Alex POV

Wednesday came and went. I'm happy to say that we spent a large portion of the day in the bed.

It was almost like a honeymoon.

We did go out for a little while to search for a new place to live, but we didn't find anything good. I had a feeling that good, affordable housing in Manhattan was going to be hard to come by.

Wednesday evening, Bobby talked to Mike on the phone. He and Carolyn had worked from their office for most of the day. There was no further word from O'Connor and no sign of Frankie.

The article in the paper was as expected. Insanely complimentary. It was as though no one else in the world, ever, had done something as unique as provide CPR. The media really does love making heroes. And I knew that Ross had asked for it to be pumped up so that we could be sure Frankie saw it, but still…

Bobby and I got into bed fairly early Wednesday night. He wrapped his arms around me and we lay there together in silence. We didn't need to say anything because each of us knew what the other was thinking.

Tomorrow was going to suck.

"We could go back to Mexico," I suggested quietly. I wanted Bobby to quit thinking about the possibility of me getting shot tomorrow. Hell, I wanted to quit thinking about that possibility, too. "Or Florida. We could go to Key West."

"What about Antigua? Turks and Caicos?" he countered softly. He ran his hand along my arm in a soothing motion.

"Or we could go to Italy."

"Then you'd be around thousands of men who speak Italian," he replied. I could tell by his voice that he was smiling. "Uh uh. I know how much that turns you on. I'm going to be the only man speaking Italian to you."

"Where's the fun in that?" I teased back.

"You want fun?" he asked. He quickly turned us over so that I was on my back, pinned underneath him. Not a bad place to be.

"What are you going to do now?" I taunted encouragingly. His eyes held mine, and for a moment I was lost. He had that spark in his eyes again and I loved knowing that I was the one to put it there.

I had known for years that Bobby was the man for me. Even when he was falling apart, even when I wasn't sure if he would ever be put back together again, I still wanted him.

And seeing him now, confident and whole…it took my breath away.

And the fact that he was mine just never ceased to amaze me.

He had felt like he wasn't good enough? That was just ridiculous. I had baggage. I had issues. I wasn't good enough.

He could have any woman he wanted. How did I get lucky enough to be the one?

"Ti desidero disperatamente," he whispered. Waves of desire shot through me at his words and his tone. I knew enough to recognize the word 'want'. I could fill in the blanks.

He grasped both of my wrists with one of his hands and held them in place against the pillows above my head.

Oh yeah, I was the lucky one. He was just the sexiest man ever.

"Facciamo l'amore," he said, his lips hovering over mine. I lifted my head up to close the distance, but he kept just out of my reach.

"Stop teasing," I warned, although I loved it. He was exuding confidence, and I was...extremely aroused.

He moved his mouth along my body, keeping it close enough for me to feel his breath, but never quite touching the skin.

"Maybe I'm waiting for you to tell me what you want," he said in a low gravelly tone. "Maybe I want you to beg."

"I don't beg," I lied, damn near close to begging already.

I couldn't get enough of him and I had no doubt that before long I'd be doing anything he wanted me to.

But I was going to hold out as long as I could first.

"Alex," he admonished lightly, his mouth and one free hand still roaming everywhere at once. "We both know that's not true."

"There's no ice in this room," I challenged with false bravado. But to be honest, I was on the edge already. It wasn't going to take much.

"You think that's the only way I can get you to beg?"

"I…um...I…"

"That's what I thought," he said smugly after my ineloquent attempt at speech.

Every nerve ending was on alert as he continued his assault on my senses. The scraping of his whiskers, the gentle tease of his fingers or tongue, the sound of his rumbling voice…I couldn't take it any more.

"Please," I said finally. "Bobby, please."

-------

Afterward, I took a moment to think about myself.

I never used to be this woman. How did he do that to me? How did he make me so…frantic, so…damn desperate that I wanted nothing else but him.

And why was I so okay with that?

"What's the matter?" he asked, still breathing heavily from the exertion of our marathon session.

"I just can't believe that I'm so…"

"Willing to hand over control?"

"Yeah. And so needy, and so…I don't know," I admitted on a sigh.

"Is that a bad thing?" he asked cautiously.

"No. No, I've just never been this way before, not with anyone. But it's a good thing, Bobby. That's how much I trust you, how much I love you. I can completely let go with you in ways I've never done before."

I felt his smile against the top of my head as he held me close. I knew that my words were boosting his ego even more than my physical response to him earlier. But that was fine. It was the truth.

"I am the luckiest man alive," he replied softly.

"That's funny. I was thinking the same thing a little bit ago."

"That I'm a lucky guy?" he joked.

"That I'm the lucky one," I insisted. "People think it's you. Even you think it's you. But everyone has it wrong. It's me."

Logan POV

"I had hoped O'Connor would call," I commented as we got ready for bed.

Wednesday had been a bitch of a day, but only because we were both nervous about Thursday. Frankly, it scared the shit out of me to know that Alex was going to be at this ceremony with a bull's eye on her back.

"You knew he wouldn't," Carolyn replied quietly. She slipped out of her blouse, and I stopped what I was doing so that I could watch her. She had an understated sexuality about her that tended to render me speechless.

"Right?" she asked when I didn't respond. "Frankie wasn't gong to risk going to the Westies again. They're not friends. He just hoped someone would jump at the chance for twenty grand."

"Yeah, I know," I admitted. "I just wanted something. I wanted us to have the edge tomorrow."

"We do have the edge. We know he's coming. He doesn't know that we know he's coming," she said logically. And then she stepped out of her pants.

"Carolyn," I said, although I wasn't sure what I wanted to say. I didn't like feeling emotional. I didn't like feeling helpless. I didn't like being scared. And I was all of those things right now.

She caught my eye and I tried to convey everything I was thinking even though I didn't say a word.

It worked.

She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around me.

"We're going to get him," she assured me. "We'll find him and we'll get him. I promise."

"I don't know why this is freaking me out so much," I told her. She worked her hands under my shirt and pressed her palms against my back.

"Because you're scared for her. You love her," she said. I tensed slightly, thinking that maybe she was misreading things again, but then she continued. "I do, too. We're family."

"That's funny. That's what she said."

"Alex said we're family?"

"Yeah."

"Well, she's a smart woman."

"So are you," I whispered, holding her even tighter. "I love you so much. Let's get through this thing tomorrow morning, and then go find Judge Whitmore."

"You want to get married tomorrow? On Christmas Eve?"

"Sure, why not?"

"There's no reason why not. It's a great idea," she agreed. "And…"

Whatever she was getting ready to say was drowned out by the sound of a barrage of bullets.

It was coming from downstairs.

I grabbed my gun off of the nightstand where I had just placed it minutes before and took off running.

"Call it in," I called back over my shoulder, although I had no doubt that she was probably dialing before the words were out of my mouth.

From the sound of it, the shots had been fired from out front, probably through the front door. Whether or not the assailant had come into the home after firing the shots remained to be seen.

I eased down the stairs slowly, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness.

The living room appeared to be empty. As I made my way through to the kitchen, Carolyn caught up to me. She'd thrown on some clothes, and she had her weapon at the ready.

I made eye contact with her and she pointed that she was going to the foyer. We split up and finished searching the house and then met back up in the living room.

"Cops on the way?" I asked her once we were sure the place was empty. She nodded and I hustled on through to the foyer.

The door was open from the force of the shots. It looked like about ten slugs had gone through the front door and were lodged in the opposite wall.

I stepped out onto the front porch and looked around. I knew that under the porch light it was as if I was standing in a spotlight but I didn't care. I was so pissed that I couldn't hardly think straight.

My eyes searched the darkness and I thought I saw movement. I took off.

"Mike!" Carolyn whispered loudly. I knew what she was going to say. No running. Please. The man had just shot up our home. Pneumonia was the last thing on my mind.

"Wait for the cops," she told me.

"I am a cop," I replied without thought. I'd been one for so damn long that it was ingrained in me. Besides, if I waited, he'd be long gone.

I trotted down the steps and over to the sidewalk, still watching intently in the direction from which I had seen the movement.

And then I saw it again. I started full-on running.

I heard footsteps behind me and I knew Carolyn was on my heels. And that was fine. It was kind of nice having a wife like her. She was instant back-up.

The figure ahead of me turned the corner two blocks up.

"Did you see that?" I rasped out, my breath short already.

"He went right," she replied. "I'm going to cut over here. Keep going!"

I didn't want to split up with her, but it was the right thing to do. If she could get around that block and head him off, we could catch him.

I moved my legs as fast as they would go, but my lungs were on fire. The only thing that kept me going was the idea that Carolyn might have run into Frankie by now.

No such luck, though.

I made the right, following in the assailant's footsteps and then headed down that street. After another block, I ran into Carolyn.

"Nothing?" I wheezed.

"No. He must have cut up an alley."

"Shit!"

"Mike, let's go back. You don't sound good."

"I'm fine," I insisted, although I bent over at the waist in an effort to catch my breath. I couldn't seem to get a good one in, and I was getting light-headed.

"Stand up and hold your arms over your head," she instructed. I did as she said, and after another minute or so, I finally felt like I was getting oxygen.

"Damn, Mike, it hasn't even been twelve hours since Liz told you not to do any running," she said as we walked back to our house.

"What was I supposed to do? Just let him go?"

"Yeah, if only you knew anyone else who used to be a cop," she said smartly. "You could have just let me go."

"Over my dead body."

"It will be, if you keep that up."

"Carolyn…"

She took a deep sigh and stopped on the sidewalk, putting her hand on my arm to get me to stop as well.

"I'm sorry. You scared me, that's all. I don't mean to be a bitch."

"Sweetheart," I said as I threw my arm across her shoulders. "You are many things. A bitch is not one of them."

We continued toward the house, and when we got there, we finally heard approaching sirens. We sat down on the front porch and waited for the cops.

"It's got to be Frankie," I said. "He knows where we live. I guess he's killing a little time before the showdown tomorrow morning."

"Maybe he's hoping to keep us from showing up at the ceremony," she suggested. "He had to know it was unlikely that he would hit anyone."

"Whatever he was hoping, he's going to get more than he bargained for," I said heatedly. My face was hot and my chest hurt and I was just pissed. And thinking about what might've happened…

"I'm going to kill him," I told her matter-of-factly.

She didn't reply, but simply leaned her head against my shoulder. I couldn't stop my mind from running through the possibilities.

What if we had still been downstairs? What about the night before last when I stood in the foyer while Carolyn had undressed me?

We would've both been dead.

TBC...