A/N: Thank you to all you wonderful Burners still out there for all the reviews and continued interest in this story. A big THANK YOU too, to the brilliant Jedi Skysinger for her excellent Beta of this chapter and all my other stories.
Agent Bly, is about to realize he should be more careful about what he wishes for, as Michael Westen, finally decides to follow the CSS operative's advice and get his head back in the game.
AIDEN
Chapter Thirty Five
A Fresh Approach.
He couldn't have left her... He wouldn't do that to her, not again, especially not now...
A pulsating wooshing noise filled her ears blocking out everything else. He wouldn't have gone with Bly without letting her know. Even if he had been clapped in irons he would have found a way to wake her...
A creeping tightness pervaded her chest causing her to fight for each gasping breath. He had to be somewhere close... He wouldn't... He would nae... He... He... He... Oh God, she wa'... A tingling starting in her fingertips was working its way upwards turning her arms to lead.
She couldnae breathe... She couldnae...
Fiona staggered across the living room, aiming for the closed glass doors leading to the outside. She needed fresh air, the sensation of being abandoned almost totally overwhelming her. Just when she thought she was going to collapse from breathlessness and pain, her eyes alighted on the dining table and the papers strewn across its surface. Reaching out she steadied herself and by sheer will forced her panicked breathing to slow.
Whot tha hell is wrong wit' me? Is it me blood pressure? Sommit worse? Tis almost like those attacks me Cousin Aileen used ta have...
She had never suffered from a panic attack before, not even as a child caught up in the violence which was an almost everyday part of her upbringing, and she wasn't about to allow herself the indulgence of collapsing in a puddle of goo now. Biting down on her bottom lip as hard as she could, the former paramilitary used the pain to help her focus. Slowly her clouded vision began to clear and the sound of her blood rushing through her veins faded away.
With hands which refused to stop shaking, the petite redhead moved the sheets of paper on the table around, using her newly restored vision to skim over her absent boyfriend's precise scrawl:
Pandit... weaponized technology... coordinated hotel attacks... A diversion?
Zeyes cartel... Illegal drugs trade... Smuggling routes? Schmidt...
"Fiona?"
At the sound of her lover's voice she spun around, the relief at the sight of him there and unharmed making her legs go weak.
"Mi-chael…" Her breath hitched in the back of her throat as she took in every minute detail of his appearance. He looked worried...
Her dark haired lover came towards her, his long strides easily covering the distance, his arms stretched out, his hands reaching for her.
"What's going on, Fi?"
On legs which felt like rubber and barely capable of supporting her, Fiona launched herself into his arms, her head impacting his chest and nearly knocking the air out of him.
"Huh- er, Fi… Fi, what's wrong?" The slightly elevated beat of his heart and steady rise and fall of his chest instantly had a soothing effect on her overwrought emotions and when he ever so tenderly drew back the loose strands of her hair which had fallen over her face and tucking them behind one ear, she looked up at him through tear filled eyes.
"I-I…" She sniffed and sucked in a deep breath. God I hate feeling so feckin' weak and needy. Why am I falling apart like babby wit' a skint knee? Hell, even as a babe I wa' tougher than this!
"Fi, you're scaring me." He thumbed away an errant tear which had been making its way down the side of her nose. "Is it something wrong with— oh, your lip."
Oh this wa' taa much...
"It's nothing…" She sucked in her swollen bottom lip, faintly tasting blood from where she had bitten down. Am Fiona Glenanne dammit, nae some damned damsel in distress in need o' a big strong man ta pat har on tha head an' tell har everythin' wa' gonna be alright.
Anger and disgust at her own weakness steeled her quivering limbs. Twisting her body, she made a gap and used the flat of her hands on his tear stained shirt to push him away.
"Am sorry, tis – I warned ya, didn't I? This baby is turning me into a nervous wreck." The faint laughter in her voice sounded false even to her own ears.
"Is that all it is?" he asked cautiously, visibly debating the wisdom of trying to embrace her again.
Swiping the back of her hand over her eyes, she hoped and prayed that Michael wasn't going to decide to make something more than it was of her lapse.
"Okay...let's sit down for a bit... I'll get you some water. Maybe, maybe I should call that doctor, Adam?" If she wasn't so shaken up, she would have found it funny the way he gingerly tried to guide her towards the couch, his arm circling her waist without actually touching her.
"Really, I'm fine now. Michael, please just stop fussing. I don't need Adam coming all the way out here for this." The thought of Elsa's friend being paraded past all Bly's annoying minions filled her with nausea. To be seen as vulnerable in front of people she still classed as the enemy was an anathema to her. Their baby was going to be fine... This was nothing like the last time, when she had fainted and nearly caused Sam to have a heart attack. This was a stupid overreaction on her part; that was all.
"If you're sure…? You weren't looking so well when I found you."
"I said I'm fine. Can we please let it go now?" Fiona looked around, frantically searching for something to use to deflect the father of her child's attention away from her embarrassing behavior... Where had he come from? He hadn't been in the living room, she'd called out, or outside. That only left...
"Michael, what were you doing by the elevator?"
"I -"
There, she had him… The gun runner watched as his deep blue eyes widened a fraction and his features took on that innocent expression which wouldn't fool a soul.
"Bly has been MIA for the last two hours so I thought - -"
"You thought you would break your house arrest and risk being thrown in some government hell-hole until this is all cleared up just to satisfy your curiosity," she accused, her eyes lasering in on the device cradled in his palm. "That article there in your hand, it's called a cell phone. Really, Michael, have you even tried calling the man?" She didn't even try to keep the exasperation out of her tone. For somebody so intelligent and resourceful as her fiancé, he really could be so dense at times.
"I thought about it and decided that he would have called me if he could. If something was happening, he might not have time to inform me or he might be in a situation where me calling him was -"
He stopped talking as she stared back up at him, her eyebrows raised in disbelieve at his dissembling.
"You want out of this gilded cage as much as I do, admit it." She slapped his arm lightly. "Look me in the eye and tell me you weren't about to sneak down to the lobby and grab one of those tiresome drones and do a little bit of interrogating of your own."
"I -" He grinned and then leaned in, his lips tenderly brushing over hers. But before he could distract her any further, Fiona twisted away and headed for the foyer and the only way down to the ground floor.
"Fi, what do you think you are doing?" But he was too late. The doors of the elevator were still open from earlier and before he could stop her, she was inside. "Get out of there."
"I'm being a supportive partner, Michael. You wait here. I'll do the snatching and then you can to do-"
"Fi-ona," he warned, his fingers curled about the doors holding them open. "I mean it, get back in here."
"I wanta help, Michael, and this way you can honestly say you never left the penthouse." She had recognized the exasperation in his tone and if she hadn't still been feeling a little light headed, she'd have kicked his ass for it. His concern was sweet really, but unnecessary and also potentially dangerous.
"I can do this, probably better than you..." the fiery redhead added as he continued to glare. She needed to do this, to prove not only to her over-protective boyfriend that she was still as capable as ever, but herself too. "Big tough government agency types tend to underestimate the old and infirm – and poor defenseless pregnant ladies."
"Nobody would ever describe you as defenseless, Fi."
There were cracks appearing in his resolve and it took all her remaining self-control not to smirk.
"So let me do this for you," she concluded with a saucy toss of her head and a devilish grin.
He pursed his lips and slowly released his grip on the doors. "Fine… Just be…careful, okay?"
"You know me," his fiancée replied as the doors slid shut, her smile widening as she didn't quite catch whatever piece of advice her lover had tried to call out.
Staring at the highly polished steel doors, Fiona caught her first good look at herself since she had left the bedroom. Her long auburn hair fell tangled and limp about her blotchy face. Oh this would never do... Now she was pissed…
As she dragged her fingers through her tousled mane, trying without much success to coax some resemblance of style back into her bedraggled locks, the former guerrilla fighter reviewed her options for completing the task she had set herself.
Whether a spy or a paramilitary, when a pro plans an ambush, they capitalize on the element of surprise. They attack aggressively so their opponent has to react from a place of weakness.
When the elevator glided to a stop and the doors opened with barely a whisper, Fiona was leaning forward almost doubled over, using the hem of her dress to dab at the tear stains marring her cheeks.
"Ma'am, you can't be down here. You need to go back upstairs."
Ah…An' look who is wa' … Agent Langstrom… tha man who tried ta deny har her lunchtime treat... Oh this wa' jus' gettin' better an' better.
"Oh – oh, Am sorry." She sniffed and straightened up, revealing her moisture filled eyes. "It's – it's – oh!" The one time terrorist let her body go limp and fell forward straight into the younger man's arms.
"Ma'am, ma'am, are you alright? Here let me -" The CSS agent struggled to support the semi-conscious woman who was clinging onto him, her fingers clawing at his jacket, at his shirt... at the holster on his belt.
"What the-?"
Unfortunately for her victim, it was too late, his gun was now in the tiny hand of a former terrorist and bank robber turned ill-legal weapons dealer and its business end was pressed against his stomach.
He gulped as she grinned up at him.
"Ya can take yar hands off me nar, tis nae like Am gonna ask ya fer a dance," Fiona purred as she maneuvered the agent into the elevator. So far, nobody else had appeared in the small private area at the rear of the Chadwick Hotel's reception, but she knew that at any moment one of the other agents could come to check on Langstrom.
"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, clearly questioning her sanity. She could tell he was torn between fighting her for the weapon and letting the moment play out.
"Michael Westen would like a word with you," the redhead replied, almost purring at the delight she was taking at getting this chance for a little bit of excitement.
"If you give me my gun back now, I promise you won't get in trouble."
"But then you'll miss out on our little chat." Keeping the pistol on her prisoner, Fiona used her free hand to tap down on the button that caused the doors to slide shut and the lift to rise.
()()()()()
The drive from Star Island to the Chadwick Hotel went far quicker than Jason Bly had expected. For once the traffic had flowed smoothly and in a little under twenty minutes since leaving Sam Axe lounging in the lap of luxury, he was pulling into the underground parking garage of the five star property.
Pulling into one of the spots Mrs. Dearborn had been good enough to reserve for him and his teams vehicles, the CSS agent rested his head back and closed his eyes in an effort to prepare himself for an afternoon of dealing with his distracted witness. He had to find some way of getting Westen to focus on the task at hand instead of worrying about Fiona Glenanne and the prospect of impending fatherhood.
There was a small part of him that sympathized with the disgraced former spy. He remembered how he had felt when he'd discovered he was going to be a father. He had been working out in the field in those days too, stationed in Egypt to be precise. Part of a task force made up of counter intelligence officers from both the military and the CIA running checks on their allies in the build up to the first Gulf War.
It had been a tough time, and incredibly dangerous; four agents from his team had been kidnapped while traveling together from their hotel to an army base. All of them had turned up dead a week later, their bodies showing signs of the extreme torture they had suffered before being executed.
After that, everyone traveled with a special forces escort, but it hadn't stopped the fear which had filled him every day, the realization he might not make it back to see his child born. It had affected him so profoundly that it had been the major reason why he had chosen to transfer to a job which would keep him state side in the future.
He might have cultivated the smart ass exterior as a way of dealing with the anxiety, but he still would spend the majority of his down time laying on his bunk staring at the grainy scan photograph that Pamela had sent him along with the news he was going to be a dad. How that image had stayed with him through the long nights and sometimes made it difficult to concentrate during the hot dusty days.
Sighing heavily, the counter intelligence operative opened his eyes and swung open the car door. This was getting him nowhere. He had already wasted years trying to figure out how Michael Westen's mind worked. The man was an enigma. Westen's dossier, the one Bly had been blackmailed into handing over, documented the career of a covert operative who would go to any lengths and do whatever it took to get the job done regardless of the cost.
And yet for a man who had on numerous occasions had shown he was capable of putting both friends and family in dangerous life threatening situations, he still managed to inspire an insane amount of loyalty from those close to him. Some of them had even shown they were willing to die to protect him…
"You're going down on three counts of capital murder. Now that's a ticket to death row. But you tell me the truth about Michael and it doesn't have to be that way."
He had done his best that day to explain to the fiery Irishwoman the trouble she was in; however, even chained to a desk she had been indomitable.
"Michael has nothing to do with this." She had fiercely asserted and at that moment he had known there was no way she would incriminate her lover while he was still alive.
Unfortunately his attempt to convince her that Michael had lost his life in order to save her life had been a continued source of tension in the penthouse suite whenever the woman had been present.
Walking swiftly across to the bank of elevators which would take him up to the main lobby of the hotel, Jason Bly nodded to the agent he had given the task of guarding the agencies vehicles in passing.
One of the many things he had learned after his first run-ins with Michael Westen was not to leave anything of value unguarded. The memory of all the forms he'd had to fill out in order to requisition a new laptop after the burned spy had fried his original one still rankled. Some days it was more of a struggle than others to remember that Westen had saved his life during that abortive bank robbery.
Stepping out in into the air conditioned lobby, the man in charge took a moment to check out that his team was all in position, two keeping an eye on the main entrance and another sitting down watching over the restaurant and the hallway which lead to the gym. There were also two more out by the pool and the cabanas.
Satisfied everyone was where they were supposed to be, he headed towards the busy reception desk and the private elevator beyond which would take him up to his prize witness's luxury prison cell.
Threatening Westen with a lifetime in prison had failed to work… What he needed was a fresh approach; maybe the way to go was to talk about the things he was going to miss out on if he threw his life away... Maybe walking Westen through all the upcoming events in his child's life would… Okay, this isn't good...
Jason Bly came to a stop and as he scanned the area, his right hand went under his jacket bringing out his weapon.
Langstrom was missing….
()()()()()
If you need to get information from a government official, it is often best to approach him away from his usual place of business. When he is not in an environment which enforces his authority, you're a lot more likely to get something out of him… Especially if you can catch him alone.
When his fiancée had offered to bring one of the CSS agents guarding them back with her, he had expected she would divert the man with some story that would require his presence. So needless to say, he was mildly surprised when Fiona returned holding Agent Langstrom at gunpoint.
During an operation you never want to make a move until everyone is on the same page, but sometimes you have no choice. When someone on your team hands you a surprise, you have to hope they realize the plan that's already in motion and find a way to be part of it.
"You can have this back in a minute." Michael Westen barred his teeth in what was supposed to be a reassuring smile as he motioned for their apparent captive sit down with the weapon he'd taken from his lover's grasp before laying it at the far end of the expansive and expensive wooden surface. "All I want is the answer to a few easy questions... I'm not going to be asking for state secrets."
The missing CSS agent sat in one of the six matching chairs surrounding the dining table. Although he wasn't restrained in any way, the blonde made no attempt to escape, mostly because just to the left inside his peripheral vision, Fiona Glenanne stood slowly and very carefully cutting chunks off an apple using a small but deadly looking paring knife, which from the way she stared at him the insane redhead would take great delight in using on him.
"How about a simple yes or no…?" The disgraced spy approached his target slowly, one hand landing on the younger man's shoulder. "Is your boss due back in the next hour…? Two hours…? Huh...? More than three hours? Maybe something came up…?"
The art of turning someone into a double agent is delicate. The target has to be put into a fragile psychological state. Fortunately, fragile psychological states are a specialty of Fiona's.
"Really, Michael, when you asked me to get you somebody to chat with I didn't expect you to take all day about it."
Michael watched as the uptight young agent flinched as his beautiful accomplice moved closer, her tongue flickering out to lick the juice on the razor sharp blade in her hand.
"How about you step outside while me and Langstrom here get a bit better acquainted?"
"You were there, weren't you? You were in charge of the detail at the house on Palm Island, right?" Michael asked conversationally, sitting on the edge of the table on the opposite side of the other man.
The agent's gaze flitted between his two captors, not sure which one to watch, while continually straying back to his weapon sitting at the far end of the table well out of his reach.
"Oh, yes, he was there. You remember what fun all we had there, don't you, Agent Langstrom? Just go, Michael... I can assure you those doors are quite soundproof. You won't hear a thing while you're out there." She leaned in close, her lips almost brushing against the younger man's ear. "We'll be all alone."
"That's enough!" Langstrom declared, pushing the chair out and stepping away from the lunatic holding him prisoner. "You need to keep her away from me. I can't be responsible for her safety if she-"
"No, I'll the one be responsible," she declared, the mischievous glint in her blue-green eyes all the reassurance Michael needed that his lover was in reality starting to enjoy herself a little too much.
"Fiona, leave him alone. We're all just having a friendly little chat here. No need for violence…"
"I've told ya before, Michael, yer no fun…" his petite partner in crime pouted and didn't move.
"Fi…" and there was a note of warning his tone that appeared to finally persuade her.
The two men waited as the auburn haired former paramilitary turned her back and strolled over to the kitchen area to sit at the breakfast bar and eat the remainder of her apple.
Michael took a step towards the unfortunate young agent, who stiffened at his approach.
"You see what I'm dealing with here, right?" the burned spy pitched his voice low, a conspiratorial whisper between allies. "She's going stir crazy. All I said was I didn't know when we were getting done today and I needed to talk to someone and the next thing I know, she's kidnapped you. Women, right? Look, this really doesn't need to be this hard… I just need to know when Agent Bly is coming back and then she'll calm down, okay? Is he expected back soon or did something go a little sideways maybe?"
Fortunately for the hapless Langstrom, the man in question chose that moment to exit the elevator.
"Well obviously something has gone sideways here, am I right, Langstrom? I was beginning to think I needed to send out a search party."
"Sir–" The CSS agent spun around to face his boss. "They-"
"It's not what you think, Bly." Michael interrupted the younger man. "We were just having a quick conversation."
"Oh, I can see that," the senior operative gestured with a jerk of his head to the weapon laying on the table before turning his attention completely on his junior team member. "Why don't you put that back where it belongs and then you can remind me why I put you in charge here in the first place."
"Sir, she, Ms Glenanne, she ah..." The blonde's words trailed off as he realized there was no good way to explain how a woman half his weight and nearly a foot shorter had disarmed him so easily.
"Langstrom, you are not helping your case. Go let the rest of the team know you're alive and by the way, while Ms Glenanne is a pregnant woman, you might also want to remember she has an Interpol file as thick as your skull."
The operative in question huffed and dropped his head, his cheeks flaming red as he skirted around where the tiny former terrorist stood in his way before retrieving his gun and hurriedly departing, shooting her an ire-filled glare on his way out.
"I can't leave you two alone for a few hours without you getting into trouble...?" Bly tssked. "So you mind telling me why you decided to humiliate Langstrom? You know, Westen, you're supposed to be smart and pissing off the head of your protection detail is not smart. What was so important it couldn't wait?"
"Like you keep telling me, Bly, we've gotta lot of ground to cover and I was starting to wonder what was keeping you."
"Why, Michael Westen, did you miss me?" Bly smiled, the agent's eyes now focusing on the papers stacked neatly on the table.
"I have concerns about the investigation," the former spy answered, his hands snatching up the pages which had attracted the other man's attention. "Concerns I thought we needed to discuss."
"And instead of using the phone I have graciously allowed you to keep, you decided the best way to get my attention was to send your pregnant girlfriend out to kidnap and disarm a member of the team that's supposed to be protecting both of you?"
"I told you so," Fiona stage whispered and then clamped her lips tightly together as both men turned their eyes on her. "What? I just invited him up for a wee chat tis all."
"That's not exactly how it happened," Michael answered and then began to spread the pages out on the table top. "But that's not important right now. I've been thinking about some of the walls we've run into. We have no idea where Sam Pandit, that guy I extracted out of India, has gone and we've got no idea where to even begin looking for Card's accounts or what he was planning in Yemen. But what we do have is someone in custody who knows a lot more than I do."
While the CIA's former ace operative was talking, Bly rifled through the man's notes. "You think Card was planning on taking over where Anson and the others left off?"
"I think he was in the midst of setting up an extensive supply network: the Cartel in the South, Greyson Miller's contacts for Northern Europe and Hamady's intelligence network in the Middle East. Guns, weapons tech, intel..."
The counter intelligence agent continued to nod and look thoughtful. As Bly had no further sarcastic counter remarks, Michael took this as encouragement to continue.
"And I think he has been building up to this for years and Card was just using this opportunity to expand his field of operations. You heard him on those tapes, he admitted to being in China, Yemen... And I think the only way we're going to get to the bottom of this is if you let me talk to Riley."
"Put you two in the same room?" Bly straightened up and shook his head. "Westen, do you not understand there are multiple people campaigning to throw the both of you in a deep dark hole and toss away the key? I don't know what you expect to get out of her. I can tell you personally from our conversations that she really doesn't like you very much. Guess even that Westen charm has its limits."
"That's good. If we play it right, she'll be off balance."
Michael paused. He could see that Bly was not convinced by his argument so he changed tactics.
"What do you have to lose by letting me talk to her? I mean, from what I understand the team you've got interrogating her hasn't gotten any actionable intel out of her. She's one of the best in counter intelligence, Bly; she wrote the books on interrogation. You need to think outside the box if you're going to break her and you know how well I can think outside the box."
The CSS man pursed his lips, his eyes going from the vast array of notes to the man who had obviously spent a lot of time and energy writing them out. He had wanted Michael Westen focused and back in the game. Whatever had happened after he and his team had left earlier had definitely had a profound effect on the ex-operative.
Letting out a breath in a heavy sigh, the senior agent came to a decision. "Okay, you win. I'll make a call and arrange for you to visit Ms Riley."
Turning away, Jason Bly pulled out his phone and keyed in the number which would put him through to the facility where Olivia Riley was being held.
"Are you happy now?"
Michael glanced down as a slender arm encircled his waist, his lover snuggling up close to his side.
"I'll be happier when this is over... If I can get Riley to open up about all the other things Card was doing, it should be enough to swing things our way."
"Maybe I could join you? Oh, your interrogation skills are good. But I think I have proven my unique methods get answers faster."
"Maybe so, Fi, but this has to be done by the book... Are you okay?" he asked as the mother of his child yawned and leaned heavily into him.
"I'm just a bit tired, that's all. I think if you're going to be going off to have fun without me, I'll take a nap on one of the sun loungers. It is getting a bit stuffy – inside."
He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead.
"I need to check up on my mom while you're changing and Bly is busy."
"Oh?" Fiona replied, obviously doubting his veracity or his sanity. "That's a switch."
"She's filled up my voicemail. If I don't call her back at some point, she'll come down here and be the one kidnapping Langstrom next. Now's as good a time as any..."
"Have fun with that," the redhead advised, heading for the bedroom.
Michael watched and waited for the bedroom door to close and then, after quickly checking that Bly was busy talking into his phone, the former spy brought out his own cell phone and moved as far away from their boudoir as he could get.
"Mom..."
"Why, Michael, so nice of you to call. I was beginning to think you had forgotten how to use a phone."
"I'm sorry, Fi and I have been trying to catch up whenever I get a free moment and I-"
"Catch up, ha, is that what you're calling it nowadays?"
Even though there were miles between them, Michael could feel his cheeks reddening at his mother's innuendo and hastily tried to get to the point of his call before she could say anymore.
"It's not like that, mom... Look I'm calling because I'm… worried about Fiona. All those mood swings you've all been warning me about? This is more than that. I think she had some kind of panic attack earlier today because… because she couldn't find me, I guess…"
"Well, if you didn't run out on her every time then she –"
"Mom, this is serious," he cut his mother off. "She, she pulled a gun on –"
"You're worried because Fiona pulled a gun on someone? Since when, Michael?"
"Mother, please…" The exasperation in his tone was evident. "She held one of Bly's men at gunpoint... I mean, it was partially my fault… She volunteered to get one of our bodyguards for me to question and she used a little more force than I was expecting."
"Oh honey... You're supposed to be helping keep her calm, not making things worse. What were you thinking about, sending her to off to assault one of the people keeping you all safe?"
"Mom, I didn't tell her to-" But Madeline obviously wasn't in the mood to listen to her only living son.
"She won't admit it, but Fiona's worried sick that you're going to leave her when all this is finished. Of course she's going to be panicky when she can't find you. You have to show that girl how much you care. It's not difficult, Michael. Stop wandering off and stop sending your girlfriend to do your dirty work."
"Okay, ma, I'll try... Do you think you could come by and talk to her?"
"Wait, you want me to come by? Are you sure you're okay, Michael?"
"She won't talk to me. She keeps blowing it off like it's nothing. She's - okay, I gotta go,"
He uttered those last words as the bedroom door swung open and the mother of his child stepped into view, her long auburn hair now pulled up and twisted into a bun at the back of her head, exposing her slender neck while the rest of her body was covered by a long floor length multi-colored kaftan, the filmy material showing the outline of the black bikini she was wearing underneath.
"You look good." He smiled at his lover, his eyes fixed on the woman he loved as if they were the only ones there.
"I would look better if we were alone," she replied before drawing her fiancé into a tight embrace and kissing him soundly. "And how is Madeline?"
"She's fine; she asked about you. She said she might come by… You've been stuck here alone for long enough while I'm off with Bly..." He trailed off as she stared back at him. "I thought you might like the company...?"
"Dammit! Find out who they were and get back to me."
Both of them straightened up and moved slightly apart when Bly came striding towards them, his face suffused with anger.
"We have a problem," he announced grimly. "An hour ago, a team of agents with top level clearance walked into our federal facility and took her away. They had all the right paperwork. There was nothing they could do to stop the transfer."
"Who were they?" Michael stepped away completely from his lover's arms, causing her to stagger slightly. But he barely noticed; he was remembering how he and Simon had both been taken away by men in suits after blowing up half of Miami. He had ended up in what was officially a document storage facility, but reality was a high security black site prison.
"We don't know. I had them double check the clearances and they're gone, wiped clean from the system, and all the security cameras in the area were not surprisingly off line at the time."
"So, what are you going to do?" the flame haired former paramilitary wanted to know as she joined the men, her hand reaching out her lover's and linking them together.
"We'll lock this place down completely. You'll be safe here."
"Right, because we're not already sitting ducks in a fancy pond here. If you're that damned concerned, how about giving us back our guns for a start?" Fiona demanded.
"So you can start World War Three down on South Beach? How'd that work out at the British Consulate, Ms Glenanne?" Bly countered.
But Michael's thoughts were on the other people involved. "If they've taken Riley, they could go after Sam or my mom next," he pointed out, wrapping an arm around the Irishwoman's waist and pulling her close before she could launch herself at the CSS agent.
"Alright, I'll send a detail over to Star Island and your mom's place. We need-"
"I think my mom needs to come pay Fi a visit while we're locking this down."
"Michael?" She could see the wheels were turning in her lover's head, but Fiona hadn't quite yet figured out what he was up to.
However, none of that mattered when Bly's phone began to ring and the pair was on proverbial pins and needles waiting for the next update. The look on the older man's face had been enough to send a chill down both their spines, but what the lead investigator said next had frozen the blood in their veins.
"Riley's dead," Bly announced. "They just found her body."