Chapter Sixteen: STINY! Get me a danish!
Alex was by nature a relatively short person.
The quickness with which she cut off her conversation, coupled with her easy going, slightly irritated tone, would have been misleading to everyone but her two best friends.
Dylan's eyes widened, palm reaching up to press worriedly against her earlobe, hazel eyes catching Natalie's blue in a shocked, silent glance.
The words remained unspoken, but her meaning was clear, as her lips tightened, and her jaw jerked to the shore. Natalie's head bobbed in a short, terse nod. "Let's go."
Clipping the phone to her waist, Natalie brushed by her. Dylan, form tense with anxious worry, jerked the speaker from her ear with her thumb and forefinger, dropping it on the small cushioned seat next to her, and folding fingers over the cold wet metal of the tugboat railing.
Alex was an Angel who could more than take care of herself. Unlike Dylan, Alex never got herself in situations that were over her head, odds that she could never face. She faced everything with a cool, confident outlook - ensuring herself and everyone with her that she would always win. That was never a question.
But it didn't mean that Dylan worried any less.
Blowing out a long, loud breath in an effort to calm her beating heart, Dylan let unfocused eyes roam over the Merkin, cold and distant as it rested in the harbor.
The lazy roam suddenly shifted into an alert freeze, as her breath caught. Without taking her eyes off the scene, her hand shot out, closing over Natalie's forearm, and pulling the blonde girl roughly to her.
"Dylan! What-"
"Look," she hissed.
Pressed against her side, Dylan's palms locked in a painful grip around her skin, Natalie had no choice but to obey her friend and look. At first she saw nothing out of the ordinary, but as her gaze drifted down the loading dock of the Merkin, her body froze into ice. Eyes widening into bursts of blue, Natalie's jaw dropped in startled surprise.
Like a morbid spectator at a car race, Natalie stood helpless as she watched.
A thin man in a black suit had unceremoniously walked toward the men standing guard at the docks, and without preamble had shoved a sword into his gut, pulling back impassively and watching the man fall.
That had gotten the other men's reaction, assuredly. At least five came after him, but the Thin Man, tiny but still visible, dodged them all easily, sword flashing as he barely seemed to move, blade cutting through another. When the last finally produced a gun, aimed directly at his chest, the Thin Man gracefully stopped his swings.
Every guard around him froze, fists in the air, but Anthony merely wiped at the errant bangs that had fallen into his face, and gave a short, polite bow.
"What the hell?" Dylan's strangled whispered voiced her own confusion.
Anthony's features, at this distance, were nothing but a scowl - still, his neck craned, and Natalie could almost hear the bones cracking in his vertebrae.
It was surreal to watch what happened next.
The Thin Man made a swift pivot, turning up the dock and into the ship, acting as if he were a guest at a dinner, and not at all like an intruder who had just carved holes into two men.
Seamus' gangsters, somewhat shaken and irritated, began to clean up, while the two with the guns, slowly walked up after him.
"What the hell was that?" Dylan repeated, words shorting out with an angry hiss, jerking to meet her friend's gaze with a narrowed glance.
"I have no idea," Natalie whispered.
"Shit." Dylan's exclamation, dark and husky with anger, was nearly spit out. Letting go of Natalie, Dylan's fingers went into her hair, tangling locks between the digits, as if she was so used to Anthony tearing her hair out, she had to do it herself now that he wasn't there to do it for her. "He is such a freak!"
Natalie's look was slightly incredulous. "You slept with him."
Dylan blinked, taking in her friend's expression before shrugging with resignation. "Yeah, well, I slept with The Chad, too," she said, thumbing to her ex-boyfriend, who was now sashaying with his hips from side to side singing, 'come on and get in the boat, fishies'.
Natalie pursed her lips. "Point taken."
Taking a moment to let the image of The Chad's little StrongBad dance sink into her brain, thereby neatly labeling him in the 'Never sleeping with again - EVER' category, Dylan couldn't help but add, "I so totally regret showing him that site."
It would have been funny had it not come at such a completely fucked up time.
"There's something going on down there," Natalie said, distraction tinting her tone as she studied the ship.
"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." The snap was mean, and out of character. Dylan regretted it immediately. With an overdrawn sigh, she grimaced, shaking her head, curls bobbing on her shoulders as she shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry, Nat, I just..."
"I know," Natalie interjected quietly.
"I mean - with Alex and Anthony-"
"No shit, Sherlock," she shot back.
The use of the 's' word coming back at her from the Golden Maiden drew a startled smile from Dylan's lips. When Natalie gave her a small smirk back, she shook her head in amazement, chuckling as carefully as she could without causing her ribs to erupt into an explosion of pain.
In the silence that followed, the somberness settled back in. Despite the fact that brunette was not with them, Alex's presence was felt more than ever.
Red-head and Blonde stood side-by-side, eyeing the ship, thoughts floating in and out of minds as if they were wired telepathically, honed to thinking as a three-person team, now cut down to two.
Finally, Dylan voiced the worry. "We leave now, we might lose Anthony," she said. It was almost admirable, how she kept the emotion out of her voice - completely even, like the assassin who had entered the ship wasn't the man whom she had spent the last night tangled in sleep with, kissing his throat, running fingers over his chest, breathing in his curiously clean scent-
She swallowed down the well of emotion that suddenly rose like bile on her throat. There wasn't time for this.
Natalie, eyes on the ship, crossed her arms, flicking her a quick glance before she admitted, "I know. Knowing what we know - Seamus could kill him."
"Or the Thin Man could kill Seamus," Dylan added. "Not that that's a BAD THING, but..." Trailing off at Natalie's dirty look, she cocked an eyebrow, reveling in her bitter frothing for another second before she glanced away from the accusing blues.
"We're not going after Alex, are we?" Natalie asked flatly, wincing at the words. Dylan didn't have the courage to look. Saying it made it true, and there was no way in hell Dylan would ever think she was bailing on a friend to save a guy.
"She can take care of herself," she said finally, more to persuade herself than anyone. Finally, her eyes caught Natalie's, and with difficulty, she managed to get the words out of her stuck throat, "She can handle it."
Natalie wasn't as easy to persuade. Gripping the rails with a grip so hard, knuckles turned white, she managed a grim smile and a shake of her head.
"We find out what's going on in there, then we pull out, and we grab Alex."
It seemed wrong. Natalie and Alex had dropped everything, even risked a ride in Anthony with Frank Sinatra blaring on the 405 to save her from Mary the bitch.
What made this different?
Her eyes closed, her hands wrapped around her body, and Dylan stood, completely frozen.
"Dylan?"
She smiled morosely. "I could stand here," she said, eyes shut, "Not moving for the rest of my life and it would be easier than taking one step away from Alex."
"She said it was okay," Natalie said after a moment. "She said that she could take care of it. Let's give her the benefit of the doubt."
"She was also 'okay' when she broke up with Jason - look how that turned out," Dylan answered grimly, eyes floating open, and fingers creeping over the cellphone. Natalie took in a haggard sigh, and it was then she knew that Natalie was having as hard a time with this as she was.
It should have been the three of them together getting into that place. They were the Angels. All together.
But Anthony was in that ship, and with him was the key to the Sniper, the key to ending this tragedy with Seamus once and for all...
Seamus would be after Natalie and Alex next, and as sure as Dylan was they could handle one inept ego sensitive cop - a man consumed by hate with an immortal's body, was a completely different story.
He wouldn't stop until he killed them.
Mary, as yet, hadn't crossed that line.
"Let's go," she said finally, pushing off the railing, and grabbing a coil of rope that came close to tangling around her legs. "We need to think up a plan and a way in, at least we can do that while we wait for Alex to call."
"Right," Natalie agreed immediately, following with careful steps. Dylan let a palm drift and linger over Chad's raincoat, saved for those wonderful occasions when the storms splashed over the deck and drenched him.
She grabbed it, hoisting it over her shoulder.
Natalie swept up an iron claw, grabbing the rope Dylan tossed her way.
"She's in a hospital," she added, following Dylan as she shifted to grab his rain boots as well. "How much trouble can she be in?"
--
"You're in serious trouble." Mary wore her smug smile a little too proudly. "You know that, right?"
"I took a gander," Alex responded smoothly. Her hands were hanging loose at her sides, posture the picture of relaxation, one heeled shoe daintily settled in front of the other, almost as if she was posing for the camera.
It would take less than a second to move into a fighting stance, the back leg already taking the brunt of the weight, should she need to suddenly push forward into a hook kick to throw the gun aside...
If Mary was dumb enough to move that close.
But Mary was egotistic - not stupid.
But she could be impulsive...
Mary's smile only grew wider. "You know, I was wondering who would be dumb enough to come back here..."
"It's not really stupidity," Alex responded. Jason coughed behind her, and she willed herself to curb the instinct to look back at him. It served as a reminder. She couldn't be impulsive here. She wasn't just bargaining for her own life here, but Jason and Pete's, and oddly enough, Spikes. "It's more of a need to get the job done, but I guess you wouldn't know too much about that."
Mary shrugged. "James," she said to the detective behind her, keeping her eyes on Alex, "Close the door, lock it - make sure no one comes in."
"The captain said-"
"Do you take orders from the captain or from me?" she snapped.
He swallowed, glancing once at Alex before nodding helplessly. "You. Sure..." Backing out, he shut the door behind him.
Mary studied the floor, glancing over the blood, wincing at the shattered glass. She shook her head. "Someone's going to take the fall for this."
"And I presume you already found your stooge?" Alex asked primly.
Mary quirked an eyebrow, winking. "How'd you guess, baby?" Her eyes shifted, catching the discarded pants on the floor. "I knew something was wrong when that detective had a better ass than mine."
"Now, wait a minute, ladies," Pete slowly stood. "I think we've got a bit of a miscommunication, here."
"Shut up," Alex and Mary both said quickly.
Jason, wide-eyed, prodded him. "Yeah, man. Shut up."
"Lots of people have a better ass than you," Alex snapped. "I can think of at least two more - it's called exercise, Mary. You should try it!"
"Why should I?" she shot back. She shook the gun slightly, indicating at the cocked metal. "That's got all I need."
Alex grinned. "And that's always been your problem."
Mary's smile faltered. "Excuse me?"
"It's why I'm going to beat you. Beat this."
"Hannibal? Can you say that in English, please?"
"You never take responsibility for yourself," Alex said patiently. "You always rely on something else - and when it goes wrong, you never think back about what you could have done to prevent it - just on who you can blame. It's killing you here, with Seamus. You know that when the shit goes down - it's him that's going to blame you. And your ass is brass."
The glint in Mary's eyes slowly froze from shiny to cold steel.
Alex just needed a second. Just a second when Mary didn't have the gun pointed at her chest to slide in, hook a heel and stab the wrist - twirl the gun in the air, and let all hell break loose.
But the wrong angle and the gun would be swiveled to Jason and Pete.
Alex had to be careful.
Slowly, almost out of nowhere, a little dog began to growl. Alex snuck a millisecond look. The dog, on all fours, dug his paws in Jason's lap. His lips were pulled back over his teeth, a loud rumble coming from inside his doggie throat, ears flat against his head as he slowly edged toward the end of the bed, in Mary's direction.
Mary blinked, jerking her focus to the dog, eyes going wide. "Who the hell let a DOG in here?!"
And Alex caught it, a fraction of panic, the smallest glimpse of it that was like a window into Mary's soul.
Spike had come to her rescue yet again.
Mary was afraid of dogs.
--
Paddy O'Malley had been banned from strip clubs for eternity.
Okay, maybe not eternity, but Seamus wasn't a forgiving guy, and Paddy knew that he'd better keep his arse outta there if he knew what was good for him.
Six months. Six MONTHS!
You'da thought a guy woulda gotten over it.
Paddy was a male. A big male - and men needed things like girls as distractions.
How was he supposed to know Seamus' slut girlfriend not only was a natural redhead, but knew how to wrap herself around a pole like she was made to wrap herself around...
Steps faltering, Paddy grimaced, reaching down to adjust himself before walking forward, a little awkwardly.
"Yeah, Paddy," he growled to himself. "That's what you should be thinkin' about. Boning your bosses' girl. Like that didn't get the other guy in enough trouble already."
Course ... that didn't mean he couldn't think about her friends.
The little Asian one with the whip - the blonde with her looooooooooong legs...
Bastard Charlie sure knew how to pick 'em.
Smiling to himself, Paddy dug fists into his pockets, glancing back and forth over the dock of the ship.
It had grown increasingly dark, the sun setting on the west, leaving this side, the east, already darkened.
Paddy shivered slightly.
Unhooking the gun from his belt, he practiced cocking it, aiming at the dark, imaginary shadows that came up at him.
It was juvenile, and a bit childish, but Paddy had often argued (though mostly drunk at the time) that there was nothing about being an Irish Thug that wasn't just being a big kid.
Who else said they wanted to be a bully for the rest of their life?
It was Paddy's dream job, and he had killed to get where he was.
"Yeah," he breathed, stuffing the gun into his belt. "Not going to let some little red tramp ruin that for me. And no stupid pale ghost thing either."
And then he saw the ghost.
It came up at him out of nowhere. Dark and forbidding in a yellow trenchcoat - just like that movie.
And there was a hook emerging out of it's left hand, as it lifted, lifted...
Paddy, in his panic, forgot all about his gun.
The figure came closer, brandishing that claw, and the scream, stuck in the back of his throat, came out more like a squeak.
"Awww... fuck!" he managed, and swiveling, he managed to get two feet in the other direction, when a red-head dressed in black, wearing a scowl and sporting a fist, quirked an eyebrow.
"Red Tramp?!" Dylan hissed.
Something with the force of a small truck collided with his forehead, before the world suddenly tipped up, and slammed him in the back of his head.
And the lights just went out.
Dylan nudged at the big thug with her feet, glaring angrily above him to her partner in crime. "Red tramp?"
"Oh, but Seamus calls you a bitch and it's okay?" Natalie asked, pulling off the fisherman's hat and hefting the rope, tying it deftly to the edge of the anchor.
"You know that's not the point," Dylan snapped, smoothing out Natalie's hair with a small flick of her wrist.
Natalie sighed, shrugging off the rain coat and tossing it to Dylan. "I can't believe he actually fell for that."
Dylan, despite the grim circumstances, couldn't help the small grin that floated on her features. "I told you, it's a classic."
Natalie scoffed, motioning for Dylan to step back. "Please."
Dylan rolled the rope into an arc, deftly hooking it over her elbow and palms, moving fast. "This from a woman who believes 'She's All That' is the great American romantic comedy."
"Hey!" Natalie blew the bangs out of her face, stepping over the fallen forgotten thug to give Dylan a good glare. "That was a good movie!"
Dylan glanced over her shoulder, a small, indiscriminate shudder rolling over her body.
The last time she was here, Seamus had followed her - he had played her, and only recently, he had nearly killed her.
He wanted her here to finish the job, and kill everything she loved in the process.
A glance at Natalie, blonde hair shining even in the darkened sunset, and Dylan managed a smile. "Why don't we call it even?" she suggested. "Since the aforementioned stars went and got married to make bad movies together, we can say it's a truce?"
Natalie's sparkling eyes light up even more at the thought. "Yeah! I never thought of that."
Dylan grinned, throwing the rope, now carefully rolled and free of dangers from tangles, on the floor of the ship.
"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" she asked quietly.
Natalie grit her teeth, biceps flexing as she gave a small shout, throwing the heavy metal up over the deck. It landed with a clank.
"I'm going to be fine," she answered, tugging on the rope, making sure it held. "It's you and Alex I'm worried about."
The connotation behind the tone indicated there was much Natalie wanted to say to her, and was waiting for the eye of the storm to let loose.
For once, Dylan was glad they were still stuck in the hurricane.
Crossing her arms, Dylan glanced at the ground, nudging the Lap Dance Loving thug with one booted foot. "Nat-"
"Listen. We're only going in there to size up the situation before we hear from Alex. Find Anthony, find Seamus, but don't get involved. Please - I won't let them touch you." Natalie's voice was uncharacteristically hard, clipped in a warning note that told Dylan that it was different this time. Something had shifted.
The gun, hard and cold against her spine, may had had something to do with it.
Dylan had crashed through a window and had ribs broken by her best friend the last time she tried to do things on her own. Natalie and Alex, without question, had come after her, saved her and helped her without judgement or reservation.
Maybe she had been right about it all along, maybe they had been wrong, but that didn't matter.
Madison Lee must have thought she was right when she went off on the De Sota case alone, too.
"Fine," she said finally. She could do that. She could look at Seamus and look at Anthony and not crumble inside.
Even with the tightness in her chest that was suffocating her, even with her eyes stinging, and her throat raw and aching, she could do it.
Because Natalie had asked her to.
Their places had shifted, and now - the distraction was her.
Hardness couldn't hold on Natalie. She just wasn't made that way. In the next instance, she had a generous smile on her face, tender and sympathetic, before she gently chucked at Dylan's chin, and swept a finger lovingly across her cheek.
"Got the mike on?"
"Testing," Dylan said obediently.
"All right," Natalie said, voice now chirping in her ear as well as the real thing, two feet away. "I'll be right there. I won't leave you, Dylan."
Dylan smiled, bobbing her head in a nod, wincing as she knelt down and pulled the belt out of Thug Boy's pants, weaving together his hands.
"Hey Dylan?"
Glancing up, Dylan discovered Natalie's hesitant form frozen, hands ready to hoist herself up on the rope.
"Yeah."
"It'd be too much to ask for the gun, wouldn't it?"
The tone was defeated, resigned, but ironically, with the slightest twinge of hope that a miracle would occur. So Natalie.
So heartbreaking, when Dylan couldn't say no.
"I... don't think so, Nat." She managed a small twitch of her lips. "Sorry."
Blue eyes closing to reign in the emotion, Natalie let out a long, tension relieving breath. "Yeah... me too."
With that, one hand began to move over the other, and Natalie, using her rope, hoisted herself up in the air, over the side of the boat.
Dylan stood - once again cursing her ribs as she pulled on the raincoat, kicked away Thug Guy's gun.
Getting Natalie in was easy-
Now came the hard part.
--
"You know," Alex began, crossing her arms and stepping back a half step. "I can't wait for the moment when I get to kick your ass."
Mary's eyes shifted nervously from the dog, who now began to bark, filling the room with noise.
"Honey," she began, a breathless laugh diffusing the acidity of the statement, "I don't get myself dirty."
"Sweetie, you're so full of stink now you couldn't dig yourself out of it if you tried." Mary's smile froze. Alex cocked her head, smirking slightly. "What? You don't think I know you? I'm a certified genius, Mary. I'm an on- call consultant for NASA and had a World Class Chess Championship and a Gold Medal in Gymnastics to my name before I hit fourteen."
"Woooa," Jason said, nodding in approval. "That explains a lot!" Moving to Pete, he gave a nudge. "She's just really flexib-"
"Jason!" Alex twirped, mouth frozen in irritation. "Honey, I love you but - kinda ruining my intimidating cutting speech, here!"
"Oh, right. Sorry."
Spike, still barking up a storm, now nearly falling off the corner off the bed in his energy, wasn't helping much either.
"You wanna control your pets?" Mary asked wryly. Her control was there, but she was teetering.
Alex only grinned, slowly, subtly, twisting to that Mary's gun now pointed at her, into the very safe bathroom.
"What makes you think you could ever beat me, Mary? I'm younger. I'm prettier. I'm bitchier- and I don't take orders from Irish thugs."
Mary's smile was now only instinct. Her fingers were wrapped tightly over the gun, and now it seemed to tremble.
"No," she answered with effort. "You take orders from a billionaire playboy that you've never seen."
Alex nodded. "I don't see him in here now, do you?" The threat didn't have to be spoken. It was insinuated, and Mary was dully intimidated. It was almost too easy. Alex sighed, hands on her hips. "I'm bored. I'm leaving."
"You're not going anywhere. There are ten cops outside the door right now, and they're all ready to book you for impersonating an officer, tampering with evidence, disabling a crime scene - at the very least, sweetie."
"Who said I'm taking the front door?" Alex sighed, and the glare that came from behind her eyes was complete and angry.
"Spike?" Jason inserted, tone flat and furious. "Sick her."
It happened like clockword.
Spike jumped off the bed with an obedient yelp. Mary cursed and swung the gun crazily in the dog's direction. In half a second, her arm was blocked and the gun's aim was circumvented with a heel dug into Mary's wrist and an ankle shook the gun out of her grip.
Mary felt the blinding force of an uppercut, that snapped her head back like a rubber band, sending her sprawling back, hands cutting on the glass as Spike yelped excitedly.
The door crashed open, hitting her squarely in the head, and making her slump to the side as officers flooded into the room, guns drawn.
"What happened?!"
Alex wasn't in the room.
Mary groaned, rubbing at her head, and pointing to the window. "She went out there!"
Pushing off an officer who tried to help her to her feet, she hobbled forward, leaning out the window, and finding nothing but the alley before.
"Crap. This isn't spiderman." Leaning back, she glanced up. "The roof. The roof! Everyone- OUT! Let's GO!"
But the small room was packed with officers, and when one rushed forward, Pete suddenly decided to grab the dog, rolling right under the blue clad legs.
The officer went down, and right behind him, another tangled in his legs, and pushed a third down with him, who in turn accidentally swept under the legs of the fifth and sixth.
When the dust settled, all ten officers were on the floor, knotted in arms and legs, with a proud Mary sprawled on top, legs sticking up in the air.
Pete had to force the smile off his face, straightening his expression for what he hoped was an apologetic grin, holding the squirming dog to him, and circling around the heap.
"I'm so... so... sorry," he said. "I didn't- I was just getting my dog!"
"GET OFF ME!" Mary growled, wavering as she teetered on her heels, pulling at her blazer and pushing another officer out of her face. "Everyone OUT! NOW! YOU!" she growled, pointing a finger at Pete. "You're under arrest for... obstruction of justice! And YOU!" she snapped at the dog. "You're going to the POUND for an appointment with the crypt keeper. And YOU!-" she turned, flashing her eyes at Jason.
But the actor only smiled. "Ah-Ah!" His grin widened as he pointed to the cellphone he held in his hand, open. "That's my publicist on the other line. He's just heard the whole thing. You wanna keep talking?"
Mary simmered, shifting glances between the officers in various states of pain on the floor, to the smiling Pete and growling dog - to the smug Jason.
"I hate actors. Let's go!" Mary pushed another uniform, kicked a third in the rear, and pulled out her gun. "Catch her before she gets to the car!"
Pete sat down carefully in his chair, struggling to keep his dog from squirming out of his lap.
Jason closed the phone, placing it on the dresser. "He put me on hold. But she doesn't know that."
Pete laughed. "Great."
Jason smiled, settling back in his chair, before a thought crossed his mind, and made him bolt up. Immediately, he winced, yelping in pain, and managing. "Wait - did we just saved Alex?"
Pete considered. "I think we gave her a little bit of time, yeah."
"HA! I'm SO THE MAN!" Jason raised his fists triumphantly. "We're SO THE MEN! The 'getting my dog' thing was classic!"
"Learned it from Nat," Pete said with a smile.
"Allright, man! We rule! Jason Gibbons! Action Star!"
"And bodyguard," Pete added.
"And KICK ASS BODYGUARD! And spike!"
The subsequent high five made him double over with pain, but for once, Jason didn't care.
The cheers and hoots didn't stop for a full five minutes.
--
end chapter
Alex was by nature a relatively short person.
The quickness with which she cut off her conversation, coupled with her easy going, slightly irritated tone, would have been misleading to everyone but her two best friends.
Dylan's eyes widened, palm reaching up to press worriedly against her earlobe, hazel eyes catching Natalie's blue in a shocked, silent glance.
The words remained unspoken, but her meaning was clear, as her lips tightened, and her jaw jerked to the shore. Natalie's head bobbed in a short, terse nod. "Let's go."
Clipping the phone to her waist, Natalie brushed by her. Dylan, form tense with anxious worry, jerked the speaker from her ear with her thumb and forefinger, dropping it on the small cushioned seat next to her, and folding fingers over the cold wet metal of the tugboat railing.
Alex was an Angel who could more than take care of herself. Unlike Dylan, Alex never got herself in situations that were over her head, odds that she could never face. She faced everything with a cool, confident outlook - ensuring herself and everyone with her that she would always win. That was never a question.
But it didn't mean that Dylan worried any less.
Blowing out a long, loud breath in an effort to calm her beating heart, Dylan let unfocused eyes roam over the Merkin, cold and distant as it rested in the harbor.
The lazy roam suddenly shifted into an alert freeze, as her breath caught. Without taking her eyes off the scene, her hand shot out, closing over Natalie's forearm, and pulling the blonde girl roughly to her.
"Dylan! What-"
"Look," she hissed.
Pressed against her side, Dylan's palms locked in a painful grip around her skin, Natalie had no choice but to obey her friend and look. At first she saw nothing out of the ordinary, but as her gaze drifted down the loading dock of the Merkin, her body froze into ice. Eyes widening into bursts of blue, Natalie's jaw dropped in startled surprise.
Like a morbid spectator at a car race, Natalie stood helpless as she watched.
A thin man in a black suit had unceremoniously walked toward the men standing guard at the docks, and without preamble had shoved a sword into his gut, pulling back impassively and watching the man fall.
That had gotten the other men's reaction, assuredly. At least five came after him, but the Thin Man, tiny but still visible, dodged them all easily, sword flashing as he barely seemed to move, blade cutting through another. When the last finally produced a gun, aimed directly at his chest, the Thin Man gracefully stopped his swings.
Every guard around him froze, fists in the air, but Anthony merely wiped at the errant bangs that had fallen into his face, and gave a short, polite bow.
"What the hell?" Dylan's strangled whispered voiced her own confusion.
Anthony's features, at this distance, were nothing but a scowl - still, his neck craned, and Natalie could almost hear the bones cracking in his vertebrae.
It was surreal to watch what happened next.
The Thin Man made a swift pivot, turning up the dock and into the ship, acting as if he were a guest at a dinner, and not at all like an intruder who had just carved holes into two men.
Seamus' gangsters, somewhat shaken and irritated, began to clean up, while the two with the guns, slowly walked up after him.
"What the hell was that?" Dylan repeated, words shorting out with an angry hiss, jerking to meet her friend's gaze with a narrowed glance.
"I have no idea," Natalie whispered.
"Shit." Dylan's exclamation, dark and husky with anger, was nearly spit out. Letting go of Natalie, Dylan's fingers went into her hair, tangling locks between the digits, as if she was so used to Anthony tearing her hair out, she had to do it herself now that he wasn't there to do it for her. "He is such a freak!"
Natalie's look was slightly incredulous. "You slept with him."
Dylan blinked, taking in her friend's expression before shrugging with resignation. "Yeah, well, I slept with The Chad, too," she said, thumbing to her ex-boyfriend, who was now sashaying with his hips from side to side singing, 'come on and get in the boat, fishies'.
Natalie pursed her lips. "Point taken."
Taking a moment to let the image of The Chad's little StrongBad dance sink into her brain, thereby neatly labeling him in the 'Never sleeping with again - EVER' category, Dylan couldn't help but add, "I so totally regret showing him that site."
It would have been funny had it not come at such a completely fucked up time.
"There's something going on down there," Natalie said, distraction tinting her tone as she studied the ship.
"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." The snap was mean, and out of character. Dylan regretted it immediately. With an overdrawn sigh, she grimaced, shaking her head, curls bobbing on her shoulders as she shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry, Nat, I just..."
"I know," Natalie interjected quietly.
"I mean - with Alex and Anthony-"
"No shit, Sherlock," she shot back.
The use of the 's' word coming back at her from the Golden Maiden drew a startled smile from Dylan's lips. When Natalie gave her a small smirk back, she shook her head in amazement, chuckling as carefully as she could without causing her ribs to erupt into an explosion of pain.
In the silence that followed, the somberness settled back in. Despite the fact that brunette was not with them, Alex's presence was felt more than ever.
Red-head and Blonde stood side-by-side, eyeing the ship, thoughts floating in and out of minds as if they were wired telepathically, honed to thinking as a three-person team, now cut down to two.
Finally, Dylan voiced the worry. "We leave now, we might lose Anthony," she said. It was almost admirable, how she kept the emotion out of her voice - completely even, like the assassin who had entered the ship wasn't the man whom she had spent the last night tangled in sleep with, kissing his throat, running fingers over his chest, breathing in his curiously clean scent-
She swallowed down the well of emotion that suddenly rose like bile on her throat. There wasn't time for this.
Natalie, eyes on the ship, crossed her arms, flicking her a quick glance before she admitted, "I know. Knowing what we know - Seamus could kill him."
"Or the Thin Man could kill Seamus," Dylan added. "Not that that's a BAD THING, but..." Trailing off at Natalie's dirty look, she cocked an eyebrow, reveling in her bitter frothing for another second before she glanced away from the accusing blues.
"We're not going after Alex, are we?" Natalie asked flatly, wincing at the words. Dylan didn't have the courage to look. Saying it made it true, and there was no way in hell Dylan would ever think she was bailing on a friend to save a guy.
"She can take care of herself," she said finally, more to persuade herself than anyone. Finally, her eyes caught Natalie's, and with difficulty, she managed to get the words out of her stuck throat, "She can handle it."
Natalie wasn't as easy to persuade. Gripping the rails with a grip so hard, knuckles turned white, she managed a grim smile and a shake of her head.
"We find out what's going on in there, then we pull out, and we grab Alex."
It seemed wrong. Natalie and Alex had dropped everything, even risked a ride in Anthony with Frank Sinatra blaring on the 405 to save her from Mary the bitch.
What made this different?
Her eyes closed, her hands wrapped around her body, and Dylan stood, completely frozen.
"Dylan?"
She smiled morosely. "I could stand here," she said, eyes shut, "Not moving for the rest of my life and it would be easier than taking one step away from Alex."
"She said it was okay," Natalie said after a moment. "She said that she could take care of it. Let's give her the benefit of the doubt."
"She was also 'okay' when she broke up with Jason - look how that turned out," Dylan answered grimly, eyes floating open, and fingers creeping over the cellphone. Natalie took in a haggard sigh, and it was then she knew that Natalie was having as hard a time with this as she was.
It should have been the three of them together getting into that place. They were the Angels. All together.
But Anthony was in that ship, and with him was the key to the Sniper, the key to ending this tragedy with Seamus once and for all...
Seamus would be after Natalie and Alex next, and as sure as Dylan was they could handle one inept ego sensitive cop - a man consumed by hate with an immortal's body, was a completely different story.
He wouldn't stop until he killed them.
Mary, as yet, hadn't crossed that line.
"Let's go," she said finally, pushing off the railing, and grabbing a coil of rope that came close to tangling around her legs. "We need to think up a plan and a way in, at least we can do that while we wait for Alex to call."
"Right," Natalie agreed immediately, following with careful steps. Dylan let a palm drift and linger over Chad's raincoat, saved for those wonderful occasions when the storms splashed over the deck and drenched him.
She grabbed it, hoisting it over her shoulder.
Natalie swept up an iron claw, grabbing the rope Dylan tossed her way.
"She's in a hospital," she added, following Dylan as she shifted to grab his rain boots as well. "How much trouble can she be in?"
--
"You're in serious trouble." Mary wore her smug smile a little too proudly. "You know that, right?"
"I took a gander," Alex responded smoothly. Her hands were hanging loose at her sides, posture the picture of relaxation, one heeled shoe daintily settled in front of the other, almost as if she was posing for the camera.
It would take less than a second to move into a fighting stance, the back leg already taking the brunt of the weight, should she need to suddenly push forward into a hook kick to throw the gun aside...
If Mary was dumb enough to move that close.
But Mary was egotistic - not stupid.
But she could be impulsive...
Mary's smile only grew wider. "You know, I was wondering who would be dumb enough to come back here..."
"It's not really stupidity," Alex responded. Jason coughed behind her, and she willed herself to curb the instinct to look back at him. It served as a reminder. She couldn't be impulsive here. She wasn't just bargaining for her own life here, but Jason and Pete's, and oddly enough, Spikes. "It's more of a need to get the job done, but I guess you wouldn't know too much about that."
Mary shrugged. "James," she said to the detective behind her, keeping her eyes on Alex, "Close the door, lock it - make sure no one comes in."
"The captain said-"
"Do you take orders from the captain or from me?" she snapped.
He swallowed, glancing once at Alex before nodding helplessly. "You. Sure..." Backing out, he shut the door behind him.
Mary studied the floor, glancing over the blood, wincing at the shattered glass. She shook her head. "Someone's going to take the fall for this."
"And I presume you already found your stooge?" Alex asked primly.
Mary quirked an eyebrow, winking. "How'd you guess, baby?" Her eyes shifted, catching the discarded pants on the floor. "I knew something was wrong when that detective had a better ass than mine."
"Now, wait a minute, ladies," Pete slowly stood. "I think we've got a bit of a miscommunication, here."
"Shut up," Alex and Mary both said quickly.
Jason, wide-eyed, prodded him. "Yeah, man. Shut up."
"Lots of people have a better ass than you," Alex snapped. "I can think of at least two more - it's called exercise, Mary. You should try it!"
"Why should I?" she shot back. She shook the gun slightly, indicating at the cocked metal. "That's got all I need."
Alex grinned. "And that's always been your problem."
Mary's smile faltered. "Excuse me?"
"It's why I'm going to beat you. Beat this."
"Hannibal? Can you say that in English, please?"
"You never take responsibility for yourself," Alex said patiently. "You always rely on something else - and when it goes wrong, you never think back about what you could have done to prevent it - just on who you can blame. It's killing you here, with Seamus. You know that when the shit goes down - it's him that's going to blame you. And your ass is brass."
The glint in Mary's eyes slowly froze from shiny to cold steel.
Alex just needed a second. Just a second when Mary didn't have the gun pointed at her chest to slide in, hook a heel and stab the wrist - twirl the gun in the air, and let all hell break loose.
But the wrong angle and the gun would be swiveled to Jason and Pete.
Alex had to be careful.
Slowly, almost out of nowhere, a little dog began to growl. Alex snuck a millisecond look. The dog, on all fours, dug his paws in Jason's lap. His lips were pulled back over his teeth, a loud rumble coming from inside his doggie throat, ears flat against his head as he slowly edged toward the end of the bed, in Mary's direction.
Mary blinked, jerking her focus to the dog, eyes going wide. "Who the hell let a DOG in here?!"
And Alex caught it, a fraction of panic, the smallest glimpse of it that was like a window into Mary's soul.
Spike had come to her rescue yet again.
Mary was afraid of dogs.
--
Paddy O'Malley had been banned from strip clubs for eternity.
Okay, maybe not eternity, but Seamus wasn't a forgiving guy, and Paddy knew that he'd better keep his arse outta there if he knew what was good for him.
Six months. Six MONTHS!
You'da thought a guy woulda gotten over it.
Paddy was a male. A big male - and men needed things like girls as distractions.
How was he supposed to know Seamus' slut girlfriend not only was a natural redhead, but knew how to wrap herself around a pole like she was made to wrap herself around...
Steps faltering, Paddy grimaced, reaching down to adjust himself before walking forward, a little awkwardly.
"Yeah, Paddy," he growled to himself. "That's what you should be thinkin' about. Boning your bosses' girl. Like that didn't get the other guy in enough trouble already."
Course ... that didn't mean he couldn't think about her friends.
The little Asian one with the whip - the blonde with her looooooooooong legs...
Bastard Charlie sure knew how to pick 'em.
Smiling to himself, Paddy dug fists into his pockets, glancing back and forth over the dock of the ship.
It had grown increasingly dark, the sun setting on the west, leaving this side, the east, already darkened.
Paddy shivered slightly.
Unhooking the gun from his belt, he practiced cocking it, aiming at the dark, imaginary shadows that came up at him.
It was juvenile, and a bit childish, but Paddy had often argued (though mostly drunk at the time) that there was nothing about being an Irish Thug that wasn't just being a big kid.
Who else said they wanted to be a bully for the rest of their life?
It was Paddy's dream job, and he had killed to get where he was.
"Yeah," he breathed, stuffing the gun into his belt. "Not going to let some little red tramp ruin that for me. And no stupid pale ghost thing either."
And then he saw the ghost.
It came up at him out of nowhere. Dark and forbidding in a yellow trenchcoat - just like that movie.
And there was a hook emerging out of it's left hand, as it lifted, lifted...
Paddy, in his panic, forgot all about his gun.
The figure came closer, brandishing that claw, and the scream, stuck in the back of his throat, came out more like a squeak.
"Awww... fuck!" he managed, and swiveling, he managed to get two feet in the other direction, when a red-head dressed in black, wearing a scowl and sporting a fist, quirked an eyebrow.
"Red Tramp?!" Dylan hissed.
Something with the force of a small truck collided with his forehead, before the world suddenly tipped up, and slammed him in the back of his head.
And the lights just went out.
Dylan nudged at the big thug with her feet, glaring angrily above him to her partner in crime. "Red tramp?"
"Oh, but Seamus calls you a bitch and it's okay?" Natalie asked, pulling off the fisherman's hat and hefting the rope, tying it deftly to the edge of the anchor.
"You know that's not the point," Dylan snapped, smoothing out Natalie's hair with a small flick of her wrist.
Natalie sighed, shrugging off the rain coat and tossing it to Dylan. "I can't believe he actually fell for that."
Dylan, despite the grim circumstances, couldn't help the small grin that floated on her features. "I told you, it's a classic."
Natalie scoffed, motioning for Dylan to step back. "Please."
Dylan rolled the rope into an arc, deftly hooking it over her elbow and palms, moving fast. "This from a woman who believes 'She's All That' is the great American romantic comedy."
"Hey!" Natalie blew the bangs out of her face, stepping over the fallen forgotten thug to give Dylan a good glare. "That was a good movie!"
Dylan glanced over her shoulder, a small, indiscriminate shudder rolling over her body.
The last time she was here, Seamus had followed her - he had played her, and only recently, he had nearly killed her.
He wanted her here to finish the job, and kill everything she loved in the process.
A glance at Natalie, blonde hair shining even in the darkened sunset, and Dylan managed a smile. "Why don't we call it even?" she suggested. "Since the aforementioned stars went and got married to make bad movies together, we can say it's a truce?"
Natalie's sparkling eyes light up even more at the thought. "Yeah! I never thought of that."
Dylan grinned, throwing the rope, now carefully rolled and free of dangers from tangles, on the floor of the ship.
"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" she asked quietly.
Natalie grit her teeth, biceps flexing as she gave a small shout, throwing the heavy metal up over the deck. It landed with a clank.
"I'm going to be fine," she answered, tugging on the rope, making sure it held. "It's you and Alex I'm worried about."
The connotation behind the tone indicated there was much Natalie wanted to say to her, and was waiting for the eye of the storm to let loose.
For once, Dylan was glad they were still stuck in the hurricane.
Crossing her arms, Dylan glanced at the ground, nudging the Lap Dance Loving thug with one booted foot. "Nat-"
"Listen. We're only going in there to size up the situation before we hear from Alex. Find Anthony, find Seamus, but don't get involved. Please - I won't let them touch you." Natalie's voice was uncharacteristically hard, clipped in a warning note that told Dylan that it was different this time. Something had shifted.
The gun, hard and cold against her spine, may had had something to do with it.
Dylan had crashed through a window and had ribs broken by her best friend the last time she tried to do things on her own. Natalie and Alex, without question, had come after her, saved her and helped her without judgement or reservation.
Maybe she had been right about it all along, maybe they had been wrong, but that didn't matter.
Madison Lee must have thought she was right when she went off on the De Sota case alone, too.
"Fine," she said finally. She could do that. She could look at Seamus and look at Anthony and not crumble inside.
Even with the tightness in her chest that was suffocating her, even with her eyes stinging, and her throat raw and aching, she could do it.
Because Natalie had asked her to.
Their places had shifted, and now - the distraction was her.
Hardness couldn't hold on Natalie. She just wasn't made that way. In the next instance, she had a generous smile on her face, tender and sympathetic, before she gently chucked at Dylan's chin, and swept a finger lovingly across her cheek.
"Got the mike on?"
"Testing," Dylan said obediently.
"All right," Natalie said, voice now chirping in her ear as well as the real thing, two feet away. "I'll be right there. I won't leave you, Dylan."
Dylan smiled, bobbing her head in a nod, wincing as she knelt down and pulled the belt out of Thug Boy's pants, weaving together his hands.
"Hey Dylan?"
Glancing up, Dylan discovered Natalie's hesitant form frozen, hands ready to hoist herself up on the rope.
"Yeah."
"It'd be too much to ask for the gun, wouldn't it?"
The tone was defeated, resigned, but ironically, with the slightest twinge of hope that a miracle would occur. So Natalie.
So heartbreaking, when Dylan couldn't say no.
"I... don't think so, Nat." She managed a small twitch of her lips. "Sorry."
Blue eyes closing to reign in the emotion, Natalie let out a long, tension relieving breath. "Yeah... me too."
With that, one hand began to move over the other, and Natalie, using her rope, hoisted herself up in the air, over the side of the boat.
Dylan stood - once again cursing her ribs as she pulled on the raincoat, kicked away Thug Guy's gun.
Getting Natalie in was easy-
Now came the hard part.
--
"You know," Alex began, crossing her arms and stepping back a half step. "I can't wait for the moment when I get to kick your ass."
Mary's eyes shifted nervously from the dog, who now began to bark, filling the room with noise.
"Honey," she began, a breathless laugh diffusing the acidity of the statement, "I don't get myself dirty."
"Sweetie, you're so full of stink now you couldn't dig yourself out of it if you tried." Mary's smile froze. Alex cocked her head, smirking slightly. "What? You don't think I know you? I'm a certified genius, Mary. I'm an on- call consultant for NASA and had a World Class Chess Championship and a Gold Medal in Gymnastics to my name before I hit fourteen."
"Woooa," Jason said, nodding in approval. "That explains a lot!" Moving to Pete, he gave a nudge. "She's just really flexib-"
"Jason!" Alex twirped, mouth frozen in irritation. "Honey, I love you but - kinda ruining my intimidating cutting speech, here!"
"Oh, right. Sorry."
Spike, still barking up a storm, now nearly falling off the corner off the bed in his energy, wasn't helping much either.
"You wanna control your pets?" Mary asked wryly. Her control was there, but she was teetering.
Alex only grinned, slowly, subtly, twisting to that Mary's gun now pointed at her, into the very safe bathroom.
"What makes you think you could ever beat me, Mary? I'm younger. I'm prettier. I'm bitchier- and I don't take orders from Irish thugs."
Mary's smile was now only instinct. Her fingers were wrapped tightly over the gun, and now it seemed to tremble.
"No," she answered with effort. "You take orders from a billionaire playboy that you've never seen."
Alex nodded. "I don't see him in here now, do you?" The threat didn't have to be spoken. It was insinuated, and Mary was dully intimidated. It was almost too easy. Alex sighed, hands on her hips. "I'm bored. I'm leaving."
"You're not going anywhere. There are ten cops outside the door right now, and they're all ready to book you for impersonating an officer, tampering with evidence, disabling a crime scene - at the very least, sweetie."
"Who said I'm taking the front door?" Alex sighed, and the glare that came from behind her eyes was complete and angry.
"Spike?" Jason inserted, tone flat and furious. "Sick her."
It happened like clockword.
Spike jumped off the bed with an obedient yelp. Mary cursed and swung the gun crazily in the dog's direction. In half a second, her arm was blocked and the gun's aim was circumvented with a heel dug into Mary's wrist and an ankle shook the gun out of her grip.
Mary felt the blinding force of an uppercut, that snapped her head back like a rubber band, sending her sprawling back, hands cutting on the glass as Spike yelped excitedly.
The door crashed open, hitting her squarely in the head, and making her slump to the side as officers flooded into the room, guns drawn.
"What happened?!"
Alex wasn't in the room.
Mary groaned, rubbing at her head, and pointing to the window. "She went out there!"
Pushing off an officer who tried to help her to her feet, she hobbled forward, leaning out the window, and finding nothing but the alley before.
"Crap. This isn't spiderman." Leaning back, she glanced up. "The roof. The roof! Everyone- OUT! Let's GO!"
But the small room was packed with officers, and when one rushed forward, Pete suddenly decided to grab the dog, rolling right under the blue clad legs.
The officer went down, and right behind him, another tangled in his legs, and pushed a third down with him, who in turn accidentally swept under the legs of the fifth and sixth.
When the dust settled, all ten officers were on the floor, knotted in arms and legs, with a proud Mary sprawled on top, legs sticking up in the air.
Pete had to force the smile off his face, straightening his expression for what he hoped was an apologetic grin, holding the squirming dog to him, and circling around the heap.
"I'm so... so... sorry," he said. "I didn't- I was just getting my dog!"
"GET OFF ME!" Mary growled, wavering as she teetered on her heels, pulling at her blazer and pushing another officer out of her face. "Everyone OUT! NOW! YOU!" she growled, pointing a finger at Pete. "You're under arrest for... obstruction of justice! And YOU!" she snapped at the dog. "You're going to the POUND for an appointment with the crypt keeper. And YOU!-" she turned, flashing her eyes at Jason.
But the actor only smiled. "Ah-Ah!" His grin widened as he pointed to the cellphone he held in his hand, open. "That's my publicist on the other line. He's just heard the whole thing. You wanna keep talking?"
Mary simmered, shifting glances between the officers in various states of pain on the floor, to the smiling Pete and growling dog - to the smug Jason.
"I hate actors. Let's go!" Mary pushed another uniform, kicked a third in the rear, and pulled out her gun. "Catch her before she gets to the car!"
Pete sat down carefully in his chair, struggling to keep his dog from squirming out of his lap.
Jason closed the phone, placing it on the dresser. "He put me on hold. But she doesn't know that."
Pete laughed. "Great."
Jason smiled, settling back in his chair, before a thought crossed his mind, and made him bolt up. Immediately, he winced, yelping in pain, and managing. "Wait - did we just saved Alex?"
Pete considered. "I think we gave her a little bit of time, yeah."
"HA! I'm SO THE MAN!" Jason raised his fists triumphantly. "We're SO THE MEN! The 'getting my dog' thing was classic!"
"Learned it from Nat," Pete said with a smile.
"Allright, man! We rule! Jason Gibbons! Action Star!"
"And bodyguard," Pete added.
"And KICK ASS BODYGUARD! And spike!"
The subsequent high five made him double over with pain, but for once, Jason didn't care.
The cheers and hoots didn't stop for a full five minutes.
--
end chapter