Merry "late" Christmas :) Hope everyone was safe and had a great time. I'm so full of ideas for this story lol For everyone who is keeping up with Brooke Rogers and Raphael, I appreciate the follows, reviews, and comments.

Thank you!

Raph drove the van to the closest pizza joint and parked the car in a nearby alleyway. Brooke went in, paid for the pizza, and walked out with two large pizzas. Raph's mouth watered when she entered the van and the aroma filled the entire vehicle. He could never get tired of pizza.

The ride to the cabin was quiet, both passengers looking ahead and in deep thought.

When they arrived to the cabin, Raph and Brooke went inside and settled down in the kitchen to begin eating. Half an hour later, Raph sat back on the couch and placed a three-fingered hand on his full belly, rubbing it. "That hit the spot."

"You must be psychic," she said, easing back onto the couch. "I was thinking exactly the same thing."

April stopped by for a few minutes when they had arrived to drop off a few shirts and pants, all which fit Brooke perfectly. Brooke, being gracious, couldn't stop thanking April for her kind gesture.

"Us girls gotta stick together," April smiled. "Especially, with all the testosterone floating around."

Raph liked the fact that the two woman got along, he wasn't sure why he was worried in the first place. It was as if he was introducing his girlfriend to a parent. April beamed at Raph when Brooke went to the back room to change, she said in a hush tone, "I really like her Raphael. She's adorable! Don't mess this up"

Raph's eyebrows shot up and before he could get a word out, April began laughing and patted his shoulder. "Don't think too deeply on this, Raphie. Just shoot me a call and let me know if ya'll need any more help. Especially with Leo."

Her face got serious and Raph nodded at her, unsure on what to say. April said her goodbye's to Brooke when she re-entered the living space and headed back into town to close up her shop.

Brooke sat back on the couch, looking pretty relaxed. Funny how a few hand-me-down clothes could dramatically improve a woman's outlook. Or maybe it was the food. He knew he always felt edgy when he hadn't eaten for a while.

The meal had satisfied his appetite for food, but his proximity to Brooke stoked a different kind of hunger. She took a sip of her cherry drink. The liquid stained her lips a deep red, and they looked moist and luscious. He wanted to taste them. Oh yeah. He wanted to taste so much more of her than just her mouth.

"The meeting with the contractor is at eight," she said. "What should we do until then?"

Make out on that wide, comfy couch.

He cursed under his breath. Brook would be surprised by the response his libido very much wanted to give her.

She shifted, drawing his attention to parts of her anatomy he had no business looking at. Fortunately, she seemed clueless about her effect on him. He wanted it to stay that way. If she knew how hot he was for her, she might try to manipulate him. While Splinter did explain the anatomy of males and females, their father was adamant on them staying away from humans romantically. Splinter feared love would only be a distraction and ultimately get his sons killed. While he was trying to be protective, Raph took that "fatherly" advice to the heart and believed that he would only be disgusting to human women and wouldn't want him for who he was. The thoughts were bringing Raph's mood down... those memories reminded him to be wary. Hormones could persuade a man to imagine qualities in a woman that just weren't there.

"May I borrow the laptop?" Brooke asked. "Hopefully those reports from NYPD will be waiting in my inbox."

Raph set up the laptop so she could access her email.

"The first one is Lance Tucker," she said, her gaze scanning the screen. "His death was caused by massive internal bleeding, due to a hit-and-run."

Raph sat up straighter. "That sounds promisin'. Sidorov could have done it."

"The driver turned out to be an eighty-year-old woman who left the scene because she thought the bump she heard was a dog. She couldn't bear to stop and look, so she drove home. Her son spoke to the police after hearing about the hit-and-run on the radio and noticing extensive damage to her car."

"What's the story on the other two?"

Brooke's fingers few over the keyboard. "Terry Glavin died of a heart attack. Lots of family history of heart disease, so it's unlikely Sidorov had a hand in his death. Eric Henderson was building a barn on his country property when an improperly braced beam fell and crushed him."

"Any witnesses?"

"Yes, the two neighbors who were helping him. Henderson lasted two days in the hospital and blamed himself for the accident." She closed the laptop, looking disappointed.

"It was worth a try," Raph said with his quiet Brooklyn accent.

"I suppose so."

"I want ya to know, even if my brother turns up unharmed, I'll make sure Sidorov gets what's comin' to him for threatenin' ya brother-in-law."

Her expression conveyed admiration and gratitude. "I like the thought that his actions won't go unpunished."

It wasn't easy keeping eye contact. He didn't deserve her looking at him like some kind of hero. Not when he felt such antipathy for his own flesh and blood. Feeling the need to change the subject, he asked. "Ya mentioned ya were a NYPD cop?"

She nodded. "For six months."

"Whyda quit?"

Her eyes slid away from his beautiful eyes. "Who says I quit? You've seen how useless I can be in a crisis. Maybe I got fired."

His gut told him differently. "That's not true, ain't it?"

"No," she whispered.

"Then... what?"

He remembered the puckered skin on her stomach. Had she been hurt on duty? Had that made her reconsider a career to "serve and protect"? If so, there was no shame in that. Law enforcement wasn't for everyone.

She got up from the couch. "Since you paid for dinner, I'll clean up."

"Tell me what happened, Blondie. Were ya hurt?"

Her head dipped down, her hair slipping over her face like a mask. "I never talk about it."

He knew he shouldn't keep pressing, but he did anyway. "Ya could tell me.. I'd understand."

The silence stretched between them. Raphael's chest felt like it was tightening at the thought of what happened to this beautiful woman. Finally, she lifted her chin and regarded him with blue eyes as hard as sapphires. "I'll say it again. I never talk about it."

Picking up their dirty plates, she disappeared into the kitchen. Her refusal to talk, combined with the lack of a denial, convinced him that he was right. Dammit. And he was pretty sure he knew why she wouldn't discuss the specifics of what had happened to take her off the job. Whatever the nature of the injury, her physical wounds might have healed, but it was obvious she was still struggling to cope with the aftereffects. It was in that moment Raphael realized this woman meant more to him than he admitted. His need to protect her went beyond his vigilante duty to the city, but it was more. More than anything Raphael has ever done.

"How much longer do we wait?" Raph asked Brooke.

The van's clock showed 8:20. Keesing was either running late or had stood her up.

"I'll call him," she said.

Raph watched her pull out her cell phone and punch in the agent's number. They were parked on the street near the warehouse Leo had been posted in before he disappeared. The place had no garage, and only ten-foot strips of grass on either side. He glanced at the evening sky. Gray clouds churned overhead, promising a storm would arrive soon.

"I'm at the warehouse," Brooke said into the phone.

She was silent for a moment, listening. A second later, she closed the phone. "He can't make it."

She didn't seem particularly upset, which was surprising since she'd been so intent on searching Leo's post. He started the engine, resisting the urge to say, "I toldya so."

She shoved the car door open.

"Ah, Blondie -" What was she trying to do? Break in?

She glanced over her shoulder. "He told me where to put the code in and it was okay to look around."

He watched her walk away, his blood heating at the sway of her hips and the snug fit of her jeans over her backside. But it was more than her sexy body that attracted him. Her quick mind was equally appealing. And she'd survived an experience that still had a hold on her. Just like him.

By the time he joined her on the back railing, she pulled a tile piece to the side to reveal a screen. She tapped the code in and they entered the house, their footsteps echoing in the unfurnished space. He switched on the lights to relieve the gloom. White blotches dotted the living room walls where holes had been filled in but not yet sanded. In the kitchen, a new countertop leaned against the cabinets, awaiting installation. The faint smell of pant lingered in the air.

They moved upstairs. In the first empty room, no curtains or blinds covered the windows, and wires protruded from the ceiling where a light fixture should have been.

Pale blue sheets and a foam slab formed a makeshift bed in the corner.

"Maybe Leo set this up so he could crash after working late," Raph commented. It would make sense because he had no other place to go after he stormed out of the Lair years ago.

Brooke approached the expanse of blue, stopping in front of a small, white object. She knelt, her face dipping close to it. "He wasn't here alone."

Raph's eyes darted to Brooke, alarmed. Leo had company? "What makes you say that?"

"The bed area has a pillow with lace on the pillowcase, and this candle smells like vanilla. Someone went to the trouble of bringing this stuff here, which suggests to me it was more than a one-night stand. Does your brother have a... girlfriend?"

Raph gripped his Sais unconsciously. Karai was the only woman Leo had folded for, which was a long story to explain to Brooke in this moment. It doesn't make sense for Leo to be back with her when Shredder was defeated so long ago and Karai went into hiding. There's no chance he'd accept her back when she made it clear where her loyalties laid. Even so, a vanilla candle didn't sound like a gift Karai would give. The woman was cold-hearted and ruthless.

Raph cleared his throat, bringing his attention back to Brooke. "He neva said anything about a woman to me." Not that he would have, honestly. If April had known, she'd surely have told Raph and Don. "If someone stayed here with Leo, we need to have a lil' chat with her."

"No clue to her identity here except for a few long, dark hairs."

As Brooke bent over the pillow, he got an eyeful of her curvy ass. Rational thought deserted him, and his imagination took over, stripping those curves of their barriers of clothes. His fantasy didn't stop there. He'd tumble her onto those sheets. And nuzzle her nap and kiss along her spine all the way down to the heat between her legs. Then he'd coax her to open for him and stroke her secret flesh until she was wrung out and gasping.

The image was so intense, so vivid, he nearly groaned aloud. Oh shit, he had to put some distance between them. That was the only way he would be able to stop visualizing hot, sweaty sex with Brooke.

"I'll search the next room," he muttered, forcing his feet to remove him from temptation.

He stalled out in the hall, his pulse racing, his body aching for release. Splinter had always trained the boys to have utter control over their reactions and bodies, but Splinter never taught them what attraction and desire does to the body. His reaction to Brooke was flat-out wrong. Not only because his focus should be on solving his brother's disappearance, but because she had made it clear she didn't like him touching her.

His mind went back to when they first kissed. How her body reacted and molded against his perfectly. Their mouths tracing one another to solve the mystery that lies on them. They were different species, but this sizzling attraction they had for one another was burning brighter and brighter.

And Raphael knew he'll be the one getting burned. But oddly enough, being burned by Brooke Rogers may not be too bad.

Entering the bedroom closest to the stairs, he could only make out shadows. Darkness had fallen early because of the approaching storm. Fortunately, this room had a light fixture. He hit the switch, then looked around at the sand-colored walls. Screens filled one side of the warehouse space. Wires tumbled down and hung as if they were abandoned. This is where Leo must have done is work. His security work. Where did you go, Leo?

Would Leo and him ever fight alongside each other again? Or had Sidorov killed him and left his corpse rotting somewhere? The thought hollowed him out, made him feel as empty as the room.

He headed into the third and final room. This one was filled with boxes and filing cabinets. Empty desks filled this space and bulletin boards where papers were pinned up and string to apparently tie loose ends together. This is where he did his planning... with his companion? Who was it that knew of our existence along with Mr. Keesing? The more humans were made aware of their presence, the more danger the turtles would see themselves in. Not a lot of people have good intentions when faced with a mutation that can strengthen and give specific powers... the government for example.

Raphael's feet made rustling noises as he walked across the spacey room to the desk in the back closest to the bulletin board. Crumpled up pieces of paper settled underneath and Raph picked one up and un-crumpled it to view what was on it.

Notes. Scribbles. In Leo's handwriting. It also appeared to have a line going across as if something else had caused Leo to stop writing. Or pull him away.

Raph hunkered down, using the Maglite Don always provided them for missions to examine the floor. No blood on them, at least none visible to the naked eye. Of course, its absence didn't rule out other possibilities. A gun or something worse could have convinced his brother to go with his attacker.

When he saw a slice of the door frame near the desk looked like it was cut, a noise like the slamming of a car door had him straightening to look outside. His heart leaped at the sight of Sergei and two tough-looking men passing under one of the streetlights leading to the warehouse they were in. All of them walking in a way that suggested they were armed. He left the room, calling softly but urgently to Brooke in a thicker than usual Brooklyn accent.

"What's wrong?" she said, appearing in the doorway.

"Sergei's here - and he's brought some friends with him."

Her body tensed. "How did they find us?"

Raph's jaw clenched in anger at putting her in another position of danger. He hated seeing her worry. "We can worry 'bout that later."

As they raced downstairs, he drew his Sais from his waist. The stairs ended near the huge living space. Through the large picture window, he could make out dark shapes coming up the driveway. The layout of the main floor was open concept, leaving them as vulnerable as fish in a barrel. If their attackers were equipped with semiautomatics, they could shoot out the window and riddle the interior with bullets. He and Brooke wouldn't survive the barrage. He pivoted on his heel and hustled her ahead of him toward the patio door at the back of the house.

"There's a wooded ravine beyond the yard," she said. "I saw it through the room window."

"Okay, we run for it. If we get lucky, they'll search the warehouse first." Even a few minutes' head start could make the difference between escaping... or not.

At the back patio door, he turned and looked at her. Her eyes were wide with fear, but she wasn't paralyzed by it as she had been at Sidorov's place. She was ready to act, a fact she demonstrated by unlocking and tugging open the patio door.

He touched her cheek, a surge of fierce protectiveness moving through him. "I'll be right behind ya." That way, if their pursuers caught up with them and opened fire, he would be the one to take the hit.

He and Brooke took off across the backyard, racing single file for the dense foliage of the ravine. A shout alerted them that they'd been spotted. Glancing over his shoulder, Raph saw two of the men emerge between the warehouses. Sergei had probably assigned them to guard the back exit. No need for that now or for anybody to search the warehouse. Their quarry was in direct line of sight.

The sky darkened further, then opened up, releasing a deluge of rain. Blinded by the downpour, he nearly plowed into Brooke, who had stopped running. He soon discovered why. Beyond the yard was a twenty-four steep slope down to the ravine.

"Keep going," he growled, urging her. Their only hope of escape lay in reaching the cover of the woods fast.

Taking a deep breath, Brooke stepped over the edge. Within seconds, she was fighting to keep her feet underneath her, her sneakers slipping on a combination of soaked ground cover and mud. Raph holstered his Sais, then followed, throwing is weight backward and grabbing on to low bushes to slow his descent. A rank odor wafted up from the disturbed ground. Brooke pitched forward suddenly, and he let go of the anchoring greenery to grab hold of her. Together they plunged downward, a bruising, painful experiences as branches scratched their faces and jabbed their bodies. All the while, the rain beat at them mercilessly.

Upon reaching the bottom, Brooke let out a low moan. He squinted through the rain, his bandanna soaked and latching to his face. His mouth went dry at the sight of her right foot twisted underneath her. He helped her up, tensing as he heard voices drifting down from above. They needed to keep moving, no matter what her condition. If her ankle wouldn't support her weight, he'd have to carry her.

That didn't turn out to be necessary, although she did lean on him, her arm going around his waist - struggling to hold on due to his large shell. It was hardly the way he'd envisioned her touching him - because she was forced by an injury to do so. He regretted the reason, but not the reality. She felt good, tucked against his side, her hip aligned with his.

A trail of sorts wound through the trees. Did it lead to the edge of the ravine or circle back? There was no way to tell, but because it made for easier going, but steered Brooke onto it. She limped along at an impressive pace, barely slowing him down. The effort was valiant and, without a doubt, painful and exhausting for her.

The sound of breathing twigs mixed with profanity warned of their pursuers' descent into the ravine.

"Split up!" Sergei called out. "Don't let them get away!"

Narrow beams of light flickered through the leaves. Flashlights to combat the growing darkness.

The trail was too open, too exposed. The thought must have struck them simultaneously because as one, they turned and plunged into the woods, dodging trees and shoving aside branches. The rain masked some of the noises they made, but not all of it. If Sidorov's men wanted to pinpoint their location they had only to stand still and listen.

The vegetation became thicker, richer, denser. Pushing through it felt like wading through sludge. Sludge with sharp edges. Even so, he welcomed it. Foliage so tightly packed made for excellent camouflage.

After a few yards, Brooke jerked to a stop. "My leg's caught."

Whatever blocked her way blended perfectly into the leafy backdrop. Unfortunately, that wasn't true for her red shirt, which was still visible in the fading light. A rubbing sound reached his ears above the drone of the rain.

"What is it?" he asked in a low voice.

"Feels like a canvas... I think it's a tent."

A tent? what was it doing so deep in the woods? Then he remembered the neighborhood lining the top of the ravine. A kid had probably set it up as a fort.

"Help me find the opening," Brooke whispered.

His first instinct was to insist they keep going, but then he thought about her sore ankle and bright shirt. She'd be safer in the tent than on the run.

His hands joined hers, searching the heavy, soaked material. When he found the zipper, he undid it and held back the flap so Brooke could enter. A pat on his leg signaled she expected him to follow. He hesitated. Should he go with her? Or remain on guard outside.

He hated dark, close spaces. Had nearly died in one -

Twigs cracked nearby. No animal would be wandering around in this rain. The sounds were man-made - and close enough to make his heart race.

Hide.

The impulse was nothing short of survival imperative, and he couldn't ignore it. But once inside the tent, he felt as if he were suffocating. His breaths came hard and fast. His sweat glads worked overtime. His muscles quivered.

Gritting his teeth, he fought his fear. He was experiencing a flashback, that was all. He wasn't tied up; he had crawled inside voluntarily. His knees weren't being bruised by a metal floor; they were cushioned by a sleeping bag. He wasn't breathing gasoline vapors, only musty air. Added to that, he wasn't alone. Brooke was with him. That thought settled him down. He had to stay in control. She was relying on his protection.

As he shuffled in backward, her hands guided him to the right, but the space was so cramped, he would end up lying mostly on top of her. His chest pressed into her back, his legs entwined with hers. A lovers' embrace - except they weren't spooning after a night of passion. They were being hunted by men with guns. He couldn't be distracted by her long, lean body under his. His focus had to be on what was happening on the other side of the canvas.

Were the sounds he'd heard fading or becoming louder? Were they made by one man or more? It took several long, tense minutes before he had his answer.

Louder. Two men.

He eased his Sai out of his waist band and held it in tight grip, ready to attack.