I actually finished this chapter last week, but when I went to post it, I found that the website was down for a few days. Which was alright, because then I decided that I should really wait to post this chapter until after I had 14 finished and ready to post, since this chapter is mainly about my OFC. I figured ya'll might forgive me for this one tiny, little chapter that mainly shows my character if I immediately gave you one that had the guys in it. So, that means you all get two for the price of one this week!
Also, as I promised, things will start to pick up pretty soon—around chapter 15 and 16. So stay with me. We're almost there!
WARNING: This chapter goes into great depth concerning Ally's background and explains how she ended up on the streets. So, if you don't want to read about the OFC and just want the parts that have the guys in them, then I recommend that you skim through the first several paragraphs and pick the story back up after the first italicized part.
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CHAPTER 13
A cool breeze swept over the balcony causing the girl to shiver a little. She knew she shouldn't be sitting out on the balcony in the middle of the night like this, knew that it was dangerous. Just because Randolph or Vitalis had not made an appearance at the townhouse yet did not mean that they weren't going to, but she had begun to feel very claustrophobic and, needing the fresh air and open space, had taken the risk and settled out on the balcony. Having spent the amount of time she had on the streets, she barely registered the crisp, cold air as she sat with her back pressed up against the warm brick of the wall, listening to the sounds around her and trying to sort out the emotions that had overwhelmed her that evening. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, frowning at the slight tremble in her hand. She heard a dog bark in the distance and the answer by another further away. She glanced down at her worn old pocket watch in her hand and grimaced at the time. Two a.m. and she still hadn't managed to even begin to relax!
The bare branches of the trees that lined the path leading from the playground into the woods around the lake clattered and clacked as another breeze gently crossed the hillside, setting the swings in motion and lightly touching her cheek with a touch of frost, causing another shiver to course through her—or maybe it was the Pandora's Box of memories that had been unleashed tonight that chilled her to the bone.
She turned her gaze toward the rippling obsidian waters of the lake and the dark silhouette with the silver-blanketed peeks in the distance and focused on the sounds of the city, trying to empty her mind and bring peace to her heart, but the horrid picture refused to be banished from her mind's eye:
It had been the summer of her thirteenth year, and she had been looking forward to the carefree days of exploring the wilds of the Appalachian hills with her grandfather, horseback riding the old trails behind the homestead, and simply lazing the days away, helping her mother putter in her vegetable and flower gardens or settling in the hay loft with a good book. Her uncle and his family was in France for the summer, where he had been sent for business reasons by the clothing franchise that he worked for, and her grandfather was in Florida, visiting one of his sisters, so for the next week, it was just her and her mother.
Though she was enjoying the time alone with mother, Alex also found herself missing her father. She hadn't seen him since her birthday at the end of March, and it was now the middle of June. Even then, he had only flown in that morning and left that night. She was worried about him. During the brief time she had spent with him at the party, he had been distant, and she had noticed the exhaustion and tension in his eyes, the pale features, and the loss of weight. When he had left, he had hugged her fiercely and buried his face in her hair, whispering that no matter what happened, she should remember that he loved her. She had heard those words many times in her short life—every time he left for a case, in fact—but the intensity in his eyes during this time scared her. Something was wrong. She could feel it. Whatever the matter was, she hoped things ended quickly, before the worst thing possible happened and he came home dead.
She and her mother had settled in that evening, prepared to make homemade pizzas and watch a few movies when they heard a car pull up in the drive. She had run to the window and glanced out the curtain before rushing to the door and pulling it open. Her father stood in the doorway, looking disheveled and weary, as though he had been in a great hurry. He kissed her gently on the cheek then sent her to pack a bag. She had been confused, but one look from her mother had her scurrying quickly up the stairs. She could hear a murmur of voices from downstairs as evidently her father was explaining to her mother what was wrong then the sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs as her mother quickly rushed to her room to pack a bag herself while her father shut the house up, hastily preparing it for their absence. Within an hour, they were in the car, rushing to the nearest airport then in a small plane, headed for who knew where.
Hours later, they set down in what she recognized to be Seattle by the space needle in the distance, and they were hustled quickly to a hotel and settled in. She had been sent to bed, but had not been able to sleep. She quietly crept to the door and cracked it open to allow her a view into the living room area and had unashamedly eavesdropped on her parent's conversation, intent on finding out what was going on. She wanted to be prepared for whatever happened, and she couldn't do that if she didn't know what to expect.
Around 3 a.m. local time, two men, her father's partner and his supervisor, arrived and the small group settled in the suit to discuss their plans for the next day. From what she could understand, it seemed that her father was on the verge of bringing down a most capable criminal, a man who had been untouchable for many years as he built a vast illicit network across the globe. Allen Sanders had been slowly and methodically building his case against the man and was now finally in a position to end the investigation and topple the corrupt giant. But the criminal mastermind knew that things were coming to an end, and in a last ditch effort to preserve his freedom, had set out to destroy his nemesis once and for all. He and Sanders had spent the last two months playing a deadly game of cat and mouse, parrying each other and dancing closer and closer to a final conflict. In fact, this had been the first meeting Sanders had with his partner and boss in all that time, as he had learned of the spies his enemy had scattered all throughout the agency and had gone underground to protect himself. He had personally arranged for the protection of his family, using only guards that he knew and trusted explicitly before he had finally returned to the states and contacted his employer.
As expected, his supervisor and friend had not been happy at the absence, but had agreed that it had been necessary. Allen explained that once he was sure that his family was safe, he would meet his boss and the men gathered for the operation and set their plans in motion. Until then, no one was to see the evidence that he had spent the last few years of his life putting together—not even his partner and boss. Both men had reluctantly agreed that this absolute secrecy was indeed needed and had left to prepare for the mission and to await Sanders' instructions.
The sun crossed the horizon the next morning to find the Sanders family halfway across Puget Sound headed for Victoria, British Columbia, where they rented a car and headed up Provincial Highway Fourteen. Allen explained on the way that he had three friends, not related to the agency in any way, waiting on them in a secluded harbor on up the coast line with a small yacht prepared to take them out into the Pacific. They would set sail for the Aleutian Islands in Alaska, where mother and daughter would anchor and wait for word from him.
The harbor was empty save for the yacht when they drove up to the dock and climbed out of the car; the only sounds to greet them were those of the forest and the ocean. Storms further out to sea had made the swells higher and the water choppy, causing the boat to sway gently in the current and occasionally scrape along the cement dock. Alex had begun to feel uneasy and looked up to see her father slip his gun from his shoulder hostler and cautiously advance toward the boat, motioning for the women to stay with the vehicle. As he reached the vessel, a figure stepped out of the cabin and Alex got her first look at the man who would come to haunt her nightmares. Allen stumbled backwards a step, then turned to see a gunman exit the shed at the shoreline, while two more rose from their places of concealment at the tree line.
They were herded into the boathouse by the gunmen. Alex immediately felt sick when she saw the bodies of her father's friends laying on the floor just inside the door, and her father pulled her tighter to him, putting himself between her and the sight until they were into the dining room. The figure on the boat followed them into the house and introduced himself as Sean Bartinol. Allen quietly asked how the man had known they were going to be there, but the criminal had just smiled and refused to divulge that bit of information. He found the disks that her father had and after checking them on his laptop computer, he destroyed them before demanding to know what Sanders had done with the back-ups. Allen refused to tell him.
Bartinol finally got angry and grabbed Colleene, intent on forcing the information from the man, when a shot sounded from the doorway and one of the gunmen fell to the floor. They all whirled around to see one of her father's friends, who had been supposedly dead, leaning shakily in the doorway, bleeding heavily from gunshot wounds to his torso. One of the remaining gunmen instantly fired back, killing the man with a shot between the eyes, but the distraction had been enough. Colleene pushed Bartinol back against the wall and raked her nails down his face while her husband attacked the gunman nearest him, disarming him and pushing him into the other. Bartinol let go of the woman to protect his face, and she scrambled away. She grabbed her daughter's arm and pushed her toward the back bedroom, screaming for her to run—and Alex did. Her heart was in her throat and the blood was pounding in her ears as she half-stumbled down the hallway. Her father managed to get one of the guns and fired at their pursuers as he followed them down the narrow passage.
Then fate changed the deck in mid-play. Just as she reached the bedroom doorway, she heard a shot and a scream behind her and whirled around to watch her mother fall to the ground, a spray of blood erupting from her back. Alex looked up and time seemed to enter slow motion as heard her father's enraged yell and the sound of two gunshots. Alex turned to see her father slammed back against the wall by the force of a bullet to the arm and Bartinol duck back into the other room as a bullet tore a chunk from the doorway above his head. At that instant, time suddenly caught back up with itself, and Alex felt the sounds and shouts around her explode back upon her senses as her father scrambled up from the floor and grabbed his wife before pushing them into the room and slamming the door.
Alex knelt down beside her mother and grabbed the woman's hand, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her mother looked up and smiled weakly for a moment before a grimace stole across her pale and sweaty features as a blaze of pain coursed through her body. She groaned and squeezed her daughter's hand. Alex tentatively reached out to touch the woman's face, but was suddenly pushed up and away by her father. He ordered her through the window, practically throwing her to the ground himself when she hesitated. As she hit the hard earth with a painful thud, she heard him shout for her to head to the woods and circle around to the yacht, that there was a radio there with which they could call for help. She looked back up and asked about him, and he flashed a small, reassuring smile at her, telling her that if it was possible, that he would meet her there. He then ordered her to go.
She blindly pushed her way into the dense forest, her heart beating wildly and terror-induced adrenaline coursing through her veins. She almost stumbled to a stop as she heard the sound of wood splintering and gunshots, but another shout from her father had her continuing on her course. She barely registered where she was as she ran, the only thought that could slip past the pounding in her ears was that she had to get away, had to circle around to the yacht. Finally, she tripped over a bank and fell to the ground three feet below her, rolling to a stop under a fallen tree. She curled up in the branches and tried to hold her breath, listening desperately for the sounds of pursuit. After what seemed like an eternity, she determined that no one was following her and slowly scrambled from the foliage. As her breathing returned to normal, she was able to think more clearly and rationalize a plan of action. Remembering all her grandfather's lessons about the forest, she stealthily made her way back around to the harbor.
Ten minutes later, she found herself standing on a rocky ledge jutting out into the water about twenty yards from the yacht and no more than forty from the house. It was then that she noticed that silence once again ruled the small cove. She looked toward the house but could see nothing and turned to try to find a way back down to the water, but stopped as she noticed a form move from the shadows of the wheel room of the boat. Relief flooded through her as she recognized her father. His arms and hands were bloody, and blood was streaked across his pale features, but he was standing tall and firm, scanning the water's edge, looking for her. She also noticed a small lump lying on the bench near him and realized that it was her mother. She waved her arms in the air, shouting to get his attention, and almost slumped to the ground in relief when he saw her. She saw him visibly relax and smile, saw him return her wave and motion her down to the boat—then she saw the yacht suddenly explode, the force of it knocking her to the ground.
She scrambled to her feet, screaming in disbelief and grief, unable to tear her eyes from the grisly scene. Panic tore threw her and she turned to rush to the water's edge but stopped upon seeing another witness to the devastation. Her wide blue eyes met the hard dark ones of Sean Bartinol and time seemed to freeze. His right arm was bloody and held tightly against him and a ragged gash cut around his forehead where a bullet from her father's gun had passed. He held a gun in his left hand and a tiny device in the other—a device that she realized had triggered the explosion. Their eyes held for what seemed like eternity before a pop and a spray of rock at her feet startled her back into reality. She stumbled backward, realizing that Bartinol had lifted the gun and was now firing at her. Instinct took over, and she turned back into the woods as another bullet landed with a thunk in the tree trunk beside her. She pushed her way back into the safety of the forest, tears streaming down her cheeks, fear and grief tearing at her like a living thing as the fire on the water intensely raged, the heat of it scorching her back and the roar of the flames filling her ears…
A hand touched her shoulder, pulling her from her memories, and she jerked away with a yelp, kicking out at the blurry image in front of her and scrambling back into the corner created by the railing and the wall.
"Ally! Calm down! It's alright!" Ezra twisted away from her kick, narrowly avoiding serious damage to his manhood and grimaced at the pain that was now radiating upwards from the new bruise on his hip left by her shoe as he fell backwards on the floor.
The girl had disappeared soon after her shocking proclamation, and Ezra had let her be, sensing that she needed a little time. The others had left not long afterwards, and he and Nathan, who was on guard duty, had piddled around downstairs for a bit, cleaning up before parting ways for the night. As he had reached the top of the stairs, Ezra had noticed the guest room door was open and decided to look in on the girl, to see if she was all right. A flash of dread seared through him when he found the room empty, and for an instant he thought she had taken off, but that fear was pushed aside when he noticed her bag sitting in the chair. He turned back into the hallway, wondering where she had gone, when the clouds parted outside, allowing a shaft of moonlight to appear on the floor through the French doors. Acting on a hunch, he headed for the balcony, where he found the object of his search huddled in the quilt from her bed, staring aimlessly out into the night. He called her name softly, but getting no response, he bent down and touched her gently.
He had not been prepared for the response he received.
Alex stopped moving as she recognized who was before her and colored slightly in embarrassment. "Ezra? I'm so sorry!" she sat up on her knees, letting the quilt fall to the floor, and reached out to touch the man who was sprawled out and leaning on his elbows beside her. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"Nothing but a bruise or two," Ezra commented as he sat up and winced, gingerly rubbing the new bruise on his leg.
Alex sat back on her heels and cocked her head to the side, studying him. "You sure?"
"Indubitably. Though I must say, you possess amazing reflexes, my dear," Ezra smiled at her to show that he held no hard feelings.
She blushed again and sat back against the wall, turning her gaze down as she picked at the quilt absently. "Sorry. I guess I was a little zoned out there for a minute." she apologized.
Ezra scooted around so that he was leaning against the wall beside her and looked out across the lake to the gently swaying trees beyond. "I could see that," he agreed. They sat in silence for a moment. He pulled his ever-present cards from his pants pocket and began shuffling them, occasionally stopping to flip a card, revealing whatever particular one he had been manipulating through the deck. "Do you wish to speak of it?" he asked casually.
Alex left the quilt alone and looked up at the stars that could be seen intermittently among the silvery edges of the clouds above them. "Not really," she shrugged. "I just needed to clear my head a bit."
Ezra raised an eyebrow at her. "And this required sitting out here in the middle of the night in this freezing weather?"
She finally looked at him and smiled with another shrug. "Well, yeah. It's rejuvenating, don't you think?" her smile turned mischievous.
He snorted in disbelief, the cards halting in mid-shuffle. "Frankly, my dear, I do not. Rejuvenating is relaxing in a nice warm Jacuzzi with a bottle of champagne and a beautiful woman by my side or a seat in a high-stakes poker tournament in Vegas, not sitting out on my balcony in the middle of winter, freezing my appendages off."
"You southern boys are just a bunch of pansies," she laughed. "The least little bit of a chill sends you guys into a panicked race for the nearest winter coat and space heater."
"And the least little bit of heat sends you Yankees into a frenzied rush for the comforts of your air conditioners," he retorted. "A true southern gentleman can endure the most extreme hardship when necessity demands it; however, he is intelligent enough to avoid such situations if at all possible. Life is too short, after all, to waste for mere principle. One should keep his own comfort and gain firmly to the forefront."
"And I suppose you consider yourself to be one of these so-called gentlemen?" Alex scoffed. "And just who are you calling a Yankee? The majority of my home state lies below the Mason Dixon line, thank you very much."
"Ah, but your home state also chose to side with the northern aggressors, thereby proving their break with the south," Ezra replied smugly.
"Yes, well we may not be Johnny Rebs, but we're not Yankees, either," she shot back. "Personally, I consider us to be neither north nor south—just the best of both worlds."
He shook his head. "That region is indeed a curious mix of both, though I don't know if I would go so far as to call it the best of either," he smirked as he began shuffling the cards once again.
"It just depends on what your definition of value is. Yeah, West Virginia is behind the times, but what we lack in technology we make up for in strength of family. And I do believe that is something you southerners take great pride in," she replied smartly.
Ezra settled more comfortably against the wall and laughed, his gold tooth glinting in the moonlight. "You indeed have a southern woman's insistence on having the last word, don't you?"
She snorted. "We have to. It's the only way to keep you men's egos in check. Men are full of hot air and no common sense. Nothing would ever get done if you didn't have a decent woman to prod you along."
"You are quite right, my dear, and I concede the point to you," Ezra agreed with another laugh. "Though I must say, I pity the man who ends up marrying you. He will have to be quite tolerant and quick-witted to keep up with you."
"And who says I have to get married?" she challenged.
"Who indeed?" Ezra chuckled. They lapsed back into a comfortable silence then, content to focus on their own musings as they listened to the sounds of the night.
He continued to shuffle his cards, but studied his companion out of the corner of his eye. She sat with one leg stretched out in front of her while leaning cross-armed on the bent knee of the other one, gazing intently out into the darkness with an inscrutable expression on her face. But moonlight has a way of revealing things that would otherwise be concealed in the daylight, and for the first time, in the dark depths of her weary, world-wise eyes, he caught a glimpse of the frightened, lost, and lonely little girl she kept hidden deep within her heart. Here in the night, with no one else around to witness anything and no one to protect herself from, she seemed to let her walls of confidence and care down just a bit to reveal a piece of herself that he had not seen before. The highlights in her hair caught the gray-blue of the moonlight and created a bit of a melancholy aura about her, and he could almost feel the weariness and grief that seemed to surround her at that moment.
And somewhere deep in the hidden corners of his soul, a kinship, an understanding sparked to life and his heart went out to her.
His hands moved with amazing dexterity as the cards flashed through his fingers at lightening speed, the sound a soothing hum in the background of his musings. He understood her need to appear strong, to deal with the feelings in her own way. But he also knew all too well that sometimes holding the hurt inside only made things worse in the long run, and he was determined to do what he could to prevent the girl from sliding into that hell again.
That thought surprised him. When had this girl's emotional well-being become his concern? He shook his head at himself. After all, once they contacted her father's old employers, she would probably be immediately moved to another safe house well away from Denver and he would never see nor hear from her again, unless the judge could work his magic and actually win the ensuing power struggle to have her returned for the Randolph trial, which wasn't likely. So why should it matter to him that she have someone to unload some of her burden to?
Because you know what it's like to be alone, caught up in a situation of which you have no control, a small child-like voice spoke up from the back of his mind. Because you know what it's like to long for someone to care about you as a person, not because of what you can do for them. Because you know what it's like to wish for just one friend. He quickly pushed that thought back into its box and mentally slammed the lid shut, not wanting to deal with the feelings that came with it. Instead, he turned his meditations to the events of that evening:
They had all stared at her in mute silence for a moment, absorbing her words. "You want to run that by me again, darling?" Buck spoke up finally.
Alex crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall beside the window, the torrent of emotions that had seemed to fill her moments ago shuttered firmly behind her eyes. Her face was now calm, but the anger and a hint of grief still glinted in her eyes. "Six years ago, Sean Bartinol murdered my parents in front of me."
"Why?" JD asked.
She let out a breath slowly. "That report your friend got you says that he's been practically untouchable, right? That no one has ever come close to bringing him down?"
"Yeah. So…" JD motioned for her to continue.
"It's not completely true," she explained.
"Someone did get close?" Nathan sat back down at the dining room table and leaned back in the chair, drumming his fingers quietly against the surface.
She nodded and uncrossed her arms, slipping her hands in the pockets of her jeans instead. "Six years ago, an FBI agent working for Interpol completed an investigation against the man and planned the bust to arrest him. If the agent had succeeded, Bartinol's entire organization would have come crumbling down around him. The man himself would have at the very least spent the rest of his life in a maximum security prison with no chance at parole."
"But the agent didn't succeed," Josiah observed from where he sat at the opposite end of the table, tapping his steepled fingers against his lips thoughtfully.
Alex looked down at her feet and sighed. "No, he did not. And it got him killed, despite his precautions and his painstaking plans. You see, that agent had a weakness."
"A family," Chris filled in for her grimly, his own loss shadowing his expression.
She nodded. "A wife and a daughter. Not to mention a brother and his family and a father, to a lesser degree." She sighed. "Bartinol had no qualms against using that weakness, either, especially if his self-preservation was on the line. The agent knew this, and did everything in his power to prevent that, but," she shrugged, "It just wasn't enough."
"And Bartinol got to your Dad before he was ready to face him," Vin picked up the storyline from where he leaned against the tall filing cabinet in the corner opposite the computer desk.
Alex looked up at him in mild surprise then smirked a little, realizing she should have expected the perceptive tracker to be a few steps ahead of her. "Yes, my father was the agent. Dad had been working for a long time on that case. From what I found out later, he had gotten a lucky break inside at another operation he performed in France years before and had been building on that break ever since. Only his boss, his partner, and a few other higher ups knew what he was working on, partly because he was doing it mainly on his own, and partly because they didn't want to tip Bartinol off. And then, there at the end, Dad even stopped reporting to them."
"Why?" JD asked, turning to sit in the desk chair backwards.
"Because he feared betrayal. You see, the closer he got to Bartinol, the more he learned about just how much control the man had. The reason Bartinol had been so successful was because of the information network he had about the activities of his enemies," she answered.
"In other words, the man has spies and paid officials in all of the pertinent areas of law enforcement," Ezra pointed out from where he was seated across from Nathan.
She nodded. "Yes. And one of those spies found out what Dad was planning despite his best efforts to keep it concealed and tipped Bartinol off."
Chris sat down on the edge of the desk beside JD and leaned on his leg while focusing his intense gaze on the girl. "I think you'd better tell us exactly what happened," he stated.
And she did. They listened in quiet shock as she calmly told them the entire story, from her dad's entrance at the house to the explosion of the yacht, leaving out none of the details. Her face remained impassive, her voice carefully controlled and matter-of-fact, but the horror of the account was not lost on her audience, and when she was finished, they sat in silence, trying to control their outrage and fury at the man on her behalf.
"So what happened after the explosion?" Vin asked quietly.
"I escaped into the woods. Three days later, I stumbled upon a small town up the coast and found the local law, who got in touch with Interpol and dad's boss. That evening, I was on a plane bound for D.C.," She answered.
"And what happened to your father's evidence?" Ezra asked.
"Bartinal destroyed the first set. Dad's boss and partner knew he had a second, but they could never find them," Alex shrugged. "Interpol and FBI agents went over everything even remotely connected to my father but found nothing. They finally just assumed that Dad had them with him on the yacht or that Bartinol found them."
"But you don't agree," Vin observed.
She
sighed. "No, I don't. First of all, if Bartinol had them, then why
did the house get ransacked a few days later?
Dad's office was turned upside down and the storage building he rented
in town mysteriously caught fire around the same time, destroying everything he
had in there," she shook her head. "No
Bartinol knew they existed, but he didn't have them. Which brings me to the
second point. Dad was a very
cautious man. There's no way he would
have endangered all those years of work by carrying the copies with him. He would have stashed them somewhere. Of course, since Dad knew about Bartinol's
spies, he would have hid that set well.
And he did—well enough that to my knowledge, no one has found them yet."
"What about your grandfather and uncle?" Ezra asked quietly.
Alex turned her gaze to the floor at her feet, her features composed, but he could still read the sadness in her eyes. "I got to talk to them once or twice, but we were never brought together," she said softly. "Agents in France worked to take care of my uncle's family, and they kept them in Europe. I think they moved Grandpa to Central America somewhere. I never did get to see any of them."
"That doesn't explain how you wound up on the streets in Denver six years later," Chris pointed out, pulling her back to the topic at hand.
Alex shrugged. "A few weeks later, the agents decided to move me to a safe house somewhere in North Carolina. Someone tipped Bartinol off, because an attack happened en route. Bartinol's men attacked us in the middle of nowhere. He must have sent a small army. Can you believe it? Twenty men to take one little girl," she laughed in disbelief. "Anyway, they had us cornered in some little gully." She shrugged one shoulder self-depreciatingly. "Like I said, I was just a kid, and I was scared out of my mind, especially when I saw a guy get his head blown off not ten feet from where I was being hid." She winced at that thought. "I don't remember much after that, just the need to get away, to hide. So when an opportunity showed itself, I ran. And I never looked back."
Nathan stared at her in disbelief. "You just took off into the woods on your own with no supplies or anything?"
Alex returned his look with another shrug. "Yeah, I did. I know, it wasn't the smartest decision I ever made in my life, and in actuality, it was probably pretty stupid, but you have to understand something. I was a kid who had just witnessed her parents' murder and was being hunted down by the man who did it. I was scared. Scared silly. What kid wouldn't be? My first instinct was to run, and being a kid, I didn't stop to think that through."
"But how did you wind up in Denver?" JD questioned in amazement.
Alex grinned at him on that one. "A person can get around in six years, even if they do walk most of the way."
"And you got here just in time to witness another murder," Buck whistled and shook his head in sympathy. "D**n, girl. You attract trouble like fleas to a blue tick hound!"
Chris stood up from where he was seated on the corner of the computer desk and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "This case just blew up into one h**l of a mess, guys," he sighed. "And there is no way we're going to be let alone to handle it ourselves. Every two-bit agency from here to Timbuktu is going to want a piece of this."
"So what are we going to do?" Nathan asked.
Chris rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Contact the judge and have him get the ball rolling on the interagency thing. Keep it as quiet as possible. If this Bartinol guy has those kinds of contacts, then we're going to have to be mighty careful who we let in on this." He glanced at his watch and grimaced at the time. "The Judge will back tomorrow. We'll keep Ezra and Alex here for the night then move them somewhere safer tomorrow." He raised a hand to stop Ezra's comment. "As soon as we contact Interpol, the potential is going to exist for Bartinol to find out where Alex is. This townhouse is in a residential area in the middle of the city. There is no way we're going to be able to protect her from here."
Ezra just crossed his arms and grinned at his boss. "My thoughts exactly, Mr. Larabee."
Chris raised an eyebrow in surprise. The man was agreeing with him without an argument?
Now that was a first!
"Why can't we just take these guys at the bust on Friday before we let on where Alex is?" JD spoke up.
"Believe me, kid, I'd love to, but we can't," Vin shook his head.
"There's rules and regulations we have to follow, JD," Nathan picked up. "In order to pin this guy down and make it stick, we're going to have to follow those rules to the letter, especially as high profile as this case has just gotten. And I don't think the judge will be able to cover for us if we were to bend those, not this time."
"Besides, with as big a fish as this guy is, I don't think we'd want to tackle this on our own." Josiah mused.
"Nope," Buck agreed. "We're good, but even we have to admit when we need help once in a while." They all fixed him with an incredulous look and he lifted his palms, face up in a who me? gesture. "What?"
"Like I said, I'll contact the judge in the morning, show him what we got, and we'll go from there," Chris said, shaking his head in amusement. He stood up and pulled on his jacket, indicating to the rest that it was time to leave. "Nathan, stay here for the night," he ordered.
The others stood up to follow him. "You know that just as soon as we contact Interpol, we'll be more than likely kicked off this case," Josiah commented as he pulled his own winter coat on and adjusted the collar.
Chris turned back to him, his eyes glittering with determination. "Not if I can help it."
Ezra pocketed his cards with a sigh and climbed to his feet before offering Alex a hand up. "I do believe we should be returning inside. Besides the fact that it is dangerous to be out here right now, Mr. Jackson will surely have a conniption if he were to find us outside in the middle of winter without the proper attire. And I can assure you, my dear, we do not want to become ill. While Mr. Jackson is an excellent medic, his bedside manners are equivalent to that of Attila the Hun," he shuddered dramatically.
Alex laughed softly as she took his hand then gathered her quilt up quickly before following him into the warm interior. She watched as he locked the doors and turned to her with a wide smile, his glinting gold tooth and sparkling green eyes making him look decidedly mischievous. "Well, that was certainly invigorating," he quipped as he rubbed his arms to warm them. "I believe that I could use a night cap before I retire. Would you like to join me?"
Alex hesitated at the offer and looked up into his eyes, suddenly realizing what he was trying to do. Her initial reaction was to politely tell him no and go to her bedroom, but another part of her wanted the company, the companionship that he was offering to her.
"I do make a fine cup of cocoa, if I do say so myself," he continued, seeing the uncertainty in her stance.
She bit her lower lip in indecision for a moment and glanced at the darkened doorway of the guestroom before deciding that she really didn't want to be alone right now with her thoughts. That made up her mind and she smiled softly back at him. "Cocoa does sound good right now," she admitted shyly.
He held his arm out and bowed slightly, indicating that she should precede him to the stairs. "Then shall we?"
She nodded with a quiet laugh and headed for the steps. "Oh, and Miss Sanders," his question stopped her at the landing and she turned back to face him. "If you should find it necessary to discuss the matters that you divulged tonight," he coughed a bit, "I can promise a sympathetic ear," he said softly, his steady green gaze echoing the pledge.
She ducked her head a bit then smiled back up at him, patting his arm. "I'll remember that," she said quietly. "And thank you." She motioned for the stairs and her smile grew wider. "Now, I hope you have some marshmallows down there somewhere. It's just not cocoa without them."
Ezra laughed. "I believe we can scrounge up something."
