A/N: So here we go with the next chapter. I hope you enjoy the story. If you like, let me know your thoughts about it. :)

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Chapter II

He quickly buttoned up his suit coat and nodded towards the waiter who opened the ballroom door for him. Inside everyone was seated at the tables and the air was filled with voices and clinking of glasses. Coming late to the party was part of the plan, so he would not have to greet Maxim Vasiliev personally and could just merge with the crowd to see if his target was there. Another waiter asked for his name and led him to his seat, pulling back the chair for him to sit. At the table was an elderly couple, two middle-aged men and a younger woman, who was sitting in the chair next to his chair. The group was chatting animatedly and he cleared his throat before he spoke.

"Excuse me, the traffic was horrible." The conversation stopped and he sat down. "I'm David Sturgeon."

He looked at the people at his table and froze when he looked at the woman next to him, memories flooding his brain.

*Flashback*

They quickly ran over to examine Kate and opened her jacket, releasing a breath when he saw the bullets lodged in her Kevlar vest. He could distantly hear his agents bicker again and relief washed over him that she would be fine except for a few bruised ribs.

They carefully helped her stand up and she groaned in pain. "Protection detail's over."

"You did good," Tony added with the proud smile of an older brother.

"For once, DiNozzo is right," he said and earned himself a smile from Kate despite her pain.

"Wow. I thought I'd die before I ever-" The gunshot cut her off mid-sentence and she went down while he and Tony tried to make out where the bullet came from. When he looked at her again there was so much blood beneath her and Tony took out his cell phone, frantically calling for an ambulance. The next thing he remembered was the doctor telling them that she did not make it.

*End of flashback*

Up to this day he did not really remember how they got down from the rooftop. He had functioned on autopilot, running the investigation while he only wanted to hide in his basement and drown his grief in some bourbon. Back in reality he saw her force a smile at him and looked at the other woman who was apparently talking to him. "Sorry, I didn't get what you said."

"Don't be, Ms LaMontagne surely is a beautiful distraction," she said and chuckled before repeating her question, "how do you know Maxim?"

"Work," he said curtly and had a hard time to focus on the woman he was talking to, "I work for a cargo airline and crossed paths with Maxim a few times."

She seemed to be content with his answer and turned back to look at her husband. The man had found a topic with the other men at their table, who had been rather quiet so far. He was not complaining at all, since it was giving him the opportunity to take a closer look at the woman next to him. A woman he had never hoped to see again.

But there she was sitting next to him in the most unexpected place. Her hair was in a modern version of the French pleat and a lighter shade of brown than he remembered. Although she was sitting, he knew that the dress must be breathtaking. The color was complementing her well and despite the modest halter neck, it was fitting her perfectly and the low neckline on her back looked spectacular. A waiter appeared by his side and cleared his throat, before he wanted to know what he would like to drink. He hardly took his eyes off her when he answered and the waiter left again.

After he had made sure that the others were still engaged in a conversation, he leaned closer and his voice was raw with emotion when he spoke, "I'd really like to know how you know Maxim."