Secret Alliances

by resauthor

A mid-Season Five story. Chris and Rita are trying to plan a long-awaited extended weekend away. Their fist since becoming a couple. Work gets in the way.

Author's Notes: Set in early November, this new story takes place a few months into Chris and Rita's new relationship. It isn't part of the original Classic Moments universe, but if I were to place it amongst those stories, it would slide in right before Party Favors. Show canon is pretty much nonexistent at this point - we've never played well together anyway. Feedback by PM or Review is always appreciated.

SECRET ALLIANCES

Sacred Allegiance

By: resauthor

Sergeant Rita Lance of the Palm Beach PD, Homicide Division, hung up the phone in her apartment and walked to the spiral staircase. "Duty calls!" she shouted up to the second floor. "We've got a floater at Municipal Beach."

"Be down in a minute." Her partner, Chris Lorenzo, could be heard pacing across the upstairs bedroom as he rushed to dress for work.

"Dispatch said they paged you after trying the loft. I told them you had a hot date last night."

"Did they believe you?" Chris was buttoning his shirt as he came bounding down the stairs. The tie he had chosen hung loosely around his neck.

She allowed herself a moment to stare and drink in the sight. "What do you think? Of course, they believed me."

"Good, because it was the truth." He paused for a quick kiss before heading into the kitchen, tucking his shirttails into his slacks as he went. "I didn't hear my pager."

"Where is your pager?"

He returned, holding a slice of toast. "Good question. It's wasn't in my pants."

"Did you look under the bed? That's where it was last time."

"I did," he assured her with a wink. "Wasn't there either." The toast was transferred to his mouth as he started working on his tie. He was just about done when Rita picked up the phone and dialed the missing pager.

Chris reached between the couch cushions. "Got it. How in the world…."

She could remind him, Rita thought to herself, but knowing Chris, he'd work it out quick enough. Moving closer, she took hold of his tie and tightened the knot as he held up his prize in one hand and his breakfast in the other.

His eyes lit up; his arms dropped down to settle around her waist. "Now I remember."

"I thought you might." Rita grinned and checked her work. The tie looked perfect, as did the handsome man wearing it. Her fingers skimmed lightly over the length of brightly colored silk. If memory served, they had been standing in much the same position last night right before ending up on the couch and losing his pager in the process. "We'd better get going, Sergeant. CSU has already rolled."

…

It was just past 8 a.m. when they arrived at Municipal Beach, a strip of coastline situated within walking distance of the exclusive Palm Beach shopping district, Worth Avenue. Municipal Beach was exactly that, a municipal beach, which meant it was maintained as a park, open from sunrise to sunset for swimming or running, but sunbathing and social gatherings were discouraged, lessening the likelihood of witnesses.

Sunglasses firmly in place, gold badge at her waist, Rita strode purposefully across the sand, triggering an instantaneous parting of curious onlookers. The glare off the water would be unrelenting in a few hours, but for now, the lingering overnight chill was counterbalanced by the sun on its ascent, warming her cheeks. Her hasty choice of a light blue pantsuit and sensible shoes that morning had been the right one.

She spared a quick glance over her shoulder and suppressed a smile. Chris was just a few steps behind her. His lightweight linen suit was trendy and professional, but his blue dress shirt, whether by accident or design, was a near-perfect color match to her jacket and slacks. She hadn't made the connection before they left her place. It might be time to expand the selection of clothing he kept in her closet. Especially if they wanted to keep the change in their relationship a secret.

Personal thoughts were instantly set aside as she crouched down next to the body. The victim had once been an attractive woman. Her long blonde hair was unbound, covered in sand and miscellaneous ocean debris. Her dress was short, brightly colored, and tight, exposing long slim legs and thin-strapped sandals with tall spikey heels. "Whatever she was doing right before her death, a late-night swim wasn't part of the plan."

"Maybe a party girl on one of the local yachts?" Chris mused.

Rita heard the doubt in her partner's voice. "Any I.D.?" she asked the Medical Examiner on site.

"No," Keisha informed them. She rolled the victim onto her back. A small bullet wound, centered a few inches below the clavicle, marred the otherwise perfect skin exposed by the deep V-neck of her dress. "First impression is that she was shot elsewhere and then dumped at the water's edge. The tide went out, but the body didn't go with it and was spotted by early morning joggers."

"How can you be sure she didn't wash up on shore?"

The answer to Chris' question would determine the all-important first steps of their investigation.

"The body wasn't in the water very long, plus…" Keisha pointed toward the area where grass met sand. "CSU found tire tracks that appear to be from an off-road vehicle."

"We'll check it out." Chris glanced toward the bright yellow crime scene tape. "One day short of a full month without a new case."

Rita made a few final notes. He was right. The extended time between new investigations had worked to their advantage. They were able to catch up on paperwork, close the book on at least one old case, and – best of all - head home at a decent hour most nights.

Rita stepped back and Keisha signaled her techs to prepare the body for transport.

"I should have more for you in a couple of hours."

Medical Examiner's assurances in hand, they headed toward the grassy area.

...

All efforts to identify the body discovered on the beach that morning had been unsuccessful, but Keisha was able to narrow down the time of death to approximately 2 a.m. and remove the bullet for testing.

Later that night, at their favorite restaurant in Lake Worth, Rita settled back in her chair and let contentment wash over her. They were regulars now, or so the owner, Miguel, had proclaimed on their last visit. This particular table for two - their table as she liked to think of it – was tucked into a far corner of the outdoor seating area. Covered in white linen, it was romantically lit by a single, cut crystal, table light. Plexiglass panels atop short stucco walls offered shelter from the evening breeze; outdoor heaters were at the ready in case the temperature dipped too low. After a busy day, she preferred the peaceful, intimate setting of the patio with its unobstructed view of the ocean to that of the typical restaurant clamor inside. The sound of the surf was comforting; as powerful and unconscious as a heartbeat.

"Maybe Sanibel or the Keys?" Chris suggested. Shoulders relaxed, elbows resting on the side arms of his chair, he turned the conversation back to the topic they had been discussing on and off for most of the day - possible destinations for a long-awaited, and all too rare, extended weekend off.

"Either one sounds fantastic, but I was thinking…" her voice dropped away as the waitress approached to remove their dinner dishes. Once they were alone again, she caught his eye and smiled. "If we're considering Sanibel, why don't we try to get a reservation on Captiva?"

"Captiva Island?" Eyes narrowing, his return smile eased into something more sensual. "I like the way you think."

"It's just the other side of Sanibel, and it's smaller, which means…"

"We'll have more privacy."

It was a delicious thought. Sanibel was wonderful, they had both visited many times, but Captiva promised new memories for a new relationship. "Have you ever stayed there?"

"No, but I've heard about their beautiful sunsets…"

"I'm sure they have kayaks and jet skis if you're willing to forgo the catamaran you were so obsessed with last year…"

"Not as interested in outdoor sports this trip."

"Oh?"

"Much more interested in spending time alone with you in paradise."

She should know better than to try and tease Chris. He didn't hesitate to say out loud what she was already thinking herself. She turned to look out at the waves. Not out of shyness, but to dial back the accelerating desire between them. "Hmmm… I like the way you think," she eventually responded, "but I assume we'll leave the room occasionally over the weekend."

Chris' grin was slow and deliberate. Candlelight flickered in his eyes. "Not if we have room service and an ocean view."

Rita shivered. She knew her best friend well, having watched his easy charm and casual intimacy turn women to jello so often in the past, but she wouldn't be sitting with him now, planning a romantic vacation for two, if she didn't know in her heart that what they shared was borne of feelings much deeper.

"Cold?"

"No." She felt herself blush. Chris was ready to offer his jacket, but she declined and he understood, holding out a hand that she willingly accepted. "I'll start checking tomorrow and try to find us a place."

"Parfait."

Relaxing music drifted out from hidden speakers mixing with the faint strains of conversation from other tables. Stars twinkled in the dark sky over a mysterious ocean. No wonder they returned to this restaurant so often. With Chris by her side, it was the perfect place to end the week.

Her partner, as always, was quick to pick up on her mood. "Unless you're in a rush to go home, I'd like a little something extra; maybe Cognac or Campari. Do you want anything?"

"No, I'm good."

"I'll go to the bar. It will give me a chance to thank Miguel." Chris stood but bent down for a light kiss that probably lingered longer than it should have in a public setting.

"You do that," she murmured as he pulled back and then walked away.

...

"Sergeant Lance…"

Rita, lost in her thoughts, turned at the sound of her name. She eyed her unexpected visitor curiously as he sat down in the seat Chris had so recently vacated.

"Surprise, right? Bet you thought I was still down south with Uncle Vic."

"Surprise is an understatement. What are you doing here?"

Dominic DiBarto was unfazed by the question.

"Looking for you and that partner of yours with the bad attitude. I saw him at the bar. What's with the wrinkled suit?"

"I think he looks just fine." Dominic hadn't changed much since the last time she encountered him. He was overconfident and a bit too brash, but charming in his own strange way. A chip off the old block for sure.

"Please note my current ensemble. It was a birthday gift from Pop. Italian silk. Cost him over a thousand dollars. A beautiful woman like you deserves a man in a thousand-dollar suit, Rita. Where does he get those jackets?"

"Let's cut to the chase, Dominic. What's going on? This doesn't feel like a coincidence."

"Whoa. I sense a sudden darkening of the mood here. You don't like me calling you by your given name? Don't we know each other well enough by now?"

"Dominic Clemenza DiBarto Jr. what the hell are you doing in my seat, talking to my partner?"

"Sergeant Lorenzo – nice to see you too."

"Out! Get out of my chair."

"Okay… okay…. I'm not trying to cut in on your territory. I have a message from my Pop. It's urgent."

"Call the station like everyone else, DiBarto."

Chris' reaction was similar to hers, although much more direct. The romantic atmosphere of the evening had certainly taken a turn.

Dominic stood, shaking his head as Chris reclaimed his seat. "After all this time, you're still busting my chops? I'm not kidding around here, Sergeant Lorenzo. As much as I would enjoy visiting with the lovely Sergeant Lance again, I am just here to pass on a message."

"Speak your piece and get going."

Rita decided to take back control of the conversation before it disintegrated any further. "Dominic," she said quietly, but firmly, to get his attention. The interaction between the two men was starting to draw the attention of nearby diners. "Why doesn't Donnie call us direct?"

Dominic moved closer and bent down to whisper directly into her ear, drawing a dark look from Chris. "It's not safe."

Rita's eyebrows shot up. "Not safe for who?"

"For Pop. He needs to talk to you about that unfortunate lady who was found on the beach this morning."

Chris was on his feet, strategically blocking Dominic's easy exit should he try to drop that little info bomb and take off. "Is Donnie involved in the shooting?"

The young man scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I figured you would assume that."

"Why does he want to talk to us?" Rita pushed.

"To be honest, I don't know, but he seems spooked and we both know that is unusual. I just got back into town today and the first thing he does is send me to talk to you two." His eyes lit up as he focused on Rita. "I wasn't about to refuse. It's always a pleasure to see you."

Chris wasn't happy. "How did he know we'd be here?"

"He said you're like a regular married couple these days and this is where I would probably find you on a Friday night." He turned to Rita. "If I didn't find you here, I was going to try your apartment next."

"Not in this lifetime, DiBarto."

"Yeah, yeah. I know Sergeant Lorenzo." He handed over a slip of paper. "This is the time and place."

Chris read the note before showing it to Rita. "This had better not be a setup."

Dominic raised his hands in a show of innocence before turning to leave. "I'm just the messenger."

...

Harry Lipchitz grabbed the bedside phone off its cradle and answered in a low voice, hoping to avoid waking his wife, but it was already too late.

Fran rolled toward him, still half asleep. "Who's on the phone, Hesch?"

"I don't know yet, Fran, but I'm sure it's work-related. Go back to sleep." Harry kept the cordless phone to his ear as he threw off the blankets and stepped into his slippers. He walked out of the bedroom. "Who is this?"

"Hey, Cap, it's Lorenzo."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing… Actually, I'm not sure."

"Spit it out, Lorenzo."

"Rita and I were just approached by Dominic DiBarto in a restaurant. He had a message for us."

"Donnie's kid?"

"In the flesh."

"Well, what did Junior want?"

"Donnie wants us to meet him in an hour at a nightspot in West Palm."

"Absolutely not."

"Cap… It must be important if he sent Dominic to find us."

"You two don't see enough of each other during the day?"

"Cap…."

"How would he know where you eat dinner? Where are you?"

"At the Wharf Grill in Lake Worth."

"Must be nice. I had tuna casserole for dinner."

"Rita and I think we should see what Donnie wants. If we leave now, we can scout out the location before he gets there."

"No."

"Cap…"

"I'm standing here in my pajamas and can't think of a single good reason why you should cater to DiBarto, but I can come up with at least a dozen reasons why you shouldn't."

"He wants to talk to us about the body on the beach this morning."

"Why the hell didn't you lead with that, Lorenzo?"

"Sorry, Cap."

"Where are you supposed to meet? Give me half an hour to get dressed and join you."

"Not necessary. Let us hear what he has to say first. It's a public place and you know how he feels about Rita. He wouldn't set her up and he wouldn't ask us both to meet him if it wasn't important."

Harry finally relented after securing a promise from Chris to call back once their business with DiBarto was concluded.

…

The meeting, per Donnie's request, was set for 10 p.m. at a small jazz club located in West Palm. By the time they arrived, the smoke-filled bar was packed, the drinks were flowing and the musicians were jamming, but there was no sign of DiBarto. Chris paid the cover charge and scanned the dimly lit room. Under different circumstances, he might have settled into a back booth and enjoyed himself for a few hours, but there wasn't time for that tonight.

"This doesn't feel right," he was quick to point out to Rita who was crushed against his side out of necessity. "Not Donnie's scene at all."

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the man they were looking for appeared. He pushed through the crowd and signaled for them to follow as he moved toward the back of the club. "Oscar is letting me use the office."

As soon as the office door closed, the sounds of the busy club were muffled and all three of them looked relieved. Donnie took a seat behind the desk and motioned to the two empty chairs. He didn't waste any time. "Palm Beach PD has a problem."

Chris wasn't in the mood to play guessing games. Thankfully, Donnie didn't seem to be either. "What are you talking about? Why all the secrecy?"

Before answering, Donnie turned his focus to Rita. "Thank you for coming, Rita."

What was he, chopped liver? The DiBarto men were annoyingly obsessed with his partner. In theory, he understood, but practically speaking – two DiBartos in one night was two too many. "We're off the clock."

"Dominic mentioned you were in a bad mood."

"I'm not in a…" Chris could feel a headache coming on.

"You got a mole in Homicide, Lorenzo, and I need you to clean house fast. That's why I'm here. Francesco Rossi from Chicago sent his idiot youngest son to Palm Beach to make a name for himself. The kid is still wet behind the ears, but he waltzes into my club and expects me to greet him like he's the new capo dei capi, the boss of bosses, in Palm Beach. He thinks we're going to work together, but all I see in him is trouble. He's pushing dope and thinks he knows all about the business. Not an ounce of class in the overprivileged son of a Chi-town huckster!"

"Sounds like a Vice problem, Donnie," Chris shot back impatiently. Another Italian wannabe mobster attempting to infiltrate Palm Beach and grab a share of the town's extreme wealth for himself was not big news. After a quick glance at Rita, who seemed to have found the patience he was lacking, he took a deep breath and tried again. "Dominic said you had information about the woman found on the beach this morning."

"Like I said, you got a problem. Rossi's kid is too impulsive and he has violent tendencies. The woman on the beach was one of several party girls staying at his rented mansion. He found out she had been an informant on a case two years ago in West Palm. The punk is in the process of building up his organization down here and was worried she might have overheard something she shouldn't. Big man on campus decided to get rid of her himself."

"Rossi pulled the trigger? You're sure of this?"

"Yes, Lorenzo. How much clearer do I have to make it?"

"Can you give us a name?"

"No, I don't know her name, but what I do know is that someone in your department paid Rossi a visit recently. His father may have set up the connection for him before the move down from Chicago."

Rita had been silent until now. "Are you sure about this, Donnie? Our department isn't very big. I find it hard to believe that anyone we work with would cross that line."

"I'm telling you, Rita, as God is my witness, he's bragging about having a Palm Beach Homicide cop on the payroll. I tried to get a name for you, but as naïve and obnoxious as this jabeep can be, he ain't dumb. He won't give it up. Brag about it, yes, but that's all."

"We'll look into it," Rita promised as she stood.

"That's it?" Donnie asked in disbelief, rising to his feet.

"It's 10:30 on a Friday night, DiBarto." Chris was ready to leave and short on patience. "If you don't mind my asking - what's in it for you? Dominic said this Rossi guy has you rattled."

"He said that?" Donnie barked. "The kid talks too much."

"What are you leaving out?" When Donnie didn't answer right away, Chris opened the office door. "If you have nothing to add, we're out of here."

Rita watched curiously as the genial mobster weighed his options. "If the situation is as bad as you say it is, Donnie, cooperation works both ways. With any luck, West Palm PD will be able to identify the dead woman, but we need as much information as possible on Rossi so we can make a case and tie him to the murder."

"Okay… okay… shut the door, Lorenzo." Donnie scowled impatiently. "Let's be honest here. We both have a situation that needs to be dealt with - pronto. I've got a sweet thing going in Palm Beach – strictly legit. It behooves me to stay off the Palm Beach PD radar. You know I don't traffic in drugs or prostitution. Rossi's arrival complicates everything, but I have to be careful. I don't want to end up on his father's bad side."

"Tell us more about the younger Rossi," Rita urged as both men sat back down.

"He's a spoiled brat with a hair-trigger temper and a taste for open warfare if it gets him what he wants. The punk has no respect for human life. He could have thrown that girl out of the mansion and back on the street, but instead, he chooses to send a message to the people working with him." Donnie seemed to grow angrier as he talked. Leaning forward, he punctuated his next words with pointed jabs in the air. "He thinks I'm going to launder his profits. He asked – I said no, but his men have been showing up every night at Dream Girls, sometimes with him, sometimes without, as a reminder that my services will be expected soon. I don't need the Feds breathing down my neck, but Rossi doesn't understand the word no. More people will die, cops included, if he isn't handled one way or another. I figure cutting off his inside source in Homicide is the first step."

"We'll make sure the information goes to the right people," Rita assured him.

"You tell Harry one more thing from me." Donnie paused until he had their complete attention. "Tell him the mole in his department gave the Cardenas gang a head's up before the attempted raid in West Palm last month."

Chris knew exactly which case he was talking about. Palm Beach Vice had been working in coordination with West Palm Vice on what should have been the biggest drug bust in years, but the Cardenas brothers had either been tipped off or spooked, so officers had shown up to an empty warehouse with no sign of the stash they were certain had once been there. Countless man-hours had gone to waste. Millions of dollars in drugs were on the street now because of their failure. "You're sure about this?"

"A hundred percent sure. Don't trust anyone else with this info. Capisce?"

Chris resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I understand. We'll be in contact."

"I'll be waiting. Rumor has it Martin Rossi might also be responsible for a few unsolved murders back home and that's why his father shipped him out of town. We both need this guy gone."

Chris was already out the door when Rita turned back. "Where's Dutchie tonight?"

Donnie was looking tired, but he found a half-smile for her. "The air quality in here is terrible. The smoke isn't good for his little lungs, so he's waiting in the car with my guys."

"Not so great for us either," Chris muttered from the hallway. "Let's go, Rita."

…

Undercover Assignment – day one

The following Monday, Rita walked through the swinging doors of the Homicide Division, her eyes automatically zeroing in on her partner's desk. Chris' chair was empty, but she could hear his voice raised in anger. She followed the sound. He was in the Captain's office with the door closed, standing in front of their boss' desk. The Captain was also on his feet and they seemed to be in the middle of a heated discussion.

All eyes in the bullpen turned toward her. Fellow officers were now torn between surreptitiously watching the argument between the two men and awaiting her response. She knew what most of them were thinking; they were the same thoughts that she would have had if witnessing such an incident out of the blue. In all her years of service at the PBPD, she had never been part of an undercover assignment that involved her own department, but this couldn't be helped. The private weekend she and Chris had been looking forward to had been canceled and replaced by intense offsite meetings that included Captain Lipschitz, and Derek McNeill from Internal Affairs. Other than the Police Commissioner who needed to sign off on their plans, no one else was in on it, but the circle would grow as needed.

The yelling in the Captain's office continued. There was nothing to do now but head straight for the confrontation. Her knuckles hit the office door with enough force to draw the attention of the men inside, but she was ignored.

"No way, Cap! I'm sick of this."

"Choose your next words carefully." The Captain's stern warning could be heard by everyone listening.

"Why? Why shouldn't I be honest and call bull on all of this? You want me to waste my time talking to Derek about some made-up complaint? Forget it!"

"You're on thin ice, Lorenzo!"

"I'm off the ice. I'm done."

"So, you keep saying."

"You want my badge?"

Rita had heard enough. She entered the office and glanced from one man to the other. "What's going on?"

"The Captain wants me to turn in my badge."

"That's not what I said."

"You're turning me over to Internal Affairs like a sacrificial lamb, but I'm not having it. Do you honestly believe I've done something wrong?"

"No… but I do know my duty as Captain to this department. You need to talk to I.A. and straighten out this mess."

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?"

Chris turned away from his boss and joined her in the open doorway. "Internal Affairs received a complaint about me. Someone thinks I gave away inside information."

"That's ridiculous. Why would they say that?"

Captain Lipschitz turned to give her his full attention. "Cochran and Jefferson in Vice were coordinating with West Palm on a big bust last month, but the mark was given a heads up by someone in this department."

"Chris wouldn't do that."

This was the first time any of their fellow officers would hear about a possible bad cop within their ranks. The information would undoubtedly spread through the building like wildfire.

"I know that Lance, but I.A. feels strong enough about the accusation to request an interview with your partner today."

"Not doing it."

"You don't have a choice, Lorenzo."

"Yes, I do." Chris unhooked his badge from his belt and walked over to set it on the desktop. He removed his gun, checked the safety, and then placed it next to the badge. "I quit." He was out of the office before Rita or the Captain could say a word.

"Go get him," Harry instructed, pointing to the open doorway. "This won't go any further until he cools off, but I need him to stop in and see Derek, whatever his decision."

"I'll see what I can do."

The silence in the bullpen was deafening as Chris rummaged through his desk and tossed personal items into a paper bag. Rita looked around the division, catching the eye of anyone who was staring and meeting their glance with a silent request for privacy. Most of her fellow officers honored the request.

"Care to talk about it?"

"No!" Chris' answer was once again loud enough for everyone to hear. "I'm heading home. I've had enough of this place."

"The Captain said Derek is expecting you."

"I don't care."

"Chris…."

"I'll talk to you later."

Rita watched him stalk out of the Division, shoving the swinging doors hard enough for them to continue moving long after he disappeared. His departure was part of the plan, but the well of emotions it triggered within her was not. She pushed them aside. The workday had just begun; there was much to be done.

The undercover assignment they were embarking on would bring together two separate investigations – the murder case in Homicide, and the search for a bad cop by Internal Affairs. If Donnie "Dogs" DiBarto was correct, the two investigations were connected. After much consideration, sending Chris undercover was thought to be the quickest way to find out. Once the details were hashed out and approval had been granted, a unanimous decision had been made to begin immediately.

Rita walked back into the Captain's office, shut the door behind her, and dropped into one of the chairs.

"That was quite a performance." Harry was sitting behind his desk, his expression still grim.

"I believed him for a minute myself," she agreed quietly. Keeping things professional was of the utmost importance right now. It was the stability she needed. "Everything is in motion and interest is high in the bullpen."

"You'll be under scrutiny."

"As we expected. No problem."

The Captain watched her silently for a minute before dismissing her with a wave in the direction of her desk. "Get back to it, then. You have a murder to solve. We'll see who approaches you first."

...

Just past six that same evening, Harry was still at his desk when George Donovan, the Assistant District Attorney for Palm Beach stuck his head into the office.

"Is the rumor true?"

Harry didn't bother to look up. "Yes."

"Lorenzo turned in his badge?"

The situation was difficult enough without having to repeat the same scarcely believable story to everyone who had approached him in the past eight hours. "I don't have time for you right now, Donovan."

"You just let him quit? What's going on, Harry?"

Harry sighed, removed his glasses, and set them carefully on the desk. "Yes, George. I let him quit. We have rules around here."

"But…. This is Chris we're talking about. Let me talk to him. I know he can be a hothead at times, but he's a good cop – one of the best. Maybe I can reason with him."

"Go ahead. Try if you want."

Donovan appeared stunned by his casual attitude. "You don't believe the accusations by IA, do you?"

"I can't tell you anything more. It's out of my hands now."

"What about Rita? Couldn't she convince him to come back in?"

"She knows what's going on. If she can talk him into addressing the issue with Internal Affairs, he might have a chance at reinstatement."

"Something here isn't right."

"Are you worried about Chris or your pending court cases, George?"

His comment did the trick. George Donovan threw him a disgusted look before turning on his heel and storming out of the department. George was disappointed in him, possibly even angry, but it couldn't be helped. The circle of people in the know on this case had to remain as small as possible. Everyone would eventually learn the truth if they were successful. In the meantime, he would shoulder the shock and disappointment for the sake of the investigation. It was the least he could do. The number of co-workers who had called or wandered into Homicide to talk to Rita had been far greater than the few who dared to enter his office. His main concern was for her.

...

The apartment Rita returned to that evening felt just as cold and empty as she suspected it would. It was crazy, really, to realize how easily she and Chris had become domesticated in their private life. As if spending twenty-four hours a day together was somehow more natural than the ten or twelve that had been typical for the previous five years.

Flipping on the kitchen light helped a little. Two bowls, two spoons, and two coffee cups had been left in the dish drainer. Breakfast that morning had been more of a strategy meeting than a relaxed meal. There had been business to tend to and last-minute details to go over. Everything personal that had to be said had been whispered in the darkness as they made love the previous night - promises to be careful, to focus on the job, to prove to themselves that they could continue working successfully as a professional law enforcement team. Most important of all – to find out the identity of the mole. To weed out the fellow officer who had turned his or her back on the solemn oath they had all sworn to uphold, giving aid to the criminal element, causing the death of a young woman, and God only knew what else.

When the apartment phone rang, she knew it wouldn't be Chris, but a surge of hope shot through her nonetheless.

"Rita?"

"Yeah, Cap. What's going on?"

"I wanted to give you a heads up. Scott Chandler is on his way to your place. He came to see me about getting temporarily assigned to work with you until this thing with Chris is straightened out. He claims to be very knowledgeable about Municipal Beach because of his years in Vice."

"Alright, I get that, but why is he on his way here?"

"Your place is on his route home and he has important information to share. That was his excuse."

"He doesn't know how to use a phone?"

"I suggested that but he insisted on talking to you in person, and since he's the first fellow officer to take the bait, I thought we should see where it goes. You okay with this?"

Scott Chandler had transferred to Homicide six months earlier after a decade in Vice. Their paths hadn't crossed often, so it was impossible to make a personal judgment, but he appeared to be the driven, high energy type. What exactly was driving him had yet to be discovered.

"I can handle him."

"No doubt. Call me afterward."

"Will do."

Ten minutes later there was a knock on the door. A check of the peephole confirmed it was Detective Chandler. There was nothing overtly threatening about the man; he was clean-cut, his short blond hair parted on the side, but his eagerness to insert himself into the investigation so soon after Chris supposedly quit, was, at best, suspicious. She opened the door but didn't step back, keeping her hand on the doorknob and him on the other side of the threshold.

"Hey, Lance. I hope you don't mind me stopping by." Scott Chandler was smiling as if showing up on her doorstep after work was the most natural thing in the world.

"I just got off the phone with Captain Lipschitz. He mentioned you wanted to drop something off."

"Oh…"

Was that disappointment in his voice? What possible benefit would there be for him in making a surprise visit? Or maybe he was just wondering why she didn't immediately invite him in.

"What is it?" When he didn't respond right away, she tried again. "What do you have for me?" He rummaged through an inside jacket pocket while casually glancing past her into the apartment. Was he looking for Chris?

"Captain Lipschitz shouldn't have bothered you." He handed her a neatly folded page. "This is a list of suspects from a Vice investigation in September. Our killer could be one of these guys. All of them worked the area by the beach."

"Who gave you this list?"

"One of my buddies in Vice. I thought it might be useful."

"This could have waited until tomorrow. Is Lieutenant Hudson okay with this information leaving his department?"

"We're all on the same team, Lance. I talked to Captain Lipschitz about helping you out on the case since your partner stormed off this morning. Lorenzo seemed pretty pissed off. Have you talked to him since then?"

Rita ignored the question. Suspecting a co-worker of betrayal didn't sit well with her, but she was a realist at heart. If Chandler was innocent, the evidence would clear him. "I'd feel better if this list came through official channels, but it's too late for that now. Thanks for bringing it by. If the Captain okays the assignment, I'll be grateful for the help."

The apartment phone rang again. She glanced over her shoulder and then back at Scott Chandler, hoping he would get the hint. He didn't.

"I'd better get that."

"Go ahead," he encouraged, a friendly smile still firmly in place. "I'll wait right here."

Split-second decision made, Rita left him in the doorway and picked up the receiver, holding it to her ear as she turned back toward her uninvited guest. She wasn't about to take her eyes off him. Her clipped, professional, greeting brought forth an impassioned response that she wasn't quite prepared for.

"Rita!"

"Diana?"

"I heard about the incident with Chris!"

Rita quickly gathered her wits about her, aware of Chandler's scrutiny. "News certainly travels fast."

"The M.E. community is tight-knit and most of us have worked in Palm Beach. When something this big happens, I hear about it."

"I can't talk right now."

"Is Chris there? Let me speak to him."

"No, I haven't seen him since he walked out." Her words had an immediate effect on Scott Chandler. Eyebrows raised, he met her eyes, then quickly looked away.

"We need to talk," Diana insisted.

"I can't right now."

"I'm driving up there tomorrow."

"Please, Diana, don't do that. Let it go for now."

"What happened?"

"He isn't who I thought he was."

That comment seemed to spur Chandler into action. He stepped into the apartment and started to close the door behind him. His look of polite concern seemed sincere enough, but Rita wasn't ready to trust him. She promised Diana a return call in a few days.

"It was a shock to everyone," Scott offered sympathetically after she hung up. Had he known her well enough, he would have recognized the steeliness of her gaze and taken a step back instead of forward.

"Yes, it was," Rita responded decisively as she strode back to the door and opened it, a clear signal that their conversation was over. "It's been a long day. I'll see you at the shop tomorrow."

"Sure thing." Scott took one last glance around her apartment. "I look forward to it."

Once her co-worker was out in the hallway, she closed the door and leaned back against the solid wood. Her mind raced. The first thing she needed to do was check back in with the Captain.

"He's gone." Rita heard an audible sigh through the phone receiver. "Did you check his personnel file?"

"Yes. Nothing stands out," her boss reported. "He had a clean record in Vice which is why his transfer to Homicide was approved six months ago. I partnered him with Rodgers and it seems to be working out. They have numerous arrests and closed cases. I thought about contacting Hudson, but I'd rather not bring anyone else in on this just yet. I'd have to pass it by Derek anyway. Let's see how the next few days go."

"If it turns out he's working with Rossi, Lieutenant Hudson will need to take a closer look at his department. Chandler still has access to inside information from Vice, probably through his former partner. That's who must have given him the list he brought by tonight."

"It does look like a direct link, but I don't want us assuming anything about Chandler just because he's the new guy in Homicide," Harry cautioned. "His is presumed innocent, just like any other citizen, until we have solid proof. We aren't here to make Derek's job easy; we have a Homicide to solve. But - if one of my officers is cozying up to drug pushers to put extra cash in his pocket, he's guilty of criminal behavior and needs to be prosecuted to the full extent of the law."

"Honestly, Cap, this feels lousy."

"It does."

The Captain sounded exhausted. She could hear phones ringing in the background. He was still in his office. "Do you plan to say anything about Chris to Fran?"

"God no!"

"If this goes on for any length of time, she's bound to find out."

"I'll take my chances."

If there was anyone who could get a smile out of Rita at a time like this, it would be Harry Lipschitz talking about his beloved wife, Fran.

"Chandler didn't waste any time trying to get close to you," he went on to remind her. "Team up with him tomorrow. If he's on Rossi's payroll, I want to know what he hopes to gain by stepping in for Chris. Donnie "Dogs" claims Rossi murdered our Jane Doe – let's see if Chandler tries to sidetrack the investigation."

"Have you heard from Captain Anderson in West Palm yet?"

"A couple of his guys are deep undercover. He thinks our victim worked with one of them, so it might take a day or two to get a name. You'll know as soon as I know."

"Got it. See you tomorrow, Cap."

"Don't worry about your partner."

"I won't. Chris can take care of himself."

"Yes, he can. Get some rest, Lance. It's going to be a hell of a week."

And so, it began. All the pieces of their plan were in motion. Chris would be at Donnie's club in a few hours but would remain out of touch until it was safe to make contact.

…

Much later the same night, Chris was planted at a back table in Dream Girls. Slouched in a chair, nursing a watered-down drink, he had a clear view of the entrance should Rossi decide to pay the club another visit. An attractive waitress had been by several times but had given up flirting with him long ago. His sullen expression and sharp answers made it clear he was not in the mood for chitchat or company of any kind.

Killing time like this, waiting for something that might not happen, was not his favorite part of the job, but it was a necessary skill honed during countless stakeouts both in Vice and Homicide. Wandering thoughts, inevitable when boredom set in, were not a problem as long as he remained alert and didn't let his guard down. After several hours spent in a hard chair in a dark corner of a noisy nightclub, he couldn't help thinking what a contrast the lack of physical activity and stimulating conversation were to his real life, both personally and professionally. It wasn't a surprise when his thoughts drifted back to where he had been, and with whom, just twenty-four hours earlier.

Chris knew those sparkling green eyes and soft lips would remain a memory for the foreseeable future if this assignment went according to plan and it was the best incentive in the world to stay on course and get the job done. His dark, narrowed gaze moved between the stage and the door, but his mind's eye was focused on the beautiful brunette who sat across from him at work every day, the partner who always had his back, the sleepy woman who rolled over each morning, throwing an arm over his chest as she snuggled closer and tried to ignore the alarm. She was a part of him, heart and soul.

Memories helped the time pass quicker, but he snapped right back into character when a small entourage entered the club a few minutes past midnight.

A basic background check of Martin Rossi over the weekend had turned up enough information on the twenty-nine-year-old son of a suspected Chicago drug lord to immediately identify him. Of medium build with dark hair, he carried himself like the self-proclaimed king of his own universe, not the business school dropout and all-around screw-up that his file revealed him to be. According to Donnie's sources, his father had finally grown tired of bailing his youngest son out of trouble, sending Martin to Palm Beach with enough seed money to succeed or fail on his own.

Chris watched Rossi shrug out of his camel hair overcoat – a ridiculous garment for Palm Beach at any time of year – and snap his fingers in the direction of the stage. One of his flunkies approached the front-row center table and ordered its occupants to vacate, which they immediately did. A waitress rushed to clear it.

Chris glanced at Donnie and received silent confirmation.

Game on, Mr. Rossi. The hit of adrenaline that followed was not unexpected. All he had to do now was sit quietly through a few more dance numbers before beginning his attempts to get noticed.

…

An hour later, Donnie, Dutchie in hand, emerged from his office to take a seat at Chris' table. "You've got an interesting undercover technique there, hotshot."

"I got his attention."

"By acting like an imbecile."

"It worked."

"Sure did. You had me convinced. Good thing Gina likes you or she probably would have punched you in the mouth after all those catcalls."

"Gina is a good sport."

"If it were anyone else exhibiting such bad behavior, I would have thrown them out." Donnie laughed, unable to keep up the outrage.

Chris was well aware he had been out of line, shouting at Gina as she worked her magic on stage, annoying the smattering of customers who remained at that late hour. Rossi had grown frustrated with Donnie's disappearance, sending one of his guys over to shut Chris up. But Chris had stood his ground, ignoring the inexperienced lackey, forcing Rossi to eventually come over himself.

Donnie, watching via the surveillance camera in his office, chose that moment to return to the club floor and make the formal introductions, explaining to Rossi that Chris had just quit his day job so he was cutting the former cop some slack, insinuating it was a return favor.

Rossi's interest was piqued. "You're one of those cops who works both sides," he sneered, nodding his head as he sized up the sullen man. "I've met your kind before. You pretend to be better than everyone else; you think you own the moral high ground. In reality, you're worse than me and DiBarto."

Chris scowled and turned his focus back to the stage.

Rossi continued speaking directly to him anyway. "My first impulse was to shoot you on sight for interrupting my entertainment. Maybe it's good that I waited."

"Whatever."

"You have no idea who you're talking to," Rossi snapped, his voice rising in anger. He shot a glance back at his entourage who, en masse, turned their attention back to the stage. They knew better than to get on the wrong side of his temper.

Donnie intervened, offering a hearty laugh to diffuse the situation. "Give him a break, Rossi. The man just realized he wasted the last ten years of his life working nine to five for nothing. Have you ever seen what a cop makes? Even with the occasional jobs for me, he probably doesn't have a dime in the bank. Spends all his money on loose women and fancy suits."

Rossi pondered the information. "Is that true, loser? They say crime doesn't pay, but I say nine to five is for suckers. It would take you ten years to make what I pulled in just last week."

Chris rolled his eyes and continued to give them the cold shoulder. Letting Rossi have a laugh at his expense fit right in with the game plan. Martin Rossi was just as impulsive and inexperienced as Donnie claimed.

Offering further proof of this, Rossi began to talk openly about business issues with Donnie, despite his close proximity to someone who had just been introduced as an ex-cop.

"I have some business that will be finalized next week. One of my guys will be by afterward. I expect you to take care of him."

"I haven't said yes, Rossi. I'm still thinking over your proposition," Donnie hedged. "This business of yours is a young man's racket. I don't need the risk or the hassle."

Rossi's expression hardened. "My father was told you're a man who can be relied upon, DiBarto."

"Yeah, well…"

"We're talking big money. You know what needs to be done. Do it, keep your cut, and keep your mouth shut about it." As if suddenly remembering they weren't alone, Rossi stared down at Chris. "I might have a job for you, loser. You looking for something to do with your free time?"

"No thanks," was Chris' only acknowledgment of the younger man.

Rossi didn't push it. He followed Donnie back to the bar and after exchanging a few more words with him, returned to his associates. The entire group left the club thirty minutes later.

It was another half hour before Donnie returned to take a seat at the small table. Chris was tired and ready to go home. Tonight's mission had been accomplished. He was on Rossi's radar.

"When do you think he'll be back?"

"I took care of that for you." Donnie signaled a waitress for his usual club soda with a twist of lime. "He has a crush on one of the dancers, Yvette. I promised him she'd be here tomorrow."

"Perfect. I'd like to get this charade moving so we can wrap it up fast."

"Big plans for the holiday?"

Chris wasn't about to go there. If Donnie suspected something had changed between him and Rita, he never let on. Although the comment by Dominic at the restaurant a few days earlier made him wonder. "I don't like the idea of sharing office space with a traitor."

"On this matter, we are in agreement."

…

Undercover Assignment – day two

By noon the next day, said traitor was comfortably seated at Sergeant Chris Lorenzo's desk in what was considered prime Homicide Division territory, just steps away from the Captain's office. Each time Scott Chandler looked up from his work, he found himself face to face with Rita Lance. The infamous, Rita Lance, who was as well known for her brains and marksmanship, as she was for her beauty.

His original plan after reassignment to Homicide had been to stay under the radar while continuing his 'side job,' as he called it, with Prentis in Vice. Offering inside information to select criminal organizations like the Cardenas family and the new crew headed by Martin Rossi had proven very lucrative so far. But now that Internal Affairs was looking for a dirty cop, it was important for him and Prentis to lay low.

Lorenzo turning out to be a hothead was an interesting twist. Martin Rossi had called in the early morning hours to get information on Lorenzo's history at the PD and confirm he had severed ties with them. The call was a surprise, but Rossi explained he had run into the unhappy detective at Dream Girls.

It wasn't lost on Scott that Rossi hiring Lorenzo would keep Chris away from Rita Lance and under suspicion by Internal Affairs. The Captain would eventually need to replace him and that was when he would offer his services on a permanent basis. His partner, Bill Rodgers, wouldn't mind. They hadn't been working Homicide together long enough to form a strong bond. If he were being honest with himself, he knew it wouldn't matter even if Rodgers did mind.

He'd miss the extra income, but the body found on the beach Friday was proof that Rossi couldn't control himself. Information sales to the Cardenas crew had been handled without a hitch for years and they had all profited, but Rossi was just plain crazy. The warning signs could not be ignored. The senior Rossi had paid him well to help his son set up operations in Palm Beach, but that process was done. Once their current business was concluded, it would be safer to remain unavailable until Martin Rossi's fledgling business failed or the man, himself, was arrested or killed.

"Sergeant Chandler…"

So formal. He still wasn't sure what Lance thought of him, the situation with her soon-to-be ex-partner remained volatile, but he'd eventually wear her down with his charm. His skills in that department had never failed him in the past, and the future he envisioned with Rita as his partner included her in his bed. Willingly, of course. He was not one to beg or coerce. He knew what women wanted. "Please, Rita. Call me Scott if we're going to work together."

She was staring at him, an open file in her hand as if unsettled by his friendliness. Oh yeah, he would win her over. They had originally crossed paths several years ago, not that Rita would remember, but she had been with her partner that day as they entered Vice for a meeting in Lieutenant Hudson's office. Chandler stayed current on office gossip. It was common knowledge that she was strictly best friends and partners with Lorenzo - if you messed with her, you messed with him, and vice versa - but they had never been more than that despite all the touchy-feely nonsense he had been exposed to since joining Homicide. If all that was true, Lorenzo was an idiot for not making a move on his partner years ago.

Rita was still watching him – he tried to look attentive. It was important to earn her trust. For his sake and Rossi's, he needed to know if her partner's walkout was permanent. Were they still in contact?

"We just received the victim's name and some history from Captain Anderson," Ria informed him. "We need to notify her mother."

Chandler walked over to check out the file, purposely leaning over Rita's shoulder as he feigned interest. Close up, she smelled just as good as she looked. Sexual conquests were easy with his background and good looks, but this situation was as different as it was unexpected. He couldn't remember the last he desired a woman as much.

…

Fran Lipschitz bustled into the Homicide Division and headed straight for her husband's office. She called out a cheery greeting to the two detectives huddled at their desks just outside his door. Rita turned and that was when Fran noticed it wasn't Chris hovering over the file in her hands. The stranger smiled in her direction and then walked over to Chris' desk, dropping into Chris' chair, making notes in what was undoubtedly one of Chris' files.

The fair-haired man looked familiar. He also looked very comfortable in a chair that didn't belong to him. Too comfortable.

"Rita?" Flustered, Fran's voice had dropped an octave.

"Hi, Fran."

Fran turned away from the cheery blond, placing a hand on Rita's arm so she could lean close and whisper, "Who is that guy?"

"Fran, this is Sergeant Chandler. He's one of us."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lipschitz."

Frannie eyed him suspiciously and ignored the greeting, speaking directly to Rita once again. "Where's Chris."

"Did you need to talk to him?"

"No. No. I'm just used to seeing you two together. Harry didn't say anything about Chris going on vacation. Is everything okay?"

"Of course. Do you want me to buzz the Captain and tell him you're here?"

"I'm sure he can see me, Hon. I want to hear more about where Chris is right now."

"We're not joined at the hip, Fran. I'm not sure where he is."

That wasn't the answer Fran expected. Something wasn't right, she could feel it in her bones, but that Chandler character was listening. "I'm getting strange vibes," she muttered under her breath.

"Can I help you with something, Mrs. Lipschitz?" Chandler offered.

"No." Far be it from her to treat any of her husband's officers rudely, but Fran's intuition was working overtime. There was something slightly amiss with the new guy. The Homicide Department looked like it normally did; uniformed officers hustled past, detectives in street clothes appeared to be working the phones or in deep discussion with each other, which might fool most visitors, but she knew better. The shooting a few years back had deepened her insight regarding Chris Lorenzo and Rita Lance, a fact she hadn't shared with anyone except her husband – and even that was on a limited basis. Wouldn't be right to share everything she suspected until the couple was ready.

But, for right now, she was sensing tension in the room. Rita wasn't acting like herself and Chris was nowhere to be seen.

"Fran!" Harry burst out of his office, pulling on his jacket as he rushed to greet her. "Why are you standing out here? I thought we were going to lunch."

"Hesch?" She shrugged off his one-armed hug. "What's going on?"

"Come on, Sweetheart," he coaxed, shepherding her toward the swinging doors. "If we don't rush, the restaurant will be packed."

"Rita?" she called out over her shoulder.

"Nice seeing you, Fran."

Rita's response was cut off as Harry pulled her into the outer hallway. She held her tongue as they exited the building and got into his car, but it was a calculated reprieve for him on her part. She fully intended to spend the next hour grilling her husband so hard, the salmon on his plate would feel sorry for him.

…

Undercover Assignment – day three

Waiting around for Rossi Tuesday night had been a bust. He never showed, although one of his flunkies spent most of the night in a car outside Dream Girls. What the flunky was looking for, Chris had no idea, but when Chris finally left the nightclub, the man in the dark sedan followed him home. Chris considered confronting him as he parked the Charger, but the mystery vehicle never came to a full stop after slowing down. Once Chris was out of the car, the driver hit the gas, accelerating past the brick apartment building before disappearing around a corner.

Wednesday night was starting much the same way. Rossi's guy was already parked outside of Dream Girls by the time Chris arrived. He was tempted to wave on his way in but resisted the urge. It was better to let Rossi's agenda play out.

"Hey, Chris!"

"Hey, Cotton." Chris waved at the genial bartender-con-man-jack-of-all-trades, as he made his way to the same corner table for the third night in a row. Cotton followed and hovered as Chris settled in.

"How ya doing, Chris?"

Chris raised an eyebrow. "I'm fine. What do you want, Cotton?"

"Nothing." The way he fidgeted as he stood next to the table suggested differently.

"Spit it out."

"It's just that I haven't seen Rita around lately and I was wondering how she's doing."

"I wouldn't know."

"I don't believe that."

"Cotton!" Donnie yelled at his bartender from across the room. "Get back to work and pour Lorenzo a drink."

"On it, boss." Worried eyes turned back toward Chris. "I'll get you something refreshing."

"Make it a weak one. I'm not feeling so great this evening."

"I got your back, buddy."

Cotton returned to the bar. Donnie joined Chris at the table.

"Cotton didn't know about the incident at the police station until he came in today. I kept my part of the bargain – I didn't explain what's really going on here - so it's up to you to deal with him. If you ask me, he's a little too invested in your love life, Lorenzo. Right, Dutchie?" he added, speaking directly to his constant companion. Donnie had cracked himself up and was enjoying the moment.

Chris just rolled his eyes. Cotton was already on his way back with a colorful drink in hand. The pina colada glass was filled to the brim with a bright yellow liquid. Assorted fruit hung precariously off of a plastic cocktail pick. He barely noticed when Donnie excused himself.

"I was hoping for a scotch on the rocks, Cotton." He didn't bother hiding his annoyance. If he wasn't careful, he was going to permanently turn into the grumpy barfly he was so accurately portraying.

Cotton, as usual, acted as if he hadn't heard a thing. "I thought you could use something cheerful tonight."

"Take it away."

"Try it, Chris!"

"If I try it, will you promise to leave and bring me back a scotch?"

"Have you talked to Rita today?"

Chris cell phone buzzed as if on cue. He checked the caller I.D. and then snapped it closed without answering. "No."

"I'm sure she's worried about you."

"Probably."

"Do you want me to call her for you?"

"No, Cotton. Stay out of this."

"But…"

"No."

Cotton studied him closely as if trying to find a hidden meaning. "Donnie says you quit the force."

"I did."

"I refuse to believe you would leave Rita on her own like that."

"She's a trained officer capable of taking care of herself, Cotton. She carries a gun. Which means, she doesn't need me to protect her!"

"That's not what I'm talking about, Chris, and you know it."

"I'm tired, Cotton. It's been a tough week. Can we table this discussion for some other time?" His phone buzzed again. He didn't bother to look. Diana, George, Keisha, Taylor…. All four had been calling nonstop for three days.

"Quit bothering the customers!" Donnie snapped at Cotton as he joined them at the table once again. "And get rid of that drink. Bring the man a scotch on the rocks."

Chris waited until Cotton disappeared before speaking. "I hope this isn't another wasted night."

"I was banking on Rossi showing up to see Yvette yesterday, but I have no control over the bum. Maybe he had other plans."

Chris checked his watch. "If he doesn't return tonight, we might have to come up with an alternative plan going forward."

"Odds are, we get lucky tonight," Donnie assured him confidently. He paused before leaving. "I would appreciate you not looking so bored, Lorenzo - it's bad for business. In case you haven't noticed, the drinks are on the house and the girls are beautiful. In my book, that means you got nothing to complain about."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know all about your book, DiBarto. I happen to be reading a different volume."

"You've got it bad, don't you?"

"Leave it alone, Donnie."

"Ha! I knew it. The mighty Lorenzo has fallen."

"I'm not discussing this with you."

"You don't have to. I got eyes. I see how it is."

"You see nothing."

"Whatever you say, hotshot." Donnie eyed him sympathetically. "I'll make sure Cotton waters down your drink."

"Send it with one of the girls, if you don't mind. I don't want him hovering over me all night."

"I'll do what I can, but I can't guarantee anything. He's worried."

"I'll deal with him."

Thankfully, Rossi and his entourage showed up at midnight, securing the same table in the front row. Yvette kept his interest for a while, but once she left the stage, Rossi became restless and glanced back to where Chris was sitting.

Chris was ready when the cocky drug dealer finally came over and took a seat.

"Find a job yet, loser?" he questioned with a smirk. "Or are you gonna drink your unemployment check away here at Dream Girls?"

"What do you care?"

"I don't, but I've been thinking my organization could use someone like you with inside experience."

"I'm not inside anymore. That part of my life is over."

"I don't need you inside, loser, that job is filled, but what I do need is a cop's perspective when I'm wheeling and dealing with local street crews."

"I worked Homicide. Why would my perspective be of any interest to you?"

"I know you also worked Vice here in Palm Beach."

"How do you know that?"

"I had you checked out. A smart boss doesn't offer work to just anyone. I'm the smartest boss you'll ever meet and my crew is loyal, but I also want someone near me who knows the system and how to get around it.

"I don't know you from Adam. What if this is a setup? Are you trying to coerce an ex-cop to the dark side, Rossi? Trying to earn a few points with the PBPD? No thanks. Leave me alone."

"DiBarto! Tell this moron who my father is. I'm not playing around. Think about it. I'll check back with you before I leave."

Donnie reappeared at the table.

"Don't push him too hard, Lorenzo. I told you about his hair-trigger."

"I know what I'm doing, Donnie. I will reluctantly accept the job when he returns."

"Okay, hotshot. Just remember – your partner is gonna kill me if something happens to you."

"Your concern for me is touching."

Donnie shrugged, a sudden smile lighting up his face. "Let's just say I wouldn't want to disappoint Sergeant Lance. I like being in her good graces."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I'll have one of the girls bring you over a fresh drink. You've been nursing that one for a couple of hours now. "

Chris took a sip and grimaced. "I'll be heading home as soon as Rossi leaves."

"Stick around for the next show. Sheila is really something."

Chris rolled his eyes but knew Donnie was right. An ex-cop without a job wouldn't be worried about the late hour. He nodded in agreement.

…

Undercover Assignment – day five

Parked behind an aging West Palm strip mall, there was plenty of time on this late Friday night for Rita to mentally run through contingency plans if tonight's rendezvous fell through. Most of the small businesses had been closed for some time; only the 24-hour liquor store showed signs of life. The rear door was open, a black metal security gate allowing pinpoints of light and the faint sounds from a television to filter out into the warm night air.

A whisper of awareness alerted her to a movement at the top end of the alley. A jogger, black hoodie pulled up over his head, was approaching. Steady fingers tightened around the firearm resting in her lap. Backed into the parking space directly behind the building, she was barely visible in the car and poised for a quick getaway if necessary.

Seconds later, she recognized the rhythmic gait and lean frame of the runner. How many days had they been apart? Four? Five? It felt even longer. She hit the unlock button. Chris slipped into the passenger seat, breathing hard. He pulled the door closed, simultaneously turning to place a quick kiss on her lips. Darkness hid his expression.

"I'm okay," he said, immediately setting aside any worries she might have in that regard.

"You must be tired after such a long run." His apartment was at least six or seven miles away.

"I passed our park on the way here, so I stopped to make a few notes."

She accepted the crumpled pages he pulled from his pocket. "Near the bench?"

He responded with a smile, looking quite proud of himself. "Not too far from it. A local fraternity was celebrating the weekend with music and adult beverages which turned out to be an excellent cover in case anyone was following me. I tried to list everything I've learned about Rossi's organization - didn't feel safe to leave anything in writing at my place or the mansion."

"They've been watching your place?"

"They were. Rossi doesn't fully trust anyone. He put a tail on me right after our first meeting but called it off a few days after I started working for him. Seems I'm quite boring when left to my own devices."

"If they only knew," she teased back. Having him so close allowed her to relax for the first time in days.

"My apartment is bugged," he added. "Not sure when his tech guy got in there." Chris retrieved a small flashlight from her glove box so they could go over his notes.

"Rossi is talking about a big sale next week," he went on to explain. "I've written down the address for the exchange site, but it's subject to change once he hears back from his informant whether or not Vice is on to him. He's confident, too confident, for the information to be from anyone other than an inside source at the PD. If the location does change, I'll find a way to get word to you."

"Our victim has been identified as Carol Wright. Has he mentioned her at all?"

"No, but I heard a few of his men talking about a woman who got what she deserved."

"Being shot and dumped on the beach was the last thing Carol Wright deserved. Captain Anderson says she hadn't been in contact with his detectives for almost a year. As far as he knows, she wasn't partying with Rossi to get information; she was probably just looking for a good time."

"I doubt Rossi cared. Hearing about her connection to West Palm was reason enough to get rid of her and I guarantee there were witnesses - he doesn't go anywhere alone. The man loves an entourage."

"Is he as unstable as Donnie claimed?"

"Based on what I've seen and heard so far, I can confirm the guy has a hair-trigger temper and a taste for open warfare."

Eyes widening in concern, Rita studied his expression. What was he not saying?

"Nothing's been directed at me," Chris was quick to assure her, "but the guy throws threats of violence around as easily as breathing. No wonder his father wanted him out of state."

That didn't make her feel any better about her partner working undercover alone, but they each had a role in the assignment. "What are his plans for you?"

"He knows I used to work Vice and wants me by his side during every phase of his deals, from negotiation to sale. Having a cop on the inside isn't enough for him - takes too long to build an empire that way. He thinks my presence provides a shortcut to that goal."

"Donnie did say Rossi is impulsive."

"And impatient. It's an advantage at times. He often speaks without thinking. He doesn't pay attention to who is in the room with him."

They continued to discuss his notes, which were surprisingly detailed, before confirming their plans for the next rendezvous.

"Rossi used his inside source to check up on you, which means everything we've learned so far is proving Donnie right."

Chris nodded and switched off the flashlight. "Did Cap assign you a partner?"

"Chandler."

"Ugh. Can't stand that guy."

"Right after I left for home on Monday, Chandler went to Cap and offered his help on our Jane Doe case. He hasn't done anything to make himself a suspect yet, but he sure jumped at the chance to take your place." She touched his chin and ran a thumb across his lower lip.

"Which makes him our number one suspect." Chris turned into her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. "I'll name drop next time Rossi questions me about the department. It will be interesting to see if he reacts to Chandler."

"We've worked side by side with everyone else. They're good people."

"I agree."

Chris frowned. His eyes narrowed. They were completely unreadable in the dark. "Has he hit on you yet?"

"Of course not." She almost laughed, but held back, sensing his tension. "What kind of question is that?"

"I don't like the way he's been eyeing you since he moved up from Vice earlier this year."

Had he picked up on something about Chandler that slipped her notice? The disgust in his voice surprised her. "You never said anything."

They were leaning into each other so close she felt every exhale as he pondered a response.

"I know you can take care of yourself, Sam. I didn't want you to think I was acting like a jealous lover."

"Were you?" Curiosity got the best of her. Chandler had only been in Homicide for six months. "We weren't together back then."

"Yeah, well…" His harsh whisper was barely audible. Beads of sweat trailed down the sides of his face, but he kept the hoodie in place. "I was ready to step in if he became a problem."

Movement forward by either would end in a kiss. The professional veneer they were determined to maintain was in danger of slipping. Rita cleared her throat and smiled her regret. At home, they would have been one short flight of stairs away from the natural culmination of their passion. For now, though, knowing he was safe would have to be enough for her.

Ten minutes passed in a heartbeat. It was time for Chris to head home. They both knew it.

"I wish I could drive you back."

"The exercise helps work off the frustration. Besides, it's a warm night."

His voice had grown husky to her ears. Looking for any excuse to touch, she toyed with the zipper of his hoodie. His T-shirt underneath was drenched from the run.

"Have you been sleeping okay?" She wasn't ready for him to leave. "You're burning the candle at both ends."

"Burning is the right word. Are you offering a bed?"

He was teasing. It was his way.

"You know I want to."

"I know." A rakish wink and a quick nod assured her he did.

"But….." Her eyes softened in response.

"I know that, too."

"Watch your back…."

"Always." Chris was just as reluctant to part ways. He smiled tenderly. "Any luck on that vacation rental?"

"As a matter of fact - yes. I have a hot tip to follow."

"I look forward to the next update."

Before Rita could respond, he was cradling the back of her neck with one hand and resting the other against her cheek as he kissed her deeply. She felt him sigh. It was a stolen moment that was all too brief. And then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone. Desire continued to buzz sweetly through her veins as the sound of his footfalls receded. She remained on alert, parked behind the building, keeping watch of the immediate area to make sure his exit had been clean. Thankfully, the alley remained quiet with no sign of movement. Ten minutes later, she was on her way home.

…

Undercover Assignment – day eight

Harry Lipschitz was in his office early the following Monday for many reasons, not just because his wife was barely talking to him and refused to make him breakfast. That situation had no chance of improving until he could give her a satisfactory answer regarding Chris' situation. Fran wasn't normally the type to get involved in Police issues, but anytime those issues involved Chris and Rita, she had a strong opinion and wasn't afraid to share it. Something about those two had struck a chord in her – he fully understood that – but there were some things he couldn't explain with his wife, no matter how much she pushed. If all went well this week, his loving Fran would be back to her normal, adorable self soon.

He glanced up and looked out at his department. Scott Chandler had just walked in and was taking a seat at Chris' desk. The clock on the wall confirmed it was only 7 a.m. Why was the detective starting work so early? Harry decided to find out.

"Chandler!"

The detective let go of the file he was about to remove from Rita's desk and settled back down into his chair as he returned the greeting. "Good morning, Captain."

"Everything going okay with you and Lance? I know it's not easy stepping in for a long-time partner. Doesn't always work out."

"It's going great," Chandler assured him. "I appreciate the opportunity to work with someone I respect so much."

Harry eyed him curiously. "Good…glad to hear it. What do you have on the Carol Wright case?"

"We're still putting together her whereabouts for the week prior to the murder."

"Have you been able to tie her to the local drug scene?"

"Not yet. Other than her past history with West Palm Vice, she hasn't been named in any other investigations."

"Well, keep at it. I appreciate you stepping up and offering to help on this one."

"My pleasure, Captain."

Harry started back toward his office but suddenly changed his mind. Chandler was smart, experienced, and personable. He was saying all the right things with the proper amount of interest and emotion. Which meant - if he was the traitorous cop they were looking for, they'd never be able to crack him with all this polite conversation. Harry turned back, the stress on his face real as he lowered his voice. "I have a special request that I'd like to run by you before Lance gets here."

Scott Chandler sat up straight and gave Harry his full attention. "Anything, Captain."

"This is just between you and me."

"Of course."

"Not many people know this, but Lance and Lorenzo haven't been getting along for a while now. They're my top team, so I've been trying to help them work out their problems, but it's been a challenge. Especially for Rita."

Harry watched with satisfaction as Chandler tried to absorb the new information. Interesting body language.

"I had no idea, Captain," Scott said when he managed to pull himself together. "They hid it well."

"Neither one was willing to transfer out, but things had been escalating and not in a good way."

"What can I do to help?"

"I want you to keep a close eye on Rita and make sure she's holding up okay. She's been through a lot. Let me know if you think I should intervene again."

Did Chandler buy his story about the existing trouble between Chris and Rita? It was hard to say, but if the man harbored any suspicions about Chris' hasty departure, a little back story might help. Thankfully, Rita wasn't around to hear him rambling on about her delicate nature.

Back in his office, Harry tried to refocus on the work in front of him, but it was difficult. He picked up the phone and dialed Derek McNeill's extension in Internal Affairs. He didn't waste time with a greeting. "We need a deeper background search on Scott Chandler, McNeill. Can you pull up his academy records? Hell, go back as far as high school if you can. What? It's nothing he said - just a gut feeling for now."

Derek was a solid guy and an excellent investigator. If there was anything worth knowing about Scott Chandler's past, he would unearth it.

…

Chris purchased a copy of the local paper and tucked it under his arm as he entered Green's Pharmacy. He settled on a green leather stool at the luncheonette counter and within seconds, a hot cup of coffee appeared. He had become a familiar face there since starting work with Rossi and his crew. Rossi tended to party hard and keep late hours, not waking until noon the next day, which meant Chris could move around town early each morning without fear of running into one of the man's flunkies. Keeping to a jogging and fitness schedule had earned him a reputation at the mansion as a health nut, and he was mocked regularly by Rossi's crew, but it provided an acceptable excuse for his refusal of the party drugs that were passed around each night.

He added cream to his coffee, opened the paper, and started the daily crossword. It was more relaxing than trying to eat at home since discovering his apartment was bugged five days earlier. While trying to secure his watch on his wrist, it slipped out of his hands and landed on the floor near the kitchen. Bending over to retrieve the timepiece, he spotted a small black listening device on the underside of the breakfast bar. A subsequent search of the apartment had turned up several other devices, all of which he left in place, but he immediately stopped answering the phone and turned off the message machine.

There wasn't much more he could say to friends and colleagues anyway. They wanted a reasonable explanation for what was going on. They wanted to offer counsel and talk some sense into him. All he could do was ignore their concerns for now and hope they would eventually understand.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chris spotted a familiar face. He sipped his coffee and waited a few minutes. Once satisfied enough time had passed, he refolded the newspaper, tossed it into a nearby waste receptacle, and exited the pharmacy. The lack of contact with Derek inside Green's had been a relief. Everything was going according to plan and once the information he had just passed on was deciphered, the investigation would heat up even further. Seated in the Charger, he revved the motor a few seconds before shifting it into drive. There was still time for a run on the beach and a chili dog before heading home to shower and change. Rossi wasn't expecting him until early afternoon.

….

Undercover Assignment – day nine

Rita was out the door at five a.m. on Tuesday morning, making her way to a restaurant in West Palm owned by Derek McNeill's sister. Derek and the Captain would be meeting her in the private dining room of the five-star eatery which didn't open to the public until four each afternoon. Meeting at the PD or Town Hall would have been easier, but far too risky, the chance of running into colleagues too great, so the restaurant had been chosen.

An hour later, a coffee carafe and pink bakery box sat ignored on the table for ten as the trio discussed the next steps in both investigations.

The message Chris had left for Derek in the newspaper at Green's named Prentis in Vice and Chandler in Homicide as the two detectives communicating with Martin Rossi. Finding out that Chandler wasn't the only officer selling information was a shock, but it made sense. Now that both men were identified, they needed solid proof of their crimes, which would be a challenge. The Cardenas crew had disappeared, word on the street was that the family had temporarily relocated to Miami, and delving deeper into past cases would take time, which meant Rossi was IA's best way to link the detectives to criminal activity. A successful bust on Wednesday could be used as leverage for a plea deal with Rossi on potential drug charges in exchange for testimony against Prentis and Chandler. Homicide would concentrate on nailing Rossi for the Wright murder.

Harry Lipschitz paced restlessly around the table. Lieutenant Hudson was on his way and would be joining the strategy meeting. The Captain had spent several hours in discussion with him the previous evening. The Lieutenant would be initiating a formal investigation into all previous Vice investigations that might have been damaged by the illegal actions of Prentis and Chandler. Any West Palm cases that had included the two detectives would have to be looked at also.

"Did you find out anything about Chandler's academy days, McNeill?"

"Your instincts were solid, Captain. I did get a whiff of a scandal which I'm still following up. It involved a female cadet who dropped out right before the end of her first year."

"How bad?"

"Possible sexual harassment, maybe worse. It's been portrayed as a he said/she said situation, but there wasn't a complaint filed so consider it hearsay until I find the former cadet. I've got one of my best techs on it, she should have something more for me by tomorrow."

"You might want to expand your research on Prentis also. If I had to guess, I'd say he's more of a follower than an equal partner in all this, but that won't earn him a pass when it comes to prosecution."

"Already on it, Captain. I'll pull Prentis in for questioning later today. If I get anything out of him, he'll be arrested on the spot. Even if I don't, we'll put him on a forty-eight-hour discretionary so Chandler can't get to him."

"And Chandler?"

"I assigned an investigator to follow him for at least the next two days."

"Good. These two jokers have impugned the reputation of the PBPD and every officer associated with it."

Rita nodded. "I know, Captain."

"You're all set for tonight?"

"Yes. The meeting place will be swept before I get there."

"Let's go over the timetable again. It's more important than ever that Chris find additional proof of a connection."

The next few hours flew by, but Rita was satisfied with the decisions made by the time their meeting broke up. Just before leaving, Derek pulled her aside.

"If you have a minute, Rita," he said quietly. "We're all good on that other matter, but my sister would like to meet you. She's in the kitchen."

"Of course," she agreed with a surprised smile. Things were looking up. She followed Derek McNeill through the elegant restaurant to meet the owner.

…

Later that day, Rita was in the passenger seat of Scott Chandler's car when her cell phone rang. It was Captain Lipschitz calling them back to the precinct. The woman they were on the way to interview had called the station to say she had changed her mind about cooperating and was leaving town. She would be gone by the time the detectives arrived at her house and refused to leave forwarding information.

"Our interview has been canceled. Somebody got to her," Rita explained to Scott after disconnecting the call. "Who else could have known she wanted to talk to us? We just set this up an hour ago."

Scott's expression never changed. He pulled a U-turn at the next intersection and kept his eyes on the road. "Does the Captain have any idea what happened?"

"No. He wants an update on our progress when we get back. He didn't sound too happy and I don't blame him."

"Don't worry about it, Lance." Scott reached across to pat her arm. "We're doing everything we can."

It was hard not to cringe. She managed a brittle smile. "Yes, we are."

…

Scott entered the Homicide Division side by side with Rita Lance. Assignment to the Silk Stalkings detail, even temporarily, brought a change in status within the department he was happy to lord over other more seasoned detectives. He watched Rita with a calculating gaze as she sped up and headed straight for the Captain's office. Her frustration with the Wright case was obvious. It was a sneak peek at the fiery, passionate woman he suspected lay dormant beneath her chilly, professional exterior.

Thankfully, she had no clue that their lead fell through as a direct result of his manipulations. Minutes after she had identified the person they were scheduled to interview, he had been on the phone to Prentis, his former partner in Vice. All connections to Rossi and the body on the beach, no matter how slight, had to be squelched because of the Internal Affairs investigation. The Wright case had to remain unsolved.

Before he could follow his soon-to-be partner into the private office, the Captain came out to speak with him.

"I'd better talk to Lance alone, Chandler."

"What's going on?"

"I just heard from O'Neill in IA. He feels they're closing in on the identity of our leak. I'm worried how Rita will take the news if it turns out to be Chris."

"Sure…. I understand," he managed to mumble, but he didn't really. Internal Affairs was supposed to be interviewing everyone who worked in the building. That would take time. The Captain assumed IA was closing in on Lorenzo, but Scott knew better. That avenue of investigation was a dead-end unless he could somehow manufacture the type of evidence they needed.

There were only two people who could link him to the failed drug bust last month. Prentis, because he was the source of the original information that was forwarded to the Cardenas crew, and Rossi because Scott's history with the Cardenas family had been part of the resume that brought him to the attention of Rossi's father in Chicago. No one else in Palm Beach could connect him.

Returning to his desk, Scott placed another call to Prentis. Prentis didn't answer his desk phone or his mobile this time. He tried Dispatch next and was told Prentis had clocked out. That was troubling.

Don't panic. Be patient. They don't know anything.

Chandler took a deep breath and glanced over at the Captain's office. The conversation between the Captain and Lance looked pretty serious. Allowing suspicion to fall on the volatile Lorenzo hadn't required any effort at all on his part, but making sure those suspicions became fact would be difficult. Difficult, but necessary. Lorenzo was his golden ticket out of this mess. It was the only one way….

Rita walked out of the Captain's office and rushed past him, heading for the swinging doors. The Captain stood in his office his doorway, arms crossed, watching as she disappeared into the outer hallway.

Chandler joined him. "Should I go after her?"

"No. She asked for some time alone. I think we should leave her to it."

"What did McNeill say?" Scott was fully aware he shouldn't be requesting information about an Internal Affairs matter. "Is he certain it's Lorenzo? Who did he talk to?"

"You know IA, they don't say much, but one of his guys discovered Chris is working for some young hustler. A guy out of Chicago who's new on the local drug scene. Might all be connected. It doesn't look good."

It was Scott's worse fear come true. Despite all his attempts to prevent it, the cases were being connected. Rossi was being brought into it and there was always a chance the erratic hothead would throw his informant under the bus to get himself out of trouble. Or Rossi's father would throw enough money around to get his son cleared and back to Chicago, leaving Scott to take the heat.

Scott struggled to think clearly and remain calm. Cleaning up this mess wasn't going to be easy, but the alternative was unacceptable. According to Prentis, Vice was not aware of the sale Rossi had going down tomorrow – information he had passed on to Rossi earlier in the day. He had hoped that call would be his last interaction with the unstable drug lord, his cash payment was supposed to be sent by courier on Friday, but the situation had now changed.

Focus.

He knew what had to be done, and when it was all over, Internal Affairs and Homicide would be able to close their cases, and he would be in the clear. Free and clear to offer his new partner comfort.

Mumbling excuses about following another lead, he left the Captain in the doorway and headed out of the department.

…

Early Tuesday evening, Chris returned to Dream Girls with Rossi and several of Rossi's men. It was the day before the big sale and Rossi wasn't there to see the stage show this time. His sole purpose, as he explained to Chris, was to keep the pressure on Donnie and make sure the club owner understood what was expected of him in the next few days. Rossi had summoned Donnie to the mansion earlier in the day, but Donnie had sent his regrets, citing urgent work matters as the reason for his refusal. Rossi had been forced to show up at the club and he wasn't happy about it.

Chris acknowledged Cotton with a quick nod as he joined the group forming at the far end of the bar. There wasn't much he could add to the conversation, Rossi was doing the majority of the talking and Donnie appeared to be nodding in understanding, as if finally accepting his role in Rossi's grand scheme.

Several minutes later, Chris felt a hand on his back and turned to look down into the face of Gina, Donnie's most popular dancer. The petite brunette with dark eyes and a generous figure in all the right places drew male attention to her like a magnet.

"You promised to come back and see me last night, Chris." Her plaintive purr was accompanied by a seductive smile as she slipped her arm through his and leaned in.

Cotton cleared his throat loudly but was ignored by all.

Chris was instantly apologetic. "I'm sorry, G. My new boss has been keeping me busy at the mansion."

Rossi noticed the interaction and sneered but kept talking to Donnie.

Cotton began polishing the bar top with furious circular motions, quickly making his way down to where the men were talking. He shot Chris a dirty look. "Heard from Rita lately?"

"No." Chris moved his hand to Gina's bare waist. Her dance costume left little to the imagination.

"I like the look," Gina teased, referring to Chris' black slacks, polo shirt, and jacket.

All black had fit his mood when standing in front of his closet earlier in the day. His eyes narrowed appreciatively as she rubbed his chest. "I like yours, too."

Gina twirled, sending sparkly red fringe into the air, revealing even more of her slender, firm thighs and curvy legs.

"I don't pay you to flirt, Lorenzo!"

Rossi sounded angry and Cotton, white bar towel clenched tightly in hand, was openly glaring, but Chris just shrugged his shoulders. "You don't need me right now," he told Rossi. "Maybe Gina does."

"Hey!" Cotton's protest was cut short by Donnie who ordered him back to the other end of the bar where a customer was waiting.

Rossi seemed to find that humorous. "Fifteen minutes," he offered magnanimously, "no more!"

"That's all I need," Chris shot back, squeezing Gina close.

Rossi smirked.

"Gina has developed a fondness for Chris," Donnie explained.

"After the way he talked to her?"

"What can I say? Some women have peculiar tastes. Come on. Let's grab a table and talk business. Let the poor guy have some fun."

Chris followed Gina out of the main room and into a hallway. They stopped in front of a private dressing room reserved for the night's headliner.

"Thanks, Gina. You're a good sport."

"My pleasure," she responded with an affectionate smile. "It's been fun. You're a good guy."

The last time a beautiful woman had said that to him, she was probably breaking up with him. No point in trying to remember a name. Those days were over and definitely not missed.

Chris was grinning as he opened the dressing room door and found himself face to face with Dominic DiBarto.

"Fancy meeting you here," Dominic wisecracked as he stepped back to let Chris in. Spotting Gina, he winked and joined her in the hallway. "What say you and I go get comfortable in my Pop's office?" Gina readily agreed and slipped her arm through his.

Chris forgot about them the second the door was closed and he secured the lock.

"Hey."

He immediately turned around.

"Hey, yourself."

Rita was a sight for sore eyes. Seated at the dressing table, glowing under the requisite bright lights, her short black dress and platinum blonde pageboy wig made him smile. One shapely leg crossed over the other, swinging a sexy black stiletto made him …

A raised eyebrow and softening sea-green eyes took in his reaction. She rose to her feet and met him halfway between the door and the chair. "I've missed you," she whispered against his cheek.

"See how you are, Sam. I'm gone a week and a half and you're dating someone new." What would he have given to be at the bar when this version of Rita walked into the club on the arm of the junior league DiBarto? She must have out shown her escort like the moon outshines the stars every night.

"How much time do we have?"

"Less than fifteen minutes." His arms encircled her waist; he felt her open palms press into his back. They fit perfectly, head to toe.

"There goes your reputation," she teased. "Is the exchange still set for tomorrow?"

"Yes." He reluctantly released her and they both took a seat. "Rossi has no reason to distrust Chandler and Prentis. They assured him he's in the clear. Unless something unexpected comes up, it all goes down at 10 p.m. Is everything ready?"

"Derek has Prentis in custody and Captain Anderson's team from West Palm is set. They'll sweep everyone up as soon as the money changes hands."

"What does Chandler know?"

"The Captain was going to give him the false info regarding IA's investigation as soon as I left today. You know how Cap is - he was beyond angry when you confirmed it was Chandler and Prentis - I thought he'd have trouble playing nice - but he calmed down after talking to Hudson."

"Chandler will be sweating this. He doesn't know West Palm has intel on the sale, but he's smart. He'll want to cut ties with Rossi as soon as he gets his money. I expect him to show up tomorrow night."

Rita nodded. "That's what we're figuring also unless he panics and shows up at the mansion tonight."

A rapid knock on the dressing room door was followed by Dominic DiBarto sticking his head inside to pass on a message.

"Captain Whatchamacallit just called the office phone. He's been trying to reach you. Said to tell you your guy is on his way here. Now. Right now."

Chris reached for his ankle holster, removed the weapon, and shoved it into his pants pocket as he stood. "You armed?"

Rita was also on her feet. "Of course. Stay in the office with Gina, Dominic. I'll go out the back."

"He's unstable," Chris couldn't help reminding his partner. "Watch your back."

"You, too," was all she said before disappearing down the hallway in the opposite direction.

…

Scott Chandler was frustrated. After a quick, unsuccessful visit to Rossi's mansion, he had resorted to driving around town, checking the drug dealer's usual haunts in an effort to track him down. He considered waiting until the big event the next evening, but there would be too many armed security figures on both sides guarding the exchange site. Once he spotted Rossi's vehicles in the parking lot of Dream Girls, he knew it was time to make his move. The location wasn't ideal, it lacked the privacy of the mansion, but this early in the evening, there wouldn't be too many customers inside.

He tugged on the heavy front door, opening it just enough to peek inside. The club was dimly lit; multi-colored stage lights pulsed in time to the music. It was early enough, there wasn't a doorman around. Opening the door further, he slipped into the entryway and scanned the main room, spotting a few familiar faces. Martin Rossi was standing a few feet away from Donnie "Dogs" DiBarto, and they both had their backs to the stage. Rossi's rookie henchmen were facing the opposite direction, caught up in the dancer's performance, leaving their boss unprotected.

Scott remained in the shadows, determined to wait for Lorenzo to appear. He needed the former detective standing side by side with Rossi for his plan to work.

As if wishing made it so, Chris Lorenzo entered the room from a rear door and was signaling the two men, seeming to want them to follow him somewhere. The traitor. He would be doing the Palm Beach community a favor by getting rid of a cop who willingly worked for a man like Rossi.

Instinctively calculating distance and trajectory, he took two steps backward and found himself up against the door he had just entered. He dropped to one knee in the inky blackness of the entryway and took aim. Using a gun with a silencer gave him an advantage. Confusion would follow when both men fell to the floor, allowing him time to slip away.

Instead of moving toward Lorenzo, Rossi turned toward the front door. Scott waited for the next bright flash and pulled the trigger. One of his two problems crumpled to the floor. He aimed once again.

…

Weapon in hand, Rita raced around the building, turning the corner just as Chandler disappeared through the front door of Dream Girls. Her peripheral vision noted Scott's IA tail who was out of his vehicle and running across the parking lot at the same time. She reached the door just ahead of him and heard Chandler's first shot as she yanked it open. He was in a firing position on one knee and using a silencer. There was no mistaking the muffled sound.

There was no time to do anything but yell for him to drop the weapon and knock him forward to prevent the next shot from being fired. A well-placed black stiletto between his shoulder blades did the trick. She was on him the minute he hit the ground. One hand held her gun to his back, the other kept his face pressed to the carpet.

"Give me your cuffs," she shouted at the IA Officer who was right behind her. He passed them on immediately. "Go check on them!" she instructed with a nod toward the commotion inside.

The officer ran to the group surrounding the shooting victim.

"Sergeant Lorenzo!"

Rita heard the officer's shout but didn't dare look up until she had Chandler secured.

A few of Rossi's men ran past her and out the door, but back-up had arrived and she could hear uniformed officers rounding them up in the parking lot.

"Get off me, Lance!" Scott struggled, but his hands were now locked behind his back and his frustrated maneuvering wasn't getting him anywhere. "This is no way to treat your partner."

"You were never my partner, Chandler," she hissed through clenched teeth. Satisfied he couldn't go anywhere, she pulled him to his feet and pushed him up against the wall. "I am not a young cadet you can intimidate or control."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means we know about your past, especially your recent past and you're not going to get away with it this time."

"I was doing my job, protecting the community from drug dealers and trash like your ex-partner."

"Don't even get me started, Chandler." Adrenaline continued to race through her system.

"I'll take over from here, Lance."

It was Captain Lipschitz with an expression on his face she hoped to never see again. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw was clenched, and his lips were pressed into a straight, hard line. He took Detective Scott Chandler by the arm, fully intent on walking him out to one of the black-and-white units.

"Go check on your partner."

"Wait, I'm her – "

"Don't say it, scumbag. You are a disgrace. You have the right to remain silent…"

Rita gladly followed orders, rushing into the club. Her partner was crouched down next to the body of Martin Rossi. Rossi's eyes were open, his expression frozen. The front of his shirt was soaked with blood. Rossi had been shot through the heart and probably died instantaneously. Chandler was an excellent marksman. Given a few more seconds, he wouldn't have missed his next target.

"He's gone." Chris stood and moved away from the deceased as paramedics entered the club.

"Your freaking co-worker better count his blessings that he's in custody!" Donnie was yelling at Chris and every other officer nearby, but no one was taking it personally. Donnie "Dogs" DiBarto was undoubtedly angry and shook by the close call. "When Francesco Rossi finds out who did this – and I'm damn well gonna make sure he knows it wasn't me - he'll hunt Chandler down. Isolation in a maximum-security prison is his only hope."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Rita cautioned. She was standing between Chris and Donnie as they each processed the scene in their own way. Donnie was acting tough, but he was clearly agitated; his eyes darted around the room as he surveyed the controlled chaos. Chris had gone quiet in the aftermath of the shooting. Probably wasn't even thinking about the danger he had been in just minutes earlier. He was in professional mode. The threat had been contained. It was time to assess what had just happened and process what it meant to both cases. Any questions he asked were short and direct. If she couldn't answer them, he found someone who could.

"Prentis is singing like a canary." The announcement was made by Derek McNeill, who had silently joined the group. "His history of selling information with Chandler goes back at least five years. Chandler recruited him when Prentis first moved into Vice."

"Lieutenant Hudson must be as furious as the Captain." Rita knew the implications of the discovery. Every report that had been written and every testimony in court by either detective would have to be scrutinized. Their word could no longer be accepted as truth. The damage to the Palm Beach criminal and judicial system would be felt for years to come.

"To say the least," Derek confirmed. "Captain Lipschitz and Lieutenant Hudson have asked us all to debrief at the station in an hour. See you all there." He disappeared out the front door, making his way through the growing collection of official vehicles.

…

Chris was parked on a barstool, facing the room as the body of Martin Rossi was removed by the Medical Examiner staff. Rita was sitting on the stool next to him, the lethal-looking black stilettos swinging from her fingertips. The commotion was dying down and they'd be heading back to the precinct soon.

By mutual consent, they decided on a two-minute breather to get off their feet and just observe. It was the first real opportunity he'd had to relax in over a week. Every moment spent at the Rossi mansion had required vigilance and adaptability on his part. He hadn't been able to drop his guard for a second. Hard drugs and alcohol flowed freely there; loaded firearms were carelessly brandished about. As the big sale drew closer, Rossi had started calling him any hour of the day or night. The man had been bold, but careless. Ruthless and suspicious.

The undercover assignment was officially over, he reminded himself. Let the paperwork begin. He glanced at his partner. They had come through another one, none the worse for wear.

Even Donnie was calmer now, standing near the entrance – albeit still complaining. This time it was about Dream Girls being forced to close while the police department investigated the shooting. He then went on to share his expertise on removing blood stains from carpeting with a member of the Crime Scene Unit. This wasn't his first rodeo.

Dominic remained in a far corner, hugging Gina protectively, although he looked more rattled than she did. Gina was a good kid. Donnie mentioned she was putting herself through nursing school.

"Scott Chandler didn't waste any time trying to clean up his mess." Rita was frowning as she watched the gurney with Martin Rossi's body roll out the front door. "We should have considered the possibility that he wouldn't wait for the sale or his money. Remind me to thank Derek for putting that tail on him this morning."

"I always figured he'd wait for Rossi to pay him, but I guess covering his backside was more important." Chris took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, trying to work out some of the stress. "A search of the mansion should turn up plenty of evidence."

"Drinks on the house?" Cotton set two tall glasses of iced tea on the bar top next to Chris' elbow.

Chris spun around on the stool. He had forgotten all about Cotton. "So, you're finally talking nice to me again."

"I should have realized you were undercover."

"Yeah. You should have." Chris took a long sip. It was a pleasant change from watered-down scotch.

"Was Cotton giving you a hard time?" Rita smiled at Cotton and threw in a wink for good measure.

The curious bartender had long ago perfected the look of innocence he was currently wearing.

"Where's Rita? How is Rita? Have you talked to Rita lately?" Chris mimicked. "It was endless questions about you."

"Why, Cotton…" she teased, "I feel special."

"I know we don't always get along, Rita," Cotton stated confidently, "but I couldn't imagine Chris abandoning you the way he supposedly did."

"Abandoning me?"

"Don't go there, Rita," Chris warned. "It's late. I promise to explain it all later."

"It is late," she agreed with a smile, leaning into her partner affectionately. "We have a lot to catch up on."

"We do." Her short blonde wig had somehow disappeared since he last saw her in the dressing room. It was probably on the ground outside somewhere. Her natural brunette waves were a windblown, sexy mess. "I prefer you as a brunette," he accidentally said aloud.

Her smile widened and a familiar longing stirred to life within him. Cotton had left them to offer bottled water to the remaining officers. Might as well go for the gold. His eyes roamed hungrily over the little black dress that fit her like a glove. He straightened the already straight spaghetti strap on the shoulder pressed against him.

"Have I mentioned yet how much I appreciate this little black number?"

"No, you haven't, but I'm glad to hear it."

The heat between them was unmistakable.

"There isn't much to it." He sounded like a testosterone-driven teenager, but he didn't care. They hadn't had more than a few minutes together in over nine days.

"That would be the point," she teased.

"Point is taken." Teenager indeed. Was he drooling? He hoped not. "Where did you hide the gun?"

"Thigh holster."

Checkmate. This wasn't a game of strategy, far from it, but he surrendered anyway.

"Lorenzo!"

"Yeah, Cap?" Good God. The man had terrible timing. It was impossible to feign interest in what the Captain was saying, but he had to try. He caught Rita's eye. "Promise to show me when we get home?"

"Promise."

He reluctantly spun back around to face his boss who wanted a first-hand account of the shooting before they all relocated to the conference room at the precinct. The next few hours would be intense.

…

"I thought the week would never end." Dressed in sweats and a well-worn t-shirt sporting the name of his favorite basketball team, Chris propped his bare feet up on Rita's coffee table. "I swear it was ten days long."

"Here you go." Rita handed over a glass of wine, then joined Chris on the couch. It was seven o'clock on a Friday night and they were officially done for the week. Dinner at Wharf Grill had been considered and quickly dismissed. Life was finally getting back to normal, but they were still desperate for alone time. "I think it was more like a fourteen-day week. Everything was a blur toward the end."

Chris groaned and stretched, settling an arm around her shoulders. The familiar gesture was deeply comforting; more so than she had ever acknowledged to herself in the past. She snuggled back against him and felt his lips move against her hair.

"I've missed this."

He was smiling. She could tell.

"Me, too." Leaning back against his arm, she watched him through half-closed lids. "Something just occurred to me – "

"Hmmm?"

"We've spent more time apart in the last two weeks than we have in the past two months."

"A pattern I hope we don't have to repeat anytime soon. I didn't like it."

Rita laughed. "It was a unique situation – thank goodness. We still have a lot of explaining to do."

"I think Cap's press conferences did enough explaining for now. Is it odd that I feel proud of him? He wanted full transparency; nothing hidden from the community. I'll never forget his words. 'Law enforcement officers are held to a higher standard.' That hit me."

"I felt it, too. To be honest, I wasn't sure how Harry Lipschitz was going to fit into Palm Beach when he first transferred from New York, but in many ways, I think he was exactly what we needed."

"Are you feeling the same touch of guilt I am?"

Rita frowned. "About our relationship?"

"Yeah."

"I am," she had to admit. "We know the rules and we haven't said anything to him."

"I don't want to be split up."

"Neither do I." It was the unacknowledged, unresolved shadow that had been hanging over them since the night their relationship changed. "The last two weeks have proven we can still work together effectively. If we wait a bit longer, we'll have even more proof. We'll tell him – we have to - eventually. It just seems too soon."

"Let's discuss it on vacation."

It was a good suggestion. "I like that – I'm too tired tonight."

"Too tired?" His grin said it all.

"Not that tired," she assured him. The last three days may have been a blur, but the week was over, and they had ten days ahead of them with no commitments other than spending time together.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

The doorbell rang and they groaned simultaneously. Rita set her glass on the coffee table and went to check the peephole. She shot him a surprised look and opened the door.

"Why aren't you answering your phone?"

"It hasn't rung?"

"Your cell phone! I've been trying to get ahold of you for hours."

"I turned it off. Why didn't you try the apartment phone?"

"I thought you'd be at Chris' place. Hi, Chris."

"Hi, Diana. What's going on?"

Rita eyed her partner affectionately. The typical, playful greeting reserved for their close friend was nowhere to be found. He didn't move other than to take his feet off the coffee table and set them back on the floor. He was exhausted.

"I've been worried about you two. My gosh, the national press on this scandal has been nuts. Your pictures have been all over the news, even in Lauderdale."

"How did I look?" Chris asked.

"Tired."

"Sounds about right."

Rita went to the kitchen and poured Diana a glass of wine. On her return, she handed it to her friend and pointed her toward a chair before seating herself on the opposite end of the couch from Chris. "Relax and tell us why you drove up here."

Diana sat perched on the edge of the armchair. "Now that the investigation has gone public, I can only imagine the pressure you've both been under. Hard as it is to admit, I realize I may have contributed to it with all my phone calls, so I wanted to come in person and invite you to Thanksgiving dinner next week. You, too, Chris. Come down for the weekend. Get out of Palm Beach. I won't take no for an answer."

"No."

"Rita!"

"I'm sorry, Diana. I already have firm plans. If you had called, I could have saved you the trip."

"Chris… talk to her. It will be fun. You won't have to bring anything except a swimsuit."

"Sorry, Dee. I happen to know Rita is looking forward to a relaxing meditational retreat next week. She'll be out of town."

Diana was frustrated but recognized the look on her friend's face. "If I can't change Rita's mind, why don't you come down alone, Chris. What are your plans for Thanksgiving? My parents will be visiting; they'd love to see you."

"Chris can't go either," Rita answered for him. "He's out of town for one of his sports trips. Kayaking, bike riding, maybe a little parasailing."

"You sure know a lot about each other's plans." Diana's eyes darted between them. "You just finished an intense undercover investigation and now you're both going out of town?"

Chris shrugged. "Makes sense to me. We put in so much overtime in the last two weeks, we were each offered a full week off courtesy of the Commissioner for all our hard work on two top priority cases. We need the downtime, Dee."

"So, Rita, you're headed to….?"

"Sanibel."

"And Chris….?"

"Fort Myers area."

"Which is very close to Sanibel."

"Is it?"

Diana stared at them, a calculating look in her dark eyes as she sipped from her wine glass. "You'll call me when you get back, Rita?"

"Absolutely," Rita responded without missing a beat.

The doorbell rang again. Rita was back on her feet to answer it.

Fran Lipschitz blew in on a whirlwind of nervous energy.

"Hi, Fran." It was impossible for Rita to hide her surprise, but Fran didn't seem to mind.

"Rita, sweetheart! I'm glad I caught you at home."

"Hi Mrs. Lipschitz," Diana called out. "How are you?"

Fran Lipschitz smiled and acknowledged her with a nod, but would not be deterred from her mission. "I'm here to see these two."

"Same," Diana said sympathetically.

Chris had come to stand by Rita's side. Fran was obviously upset about something.

Hands on her hips, lips pursed, Fran faced the pair. "Don't ever do that to me again! I know... I know... It's police business," she continued with a dramatic sigh. "I've had to put up with it almost all of my married life, but you two gave me a real scare!"

"I'm sorry, Fran." Rita was the first to apologize. "We had no choice. Chris and I felt it was worth upsetting our friends if it meant uncovering co-workers who were breaking the law."

"I get that, Doll, but next time...tell me first."

…

"Fran –" Chris was interrupted before he could explain why that wasn't possible.

"Christopher?" Fran Lipschitz had taken him by the arm and pulled him away from Rita to talk semi-privately. "Did I not take the place of your dear mother three years ago when the unthinkable happened? Would you let your mother worry the way I've been worried the past two weeks?"

"Actually, Fran, my mother wouldn't -"

"I fed you homemade soup. I kept watch over you whenever Rita couldn't be there."

"I apologize Fran." Chris was smart enough to recognize a no-win situation. He'd been witness to plenty of them between the Captain and his wife in the past. "It won't happen again."

"There's a good boy."

The pat on the arm he received from the diminutive spitfire felt like an Olympic medal.

"Frannie! There you are, Fran. You promised you'd only be a minute. We've got a 7:30 reservation. I had the car running."

The Captain had entered Rita's apartment. Chris did a quick scan of the living room, hoping there weren't too many of his personal belongings laying around. Aware of their close friendship, the Captain probably wouldn't think anything of it if he did notice something, but it was what their boss didn't know that had Chris feeling awkward for the first time.

Rita, it appeared, wasn't suffering from the same worries and had decided to let him handle the Captain. She was sipping wine from a comfortable position on the couch where Diana had joined her.

Chris held up a finger to hit pause on the conversation with Fran, and the odd thing was – Fran seemed to understand. She tilted her head toward her husband and threw Chris a look confirming his suspicion that the Captain didn't know what she was up to.

"What's going on here?" Harry asked in confusion.

Diana smiled. "Hi, Captain."

"Hello, Dr. Roth. Nice to see you." He turned to Chris who was still standing next to Fran. "If this is a party, Lorenzo, you're tragically underdressed."

"Not a party, Cap. Just a few friends hanging out during their time off."

"Point taken, kid." Harry Lipschitz took hold of his wife's arm and tried to move her toward the door. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's leave them to their weekend."

"Where are you taking Fran for dinner, Cap?" Chris asked.

"Somewhere romantic," Fran boasted with a mischievous wink.

"That place you mentioned a few weeks back, Lorenzo."

Chris shook his head, confused.

"The Wharf Grill! That place you called from in Lake Worth the night DiBarto Jr. showed up."

"Oh…. Yeah. The Wharf Grill. Great food. You'll like it."

"I never heard of the place before, but I asked around and it has excellent reviews. Should I use your name to get a good table?"

"Um…no Cap. I doubt they know who I am. If you used your Captain's title when making the reservation, I'm sure they'll treat you right. Just a warning though – it's pretty drafty outside this time of year. You could catch your death of cold out there."

"Good point. Don't forget that, Fran."

"Wouldn't outside be more romantic?"

"What's romantic about a sinus infection?"

"Of course. You're right, Hesch. We'll definitely stay away from the candlelit tables with all those stars overhead."

"Thank you, Fran. Can we go now?" He finally had his wife in the open doorway. "I'll see you guys in ten days. You both did good work. Enjoy your time off."

"Bye, kids." Fran turned back at the last minute. Her smile was warm, her eyes twinkled with good humor. "Have fun you two."

A chorus of goodbyes followed the couple out into the hall.

"I have a few more questions about next week," Diana piped in as soon as the door closed.

Chris met Rita's eyes and smiled. He was already thinking about what to pack for their trip. Hopefully, Rita was also. There was a little green silk and lace number he was hoping would make an appearance on Captiva. With any luck, they'd be on the road by six a.m. the next morning and checked into their rental place on the island by early afternoon.

…

Rita kept the phone to her ear as she crossed the hardwood floor to the bottom of the staircase and looked up. "Derek says that little room at the top is called a Crow's Nest room."

"A what?" Chris, casually dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, came bounding down the stairs. "This isn't a pirate ship."

Rita put the call on speakerphone. "He can hear you now, Derek."

"Quick tip for you, Chris. You'll love the Crow's Nest. There are a couple of Adirondacks on the west-facing side of the wrap-around deck. It's a great place to watch the sunset, especially when accompanied by a cold beer and a beautiful woman."

"Is that the order of importance?" Chris immediately shot back. He caught Rita by the waist and pulled her to him.

She didn't resist. His sky-blue shirt matched the color of his eyes. The same eyes that were focused intently on her. Her lips parted as he bent closer.

"Don't you remember anything I taught you, son?"

"If I were waiting on you to teach me about women…" Chris wiggled his eyebrows and stole a quick kiss.

"Are you two done?" Rita teased.

When the phone rang a few minutes earlier, she was concerned it might be Diana, the only person she had given emergency contact information to, but she needn't have worried. It was Derek calling to make sure they had arrived at his sister's house on North Captiva Island. Unlike Diana, he was aware that Chris would be spending the week on the island with her. She wouldn't have accepted Elaine's offer to stay at the vacation home without that disclosure. Derek had easily agreed to keep that knowledge to himself and if he had any questions about the current state of her partnership with Chris, he kept those questions to himself also.

"We are," Derek responded with a laugh. "I didn't call to harass you, just wanted to make sure you made it to the house and see if you had any questions. There is a lot to do on the island if you're looking to bike, hike, or rent a boat, but it's also a great place to chill out and do nothing."

"Thanks, Derek. We love it here already." Chris had moved behind her, his arms keeping her flush against his chest, so he could rest his chin on her shoulder. "Please thank Elaine again. When I started looking for a last-minute rental on Captiva and Sanibel, I never dreamed we'd end up in a beautiful two-story house on stilts in the middle of paradise."

"It's great, isn't it? She bought the place ten years ago and never rents it out, but lends it to family and friends. There are fewer than four hundred homes on the entire island. It's an escape from city living, but if you miss traffic jams and tourist shops, Sanibel and Captiva are close enough for a day trip. Did the groceries arrive?"

"Yes. Thanks for the tip. We ordered ahead so they were already packed and ready for the ferry ride. They made it to the house faster than we did. They were on the lower deck when we arrived."

Chris' mouth brushed lightly across the side of her neck. It felt so good, she instinctively tilted her head to grant him better access.

"Elaine had a local friend stock the freezer and the wine rack for you also. The barbeque is in the backyard. But if you're interested in the local cuisine, you have a 6 pm reservation Wednesday night at a place called Over the Waterfront. It's quite the experience, but feel free to cancel. I'm sure Chris has already found the electric golf cart."

"I did," Chris assured him. "We'll be heading out shortly to take a mini-tour of the island. Can't thank you and your sister enough, man."

"Elaine knows how hard we work. Our father was a Sergeant with Jacksonville PD when we were kids. She understands the job. Make yourselves at home. I'll see you both when you return."

Rita meant to say goodbye but was distracted by Chris who was slowly unbuttoning her lightweight cotton blouse from the bottom up.

"One more thing before I forget…" Derek began.

"Sure…" she responded absently.

"We finally located the former cadet from Chandler's class at the Gulf Coast Academy."

That got both of their attention. Chris' hands settled back on her waist.

"What happened?"

"I was able to speak with her last night. It seems she found herself the focus of Chandler's attention midway through her first year, but the attraction wasn't mutual and she turned him down. Once that happened, he began harassing her, catching her alone whenever he could. Eventually, he tried to force himself on her, but there weren't any witnesses and he was a popular cadet with top marks, a favorite of all the instructors, and very social. She told a few of her friends about the attack, they saw the bruises, but she didn't feel it was safe to file a complaint. There isn't a record of the incident on file. It remained a rumor. After a few months of being subjected to Chandler and his friends taunting her at every opportunity, she decided to leave."

"I knew something was wrong with that guy," Chris murmured for Rita's ears only.

"The administration should have protected her." Rita felt a surge of anger on the young cadet's behalf. "That had to be almost fifteen years ago. I certainly hope things are better there now."

"I hope so, too" Derek responded. "I'm happy to report her story didn't end there. After dropping out, she changed to a career in law and is currently an Assistant AG upstate."

It was a relief to hear, but Rita couldn't help wondering how many other women had been subjected to Scott Chandler's offensive behavior over the years.

"I thought you'd want to know," Derek continued. "And now – I am off for a little rest and relaxation myself. No more phone calls – I promise!"

"I'm holding you to that!" Chris called out.

"My word is my bond, son." Derek was laughing. "Goodbye, Rita."

"Bye, Derek."

…

Much later that night, caught in that hazy state between awake and asleep, Rita realized she was smiling. Sprawled atop Chris, one leg resting between his solid thighs, she could feel his steady heartbeat against her cheek. They were lucky – blessed – to be spending the next six days in this lovely home; on this beautiful island. A circumstance that had only come about because of a casual conversation with Derek during an undercover operation that could have ended badly.

A cool gulf breeze filtered in through the open bedroom windows and Rita shivered. Silk and lace weren't created for warmth.

"Are you falling asleep?" Chris pulled the sheet up over her shoulders.

Dinner had been a simple affair - cold sandwiches and a nice bottle of wine - eaten outside on the Crow's Nest deck just as the sun was setting. Tomorrow morning they would be exploring the island's sparkling sugar sand beaches.

"No."

"Are you sure about that?" he teased.

She shifted around to get more comfortable and the strong arms encircling her tightened.

"I'm awake," she insisted, trying to stifle a yawn. "Ask me anything. I'll prove it."

"What time do you want to get up tomorrow?"

"Whenever."

"You're adapting to island life well."

His words were teasing, but there was something in Chris' voice that made her lift her head. "What's bothering you?"

He started to brush off the question, but caught the serious look in her eyes and reluctantly admitted, "Chandler."

"It was Derek's phone call, wasn't it? It started you thinking about the case again." Rita abandoned her comfortable position atop her partner to sit cross-legged on the bed, facing him. Chris pushed himself up to a sitting position against the headboard causing the sheet to fall back down to his waist. She yawned again and offered a half-smile. "What about him?"

Chris was frowning for the first time since their arrival.

"Should I put on a pot of coffee?" she asked as an afterthought.

"No, I'd rather you stay right here." He turned on the bedside light and then reached for one of her hands, anchoring it in his lap.

"Okay, spill it."

"It's our first night of vacation. We're far enough away from Palm Beach, I thought I could put this guy out of my head, but he's back. Maybe we should have waited a few more weeks before taking time off."

There were shadows in his eyes that hadn't been there during their travels earlier in the day or during their lovemaking less than an hour ago. It often happened that way. Keeping busy was a great way to ignore feelings that would eventually have to be dealt with.

"You didn't have much exposure to Chandler until his arrest; you spent most of your time with Rossi. Why is Scott Chandler still on your mind?"

"Rossi – I understand. We run up against guys like him all the time. We know what we have to do. But a guy like Chandler is harder for me to figure out. He had a good career in law enforcement. He took an oath."

"Which clearly didn't mean much to him."

"We both listened to his interrogation after the arrest."

"All I heard was a lot of rationalization and justification - the so-called reasons for his betrayal."

"Exactly. He's weak and doesn't realize it. His loyalty, his allegiance, has always been to himself, not the people of Palm Beach or his fellow officers."

"He wrote his own rules."

"It's hard to let go of the anger. He put all our lives in danger for the sake of his greed."

"This isn't the first time we've dealt with someone like him."

"No, but he was one of us. Should we be looking over our shoulders from now on, wondering if anyone else is on the take?"

"Both he and Prentis are the exception, not the rule. In some ways, I pity them."

"Yeah, well… I'm not ready to move on from anger to pity just yet. I look forward to working closely with George on this one."

She leaned in, tilting her head as she smiled into his eyes. "Speaking of George –"

"Were we?" he asked, returning the green silk strap that had fallen off her shoulder to its proper position. His fingertips grazed the length of her arm.

The lightening of his tone made her happy. Letting go of anger and stress didn't always happen in the blink of an eye. Like so many other times in the past, they would talk it out in stages.

"You didn't get the earful I did," she said. "I don't think he's forgiven Cap yet for not cluing him in."

"He'll get over it." Chris traced the deep V of her neckline. "Speaking of Cap…"

"Really? Now?"

His smile was slow and deliberate. "I hope he doesn't have the phone number to this place."

"He does not. I only gave it to Diana and she'll only use it in case of an emergency. Why?"

"Just wondering if we should expect any more work calls."

"I hope not. I don't think he'd try to get ahold of either of us unless it was a real crisis."

"I brought my pager just in case."

"That was thoughtful." It was an unexpected turn in the conversation. "Where is it?"

"I have no idea."

The wink and the smile that followed did crazy things to her heart; the delicate butterflies of passion stirred to life again in the pit of her stomach. Love was like that.

She rose to her knees and moved to sit astride Chris' lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. They kissed, long and deep, lost in the emotion, until she finally released him. She slid a thumb across his moist lower lip and stared into his gleaming blue eyes. "We can talk about Chandler or anything else…anytime…anywhere."

"I know that."

"Good, because we promised we'd always be truthful with each other - in good times and in bad. It's held us together all these years."

Chris watched her intently, taking in her words. His eyes narrowed.

"I'm in this with you all the way, partner - heart and soul." He brushed his mouth against hers, then reached over to turn off the bedside light. He tightened his grip around her waist and rolled them over until Rita was on her back, looking up at him.

"What are you thinking about?" she couldn't resist asking. Their legs were tangled in the sheet, but Chris' open palm was trailing down the silk-covered slope between her ribcage and hips. Featherlight kisses followed the trail until he returned to look deeply into her eyes. He cupped her backside, then slid his hand down to free her leg, closing around the back of her knee, pulling it high up against his waist.

"To be honest," he murmured as he began nuzzling her neck. "I'm not thinking at all right now…just living in the moment."

"I believe I can help you with that."

"See how you are, Sam."

"Any complaints?"

"Not a one."

THE END

-*-resauthor-*-

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Afterthoughts:

Before researching Captiva Island, I had no idea there was also a North Captiva Island. It turned out to be a fascinating deep dive which included reading vacation accounts on Trip Advisor and watching tours of the island on YouTube. You never know where fiction writing is going to lead. The most fun was searching for pictures of the rental homes on the island. North Captiva has been added to my bucket list of destinations. The island, like all magical, romantic places, even has a legend (de-bunked, but that's probably a good thing).

Island Legends: Once upon an island, North Captiva and Captiva were one continuous stretch of stunning beaches. In a 1921 Hurricane, Redfish Pass was created and the two were separated… a new island was born. Tales from long ago tell of the Pirate Gaspar and his treasure sunken off the coasts of the Charlotte Harbour Chain of barrier islands. Gasparilla and Little Gasparilla islands to our north carry on the pirate's name. Legend has it that women of great beauty or nobility, captured by the Pirate Gaspar were held captive on the island which became known as Captiva.

As always, a huge thank you to D of the DA's office for being a second set of eyes and a solid sounding board as Alliances inched its way to completion month after month. I wouldn't be here if her enthusiasm for Classic Silk and Classic Silk Fanfiction didn't keep me motivated. If she ever starts charging by the hour, I'll need a second job.

P.S. Grammarly has no appreciation for Donnie or Dominic's speech pattern.