cooper nodded and Liz turned to leave. "Oh, and Agent Keen?" She turned back to face her boss. "Good work on the Edison report; I know it can't have been easy being stuck in such close quarters with Reddington."
"It wasn't so bad; he's housetrained," she quipped before leaving the viewing booth to inform Red of the arrangement Cooper had proposed.
"Does that sound agreeable to you?" she asked, after outlining the situation.
"Oh, Lizzie, that sounds perfect. We can plan house again," he responded jovially, smirk barely concealed. She nodded and returned to the booth. Ressler could be seen poring over paperwork with Cooper, talking animatedly to the boss before leaving the booth. Red nodded to Lizzie when she looked back at him; he would be released again soon and could return to the apartment where she would meet him later.
Cooper requested that she wear a wire during her stay in the apartment block, however Liz insisted that Red would not accept this and Dembe would likely scan her for any devices or weapons on her way into the building – entirely false, of course, but the Assistant Director of the FBI wasn't to know that. Reluctantly, Cooper agreed with her reasoning and requested that she speak with Donald about the plan in the Ops Room upstairs. Mentally, she cursed herself for even bringing up the fabricated plan, but she agreed and went to meet Ressler all the same; in the conversation that ensued he seemed less suspicious of her relationship with Red, although she was still unsure whether he would attempt to set up some sort of surveillance on the building outside of Cooper's knowledge.
Once outside the black site, Liz pulled out her cellphone and sent a message to Dembe requesting that he meet with her and Red in the apartment later that night, also providing him an update on the unfolding situation with the FBI. She sighed, realising that playing the dutiful FBI agent while half-planning her elopement with Number Four on their Most Wanted list was going to be tiring.