Chapter 21

'Let me see it' Sara whispered.

Neal pulled out the pistol and lay it on the bedspread between them.

'Pretty basic' she commented, turning it over in her hands.

Neal glared at her. 'A gun is a gun, Sara' he said, taking it back from her.

They heard Caitlin's bedroom door closing in the distance. That's what Neal had been waiting for; no sense upsetting her by confronting Jesse while she was within earshot.

'That's my cue' Neal said, getting to his feet.

Sara stood and placed a hand on his arm. 'Be firm' she urged him. 'Remember, two days.'

He stepped out of their bedroom and glanced over his shoulder, making sure Caitlin's bedroom door was closed and he headed downstairs to have the confrontation he'd been dreading. This guy was up to no good and the last thing Neal needed was more grief. Hell, neither did Caitlin. She'd been through so much heartache and disappointment in her young life and he didn't want her having to face any more hardship. He had to find a way to get this loser out of the house without totally destroying his foster daughter's illusions about her big brother.

Jesse was poking around in his duffel bag when Neal appeared in the family room. The hide-a-bed was already open and he could see some of the clothes he'd found earlier thrown on top of the bedsheets as the man dug to the very bottom of his bag, seemingly on the search for something.

'Got everything you need?' Neal asked, interrupting him.

Jesse kept poking around in his bag. 'Yeah, yeah, thanks' he mumbled without looking up.

'Caitlin seems thrilled to have you here' Neal commented, trying to engage the young man in conversation.

The man grumbled, facing away.

Neal reached around and pulled the weapon out of the back of his jeans where he'd tucked it in.

'It this what you're looking for?' he asked.

That seemed to get Jesse's attention and he turned around to find Neal standing there, holding the very item he'd been frantically searching for.

'You searched my bag?' he said, his tone indignant.

'You brought a loaded gun into our house' Neal countered with just as much indignation.

'So?' the young man said, cocky.

'So?' Neal replied, his voice growing louder. 'We have young children visiting this house on a regular basis. And maybe I just don't want a gun in my house. That is my prerogative.'

Jesse took a few steps forward and grabbed the gun from Neal's outstretched hand.

'And it's now an unloaded gun' Neal said, matter-of-factly.

The other man frowned at him and stared back.

'You'll get the ammo when you leave' Neal continued.

Jesse turned and threw the gun onto the top of his bag.

'Why are you really here, Jesse?' Neal asked.

The other man looked up and gave Neal a crooked smile, a poor attempt at charming him - if only he knew who he was dealing with. 'I told you, I'm visiting my baby sister.'

'Oh, the one you haven't bothered to visit in seven years?'

'Look, my relationship with my sister is none of your business' Jesse argued.

'That's where you're wrong. Caitlin is my business. She's part of my family' Neal said, his voice strong. 'And I look out for my family. Whatever you've come here to do, you're not doing it on my watch.'

Jesse rolled his eyes. 'What is she to you, anyway? The flavour of the week? Your good deed for the year?'

'You don't know a thing about me' Neal replied, his tone terse. 'Or your sister, for that matter.'

'So… what? Are you kicking me out?' Jesse asked, hands placed provocatively on his hips.

'Whatever you might think, we love Caitlin and we want her to be happy' Neal began. 'And for some reason, she seems thrilled to have you here - so I'm willing to cut you a little slack. But she's had more than enough disappointment in her life and I won't have you sweeping into town and leaving a mess behind for us to clean up.'

The man continued to stare Neal down. He scoffed.

'So this is how it's going down' Neal continued. 'I won't tell Caitlin about what I found in your bag or our little talk and you can have two days to make nice and pretend to have a lovely visit. Then, I want you to make up some excuse and get the hell out of my house and I want you to crawl back into whatever hole you came out of and go back to calling her once a year and pretending to be a good brother.'

Jesse scoffed. 'Or what?'

'Or I tell your sister what you're really up to. That all you want is somewhere to crash while you try to unload that contraband stuff I found in your bag.'

Jesse shook his head. 'She's not going to believe you' he taunted.

'Oh no? Don't push me Jesse. You have no idea what I'm capable of when it comes to my family. And make no mistake about it, Caitlin is family.'

The man just stood there, staring Neal down, waiting to see who would be the first to blink.

'You rich artsy types are all the same. Looking for some good deed to do so you can alleviate your guilty conscience about ripping people off.'

'You don't know the first thing about my life or the work I do' Neal said, his gaze steady.

'I know your type' Jesse said. 'You've never gotten your hands dirty, you've always lived a charmed life. You have no idea what it's like to sleep on the street or in the drunk tank. Bet you've only ever slept on silk sheets.'

Neal thought of the irony of what the man was saying; he'd spent almost four years in a federal penitentiary where each day you took your life in your hands, waiting for some hardened criminal to make you his jail wife or, worse yet, decide he didn't like the look of your face and proceed to rearrange it.

He let his body relax and pointed to the hide-a-bed. 'I expect you to keep this area clean and tidy while you're staying here and to make that bed in the morning. Breakfast is at seven.'

'Whatever…' Jesse said arrogantly.

'And if you do anything to hurt Caitlin, I will hunt you down and make you pay' Neal added for good measure.

He gave the man a twisted smile. 'Good night' he said before turning away.

He was halfway up the stairs before he realized just how badly his hands were shaking.

WCWCWC

'Hi honey' Sara said into the phone just as Neal was coming through their bedroom door.

'Liam' she mouthed.

Neal sat down on the edge of the bed next to his wife who'd already slipped under the covers.

'Yeah, he watched some of it on the laptop' she said as Neal motioned for her to hand over the phone.

She waved his hand away. 'So, how are you settling in? How are classes? Is everything all right?'

Neal watched her nodding and sighed loudly, waiting for his turn to talk to his son. She asked him a few more probing questions - à la Sara Ellis - before she finally took the hint and prepared to hand the phone over to Neal.

'Okay, okay. Your dad's going to rip the phone out of my hand if I don't let him talk to you' she said with a chuckle.

'Hey buddy!' Neal chirped once it was finally his turn. 'Great game tonight! Are you on your way back already?'

'Yeah, we just left. We'll be back by morning' Liam replied sounding exhausted.

Neal could hear hootin' and hollerin' in the background as a bus full of hormone fuelled young men traveled down the highway somewhere in North Carolina on their way back to Syracuse.

'Are you going to be able to get some shuteye?'

'I'll try' Liam shouted so the guys around him could hear. 'If I can get these guys to shut the hell up.'

Neal heard some taunting on the other end as a few of the guys reacted to Liam's comment.

'I've got a class after lunch tomorrow I'd rather not miss' he continued, undaunted.

'I thought the coaches took all your phones away when you were on the road' Neal commented.

'They do. But we get them back right after the game' Liam replied. 'Mom says you watched some of it?'

'I did. That was an amazing three pointer you got there at the end of the first quarter' Neal said with pride.

'Yeah, I had good cover so I thought I'd go for it' Liam said with his usual modesty.

'Wake Forest sure gave you a run for your money' Neal commented, launching into their usual after the game analysis.

'They've got a really strong defence this year' Liam said, over the loud voices in the background. 'They've got that rookie, Richie Alberts.'

'Yeah' Neal said. 'He's a big guy. He's gotta be, what, six eight, six nine?'

'Six ten' Liam corrected. 'And built like a brick pizzeria.'

Neal laughed at the analogy. He loved having these debriefs after each one of Liam's game. He missed the days when he could attend every single game and sit in the car with him on the way home, dissecting the game, play by play. Unfortunately, it was neither feasible nor practical to quit his job and follow his son, the basketball star, around the country although Neal would have gladly done it if he didn't have to work for a living.

'So, how are things going with Todd?' Neal asked, a question that had been on his mind since he'd dropped his son off the previous weekend.

Sara leaned in and motioned for him to put the call on hands free so she could hear. He obliged.

'Aww you know, we're still hanging in there…' Liam said. '…for now.'

'I bumped into Cody at ShopRite last week' Sara said as Neal scowled at her.

She shrugged as if to say 'What? So sue me'

Liam didn't say a word.

'Honey?'

'Yeah, I heard you Mom. How was he?'

'Good. He asked about you.'

'Oh yeah?' Liam said with a tinge of sadness. 'Well, say hi for me if you see him again.'

Neal and Sara grimaced as they tried to hear him over the loud voices on the bus - all the louder, it seemed, after a winning game.

'Hey Caffrey!' they heard someone call out, teasing him. 'Are you talking to your mommy?'

Liam scoffed. 'I gotta go' he said with a chuckle. 'I'll call you next week. Love you guys.'

'We love you too, honey' Sara called out before the call went dead.

'You saw Cody at ShopWrite?' Neal said, mimicking her tone of voice.

He took the phone, returning it to its rightful place on the bedside table.

'What? I did!' she said, frowning.

He cocked his eyebrow in disbelief. 'Not sure that's helpful for Liam right now.'

'Why not? You know as well as I do those two belong together.'

'Honey, it's not that simple for him' Neal said as he began to get ready for bed. 'He's trying to figure things out for himself… and we need to give him the space to do it. Without constant interference.'

She wasn't enjoying the rebuke and changed the subject. 'So, how did it got downstairs?'

'I told him he had two days and then, we wanted him out.'

'How did he take it?'

Neal shrugged. 'I didn't give him a choice' he said, leaving out the intense glare Jesse Davis had shot his way. 'I'm more concerned about how Caitlin's going to take it.'

He slipped into bed next to her.

Sara perched on her elbow to look at him. 'Well, she's better off not getting too cosy with a shady guy like that.'

Neal settled in on his back and put his hands behind his head. 'I'm not sure she's going to see it that way. But as far as I'm concerned, the less she knows about her brother, the better - I'd rather he leave quietly without making a fuss.'

'If he really is up to no good, she'll thank us later.'

Neal glanced at her. 'Much later… or not at all.'

Sara gave him a quick peck on the cheek. 'You did the right thing, honey. Short term pain for long term gain.'

WCWCWC

It was just past seven thirty on Monday morning when Jesse Davis settled in at the table of a local coffee shop with an espresso and his trusty phone in his hand. Caitlin had headed off to work first thing and he'd decided to follow her out of the house for a while. Anything was better than having to sit at the kitchen table with Ward and June Cleaver and pretend to make nice.

He glanced around; it seemed that practically everybody around him had a laptop. He should really get his hands on one of those things; it would make his life a lot easier. He plugged away at his phone, taking advantage of the free wifi to do a little bit of research.

He began by typing in variations of his host's name: Neal Caffrey, N. Caffrey, Caffrey, Neal.

The first thing that popped up was a biography of Neal George Caffrey along with some of his artwork; apparently the guy liked to do some painting in his free time. Jesse perused the images - mostly portraits of a young girl, a boy, some of a woman he recognized as Sara Ellis. Seemed his gallery served as a showplace for his art and that of his daughter Hope Ellis-Caffrey, - at least according to a couple of websites which mentioned the Raphael.

Jesse continued to plug away. There had to be some dirt on this guy. In his experience, no one was lily white - everybody had skeletons in their closet, things they would rather not have come to light. Why should Neal Caffrey be any different?

He took a sip of coffee and continued down the list of websites with passing mentions of the man. There were a few articles about the opening of the Raphael Gallery in Manhattan a few years back and some stuff about the June Ellington School of Art. One particular piece mentioned how Caffrey had started the school to honour the memory of a woman who'd apparently left him a shitload of money, how he ran the place with the woman's granddaughter and that his goal was to help give underprivileged kids a chance at a better life… blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

There was another piece, written more recently, which talked about a couple of alumni from the school who had managed to turn their lives around and who credited Neal Caffrey and his staff for helping them straighten out. The article featured a young man by the name of Kevin Barrett who had gained some recognition as a local artist and was now working out of a loft in SoHo. The guy was quoted as saying that Neal Caffrey had been a mentor to him, an inspiration and that he'd helped him claw his way out of the slums and straight into a bright, promising future.

Such bullshit!

Who was June Ellington, Jesse wondered, keying in June's name and watching as a number of new sites popped up. According to the all-knowing world wide web, she was a wealthy widow who'd done a lot of charity work before her death six years earlier, at the ripe old age of ninety-two. Further poking around revealed that she had been married to a man named Byron Ellington - some two bit hustler who'd done time for gambling and embezzlement. That sounded interesting… what was Neal Caffrey's connection to the late June Ellington and her dead husband?

And what about the guy - Burke - that Caitlin had mentioned. He worked with Caffrey at the gallery. On a whim, Jesse typed in the name Burke and cross referenced it with the Raphael. A couple of articles appeared and he began to read. One of them mentioned that Peter Burke was a retired FBI agent and that he and Caffrey had met at the Bureau when the younger man had worked there as a consultant.

That led him on a new search, cross-referencing Neal Caffrey with the FBI. His eyes grew to the size of saucers as a slew of articles, mainly stuff from the Bureau website, came up. Stuff about the successful partnership between the two men - one a senior FBI agent and the other an ex-con who'd served four years at Sing Sing and had gotten early release in exchange for his services. It lauded the work of the dynamic duo who'd managed to make a record number of arrests over their many years of working together.

Jesse went from one link to the next, the smile growing on his face as he began to put the pieces together. Neal Caffrey wasn't just some petty thief; he'd been arrested and convicted of bond forgery and sentenced to four years in a federal penitentiary. Apparently, he'd been a world renowned con artist, suspected of many more crimes and misdemeanours than those he'd been found guilty of, including counterfeiting, racketeering and art theft. He'd eluded the police for almost a decade before his arrest and had been a mastermind at covering his tracks - a bonafide con-man.

Bingo!

That holier-than-thou son of a bitch had a rap sheet as long as his arm and yet, was living his life in a quiet suburb of White Plains as if he had the right to be there. Did the people around him know about his past? What about his wife and kids? His neighbours and friends? Did they know? Most importantly, did Caitlin know her sainted foster dad was a common criminal? She'd always talked about the guy like he was some sort of hero - there was no way she knew he was an ex-con.

He settled back in his chair and smiled wickedly. Apparently, he'd just found a way to extend his stay in New York.

WCWCWC

Neal woke with a major case of morning wood. The fact that his body was curled up against Sara's warm, soft back only served to heighten the pleasant, libidinous sensation. He groaned as his hips shifted forward and consciousness gradually began to kick in. He glanced over her shoulder at the time: there was almost an hour left before the alarm went off.

He continued with the repetitive motions, his willing body totally overriding his groggy mind. Maybe if he didn't think about it too much and just went with it, things would turn out all right this time. He hadn't yet managed to form a full, coherent thought when he began to feel Sara pushing back against him, further intensifying the oh so pleasant feelings in his nether regions. She let out a moan of her own.

'Good morning' she murmured, her voice rough.

'Morning' he whispered with a kiss to her shoulder.

'I see Georgie's up and at 'em early this morning' she added suggestively.

Despite the fact he was barely awake, he rolled his eyes; he hated it when she called his junk by his middle name. She turned to face him, giving him a mischievous smile; apparently she was up for a little one-on-one. A question seemed to pass between their probing gaze: was he?

Their bodies sought each other despite the less than ideal conditions: morning breath, crumpled sheets, he in his sleep pants and wife beater and she in a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt - not exactly, romantic stuff yet she could feel him stirring and frankly, she was beginning to feel all hot and bothered herself.

She brought her hands up into his hair and pulled him in for a lingering kiss. 'Caffrey…' she whispered.

It sure felt good, the feel of her lips on his, her soft curves pressed up against him - especially after their recent tiff. And yet, he hesitated.

'Neal, it's all right' she murmured reassuringly as she ran her hands down his back and pulled up the edge of his shirt, letting her nails claw at his tender skin.

He shivered at the sensation and let out another groan which Sara felt reverberating against her whole body.

'I don't know, babe…' he murmured as he returned his lips to hers.

'It's fine' she said, letting her hand linger down to the edge of his sleep pants and palming him with her hand through the thin material. 'Just relax and go with it… we'll take it slow.'

He reacted to her ministrations with an even louder groan and she felt him tense - part pleasure and part apprehension.

Unbeknownst to Neal, she'd been reading about erectile dysfunction online. He hadn't been all that keen on discussing it with her and she'd decided to take the bull by the horn by educating herself on the thorny topic. She was eager to do just about anything to help him conquer the irrational fear which had taken a firm hold of him and had paralyzed him between the sheets.

At the top of the list of helpful hints was the importance of not putting undue pressure on your man. She'd heeded the advice and she'd been giving Neal some space for the past couple of weeks following the unfortunate incident on New Year's Eve morning when their lovemaking had been rudely interrupted by that unexpected mechanical failure.

That being said, when an opportunity popped up suddenly… well, you had to go with it and give it your best shot.

She tried to focus her mind on the task at hand. She didn't want the whole thing to become too technical, too scripted but she couldn't help but flash back to the article she'd read - mentally ticking off the boxes, one at a time.

✅ first off, don't call it erectile dysfunction to his face

✅ don't be afraid to try new things

✅ take the pressure off your partner

✅ don't rush him

✅ give him plenty of stimulation

✅ talk to him, tell him what you want and how you're feeling

✅ don't be disappointed if things don't end with intercourse

She whispered in his ear. 'Baby, why don't we just take it easy and have some fun… see where it takes us' she murmured as she kept coaxing him along.

So far, so good, Neal thought, feeling himself rising to the occasion. Their last failed attempt had been haunting him for a couple of weeks now and he was reluctant to try again but, damn… Sara was working him like a piston and it felt soooo damn good.

'Babe…' he said, his breath faltering.

'That feel good, baby?' she whispered, nibbling on his earlobe.

'Yessss, yessss' he groaned as he shifted slightly on the bed and grabbed onto her hips, pulling her closer.

Of course, the recent misfire had forced Sara to entertain some self doubts of her own. Was it her? Was she no longer as desirable as she'd once been? There'd been a time when the kids where younger when all it took was one glance in his direction and he was on her like a dog in heat. Nowadays, it just took more to get him going and lately, even in optimal conditions, he was struggling with taking things all the way to the finish line, his body failing him halfway through.

He'd tried to reassure her as best he could that it wasn't her; after all, most of the time, he was the one making the opening moves. But when all was said and done, he'd been the one in need of reassurance and Sara had been left to wonder what she could do to make herself more desirable, sexier so she could help him overcome this latest wrinkle.

'Sara…' he murmured breathlessly as she kept working him. His moaning grew louder, his breath hitching as he groaned. 'Saraaaaa… Saraaaaa…'

She brought one leg up to lay on top of him, seeking some stimulation for herself and letting her thigh take over from her hand, moving her hands up to cradle his face and bringing her lips to his.

'Feels so good…want you Caffrey' she whispered.

She wasn't all that big on dirty talk - although she did enjoy being on the receiving end of some suggestive commentary once Neal got going. It couldn't hurt to tell him how good he was making her feel, work at keeping up his interest.

'Mmmmm' he murmured, beginning to lose himself in his body's sensations.

Team player that he was, he let his hand move down between her thighs and he watched her face tense, her eyes fluttering; she'd always said he had magical hands. Meanwhile, Sara fought to stay focussed, not wanting to lose track of her husband's burgeoning needs despite the fact that what he was doing felt so good.

'Damn it Caffrey, what are you doing to me?'

He chuckled wickedly as his hand continued caressing her. He brushed against himself noticing, with disappointment, that he was beginning to deflate despite his definite interest in the proceedings. Damn it! Once again, his body seemed to be letting him down.

Sara picked up on some hesitation on his part and pulled away to look into his eyes.

'Neal, honey, look at me' she murmured but it was becoming obvious by the look on his face that he was already starting to give up on himself.

He soldiered on, bringing his lips to her neck, in part to keep her from studying his face too closely. Sara fought to keep her wits about her; this was all about helping him regain his confidence and with that in mind, she brought her hand back to the edge of his sleep pants. She slipped her hand inside just as Neal intervened, pulling her hand away, cringing at the thought of her finding out what was happening.

Again.

'Honey…' she pleaded, hoping he'd give himself - and her - a chance. 'Let me try…'

But it was too late; his wounded pride had already gotten the better of him and Neal disentangled himself from her and sat up on the edge of the bed.

'This isn't working' he lamented. 'Anyway… I forgot, I've got an early meeting this morning.'

Sara watched in disappointment as he pole vaulted off the bed and, without looking back, made his way out of the room and straight into the shower.

WCWCWC

By mid-afternoon, Jesse had settled on a plan of action. He stood at the bar of a seedy establishment in the Bronx not terribly far from the June Ellington School of Art, sipping on bourbon and looking for a mark. It didn't take long. He spotted a burly guy with a beard and a beer belly seated a couple of stools over who was arguing with the man next to him, growing louder and more belligerent by the minute.

He'd do just fine.

Jesse stood, ostensibly to use the facilities and pretending to lose his footing, he brushed up against the guy, elbowing him as he walked past him.

'Hey! What's your problem, buddy?' the man slurred.

'Just trying to get by' Jesse said arrogantly. 'But your fat ass kinda got in the way.'

The man was instantly on his feet, blocking passage and Jesse stared back at him defiantly.

The man was a couple of inches taller than him, an assortment of tattoos visible on his arms and chest - a real bruiser. He looked like the poster boy for air-head body builders.

'What'd you say punk?' the man said combatively.

Jesse laughed provocatively as a few people started to take notice of what was going on. 'I said your fat sorry ass got in my way' he repeated, louder for emphasis.

The reaction, although not exactly painless, was swift as the guy took a swing at Jesse, immediately connecting with the left side of his face.

Perfect.

Jesse pretended to swing for him and the guy had just enough time to give him a swift sucker punch to the ribs before the barkeep came out from behind the bar to try to moderate the escalating conflict.

The man got another couple of punches in as Jesse bent over, holding his stomach. Ouch. That was going to leave a mark - which was exactly the point.

'Cut it out, both of you' the bartender shouted as a group of men began to gather around. 'That's enough!'

The big guy stumbled back and let himself fall back on his stool, giving Jesse one last dirty look before returning to his drink.

He banged loudly against the bar. 'Another double!' he ordered as the bartender returned to his spot behind the bar and reached for a bottle of whisky.

Jesse pretended to cower and headed towards the bathroom to survey the damage. He was rather pleased with the results; a bruise was beginning to bloom on the side of his face and he could feel his ribs already screaming from the brutal attack. He took a deep breath and reached into his jeans , palming the short stack of twenties he'd just lifted off the unsuspecting thug and he reached for his pocket knife. Wincing, he brought his hand to the bruise on his face and poked himself with the edge of the knife, watching as a trickle of blood rolled down his cheek.

His last thought as he stepped out of the decrepit facilities - short term pain for long term gain.

TBC