After hanging up with Goren, Ross called Logan and Jeffries into his office. Giving them a brief summary of the events that had transpired that afternoon at the Ruiz home, he also explained that he'd briefed Goren on the developments at MCS.
"So, Goren and Eames are on their way back?" asked Jeffries.
Shaking his head, Ross answered, "Actually, no. Goren said they had a meeting. We set up to have a planning session here first thing tomorrow." He didn't mention that while he had tried to persuade Goren to bring his partner back to the squad immediately, the big detective had dug in his heels, insisting that their meeting couldn't wait. Nor did Ross bring up the fact that he'd made a rather vulgar insinuation about the nature of said meeting, and that Goren had, quietly but firmly, 'educated' him about the folly of his words. No point in looking like an asshole to both pairs of detectives, right?
What Ross did say was, "The two of you barely got three hours sleep last night in the bunk. Go home, and let's address this in the morning."
Logan, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, nor turn down a night off, mumbled a quick "'Night" and was gone, with Jeffries not too far behind.
Ross was relieved at not having to explain further. He'd been about an inch from putting an official reprimand in Goren's file when he'd received two phone calls in quick succession, the substance of which had made him rethink his anger at his rebellious detective. While he still harbored a strong resistance to Goren's "charms", he was beginning to see, through both personal experience and the help of people whose opinions he respected, that the Goren/Eames partnership, unusual, quirky, and potentially problematic as it was, was more of an asset to Major Case than he'd at first understood.
Whether he could keep that partnership intact under the new "circumstances" remained to be seen, but he suspected that decision would be more influenced by Goren and Eames' actions than his own.
Which was, to be truthful, incredibly annoying.
With a sigh, Ross gathered his belongings and got ready to head home. I'll deal with Nick and Nora tomorrow.
As he exited the office, he sighed again. Or, more likely, they'll deal with me.
He shut off the light.
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Bobby sighed. It had been a very long drive back to the city; her curiosity having gotten the better of her, Eames had pulled out the big guns; she'd threatened to spend the entire drive in the slow lane, and tell him not one syllable of her conversation with Falk, unless he started talking.
And they say I'm a skilled interrogator? I learned at the feet of the master…mistress…I'm just here to serve the Queen.
Fearing she would make good on her threat, he'd agreed to tell Eames at least a part of what she wanted to know.
His first conversation had been with their host for the evening, agreeing to dinner. He'd already had to tell her where they were headed, since she was driving, and as he was yet unwilling to share any further content of that phone conversation, she started to change lanes. Only the use of a sad puppy face had kept her from following through, but she'd then insisted (rather loudly, for someone so small, he'd idly thought, before suppressing it just in case she was currently reading his mind) that he at the very least give her a summary of his second conversation, which she'd correctly guessed was with Ross.
There's a part of that I'll never tell you, my lovely partner, because two murder investigations in two days won't look good on your record.
He had, however, given her a quick rundown of Logan and Jeffries' suspicions about the records clerk, at which point she'd been ready to head directly to the squad to put the patented Eames smackdown on the girl. Attempting to keep her calm without using his "good cop" voice, which she was sure to both recognize and be infuriated by, he'd explained that the discovery had happened too late in the day to pursue, and filled her in on the plan to meet early in the morning to strategize. He was thankful when this appeased her, but it was to be a short reprieve.
Easing her foot off the gas, she'd demanded information on the status of Selenia and her son, and their deal with the DEA. At this point, he'd gotten a little…frustrated.
"Damn, Eames, can't you be patient? I'm just going to have to repeat all this at dinner, anyway."
She'd immediately shifted into the center lane before fixing him with a look that would have killed a lesser man, and stating, "Robert; (oh shit) Item one; don't curse at me. Item two; no, I can't be patient, so deal with it, and item three; as IF you don't love the sound of your own voice. Half the time we're with a suspect, I can't get a word in edgewise because you're delivering a soliloquy, so if you have to repeat yourself, TOO BAD!"
At this point, he'd gotten a little…annoyed.
Okay, a little annoyed and maybe a little…scared.
Okay, okay, a little annoyed, more than a little scared, and also, just a little…aroused.
He couldn't be blamed; not really. Her eyes were just so full of fire, and it had been a very long and difficult day, and…
Yeah, I'm kind of a pervert when it comes to Eames.
Maintaining silence while she tooled along, ostensibly happily ensconced in the dreaded middle lane, he'd waited for a moment when traffic was so slow, all she was doing was steering and occasionally letting up on the brake.
Then he made his move.
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When Cooper didn't check in, he knew it was time to move.
He cursed silently as he lit the fire; years of work, all gone in an instant, because he'd been foolish enough to believe that Ruiz would equate gratitude with loyalty and obedience. He should have known better; should not have made this grave miscalculation. Perhaps he'd gotten complacent with his success.
He sighed, not looking back as the flames began to engulf the material symbols of his life. He was honest enough to recognize his own weaknesses as well as those of others, and he would examine his errors at a time in the not-too-distant future, but now was not the moment for introspection.
He slid into the back of his limousine as he dialed his pilot, ordering him to Teterboro immediately to get the plane ready for a long journey. He cut off all questions by disconnecting the call, and tried to focus on what awaited him in his new home; money, anonymity, and peace.
The chauffeur waited for direction, and he tossed off the hangar address, finally relaxing enough to settle back into the seat.
He heard the sputter as the engine failed to turn over and instinctively reached for the door handle, but it was too late. The chauffeur had already tried again, and this time he had succeeded in ignition.
Neither man felt a thing as the explosives quickly destroyed every part of the car and everything (and everyone) in it.
And that was a shame, Michael O'Donnell thought to himself. He was satisfied that his vengeance had been successful, but disappointed that he couldn't have made it slow and painful. He would have felt badly about having to kill the chauffeur as well as the target, but as his mother always said, 'when you lie down with dogs…'. He could almost hear his brother laughing at that, and he decided that tonight, the O'Donnells would celebrate not only their victory, but the life of the little brother who'd been the apple of their mother's eye.
He walked slowly away, feeling the heat of the flames from both the car and the warehouse caressing his back, and knowing that he'd done what he needed to for the pride of his family. There would of course be consequences of his actions; the cops and the feds would be more vigilant for a while, and operations would naturally slow down, but it would also be painfully obvious to anyone planning a move against the O'Donnells that they did so at their peril.
All in all, he'd had a good day.
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Mmmm…that feels good, Alex' libido thought, while her common sense was busy trying to divest her ear of the tongue of an oversized (and apparently oversexed) detective.
"I am driving, Robert," she gritted out through clenched teeth, trying to ignore the tingling sensations working their way down her spine.
"AND, this is not the way to end a fight." Alex was aiming for stern and forbidding, but the slightly moany quality in her voice belied her words, and she heard Bobby's chuckle in her ear as he continued his assault, his left hand now caressing her thigh.
In a low, throaty tone, he murmured, "Seems like a good solution to me." Lick. Hot breath. Shiver. "And since I'm not driving, I need something to do."
Pushing his hand down towards her knee, she muttered, "Can't you just sit still and think like you usually do?" His hand was traveling north again, and she knew she should do something about it, especially considering she was currently attempting to safely exit the highway, but her pesky libido was too busy increasing her body temperature to cooperate, and her common sense had pretty much given up, and was trying to recall any secluded parking lots between here and their destination.
Working his way from her ear to her throat, Bobby groaned, "But I was thinking, Eames' it's just that this is what I was thinking about."
"Oh," was the best response she could come up with, and considering that her libido and her common sense had now teamed up and were holding up a sign that said 'Go, Bobby, Go!', she figured it was a sign of self-restraint that she still had both hands on the wheel.
And then it happened.
Clearly operating with a will of its own, the SUV had driven itself right up to their destination, and had even managed to parallel park.
Uppity fuckin' car.
They realized at precisely the same moment that they would have to save the conclusion of this activity for later, and their combined frustrated sighs were a bit whinier than either one of them liked.
Deciding that she needed just a little vengeance, Alex moved swiftly, grabbing the back of Bobby's head and kissing him fiercely, feeling his heartbeat increase against her chest. When she pulled away, they stared at each other for a moment, both gasping for breath, but it was Alex who recovered first.
Unbuckling her seatbelt and grabbing her purse, she slid out of the SUV and called out cheerfully, "Come on, Goren. You insisted we have dinner; here we are!"
Cursing himself, Bobby reluctantly followed her. Me and my bright ideas.
A/N - Law and Order: Criminal Intent and its established characters don't belong to me, despite much begging and even a bit of groveling on my part. Oh well, I'll just play with them then, earning no money, but being very much fulfilled by those who read and review!