- Chapter Eighty-Nine-

Man Seeks Woman

Zan's spare phone laid out on the crudely made coffee table for his best friend's entertainment, the music app playing had paused about five minutes ago, cracked screen displaying the question 'are you still listening?' in white letters. Intentionally placed on a long movie that notoriously spanned over two hours and muted, the tv may as well have been static. Low hum of power accompanied by the faint white glow that back lit the keys, the beefy gaming laptop was on but running cleaners in the background.

Which was probably for the best anyways, as Jian had too much on his mind to focus on anything other than the time as it slipped away at an excruciating pace.

His bride-to-be still had some time to make her decision - perhaps next time he would be wiser and make the deadline more... tangible. Observing the heiress for long enough to know better than to expect an easy answer, he thought that she might at least consider his offer once they spoke (and he presented her with his cousin's counteroffer). Except, even if he could speak to his blushing meal ticket again, it wasn't as simple as a business transaction.

The real problem was her unquestionable connection to Drake. Contemplating something a bit more modern than their ancestors were comfortable with, baby gangster was giving some serious thought to extending the invitation. While the whole arrangement was merely for their ensured survival, Jian still didn't much care for the taste that came with knowing his wife came with a lover. Better the devil you know, right? Under the impression that they might work something out in private, he supposed he could live with her baggage, so long as the old man remain by her side as a bodyguard only in the public eye.

Question not entirely relevant, the head of the North American branch of the Orange Tiger Association couldn't help but ask himself the same thing again and again. Why did she even like some old geezer? It just didn't make any sense to him, and that was even taking in to account her mother's specific tastes in men.

No matter, he had gone on record saying to his closest confidantes, this was to be a marriage of convenience, so what did it matter who did what behind closed doors? Zanny always seemed to beg to differ, however, more often than not going out of his way to make fun. Strange then that he would be absent during such a crucial moment in his best friend's life.

Oh, wait, no it wasn't - they may have been close as brothers, yet last time Jian checked, he was still the boss. Tense enough as it was, Zan's was the very last temperament he needed at the moment, so as the guy in charge, he strongly suggested that Zanny venture out to get their transportation in order. It was a fair enough request even if you had taken the hierarchy out of the equation, as they would be leaving this island sooner rather than later.

Gifted with the uncanny ability to remain quiet - and as the muscle - Ludo had been permitted to wait in the room. However he had gotten antsy himself, waiting for a reasonable time when a child's party might end, so he had excused himself for a walk to clear his head. Jian was never their nursemaid, and anyways, he was safe enough in the hotel room by his lonesome, so he allowed it.

And then the night grew longer.

[Thoughts Do Shift aka Sam Doesn't Know]

Head still searching for all the negatives of how this could be a ploy, when his brain came up short, Sam started to get creative with all the things that could go wrong.

Best and worst scenario simultaneously being a coronary from getting too comfortable at being taken care of (for a change), the most plausible scenario was the thief dying from a heart attack mid-act. Or there was the ol' Carradine (now that was a blow, having watched Kung Fu semi-religiously as a kid). The things they did together didn't necessarily give off the impression that they would escalate to that level of kink, however the reverse was just as true - things couldn't be called strictly vanilla either.

Going the more dramatic route, the silvering rebel had an extensive library of exes of both romantic and business persuasions. Naturally that meant jealous harpies (hey, if he found out he had an adult son after all these years, it wasn't impossible that there was a whole contingent of scorned lovers and angry spouses that wanted some manner of violent closure). Nathan's enemies seemed to all be dead or else had just decided to let him be with his family, but that didn't mean that Victor (or any of the others) didn't have hangers-on with no qualms about extending the vendetta to family.

Not that the brunette was calling Daniella family; it was nothing of the sort! It was just that a lot of these guys, if they were resentful enough to bother tracking a humble thief to his lodgings, they weren't likely to hesitate slitting the throat of anyone unfortunate enough to be there at the time. After spending more than a decade behind bars, Sam wasn't all that worried about himself getting the hell out of dodge in time, but Dells...

Numb to the sight of the door growing larger and larger the closer he got to it (funny how perspective worked), the thought of the young woman smiling scarlet in a pool of her own blood made him grow cold.

And what about her? Swinging the pendulum back the other way, she came from a more aristocratic background, which correct him if he was wrong, seemed to usually entail either poison, yacht mutinies, or shafted help. What the girl lacked in a laundry list of jaded lovers, she more than made up for with snobby, scheming socialites and desperate blue collar types that weren't above resorting to kidnapping for ransom. True, the heiress had already been spirited away in the course of this mess, however the Orange Tiger Association were way worse than those guys.

Entertaining the hypothetical that they did somehow stay... not together, but working in close proximity to one another, Sam wondered what the arrangement might look like. Between the both of them, the ambitious adventurer couldn't imagine any scenario where they weren't being bothered at least a couple of times a year, teetering close to boredom at times but never quite hitting that place. A peaceful life had its perks, sure, but it wasn't something that he was remotely interested in... and Daniella seemed to share that opinion.

Maybe...

Maybe what? He and his baby girl could find themselves a comfortable little nest to play house in while no-so-secretly waiting for the next attack or adventure to find them?

Grayer and gaunter where she was brighter and fuller, the sad part was that the career criminal could almost envision it so clearly he might as well have been gazing into a mirror directly to the future. Cozy with a bottle of the good stuff in one hand and a worn tome in the other, he could just about hear her reciting the dry passages while he maintained his handgun. Where Nathan and Elena had baby booties and meetings with teachers, they could have had the blue prints for a daring heist, an artifact awaiting appraisal.

[Past Particle]

Lights seemingly a stronger shade of white in the bathroom than anywhere else in their room, the trio of bulbs burning atop the vanity sapped the bleach in her hair to snow. Skin pale as milk beneath the dark contrast of carefully sculpted feminine calligraphy, the young woman had been in the middle of applying her warpaint when a silvery cloud of smoke wafted into the edge her peripherals. Scent overpowering the light hint of floral shampoo, it went without saying that she would need to apply a spritz of perfume before leaving.

All one hundred energy efficient watts making the wispy gray tendrils as good as invisible to the naked eye, it was enough to know that she wasn't alone. Fine-point eyeliner going next to the as-of-yet-to-be-used mascara, Daniella set the product aside to make a show of waving away the dancing swirls. Cutting through the faint haze, her eyes knew almost exactly where to find the figure lingering just outside the wooden frame, arms crossed over his chest as he exhaled a new furl of ash.

Clocks all agreeing that there was still a good couple of hours to go before the start of Cassie's party, most of that time had been spent getting ready. Grabbing a quick shower while the young woman lamented over the available options, Sam had left her staring down the contents of the middle drawer and had returned to find her on her knees, rummaging through the bottom shelf. How and when exactly did she accumulate that many clothes?!

By the crook's count, the heiress had been at it for an additional fifteen minutes before she had to move on, citing the excuse that she was waiting for the water to heat back up. It was totally bullshit, they both knew it.

Towel the only thing presently guarding her modesty after a hasty shower, if the outfit hadn't been laid out on the bed, he might not have even known that she had finally made a selection. Giving his baby girl some leeway on account of this being a special occasion, the historian knew from experience that once her make-up was finished there would still be the matter of her hair to deal with.

Honestly the silver fox thought his vixen looked like a full snack before dinner when she just ran her fingers through her wet tresses, but being the sort of girl that had grown up with professional stylists on call... Well, that opinion probably wasn't going to fly.

Nervously shifting her weight on her feet, Dells could have sworn she'd just swallowed a whole basket of butterflies; flutter beating like a half hundred wings trapped in her stomach, in an attempt to be cool her hand landed on the narrow cylinders on the counter, sending one of them rolling to the floor. Landing with an embarrassingly loud clatter, the opened tube left a charcoal smear on the tile.

Something mischievous shining on the surface, there was something else lurking deeper in the tides of those hazel eyes. Hunger burned within those islands, yet it was more than the carnal connection they shared, something that she couldn't quite place. Hence why she had knocked over her cosmetic instruments like a fool. Sam was really good at making her into an idiot, into jelly. Too good.

Bending over to pick up the store-brand tools of cosmetologists everywhere, the heiress was keenly aware of the fact that the thief was watching her over the end of his cigarette. Fingers glancing off the barrel as she fumbled around on the floor for her eyeliner, Daniella stayed down on the ground a little longer than she had to, watching him watch her. Every minute movement, every twitch, every breath, every microscopic inflection of her muscles as she extended her spine. He saw it all.

Eventually succeeding in grabbing the naughty little runaway, the heiress slowly rose to her feet, realizing as she did that he wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he was staring. Cheeks growing rosy as a pocket full of posy, the young woman quickly put her back to the thief. Busying herself with putting the make-on back on the counter, when that was no longer a viable cover story she half-turned to face the man, eyes cast away on the short sleeves of his v-neck.

"Yes?" Tempted to play with her mascara bottle, somehow that didn't seem like a good idea, so instead she kept her eyes on the dark cut of the explorer's shirt. "Can I help you with something?"

Knot straining to keep in place on a relatively dry figure, it seemed to the ex-con that her final line of defense was at risk. Silently observing the material separate as she knelt down to retrieve something that she frankly didn't need bother with, Sam noted that it hadn't really gone back in place once she got back up.

On one hand, it would have been all too easy to just finish the job and tear that flimsy excuse of a rag off her royal highness, but on the other, she might chew him out for even thinking about it. After all, that would be cutting into the millions of hours she seemed to think she needed to get ready. Jesus, it was a child's birthday, not exactly something anyone was going to remember with that much detail. All the same, it was probably best to leave this one up to her.

Either way, he didn't see how he lost. "On a scale of ten to 'get the hell away from me before I circumcise you and cauterize the stump with my curling iron', would ya hold it against me if I asked to stick around?"

"Stick around?" Mind regrettably going to a whole other place where it had no business roaming, even to her own ears the heiress thought she sounded like a dumb-ass for the parroting act. Luckily, this time she had a way to cover her ass. "Wait, curling iron? Sam, you absolute GENIUS!"

Overcome by just how brilliant this idea was, the girl acted without thinking and pecked him on the cheek. Were he not currently smoking, that kiss might have landed elsewhere.

[Future Wars (of the present)]

Genius, huh?

Then how the hell had he allowed this to happen?

Empty as some old Americana mall that had been desolate for decades, the now unoccupied room had about as much presence as a wet cardboard box. Waiting patiently as a properly trained pup by the door to be collected by their master, the pile of luggage took up so little space it was criminally easy to overlook. Also, given that their bags consisted of carry-on, it felt disingenuous to make it sound like they had a lot of baggage... to haul downstairs.

Sporting a really shoddy split seam that had to be retouched once every blue moon, his gym bag was faded beyond color and had clearly seen better days. It also carried with it the faint stench of dirty socks (Sam swore that he did his laundry as needed) and a spot of hard liquor that had set in underneath a blistering summer sun.

Bequeathed by Chloe with fresh supplies, Daniella's travel-size backpack was newer, complete with those little white scent blockers that came with some new goods. Nigh impossible to zip when they were finished packing up the essentials, it was filled not with the clothes she had donned while vacationing with the Drake family but with things that were more practical for the road. Once more begging the question of when (and why) she had acquired clothes that were only going to be worn twice max, the how was pretty obvious in their circle.

Chalking it up to a mystery that was probably never going to be answered, he hoisted her pack over his shoulder before crouching down for his own. Stopping just shy of touching the cracked leather strap, his eye caught on the floor, remembering a time not so long ago when it had been soaked with alcohol, shining with bits of broken bottle and littered by watermelon-flavored condoms... Both of which had gone to waste in their tenure together. One problem at a time.

Blackout only a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things, with only the moonlight filtering in through the curtains, tonight was just as dark. Shattered glass and lack of power aside, the major difference was that he was alone now, Dells an undeniable wreck as she waited for him downstairs. But that night, she had been...

He almost said his.

Rage and doubt locked in a bloody battle to the bitter end, shameful as it was to admit, the truth was that the thief was still fried, mind a warring vortex of 'what ifs' and bad experiences.

Deep down there was a part of him that wanted to have this, to try to be happy with another person, to wake up next to the young woman without convincing himself that he had to hold back from her. Without wondering in the back of his mind when she was going to leave him. Without fearing for the day she grew bored and found comfort with someone else. Someone her own age, maybe, or some childhood acquaintance that knew what it was like to be rich (or could at least behave himself in polite society). Someone like Lily. Someone like Zachariah Scott.

Momentarily setting aside the fact that those were the sorts of questions that commonly came with admitting one was in a relationship, it wasn't as simple as it sounded. Daniella was young, almost totally ignorant of the world and the way it worked, yet she was also an Adler. Even if she hadn't been intending to use her feelings as a weapon against him, it was inevitable that it would happen, and he was just so done being hurt.

"Sam, I..." Dells had looked so sincere as she opened herself up to his designs, the pain that he could have inflicted, the world that he was never going to leave. It had all happened so quickly, her confession, but it was brave.

Perishing the thought, it wasn't quite so easy to rid himself of the guilt eating through the lining of his intestines... eating what remained of the closest thing he had to conscience. Forcing the mental picture of Dells standing on her own into the incinerator, try as he might Sam couldn't shake the image of the moon cracking in half to reveal a single mercurial tear. Welling in the corners of her eyes before it rolled down her cheeks, he could tell that her heart was breaking in real time. He knew, and he had been responsible for it.

Haunted by the ghosts of the many memories that had been made in the room, the only things keeping him company during check-out had been the bags. There had been a slight delay when the woman working the front desk started to flirt; seizing an opportunity that hadn't been there before, she'd gone so far as mentioning that she could find a spare room for him if things weren't working out with his young lady friend. Her exact words.

Technically on the clock still, he told her that it was unnecessary, as they were checking out. They. The word burned in the back of his throat as he said it, but otherwise the answer had come readily enough to the man. They. At most the grizzled brunette could say that it sounded a little less alien the more he thought it, although he wouldn't go as far as claiming that it was anywhere near natural.

Clearly disgruntled to be shot down like that, the woman held him up as long as she possible could; for a legitimate moment, the thief thought that there was a problem with the funds department. To be fair, Bai had made it rather transparent that she disapproved of the current state of affairs, and had made it sound like she had washed her hands of her offspring. While that was likely the truth, she had at least covered the duration of their stay on Sin Island.

But of course neither of the two could catch a goddamn break, so just as the veteran star of every general shitshow made the mistake of thinking that a single thing was going right, something else went wrong.

Vehicle missing in action, the ex-con's first notion was that the heiress had spitefully coerced the driver into pulling around the other side of the building in some vindictive bid at making Sam think he had lost her. Bai had done similar things when Rafe stopped paying her the kind of attention she had craved, and every time the multi-billionaire had made her sorry for even dreaming up those little stunts. Bust most times - after the bruises had faded and she was back to showing her face around the dig site again - she paid him back in kind.

Or, that annoying voice of reason chimed in helpfully, maybe they had to pull out of the way... Of a dead parking lot with no other visible signs of life or incoming traffic. Yeah, it was a red flag.

Dammit Dells, what are you thinking?! Canvasing the entire stretch of ground around the berth of the property line before he let himself get worried, the adventurer set their few worldly belongings down in front of the door while he double-checked the premises. Feet slapping over the pavement as he picked up the pace with each pass, when the thief finally had to admit to himself that he probably wasn't going to find the heiress, he came to a realization. Reaching out for him in the car in a last-ditch effort to make him stay, Dells wasn't trying to talk things out - she had been scared.

Attempting to choke back the flood of thoughts that were threatening to crash over the top of the dam, one of the things he kept coming back to was his little brother. Experience all the proof he'd ever need that Nathan would always be there for him - even in those lesser moments when it wasn't quite life-or-death - he and Elena had Cassie now. Most probably winding down from the excitement of the party by this point in time, the girl was more than likely trooping off to bed, her parents saying that they would clean some of the mess up but really just following suit themselves.

Likewise Charlie would be with his family, and none of them needed to get involved in this (plus Sam wasn't really sure he trusted them with his baby girl). Victor was way too old to get tangled up in this shit, although he would have jumped in without a second thought, because that was just what family did. Despite not possessing the same natural abilities to pilot them around if need be, Chloe and Nadine were his best bet, if he were to actually reach out to anyone with this.

Keyword being 'if', there was no doubt in the man's mind that calling on the troublesome twosome ran the very real risk of cutting into their long-awaited reunion. Because apparently there had been some static between the two women. As if he could care about their relationship on that kind of level, Sam's bigger concern was how it would affect him; at best they would be pissy at him, at worst he might be privy to something that no mortal man should have been exposed to. Or vice versa (he really had never been able to make up his mind about which fate was worse).

Big Drake brain working at about a million miles a minute, the historian was quick to pin the blame on the primary culprit: Ryan. The bastard may have come to Dells with some kind of deal (that coincidentally expired as of tonight, from his understanding), however that didn't mean that the little weasel hadn't hired outside help. Punk definitely hadn't given the impression that he was better than to stoop so low.

Nails digging into his palms as he curled his hands into fists, Sam had neither forgotten nor forgiven the bruise under the young woman's eye.

Angry that he actually had to spare a second thought on that creep, from what Dells had mentioned, the explorer had gathered that Ryan was staying at the same hotel. If memory served, she had said that they seemed to set down near Chloe's room, which meant killing two birds with one stone.

Provided that he was smart, the punk would have already moved on, but somehow Sam didn't think he'd have to give the prick that kind of credit. Assuming that former inmate was wrong on that though, there was a slim chance that he might find something. A clue to where they had taken the girl, or the address of the nearest Orange Tiger lair. Hideout? Lair sounded more befitting of the majestic big cat the gang had named themselves after, however hideout seemed more on the money. Whatever the hell the little dipshits wanted to call it, going to them was his best bet at finding Daniella.