Chapter Two:
It was the usual clientele tonight. Men considered to be part of the family, as well as a few of their associates. Lieutenants, runners, rank and file soldiers, a few sycophants hoping to work their way up the chain, all made men operating in various degrees within the Jones family enterprise.
Some were here hoping to get in on whatever action was on the horizon, others for the well-stocked, top shelf liquor they could enjoy in relative peace, seeing as The Brig was a known Jones establishment where their enemies knew not to tread and Killian bribed his officers a hefty sum to keep the police force at bay. The handful of unfamiliars milling about were most likely waiting for a chance to buy in on this week's poker game held upstairs. Killian didn't really pay them much attention; the bartender, the bouncer, and Hyde would keep an eye on things well enough.
Instead, Killian settled into his booth with a tumbler of rum and the manifest of an incoming shipment they were expecting at the docks, contemplating whether he should share it with Swan. It was inconsistencies between manifests and what had actually been delivered that first tipped Killian off to a problem within the ranks. Perhaps he could assign Swan to the detail that oversaw the cargo's unloading? Give her an opportunity to ingratiate herself with some of the goons she so readily disparaged while she kept a watch out for any suspicious activity among them?
Killian toyed with his phone sitting on the table in front of him, torn over phoning the woman he hadn't been able to get out of his mind. Not since she'd stepped out of that death trap she called a vehicle, squaring off her shoulders and facing down not only a nasty piece of work like Walsh, but Killian and two of his men as well. Though, it had been apparent in that moment she had no idea who she was truly dealing with. That realization had come later, on his yacht.
He had to give it to her, the woman was a marvel. Grown men, much more hardened and jaded than herself, had crumbled waiting for him or his family to pass judgment, but not her. Oh, she'd had sense enough to be fearful, that much had been evident in the depths of her sea glass eyes and the quiver she hadn't been able to keep from trembling in her extremities. But she hadn't fallen apart in the face of it. She was a tough lass, and that quality mixed with the exquisite beauty of her face, and a body he had not stopped imagining in a number of sinful positions, had kept her at the forefront of his mind for the past few days.
Well, there was also the small detail of whether she'd discovered anything regarding his rat problem that was plaguing him every bit as much as his persistent, half hard state.
Killian tossed the manifest aside and picked up the file his information specialist, Rob, had put together for him several days ago. Swan's name was neatly printed on the index tab, and within its thin jacket, only a few pages contained the total summary of her life thus far. Flipping the folder open, as he'd done more times than he would ever admit, curious about the woman and wishing to learn all he could about his newest asset, Killian's eyes landed on the newspaper clipping resting at the top of the stack.
He hadn't needed the headline reporting that a seven-year-old boy had found a baby abandoned on the side of the road to know Swan had been orphaned. He'd recognized it all on his own, that look one gets in their eyes when they've been left on their own for too long. A number of his men had it, an all-too-common affliction that made them eager to be a part of something when they'd never felt wanted or useful to anyone. Killian himself had experienced that yearning in his younger days, and the look he'd seen in Emma's eyes that morning on his yacht had lingered in his own, once upon a time.
A time he would rather not dwell on.
Slapping the file closed, he lifted his rum to his lips and downed the dram in one swallow. When he glanced toward the bar, intending to flag down one of the eager young runners to procure him another drink, he scowled at their collective inattentiveness. Or rather, the fact that he was not where their attention was focused, but instead were distracted by something in the direction of the front door.
A someone, actually.
A someone with long flowing golden tresses cascading over her shoulders and down the back of a sinfully tight, hot pink mini dress, standing on sky high heels as she perused the bar. Killian's brows rose at the sight of Emma Swan, scandalously dressed and drawing the attention of every hot-blooded man within his establishment. One man in particular had her beaming with a bright smile when he waved at her from the bar and invited her over.
Killian's hand balled into a fist and his jaw clenched when the man wrapped his hand around hers, his grasp lingering too long for Killian's liking. His eyes slid down to her legs when she perched herself up on the barstool and sultrily crossed them, the foot not balanced on the cross bar flexing up and down over the man's pant leg. Narrowing his eyes, Killian tried to place the man with whom Emma was flirting, but the man's attention was so fixated on Emma's cleavage, plumped by the way her arms were resting in her lap and the way she was leaned forward, the shadow cast over his face did not give Killian a good enough view of his features.
Whoever he was, if he wished to leave The Brig with all his parts still attached, then he had better continue keeping his hands to himself.
When the bartender placed a glass of red wine on the bar beside Swan, the man sealed his fate, placing a hand on her knee. Before the cretin could inch it any further up her thigh, Scarlet - who had just made his way back down from overseeing things for the poker game - spotted Swan and sauntered his way over.
"Well, well," he taunted. "If it ain't me favorite ball bustin' bounty hunter."
Swan's eyes fell shut, and an exasperated exhale growled from her lungs as her would-be suitor balked.
"Bounty hunter?" With a stiff swipe, he knocked Emma's wine glass into her lap, soaking her dress as he bolted off the barstool and dashed for the door.
"Dammit, Scarlet!" Swan cursed, shoving the man backwards so she could give chase to her quarry.
Their natural instincts telling them to give loyalty to the fleeing criminal, Killian's men began to close ranks, thwarting Swan until Killian commanded, "Let her through."
The sea of henchman parted, and Swan's head snapped towards him, her startled expression at his presence giving over to an eye roll when he lifted his tumbler - freshly filled and having miraculously appeared on his table while he was otherwise occupied planning the man's dismemberment before Killian realized he was just another bounty - in salute towards her.
Pushing her way past the stragglers, Emma exited the pub with purposeful steps that stomped their way across the street with a confident, unhurried click of her heels Killian could hear from the doorway where he now stood, casually propped against the jamb with his rum swirling in his glass.
Killian lips twitched when he noted something the hapless man had not before entering his car; the boot affixed to his tire, making his getaway impossible. Clever girl, Killian mused before his eyes flicked back to Swan, who was now bent over with her arms resting on the open edge of the driver side window, her pert arse on full display with the skin tight hot pink fabric stretched across it. Killian trousers tightened at the sight, and he had to adjust his full hardness a moment later when Emma reached in to slam her skip against the steering wheel. She then nearly unmanned him completely, lifting the hem of her skirt to reveal the handcuff holster strapped to her thigh. The groans and muttered curses of appreciation echoing around him apprised Killian to the fact his current condition wasn't exclusive only to himself, and his jaw tightened with a flare of incensed possessiveness.
"Alright, show's over," he barked, throwing a glare at the assembled men peeping out on the scene through the pub window, all of whom began to slink back at the sound of their boss' ill-tempered tone.
The sound of her heels along the pavement drew Killian's attention back to the blonde wonder returning to the pub, her approach causing a swell of pride to rise in his chest as a smug smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. It wasn't until she raised her brows at him in an expectant fashion that he realized she hadn't been making her way to him, but to the entrance he was blocking with his frame still casually leaning in the doorway.
Before she could request he move, Liam's voice boomed from behind. "What the bloody hell do you mean by setting up a takedown in our pub!"
Killian sighed. "Liam, calm down."
"You're lucky we don't have more outside patrons tonight," Liam said, pointing an accusatory finger at Swan who merely cocked another brow and crossed her arms over her chest.
Fuck, did she have beautiful cleavage. Killian's thoughts were cut off when his brother rounded his ire onto him.
"How do you think our clientele will respond, knowing a bounty hunter frequents the bar?"
Killian turned a cheeky grin to his brother and quipped, "I imagine we'll have a line around the corner if they think coming here means getting cuffs slapped on them by the likes of her." Raising his glass to his lips, he added, "I know I would."
"And what about the cops, little brother?" Liam shot back with the taunt of the hated moniker. "I imagine Miss Swan now has to notify the police so they can come collect her mark."
"Actually," Emma interjected with a tone of irritation grating her words. "I can just deliver him to the precinct myself. There's no need to call the police or have them come out here."
"See?" Killian replied with a mocking expression of solidarity. "She can just take him to the… hang on." His features tightened as his head whipped in Swan's direction. "You mean transport him in that death trap of yours with no barrier between you? I think not."
"It's fine." She waved him off, arms dropping from her chest before she braced them on her hips and gave him a withering look. "And my bug is not a death trap."
"It's also not an option," Liam stated, pulling confused looks from both Killian and Emma. "I had the bug towed."
"You what?!"
"Liam," Killian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why would you do that?"
"I thought it was a junker that had broken down." Liam shrugged, pointedly ignoring Emma's balled fists.
"You did not. You knew very well it was Emma's vehicle." Killian scoffed. Releasing a heavy sigh, he stated. "Well, I suppose there is only one solution." Turning to his bodyguard, Killian ordered, "Hyde, have my car brought around, then go collect our friend."
Hyde turned to appoint one of the valets with the task of the vehicle as Liam's face mottled at the suggestion.
"Killian, you cannot mean to take him to the precinct yourself."
"You said it yourself, brother. Wouldn't do to have the police come collect him here. Besides, you've left Swan with no way home. This way, after we drop off her catch and she claims her spoils, I'll be able to rectify that issue as well."
"You don't have to do tha—"
"No arguments, Swan," Killian stated, cutting off her protest. "Now be a good girl and hand Hyde the keys to those cuffs so he can collect your man."
She waited a few heartbeats, calculating whether there was any other option before surrendering to the inevitability, and slid the hem of her skirt up once more. Killian was going to need a cold and bracing shower before this night was through, his cock twitching as he watched her slip two fingers into her handcuff holster to retrieve the tiny key.
Dangling it from between her fingers, she held the key towards Hyde who'd had sense enough to keep his eyes averted from her thigh, knowing his boss well enough to ascertain when certain things were off limits. While his bodyguard dealt with the man barely returning to consciousness, Killian's Chevelle pulled up, and despite her best efforts, Swan did not succeed in keeping the awe from splashing across her face.
"Nice ride," she said, her eyes grazing over the lines of the car with an impressed and slightly covetous glimmer. "But I don't think you had much room to talk when disparaging the security my bug was going to offer in keeping the deadbeat separate from the driver," she quipped, jutting her chin towards the backseat. "Not a whole lot of room back there."
"Oh, there's plenty of room, I assure you," he purred, stepping in close. "Remind me to prove it to you sometime."
Liam made a disapproving sound, reminding Killian that his brother was even still there, and inquired, "What about the game? You're meant to be overseeing things upstairs."
"Will can manage things until I get back," Killian replied, dismissing his brother's words with a flippant gesture of his hand, and focusing his attention on the man who was struggling against his bodyguard's iron grip.
"Let go of me!" the man demanded. "You're supposed to be on my side, aren't you? This bitch is a bounty hunter for Christ's sakes."
Grabbing the sorry excuse for a man by the front of his shirt, Killian wrenched him from Hyde's hold and slammed him against the brick wall next to the door of the pub. "You have a choice to make, mate," he snarled through grit teeth, "You can either get into the backseat and face your misdeeds at the precinct like a man, or I can have your worthless carcass put into the trunk, and you can face whatever comes after I drop Miss Swan off at home."
The man's face drained of all color, his eyes wide with recognition. "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Jones," he stammered. "I'll g-go quietly to the st-station."
Killian released the man and backed away. "Get him in the car."
~/~
The downside to Killian's '69 SS Chevelle was that it was rather well known, and therefore conspicuous. Typically, he only drove it between the marina and his legitimate businesses, and never when he might be engaged in more nefarious activities. Though he knew there was nothing the police could do to him should he be seen with Swan and her bounty, other than be a bloody nuisance, Killian chose to park the car around the corner, out of sight from the precinct's front doors.
"You coming?" Emma asked after extricating her charge from the backseat.
"Probably best if I stay back," he told her. "Some of the officers and I have a complicated association. I'd wager one in particular would slap cuffs on me the moment I walked in… and not in the fun way."
She rolled her eyes at the seductive swagger of his brows, and told him to hang tight while she deposited her skip and claimed the bounty. A process that took less than ten minutes, much to Killian's surprise.
"I want to commend you on how well you handled yourself tonight," Killian mentioned as he drove along the nearly empty streets back to Swan's apartment. "You're quick on your feet. I noticed that the other night as well, although…" His eyes slid over and salaciously ran his gaze up her legs and over her body. "I don't recall you dressing so provocatively in order to collect Walsh."
"Eyes on the road, Jones," Emma admonished with a betraying smile twitching at the corner of her lips.
"Easier said than done, love." However, he did, reluctantly, put his focus back on the road. "Has it occurred to you this is the second time in as many encounters that you've been so scantily clad?" he pointed out, cheekily. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were attempting to get my attention."
"If you think this is scantily," she teased, sinking a bit lower into the leather passenger seat, causing the hem of her already obscenely short skirt to hitch up a bit higher. "You should see what I have on underneath."
"Oh?" He may have had to correct his steering so as to not swerve off the road at the unexpected bit of provocation. "Do tell, love," he purred before chancing another prolonged glance in her direction. "Or better yet. Feel free to show me."
"Maybe with my next honey trap," she deflected, changing the course of their conversation as her cheeks flushed an alluring pink. "Which I should probably make sure does not go down at your bar again."
Sorry to see their flirtatious dance come to an end, Killian did feel it necessary they talk through what had happened. If only so he could relay to his brother later that they had already done so, lest Liam feel obligated to have the conversation with Swan himself.
"It did seem a strange choice, now you mention it."
"I didn't choose it," she assured him. "Brian did. Last minute. I think he thought it would be his safest option from getting pinched, seeing as it's a known mob hangout. I wasn't going to bust him inside the bar, just so you know," she continued, outlining her initial agenda. "I had planned to lure him outside, have him walk me to my car thinking I was going to follow him home, and cuff him in the parking lot."
Side-stepping the unpleasant sensation burning a hole through his gut at the notion - even if fabricated - that Swan would go home with another man, Killian rerouted his thoughts.
"Then why the boot? The one you put on his car beforehand?"
"I always do that in case things go south," she told him, turning her head to give him a pointed look as she quipped, "You know, on the off chance a mouthy hitman blows my cover."
Killian chuckled at his lieutenant's knack of getting crossways with her. "To be fair, it isn't in Will's nature to cover for anyone associated with law enforcement. Had he known you were there with my permission, if you had asked for it, that is, he wouldn't have mucked things up the way he had."
The heavy swallow and tentative lick of her lips told him he'd gotten his point across. Even though they had agreed she'd have to keep working cases, he didn't like the idea of being kept out of the loop should they cross over into his business in any way.
"Yeah… I probably should have given you a head's up," she acknowledged. "But I did make sure Brian didn't have any connections to you. I cross checked his name with the list you gave me."
Her head snapped towards his, her eyes widening as they darted about quickly before settling back on him. "I mean—"
Killian reached over and put a reassuring hand on her leg. "Relax, Swan," he soothed. "It's safe to talk here."
She let out a relieved breath and nodded her understanding as she shifted in her seat, causing his fingers to slip from the top of her thigh to the inside of her leg. Killian felt her flesh raise under his touch and heard the hitch of her breath when his fingertips lightly dug into her skin before he slowly dragged his hand away and placed it back on the steering wheel. Now it was his turn to shift uncomfortably in his seat.
"Speaking of that list," Emma began with a breathless quality that made her voice husky and prompted an agonizing twitch from his groin. "I may have a name for you, but I need more information than what your files supplied in order to be sure."
"What sort of information?" While he was prepared to give her unfettered access if need be, he'd rather only supply her with just enough information on the inner workings of the business to run her investigation. "And what name?"
She chewed at her lip, contemplating whether to divulge the suspect's identity. He did not blame her hesitancy, her concern that he might act before guilt was confirmed. Such rashness had certainly been in character for him in the past, but over the years he'd learned patience and the value of strategy when dealing with such matters.
"Tell me why you suspect him," Killian requested, changing tactics so she'd keep talking.
"He's an informant for the SPD," she told him. "Graham gave me his name a few weeks back when I was working a case. He's listed in your files as a guy who does odd jobs for you down at the docks. A guy who works both sides like that raises some red flags, but I don't know how involved he is in your inner workings to know if he's a common variety rat, or your rat."
"I gather you're referring to Mr. Smee," Killian surmised.
Swan's brows shot up. "How did you—"
"Smee is a rat, but he's paid to be one," Killian informed her. "He tips off the police when we need their attention focused elsewhere. Usually supplying them with information that checks out but is no longer relevant, or…" Killian smirked. "Points them towards a rival's shady dealings, taking care of the opposition for us."
"So the intel he passes along is purposefully fed to him?"
"Aye," Killian confirmed.
"Well that explains why I was having a hard time working out the connections," she mused, introspectively.
"Connections?"
"I'm using the information you gave me to create some models," she explained. "Putting together a picture of how the organization works, and who has access, whether through the people they come into contact with, or the roles they serve in, to specific pieces of leaked information you listed in your notes. I couldn't figure out how Smee was getting some of the information he was passing along to the SPD." She gave him a pointed look and chided, "There was nothing in his file about his extracurriculars."
"My apologies, Swan," Killian said. "That's my fault. Rob doesn't know about Smee, so he wouldn't have known to add that bit to his file. Smee reports directly to Will or myself."
"There isn't a whole lot in Robin's file, either," she told him. "And he seems to have his fingers in just about every aspect of the organization."
Killian gripped the steering wheel tightly, anger coursing through him at the accusation that Robin, who Killian considered a brother, would ever betray him. He couldn't fault Emma for her suspicion though. After all, Killian had told her to trust no one, to treat everyone as a potential suspect unless ruled out.
"I would stake my life on the fact Rob is not the rat. However," he clipped, silencing the protest she was about to voice, "I'll see to it that he cooperates and gets you whatever information you require in order to prove his innocence."
Swan's head tilted, her eyes assessing him with an expression he was both unnerved and heartened by. Fortunately, he pulled up to the front of her building before either of those reactions could be analyzed further.
Bidding him thanks, she opened her door and stepped out of the car, turning back with insistent brows when he swung open his door to follow.
"You don't have to walk me to my door, Jones."
"I told you to call me Killian, love," he reminded, stepping up onto the curb and rocking into her personal space. "And I merely thought you might invite me up for a nightcap so I could give you a hand with those models you mentioned."
Her brow arched up her forehead, and she gave him a knowing look. "You and I both know it isn't the models you want to give me a hand with."
"Well, what sort of gentleman would I be if I didn't offer to help you out of that soiled and uncomfortable looking ensemble of yours?" His eyes raked over the length of her body, from head to toe and back up again.
With a smirk, she cheeked, "Who said it was uncomfortable?"
"Trust me, love," he said, placing his hands in his trouser pockets. "Looking at you dressed like that all night has made me very uncomfortable."
His words and actions caused her eyes to drop to the front of his pants. After taking in the prominent bulge on display, she hummed an amused sort of sound and flicked her eyes back up to his. "You should probably go home and do something about that."
Leaning in a bit further he suggested, "Wouldn't you rather I stay so we could take care of it together?"
"I'm not inviting you up, Jones," she stated before smugly declaring, "You couldn't handle it if I did."
"Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it," he challenged with a hard pop of the t.
The decision to take him up on that challenge flashed in her eyes a split second before she pulled him to her by the lapels of his jacket. Mouths crashing together, he took a moment to savor the feel of her lips against his before breathing her in and sinking a hand in her hair. Hungrily nipping at one another's lips, she gave no protest when he thrust his tongue into the slick warmth of her mouth, gliding it against her own. He swallowed down her moan, the vibration of its origin reverberating between their chests, pressed together by the hand splayed across her back.
Raising herself up a bit further onto her toes, giving herself an extra bit of height her heels could not provide, Emma deepened the kiss and wrapped an arm around his neck. Her other hand fisted the back of his hair as he slid his down her body and palmed her backside. Gripping her ass tightly, he pulled her hips into his, the exquisite friction causing him to groan against her tongue. He started to glide his hand further down, intending to prop her leg up over his hip when she broke off the kiss, their pants puffing against the other's lips as their heaving chests rubbed together.
"That was…" he murmured.
His words fell away with no clear direction of thought, his only objective was to reclaim her mouth, but the firm placement of Emma's hands against his chest indicated she may have other ideas.
"A one time thing," she replied, breathlessly.
Taking advantage of the lust still swirling in her eyes as they remained fixated on his mouth, Killian reached up and lightly brushed his thumb over her swollen lips. "It doesn't have to be," he insisted, cupping her face and leaning in.
The resistance against his chest increased until Emma managed to step out of his embrace, teetering slightly on her heels as she regained her bearings.
"Yes, it does," she insisted, crossing her arms over her chest in an effort to put a barrier between them. "I think it would be best if we kept things between us strictly business."
Killian hummed and took a swaggering step forward. "Strictly business? Then you should know, in my experience, business dealings tend to go in my favor."
Swan's expression hardened, as did the resolve firmly set in her features. "Well, not this time."
Clicking his tongue, Killian sighed, and voiced a relenting, "Apparently."
From inside his jacket pocket, Killian's phone vibrated. No doubt, the message would be from his brother, wondering where the hell Killian was while reminding him about the poker game.
Retreating backwards toward his car, he gave Swan a mocking bow and quipped, "As you wish," before turning his back on her and rounding the front of his Chevelle. Jerking open the driver side door, Killian stated, "It seems I have other business to attend to anyway."
The screech of his tires wasn't entirely necessary as he angrily peeled away from the curb with the sight of her hot pink dress disappearing behind the door of her apartment building. With the sting of her rejection still prickling beneath his skin, and the effects of her kiss still aching in his trousers, Killian couldn't help but hope there might be someone stupid enough to get caught cheating at cards later that night. He was going to need something to take his frustrations out on.