A/N: I wonder how many people read author's notes. I love reading them. It's part of what I like more about reading fanfiction over published books. I love hearing the author's thoughts on their work, their reviews, their breakfast. (I had some bomb homemade Oreos for breakfast, by the way! I know, terrible. Even worse, I made them to bring to my best friend who just gave birth this morning and I totally ate them! Lol) And when you have an unhealthy obsession with something, it's kind of nice to know there are other crazies out there too!

Anyhoo… here's the next installment. Sorry no gratuitous heavy makeout sessions here, but stories need to be told. My apologies for any mistakes. I'm not working with a beta and my eyes were getting all crossed trying to proof read myself!

Thank you to all of you who took the time to leave me a little comment and those that added this to your faves. Ya'll keep me motivated. :) Keep 'em coming! Congrats to DollyJani for putting some puzzle pieces together and for the chapter title inspiration!

Another note to any readers in the East (U.S) Coast - I'm sure you have more important things to worry about right now than reading fanfiction, but my thoughts and prayers are will you all as Sandy passes through! Stay safe!

Chapter 14: Pulling a Fast One

"Oh my gosh, Katniss… Do you know what these files are?" Peeta gasped, frozen in shock at whatever files he was holding.

"What?" I looked at the one I was holding in my own hand. "Looks like some bank statements or something. From the Caymans? I don't understand, Peeta."

"Here, look at these." Peeta handed me a few items from his stack.

"Photographs of Eliza O'Keefe?" I asked, flipping through them. "Whoa, getting busy, apparently. These look like paparazzi shots… wait, is that who I think it is?"

"Uncle Haymitch," Peeta confirmed.

"I didn't know Haymitch dated Eliza." I handed Peeta back the photos.

He flipped through them once more. "I didn't either."

"Why would Seneca be keeping these pictures of them?" I wondered.

"I don't think these are paparazzi photos. This wasn't something that the media was aware of."

"Maybe Seneca paid them off to keep these out of the press," I suggested. "That's why they're hidden."

"Or he paid someone off to take these pictures. I think these were taken by a private investigator of some sort," Peeta conjectured, putting the pictures aside and skimming through the other papers.

"So you think they were having an affair?" I asked incredulously.

"I don't know what all of this means, but I'm taking it with us," Peeta said, hastily stuffing the documents back into the manila folder he had torn off the cabinet. "C'mon, we need to get going now if we're to have any chance of making it to the starting line in time."

"Peeta, wait!" He began lifting the file cabinet back into place on his own, the folder tucked under his arm. "We can't take that. What if he finds out they're missing?"

He grabbed my hand and started dragging me out of the office. "I don't care, Katniss. This is about my uncle. I have a hunch about something and if I'm right, we're going to need these files to prove it. Now let's get out of here."

Peeta already had the key turning in the ignition before we were even completely inside his Jeep, tossing the folder into the glove compartment. I was still fumbling with my seatbelt when he sped out of the parking lot.

"I think we can barely make it for the gun, but you're going to have to make a run for the starting line as soon as we pull in," he informed me.

"Wait, Peeta, I still need to change into my wetsuit. How will I have time?"

He reached behind my seat, keeping his eyes trained on the road while he continued to steer expertly with one hand, and returned with my wetsuit in his grasp.

"Here. Get dressed," he instructed, tossing my suit into my lap.

"In the car?" I gawked at him. "Are you kidding? It's not like you have tinted windows – or any windows, for that matter! You want me to just expose myself to everyone on the 405?"

"You're wearing your swimsuit under your clothes. It'll be fine. Unless you plan to swim without the wetsuit. In which case, I don't think that bikini you're wearing will hold up," he said, biting back a sly smile.

I shot him a scowl. "How did you know I'm wearing my swimsuit under my clothing?"

"You already forgot how I knew that?" Peeta turned to me for a brief moment, just long enough to flash me a flirtatious wink. I blushed profusely remembering the feel of his hands underneath my shirt. "We'll be there in about ten minutes, so you better get dressed."

Reluctantly, I unbuckled my seat belt and undid the button of my shorts. Scanning the road around me, I slid my shorts down and kicked them onto the floor.

"Peeta, watch out!" I shouted, gripping the roll bar to steady myself, as he began drifting into the next lane. The driver of the coupe we nearly sideswiped leaned on his horn, flashing Peeta his middle finger. "Keep your eyes on the road, would you?"

"Sorry!" Peeta shouted after I'd caught him eying my state of undress.

I slipped my feet into the legs of my wetsuit, lifting my butt off the seat and arching my back to shimmy my suit the rest of the way up. Peeta swerved once again into the shoulder lane.

"Peeta!" I scolded him as I buckled my seat belt back on. "Are you trying to get us to the club or get us killed?"

"I'm sorry, you just…" He cleared his throat nervously. "Nevermind."

If we weren't dangerously weaving through traffic at 70 miles per hour, I might have been flattered by the attention, but this was definitely not the time to get distracted by raging hormones.

"Well, get it together 'cause I'm about to take off my shirt," I warned him.

His body stiffened and his eyes locked forward. "Eyes on the road, Peeta," he commanded himself.

When I was certain he was completely engrossed in his driving, I pulled my tank top over my head and quickly slipped my arms into the sleeves of my wetsuit in one fluid motion.

Once I had the zipper pulled all the way up, I announced, "Done! You can relax now."

"Perfect. Here's the exit. Get ready to bust outta here and make a run for it."

Within a couple minutes, Peeta was screeching into the country club's employee parking lot while I kept my hand positioned on the seatbelt latch, ready to release myself. As soon as he was pulled into a parking spot, I hopped over the door and I hit the ground running towards the beach.

"Swim straight!" I heard Peeta call after me.

I sprinted past the main lobby and through tennis courts, jumping a fence to make a shortcut to the beach entrance. I had just reached the sand at the bottom of the steps when I heard the sound of a voice calling out through a bullhorn, "Competitors – on your marks, get set…"

I pushed myself past the crowd of spectators roped off several yards behind the starting line, just as the starting gun went off. I took off down the beach, trailing behind the other swimmers. The other eleven contestants had already transitioned from their dolphin dives to their freestyle strokes by the time my feet even hit the water. Even though I was confident in my swimming abilities, I didn't know how fast my opponents were. More concentrated and determined than I'd ever been, I had set my sights on chasing down Clove. I didn't even care if I didn't finish in first as long as she enjoyed the view from behind me.

Ducking my head down, I stroked as fast as my arms could possibly move. I knew I'd tire myself out at this pace, but I was resolute in proving to Cato and Clove that Peeta and I would not back down. About halfway to the buoy, I had gained on several of the laggards, but I was still behind five or six leaders, and beginning to feel the fatigue of my initial sprint. I was telling my muscles to keep working, keep moving. I stopped keeping track of my opponents at that point and concentrated solely on motivating my body not to quit.

After the turn, I checked my surroundings once more and gauged that I was approximately in fourth place. If I could just keep us close, I was sure that Peeta could make up the rest on the run. I just had to keep up… for Peeta. For Peeta. I pictured him in my mind, shouting my name before he slipped under the water, being carried away by the rip tide. I had to get to him. I had to save him. Every ounce of strength, energy, and willpower was funneled into that moment, to close the gap between us.

Before I knew it, I was swimming so hard, adrenaline pumping through my veins, picturing Peeta's lifeless body as I headed back to shore. I must have passed up one other swimmer because, when I finally made it back to dry land, only two others were ahead of me – Clove and Enobaria. Clove looked back and tried to hide her alarm at seeing me there, let alone so close behind her.

I would have made another sprint to pass her up on the run to the cycling rendezvous, but I didn't want to overexert myself before that event. I figured, if I can pass up nine opponents in one event, Peeta and I could certainly pull ahead over the course of the last two. I found Peeta already straddling his bike while he waited for me to join him. I mounted my bike as he congratulated me with a quick kiss.

"Let's go," I mouthed silently to him, unable to conjure up my voice through my labored breathing, before we took off down the route, trailing Brutus and Enobaria and Cato and Clove leading the pack.

"Hang in there a little longer, Katniss," Peeta cheered me on as I pedaled just behind him. "You're doing great, Baby!"

I looked up at him from my targeted view of Cato and Clove. "You didn't seriously just call me 'Baby', did you?" Peeta laughed, standing to pick up speed. "Yeah, you better run!"

I caught my second wind of energy as I was motivated to catch up with my partner. When Foxy snuck up in my periphery, I hunkered down and pumped my legs even faster. Finally able to break from the next wave of cyclists gaining on me, I soon caught up with Peeta.

"Don't call me 'Baby'!" I yelled at him teasingly.

"Alright, we can discuss possible pet names later," he replied as we passed Brutus.

Peeta and I began this dance with our opponent. He'd pull a few inches ahead then Peeta would. I'd pull forward then Brutus would pass me. As I dropped back, I pumped harder, swerving to his other side so Peeta and I were flanking him. We shot each other a conspiring look, understanding one another without words. At his nod, we both pedaled ahead of Brutus. As soon as we had both passed him, we steered to close our gap, blocking Brutus from regaining his lead. Brutus shouted a few expletives at us as we shared a laugh at his expense. We were even audacious enough to high-five each other in front of him.

"Girl, you are on fire!" Peeta hollered. "Woo!"

I shook my head at his silliness. "Well, I'll take 'Girl on fire' over 'Baby' any day," I said. "But in the meantime, we have a few more opponents to burn through."

"Right," Peeta replied, stiffening his demeanor. He pointed to his eyes with two fingers and then out to the road before us. "Focus."

My resulting giggle nearly caused me to lose my balance on my bike, swerving out to the side to regain my balance. "Oh, crap!"

"Who can't drive now?" Peeta mocked. "And I'm fully clothed!"

"Oh, hush!" I reprimanded. "Whatever happened to staying focused? We only have a short distance to go." I pointed to the 4K marker we just passed.

By the time Peeta and I had reached the end of the cycling course, Cato and Clove were still in the lead and we came shortly afterwards, just behind Enobaria, but her partner, Brutus - who was the one that was going to be finishing the running portion of the race – was still a few seconds behind us.

"I'll see you at the finish line! Git 'er done!" I pumped and instinctively smacked Peeta's bottom without thinking as he passed me by. "Uhh…"

"Yes, I'll definitely see you at the finish line," he replied suggestively.

I rolled my eyes. "Just go!"

We had lost a little time on our exchange and Brutus made it to the start of the route the same time as Peeta. As they took off in pursuit of Cato, Clove sidled up next to me.

"How'd I look from back there? I've been doing squats just so you'd have something nice to look at," she sneered.

Without even looking in her direction, I shrugged. "Oh, I couldn't tell. It was too small to see clearly." I began walking away, but turned back around to face her. "And Clove? Next time you're feeling too insecure to play fairly, make sure you pick on someone who will keep their mouth shut about it."

I watched with satisfaction as her face blanched. Truth be told, we hadn't decided on ratting them out just yet. It would be our word against theirs and Marvel would probably step up to vouch for them. On top of that, we would have to explain how we escaped and when the files come up missing, Seneca would undoubtedly suspect us. At that point, sabotaging a race seems like less of a punishable offense than breaking and entering and theft.

Clove stomped away from me steaming from the ears. I followed the rest of the swimmers through the shortcut that led us to the finish line to meet our partners for the final verdict. Cato had a sizable lead, but Peeta and Brutus had just as much of a chance to pull themselves into first place as well. We killed our time waiting by rehydrating ourselves and taking turns being interviewed by reporters. I tried to lay low to avoid being spotted by the media, but eventually, a male news reporter from KPTL approached me with his enormous microphone.

"Excuse me, do you have a minute? Can I get a quick interview?" he asked adjusting his stiff toupee and smiling with his unnaturally white teeth.

"Umm, I guess so," I answered quietly with a shrug.

"Fantastic! And what is your name, dear?"

"I'm, uh, Katniss. Katniss Everdeen," I replied sounding more like I was asking him my name rather than telling him.

"Alright, Katniss, just look over at that camera right there, and smile, would you?" He dabbed his tanned face with a handkerchief before speaking into his microphone. "Caesar Flickerman here reporting from the 3rd Annual Cornucopia Triathlon. I'm here with one of the competitors, Katniss Everdeen. Katniss, how are you feeling right now?"

"Well, I'm pretty tired," I answered vaguely.

"I'm sure you are! We all saw you running in late for the start. Can you tell us what happened and why you weren't able to start with the other contestants?" he probed, taking me by surprise.

"Oh, um, my partner and I got held up somewhere. We thought we might miss the race completely, but I barely made it back to catch up on the swim." My eyes darted away from the camera, watching the road beyond it for any sign of the runners.

"And catch up you did! Have you ever considered competing in the Olympics with those skills?" He threw his head back letting out an artificial laugh. I simply shook my head at what I assumed was a rhetorical question. "Katniss, after your late start, do you think your team has a chance at winning?"

I smiled genuinely, thinking of Peeta passing up Cato. "Absolutely. My partner, Peeta, is a very fast runner. I have no doubt he can pull ahead."

As if on cue, the nearby crowd bordering the running course began cheering loudly. We couldn't see any of the runners, but we could tell they were approaching by the sounds of the spectators. Caesar and his cameraman cut away from me – thank goodness – and turned their attention to the finish line. My neck strained to see over their shoulders.

"Excuse me," I begged as I pushed my way to the finish line. "Excuse me."

I stood there with my hands clasped, my heart pounding in my chest, hoping and praying that Peeta would be the first face I'd see.

And it was. Alongside the red, puffy faces of Cato and, surprisingly, Thresh. They were practically dead even and as they rounded the corner, with the archway of the finish line in sight, they all broke into an all-out sprint. I watched intently, my mind imagining them in slow motion to the tempo of some cliché epic music score. Cato's face was flushed and dripping with sweat. Peeta's hair clung to his forehead, his fiery eyes lit with determination. It was going to be a very close call – a photo finish, perhaps. But at the very final nanosecond, Peeta broke the ribbon.

I leapt into the air, screaming zealously before I ran to meet Peeta. I jumped into his arms and kissed his face and neck excitedly.

"Oh my gosh! Ah! You did it!" I shouted. "You did it!"

"We did it, Baby!" Peeta gave me a flirtatious smile.

"Shut up. Don't call me 'Baby'!"

"Why don't you shut me up…" his eyebrows waggled suggestively. "Bab-"

My mouth crashed into his, kissing him deeply to effectively shut him up.

"Congratulations are in order, I see!" Caesar Flickerman was practically feeding me his microphone yet again. "Turns out, you were right about your partner, Miss Everdeen. He was capable of taking the lead!"

Peeta gently put me down and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "Are you kidding? I owe it all to Katniss. You should have seen her swimming out there. I think she may have passed a couple dolphins!" I playfully pushed him as my face blushed on camera. "That's what I love about this girl. She can overcome just about any obstacle you throw her way."

"Wow," Caesar said, as stunned by Peeta's words and I was. "You seem very fond of your teammate, Peeta! But I think you both deserve the credit. Congratulations to you both! Ladies and gentleman, the victors of the 3rd annual Cornucopia Triathlon, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta…"

"Mellark," Peeta finished for him.

A man dressed in uniform and wearing a very official headset, came to escort us back to the beach for the award ceremony. We followed him to the golf cart that awaited us, passing Cato and Clove on the way. Cato was seething with rage while Clove's face failed to hide the dread I had implanted with my threat to snitch. Peeta grabbed my hand to help me into the golf cart, waving to the cheering crowd while the uniformed man drove us away.

"Cato is not a happy camper," I told him. "The looks on their faces is worth far more than the prize money."

"He'll be even more pissed when they get disqualified," Peeta said smugly.

I rested my chin on his shoulder, nibbling on his earlobe to hide my whispering. "Peeta, I don't think we should tell the contest officials about what they did."

Peeta looked at me quizzically, but grabbed my face, placing a soft kiss on my cheek and whispering back, "Did you suddenly develop a soft spot for them or what?"

I returned the gesture, telling him, "They can't know we were there. Those files, Peeta. We could get in a lot of trouble."

He nodded with understanding and we shared one last kiss before disembarking the cart and making our way to the podiums they had set up in the middle of the sand.

The ceremony was, thankfully, short and succinct. Seneca Crane came up to hand us a comically large, fake check for $5,000, congratulating us on our job well done. He was followed by the winners from last year's triathlon, an Abercrombie model-type he referred to as Finnick brought a trophy that could easily pass as a floor lamp.

Finnick flashed a typical beefcake smile at me then winked as he said in a low, suggestive voice, "Incredible swimming out there. Love a girl who doesn't mind getting wet."

I could see Peeta puff out his chest and clench his fists from the corner of my eye. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it to assuage him.

Finnick's partner was far less appealing. Johanna, as they called her, had a scowl that rivaled my own, but her voice had a menacing edge to it. As she approached us to place the medals around our necks, I heard her remark with sarcastic overtones, "Great job, Peeta. Sure beats eighth place."

Peeta snickered and I wondered why he found her dry humor entertaining. She didn't say a single word to me. She simply threw me a condescending expression as if I was her heir apparent trying to take over her throne before she was dead.

Senece took to the microphone once more.

"Congratulations again, Katniss and Peeta. When I started up the Cornucopia Project three years ago, I was going through a tumultuous time in my personal life. I found refuge in my work – in my craft. Movies have always been my escape into an alternate world and, as a director, it was empowering to know that there were some things in life I could still control. There was a way I could express myself for the world to see. And I felt like everyone ought to have those types of opportunities. As you know, this foundation funds performing arts programs in our local schools. And thanks to all our extremely generous sponsors, this year we've raised a record-breaking… $273,500!"

The crowd broke into thunderous applause. Peeta and I smiled and clapped politely, but I could tell by the look on Peeta's face, that gears were turning in his head. Once we were dismissed from the podium, I grabbed his hand and turned him back towards me.

"Hey, something's up. What are you thinking about?" I asked, searching his eyes.

He glanced back at Seneca who was already schmoozing with the group of affluent sponsors. "We need to find my uncle… now."

Tell me what you think! Leave me a review! I've only gotten one non-positive review. It wasn't negative, necessarily, but it was strange and didn't make sense. Whoever was the anonymous reviewer that left it, thank you, but I wish you had left some specific details so I could understand it better! Even though I know I can never please everyone with my storylines, I always strive to write it well and get my point across. I really do appreciate feedback even to tell me something didn't make sense so I can try harder to make sure it does. :)