A Family Affair
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. I'm just playing. Enjoy!
Chapter 23.
Ian Nottingham waited until Sara Pezzini had disappeared down the 11th's Precinct's deserted second-floor hallway before he called Kenneth Irons. His master was undoubtedly aware of the fact that the Wielder had been sent another vision and would therefore be expecting his call. Uncertain how long he had before Sara returned, Ian got right to the point when Irons answered after the second ring.
"Plans have changed, Master. The Wielder received a vision that showed her nephew being shot to death by one of Angel Medina's henchman, possibly his brother, Joaquin, tomorrow afternoon. The vision also revealed that tonight's drug bust fails to catch Medina. I believe Detective Pezzini no longer intends to stake out the docks for fear that it is her presence there that causes the operation to fail in its objective." Ian neglected to mention that he, too, had been shown the vision. Although Irons knew that Nottingham's bond with the Wielder allowed him to sense when she received visions, much as his own did, Ian was fairly certain his master didn't know the Witchblade occasionally permitted him to see the actual vision.
"I see," Irons said after a moment's hesitation. "Where is the Wielder now, Ian?"
"She has returned to the 11th Precinct. In the vision, she noticed that the shooter possessed two distinct physical characteristics, and she is checking Joaquin Medina's file in the criminal database in the hopes of finding that his description matches them."
"What do you think Sara will do if it does match?"
"Attempt to apprehend Joaquin before he can murder her nephew."
"Tonight?"
"Perhaps, but only if she can figure out a way to do so without ruining the DEA's and narcotics squad's drug bust."
"Hmmm. Stay close to the Wielder, Ian. And keep me updated."
"Yes, sir." Ian hung up and pocketed his phone. Unconsciously, he stroked the spot beneath his chin where his Lady's fingers had touched him. He was glad that she had not perceived the shudder that had gone through his body at the all-too-brief, electric contact. Idly, he wondered what her bare skin would feel like against his and then hastily thought about something else when he felt his pulse begin to race and his rate of respiration increase.
Sara returned a minute later with several mug shot books and the promised cup of tea.
"Here you go, Nottingham," she said, handing him the tea and dropping the books onto her desk. "I included a book of gang graffiti tags, too, just in case Mac decides to come snooping around."
"Good thinking," Ian said. He sipped his tea before taking up one of the mug shot books and beginning to look through it.
Sara sat down at her desk and booted up her computer. She was exhausted, running on nothing but adrenaline and espresso, but she knew she wouldn't truly be able to rest until she was sure Joey was safe. Pulling up the criminal offender database, she entered Joaquin Medina's name. Moments later, his photo and extensive file came up.
"Bingo! Joaquin's a lefty and has the same exact Cobra tattoo as Angel's on his left forearm. Plus, the brothers were both born in Colombia and didn't move to the U.S. until they were almost in their teens. You said you thought the shooter had a Colombian accent, right? I'd say that pretty much proves Joaquin's the one who attempts to kill Joey tomorrow. Apparently, members of a gang called the Cali Cobras all sport the same tattoo. It says here big brother Angel founded the gang nearly 20 years ago, when he was just 14! I'm gonna check to see if the gang is still active and, if so, where. With any luck, I'll find the names of some current members, and I can cross-check them to see if any of them are students at Joey's school."
"With the logic being that if you can prevent Joey's classmate from passing his whereabouts along to Angel and Joaquin, you can keep Joey safe," Ian said.
"Yeah, that's my thinking. But I still can't help wonder what causes tonight's drug bust on the docks to fail. Since Joaquin is still free to go gunning for Joey tomorrow afternoon, that would seem to indicate that he and his brother somehow avoid getting caught making their pickup. Which would mean the info the inside guy had was wrong."
"Or maybe the timing was just off," Nottingham said slowly.
"How do you mean?" Sara asked.
"You said the undercover detective thought Angel was due to make a pickup within 24 hours. That was nearly 24 hours ago. However, a blizzard is supposedly bearing down on the metropolitan area, right?"
"I'm still holding out hope that the forecasters are wrong, but yeah."
"So, what if the shipment has simply been delayed by the bad weather? What if it was supposed to arrive tonight, but gets held up because of the weather in another part of the country and does not arrive until sometime tomorrow morning or even later?"
"But it's supposed to be arriving by sea. Besides, the storm is coming from the west, so that shouldn't hold the Dominican Star up," Sara pointed out.
"What if it that information was incorrect and the shipment is coming by land? That would explain why the operation on the docks fails and also why Joaquin is still a free man tomorrow afternoon."
"Okay, say you're right, and the product was never arriving by sea. Surely, once the DEA and narcotics realize their mistake, they'll just tail Angel and Joaquin until they do make the pickup and then move on them."
"That is assuming they still have Angel and/or Joaquin under surveillance. Criminals have been known to give their tails the slip."
"True. And from what I've heard, Angel is pretty slippery. However, I highly doubt the DEA or narcotics would be willing to share the fact that they've lost track of Angel and Joaquin with us. How do we find out? Better yet, how do we find the brothers if they have managed to lose their tail? Damn! It seems like we're back to square one!" Sara said, throwing up her hands in frustration.
"We could always ask felon No. 11862-5961 if he knows where Angel is," Ian said.
"Felon number who?"
Ian lifted up the mug shot book he'd been perusing and showed her a picture of a familiar-looking young man. "You know him better as Broken Arm."
Sara chuckled gleefully. "Let's just see if there's a current address for him." She typed the man's ID number into her computer. "His real name's Alonzo Brown. Oh, and what do you know? Not only is there a current address listed, it says here that Mr. Brown is a member in good standing of the Cali Cobras gang! That right arm you broke happens to have a lovely and realistic rendering of a cobra beneath its brand-new cast, Nottingham. I say we go pay Alonzo a visit tonight. Especially since my search for current gang members that attend Stuyvesant High School came up empty."
"I agree," Nottingham said, rising. "But first I must avail myself of the facilities."
"Down the hall on the right. Good idea, actually," she said, writing the address down on a slip of paper and pocketing it. "If Alonzo isn't home, we might find ourselves driving around looking for him and Angel for hours."
"Or you might find yourself sitting in the car while I put my ninja skills to good use, which, as you pointed out earlier, I so love to do," Ian said, picking up his coat.
Sara grinned up at him. "Any excuse at all to skulk, eh Nottingham?"
"Well, you must admit I am extremely good at it."
"I'll say. Comes with the deadly assassin-slash-stalker territory, I guess," Sara said, failing to notice the black-clad man's wince. She logged off her computer and then gathered up the mug shot and gang graffiti books. "I'm just gonna drop these off where they belong and then go use the ladies room. I'll meet you downstairs. On second thought, wait for me up here. I don't wanna give Mac the chance to pump you for info about our alleged relationship," she said, grabbing her coat off its hook.
"Heaven forbid," Ian said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
Sara frowned at him and started to say something, then just shook her head and marched away.
Sighing, Ian downed the rest of his tea and then followed her out of the office she shared with her partner. He seemed to have a distressing knack for destroying the camaraderie that had lately begun to characterize their interactions. Although Ian knew it was irrational to feel this way, her obvious aversion to anyone even remotely considering the possibility of them being a couple bothered him -- a lot. The desk sergeant did not know who Nottingham was and neither did any of her coworkers. So, why were mere rumors of a relationship so upsetting to Sara?
'Because she does know who you are, Ian,' he answered himself. 'You said it yourself: She is a police officer. You are an assassin. She could never allow herself to fall in love with you.'
For a moment, Ian allowed his weary, feverish body to sag beneath the weight of this cold, harsh truth before resolutely straightening his posture. He had a job to do and that was to protect the Bladewielder. He simply could not afford to let his unrequited feelings get in the way of his duty to her. As he washed his hands, he avoided looking in the mirror above the sink for fear that the evidence of his aching heart was plain for all to see.
Sara put the mug shot and gang tag books back where they belonged and then went into the ladies room. Her mind kept chewing over Nottingham's last pithy comment, or, more accurately, the pissy tone of voice he'd said it in.
'What's his problem?' she wondered. 'If I didn't know better, I'd think he was annoyed that I didn't want to give Mac more ammunition for the rumor mill. But that can't be possible. What's he care if I don't want people thinking we're a couple? He said it himself: He kills people for a living, while I put murderers away for a living. A relationship would never work. Would it?' Sara blinked in surprise. 'What the hell? Did I actually just consider going out with Nottingham? No, that's insane. Get a hold of yourself, Pezzini! He's your psycho freak stalker, remember? You'll never be that hard up.'
Sara washed her hands, glancing at her reflection in the mirror above the sink and groaning as she realized that she'd been walking around with raccoon eyes ever since she'd left her godparents' house. She washed her pale, tired face, using a soapy paper towel to wipe off the smudged mascara, and then carefully reapplied her lip gloss, telling herself she didn't want her lips to become chapped from the cold.
'What if Nottingham weren't Kenneth Irons pet assassin?' she suddenly found herself thinking. 'What if he were the legitimate head of security of some rich guy who wasn't obsessed with the Witchblade?' Sara shook her head at the pointlessness of this exercise. 'But he does work for Irons. And nothing can change that.' Sighing, she put her coat on and left the bathroom.
Nottingham stood at the top of the stairs in his habitual parade rest stance. Sara's heart sank as she saw that he had reverted to his old, expressionless self. This tall, unsmiling man with the shuttered, downcast eyes was suddenly like a stranger to her. Until that very moment, she hadn't realized how much she had grown to like the teasing, almost relaxed persona that he had begun to display of late. Not only had she been stunned to discover that he actually possessed a sense of humor, but she'd come to realize that it was very similar to her own (minus the world weary cynicism and biting sarcasm). And it had been undeniably gratifying to know that it was she who had brought it out in him. Somehow, she knew that life with Kenneth Irons rarely permitted him to express this side of himself, if at all.
They descended to the first floor of the precinct in silence. But just before they rounded the corner and came into view of the front desk, Sara impulsively stepped closer to Nottingham and slipped her bare left hand into his gloved right hand.
"Goodnight, Mac. Have a nice holiday at the in-laws!" she said to the desk sergeant as they passed his station.
"Yeah, happy Thanksgiving to you, too, Pezzini," Mac said wryly, eyeing their joined hands with obvious interest. "Any luck identifying that gang tag, Mr. Nottingham?"
"Yes, the book Sara showed me was most helpful. I will pass the information along to the local anti-crime unit," Ian replied. "Goodnight, Sergeant McGwire."
"Goodnight, kids."
They left the precinct and headed in the direction of where the SUV was parked, still holding hands.
After scanning the dark street intently, Ian glanced at Sara and saw that a little smile was on her lips. "Why did you do that?" he finally asked quietly.
"In for a penny, in for a pound," she said, shrugging. "Besides, it was worth it for the look on Mac's face." She smirked. "And on yours."
"I do not believe my expression changed at all, Sara."
"Are you kidding? Your jaw practically hit the floor, Nottingham."
"It did not."
"Did so."
Abruptly, he stopped walking and brought her hand up to his mouth, brushing it with his warm lips. "Thank you, my Lady," he murmured, intense hazel eyes meeting hers.
"F-for what?" Sara stuttered, heart suddenly racing.
"For salving my pride."
"Oh. Sure. Any time." Flustered, she glanced around the dark street self-consciously. "Um, think I could have my hand back now?" she said when he continued to stand there holding it close to his heart in both of his, gazing at her with those big, expressive eyes of his.
With obvious reluctance, he released her hand and they continued on to his car.
"Before we head to Mr. Brown's home, we need to stop at the drugstore a couple of blocks from here. It's open 24 hours," Sara told Ian once she was seated in the passenger seat.
A slight frown creased the skin between his dark brows. "Very well," he said, starting the car.
Ian had hoped that she had forgotten about this particular errand. He did not want to be forced to return to the estate before they had located Angel and Joaquin Medina because of his ill health. A surge of resentment toward Kenneth Irons for placing him in this predicament filled Ian, surprising him with its intensity.
Moments later, they pulled up in front of the store. "You may as well take this opportunity to purchase the Tampax that you will soon need," Ian told her absently.
Sara froze in the act of opening the car door and threw him a disbelieving look. "How the hell do you know that I'll need -- ? Never mind. I don't even wanna know," she muttered, getting out.
"Your desk calendar at work, Sara," he said softly before she could close the door. "You wrote 'Get Tampax' on it."
"Gee, how very observant of you," she said acidly. "Thanks ever so much for the reminder, Nottingham." She slammed the car door with more force than necessary and then turned and marched into the drugstore.
Ian winced. "Smooth move, Nottingham," he muttered aloud, watching her stomp away. "Now she thinks she has no privacy whatsoever." Sighing, he leaned his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes in a futile attempt to meditate. The buzz of fever in his brain was growing louder, preventing him from concentrating. He wondered if it was beginning to cloud his judgment, which was already suspect where Sara Pezzini was concerned. Why else would he be risking his master's wrath by continuing to aid her in her quest to keep her nephew from coming to harm?
These were uncharted waters, and Ian felt more than slightly out of his depth. As this latest misstep proved, the alliance between the Wielder and himself was tentative at best. He could not shake the feeling that as soon as their objective was achieved, Sara would once again look upon him with dislike and suspicion. It was obvious that his master's keen interest in her made her feel threatened, and Ian's unwelcome demonstration of his knowledge of the most intimate aspects of her life had reinforced this sentiment.
'Do I have any secrets from Nottingham or Irons?' Sara wondered as she wandered the drugstore's brightly lit aisles in search of a digital thermometer. 'Probably not.' Grudgingly, she grabbed a box of tampons when she came upon them. She also bought a couple of bottles of water.
Nottingham's head was leaning against the headrest and his eyes were closed when she returned to the car. He looked so weary, Sara felt guilty about disturbing him but he straightened up and unlocked the door before she could even raise her hand to knock on the glass.
"I got us some water," she said, putting the bottles in the cupholders. Taking out the thermometer, Sara removed it from its packaging. She pressed the button, waited the requisite amount of time for the device to become ready for use, and then turned to Ian, who allowed her to place it under his tongue.
Sara stared at his mouth, noting that his lips were full and nicely shaped, and that his beard and mustache were neatly trimmed. She remembered how soft his beard had felt when she had lifted his chin earlier.
Fast double-beeps sounded, and Sara removed the thermometer, frowning as she read the tiny LED screen. "102.4. I'm gonna check it again in an hour. I'm serious about what I said earlier, Nottingham, even if we haven't found Angel and Joaquin Medina by then."
"Yes, my Lady," he said sullenly.
Sara pulled out the piece of paper on which she'd written Alonzo Brown's address. "Okay, here's where we're headed," she said, handing it to him.
Nottingham glanced at it, gave it back to her, and started the car.
Putting the thermometer in her coat pocket, Sara placed the empty packaging back into the bag containing her other purchase then flung it into the back seat, hoping -- most likely in vain -- that Nottingham hadn't noticed that she'd taken his advice. She was fast learning that very little escaped the assassin's notice.
"What's your plan for when we get to Alonzo's place?" she asked him.
"Are you certain you want to hear it? It involves unlawful activities such as breaking and entering."
"What else is new?" Sara murmured, staring at his profile moodily.
"If Mr. Brown is not home, I will canvas the neighborhood for him. I will report back to you in an hour, whether or not I have located him. Is this agreeable?"
"Yeah, except for the part where I sit in the car and twiddle my thumbs while you get to have all the fun."
"Please give me your cell phone."
"Why?"
"I am going to program my number into it. That way, we can stay in touch."
"Might as well, since you already have my number on speed dial."
One of his brief but brilliant smiles made an appearance. "Yes, I do indeed."
"Which reminds me, we gotta work on your phone etiquette, Nottingham. Kenny might not be big on goodbyes, but I'm kinda partial to them." When they stopped at a red light, Sara handed her cell phone to him.
Ian quickly programmed his number into it. "Please feel free to call me at any hour of the day or night," he said, handing the phone back to her. "I am always at your service, my Lady."
"Why thank you, Nottingham. Rest assured I will call you if you're not back in an hour once we reach Alonzo's nabe." She glanced out the window. "Which, surprise, surprise, happens to be in Alphabet City."
Moments later, Ian found a parking space some blocks from the address Sara had given him.
"Nottingham, I don't do waiting very well. How about you call me when you find him, so I can be there when you question him?" Sara said.
Ian shook his head. "Not a good idea. As I pointed out earlier, you tend to attract attention to yourself in this kind of neighborhood. And although they did not believe you when you claimed to be a police officer the other night, if one of your assailants happens to see you entering Mr. Brown's building, they might alert Angel to the fact. We simply cannot take that chance. Just sit tight, my Lady. I will return in an hour."
Reluctantly, Sara conceded that he was right. "Okay, but, please, try to keep the physical damage to a minimum. And, Nottingham, be careful."
"You do not have to worry about me, Sara. I am a shadow," he flashed her that wolfish grin again, "until I am not." Shrugging out of his overcoat, he reached under his seat and pulled out the harness containing his holstered Glocks, putting it on over his black silk dress shirt.
"Does this mean you actually faced down my godmother unarmed? You're a braver man than I thought, Nottingham," Sara cracked.
"I was not exactly weaponless. I never am," Ian admitted. "However, she is a formidable opponent, and I felt quite defenseless in the face of her inquisition."
"Yeah, I had to rescue your ass for a change," Sara grinned.
"I never did thank you for that, did I? Perhaps because, at the time, I was too busy running away," he said with an answering grin. "See you in an hour, my Lady. Hopefully, with good news."
"Yeah, hopefully," Sara sighed. She watched him cross the street, blinking as one moment he was visible under the light of a street lamp and the next he had disappeared. Just like that.
"I am a shadow," he had said. "Until I am not." Once again, the shiver that gripped Sara's body had very little to do with the cold air that had briefly invaded the car's warm interior.
More to come. Feed me feedback! Please?
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. I'm just playing. Enjoy!
Chapter 23.
Ian Nottingham waited until Sara Pezzini had disappeared down the 11th's Precinct's deserted second-floor hallway before he called Kenneth Irons. His master was undoubtedly aware of the fact that the Wielder had been sent another vision and would therefore be expecting his call. Uncertain how long he had before Sara returned, Ian got right to the point when Irons answered after the second ring.
"Plans have changed, Master. The Wielder received a vision that showed her nephew being shot to death by one of Angel Medina's henchman, possibly his brother, Joaquin, tomorrow afternoon. The vision also revealed that tonight's drug bust fails to catch Medina. I believe Detective Pezzini no longer intends to stake out the docks for fear that it is her presence there that causes the operation to fail in its objective." Ian neglected to mention that he, too, had been shown the vision. Although Irons knew that Nottingham's bond with the Wielder allowed him to sense when she received visions, much as his own did, Ian was fairly certain his master didn't know the Witchblade occasionally permitted him to see the actual vision.
"I see," Irons said after a moment's hesitation. "Where is the Wielder now, Ian?"
"She has returned to the 11th Precinct. In the vision, she noticed that the shooter possessed two distinct physical characteristics, and she is checking Joaquin Medina's file in the criminal database in the hopes of finding that his description matches them."
"What do you think Sara will do if it does match?"
"Attempt to apprehend Joaquin before he can murder her nephew."
"Tonight?"
"Perhaps, but only if she can figure out a way to do so without ruining the DEA's and narcotics squad's drug bust."
"Hmmm. Stay close to the Wielder, Ian. And keep me updated."
"Yes, sir." Ian hung up and pocketed his phone. Unconsciously, he stroked the spot beneath his chin where his Lady's fingers had touched him. He was glad that she had not perceived the shudder that had gone through his body at the all-too-brief, electric contact. Idly, he wondered what her bare skin would feel like against his and then hastily thought about something else when he felt his pulse begin to race and his rate of respiration increase.
Sara returned a minute later with several mug shot books and the promised cup of tea.
"Here you go, Nottingham," she said, handing him the tea and dropping the books onto her desk. "I included a book of gang graffiti tags, too, just in case Mac decides to come snooping around."
"Good thinking," Ian said. He sipped his tea before taking up one of the mug shot books and beginning to look through it.
Sara sat down at her desk and booted up her computer. She was exhausted, running on nothing but adrenaline and espresso, but she knew she wouldn't truly be able to rest until she was sure Joey was safe. Pulling up the criminal offender database, she entered Joaquin Medina's name. Moments later, his photo and extensive file came up.
"Bingo! Joaquin's a lefty and has the same exact Cobra tattoo as Angel's on his left forearm. Plus, the brothers were both born in Colombia and didn't move to the U.S. until they were almost in their teens. You said you thought the shooter had a Colombian accent, right? I'd say that pretty much proves Joaquin's the one who attempts to kill Joey tomorrow. Apparently, members of a gang called the Cali Cobras all sport the same tattoo. It says here big brother Angel founded the gang nearly 20 years ago, when he was just 14! I'm gonna check to see if the gang is still active and, if so, where. With any luck, I'll find the names of some current members, and I can cross-check them to see if any of them are students at Joey's school."
"With the logic being that if you can prevent Joey's classmate from passing his whereabouts along to Angel and Joaquin, you can keep Joey safe," Ian said.
"Yeah, that's my thinking. But I still can't help wonder what causes tonight's drug bust on the docks to fail. Since Joaquin is still free to go gunning for Joey tomorrow afternoon, that would seem to indicate that he and his brother somehow avoid getting caught making their pickup. Which would mean the info the inside guy had was wrong."
"Or maybe the timing was just off," Nottingham said slowly.
"How do you mean?" Sara asked.
"You said the undercover detective thought Angel was due to make a pickup within 24 hours. That was nearly 24 hours ago. However, a blizzard is supposedly bearing down on the metropolitan area, right?"
"I'm still holding out hope that the forecasters are wrong, but yeah."
"So, what if the shipment has simply been delayed by the bad weather? What if it was supposed to arrive tonight, but gets held up because of the weather in another part of the country and does not arrive until sometime tomorrow morning or even later?"
"But it's supposed to be arriving by sea. Besides, the storm is coming from the west, so that shouldn't hold the Dominican Star up," Sara pointed out.
"What if it that information was incorrect and the shipment is coming by land? That would explain why the operation on the docks fails and also why Joaquin is still a free man tomorrow afternoon."
"Okay, say you're right, and the product was never arriving by sea. Surely, once the DEA and narcotics realize their mistake, they'll just tail Angel and Joaquin until they do make the pickup and then move on them."
"That is assuming they still have Angel and/or Joaquin under surveillance. Criminals have been known to give their tails the slip."
"True. And from what I've heard, Angel is pretty slippery. However, I highly doubt the DEA or narcotics would be willing to share the fact that they've lost track of Angel and Joaquin with us. How do we find out? Better yet, how do we find the brothers if they have managed to lose their tail? Damn! It seems like we're back to square one!" Sara said, throwing up her hands in frustration.
"We could always ask felon No. 11862-5961 if he knows where Angel is," Ian said.
"Felon number who?"
Ian lifted up the mug shot book he'd been perusing and showed her a picture of a familiar-looking young man. "You know him better as Broken Arm."
Sara chuckled gleefully. "Let's just see if there's a current address for him." She typed the man's ID number into her computer. "His real name's Alonzo Brown. Oh, and what do you know? Not only is there a current address listed, it says here that Mr. Brown is a member in good standing of the Cali Cobras gang! That right arm you broke happens to have a lovely and realistic rendering of a cobra beneath its brand-new cast, Nottingham. I say we go pay Alonzo a visit tonight. Especially since my search for current gang members that attend Stuyvesant High School came up empty."
"I agree," Nottingham said, rising. "But first I must avail myself of the facilities."
"Down the hall on the right. Good idea, actually," she said, writing the address down on a slip of paper and pocketing it. "If Alonzo isn't home, we might find ourselves driving around looking for him and Angel for hours."
"Or you might find yourself sitting in the car while I put my ninja skills to good use, which, as you pointed out earlier, I so love to do," Ian said, picking up his coat.
Sara grinned up at him. "Any excuse at all to skulk, eh Nottingham?"
"Well, you must admit I am extremely good at it."
"I'll say. Comes with the deadly assassin-slash-stalker territory, I guess," Sara said, failing to notice the black-clad man's wince. She logged off her computer and then gathered up the mug shot and gang graffiti books. "I'm just gonna drop these off where they belong and then go use the ladies room. I'll meet you downstairs. On second thought, wait for me up here. I don't wanna give Mac the chance to pump you for info about our alleged relationship," she said, grabbing her coat off its hook.
"Heaven forbid," Ian said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
Sara frowned at him and started to say something, then just shook her head and marched away.
Sighing, Ian downed the rest of his tea and then followed her out of the office she shared with her partner. He seemed to have a distressing knack for destroying the camaraderie that had lately begun to characterize their interactions. Although Ian knew it was irrational to feel this way, her obvious aversion to anyone even remotely considering the possibility of them being a couple bothered him -- a lot. The desk sergeant did not know who Nottingham was and neither did any of her coworkers. So, why were mere rumors of a relationship so upsetting to Sara?
'Because she does know who you are, Ian,' he answered himself. 'You said it yourself: She is a police officer. You are an assassin. She could never allow herself to fall in love with you.'
For a moment, Ian allowed his weary, feverish body to sag beneath the weight of this cold, harsh truth before resolutely straightening his posture. He had a job to do and that was to protect the Bladewielder. He simply could not afford to let his unrequited feelings get in the way of his duty to her. As he washed his hands, he avoided looking in the mirror above the sink for fear that the evidence of his aching heart was plain for all to see.
Sara put the mug shot and gang tag books back where they belonged and then went into the ladies room. Her mind kept chewing over Nottingham's last pithy comment, or, more accurately, the pissy tone of voice he'd said it in.
'What's his problem?' she wondered. 'If I didn't know better, I'd think he was annoyed that I didn't want to give Mac more ammunition for the rumor mill. But that can't be possible. What's he care if I don't want people thinking we're a couple? He said it himself: He kills people for a living, while I put murderers away for a living. A relationship would never work. Would it?' Sara blinked in surprise. 'What the hell? Did I actually just consider going out with Nottingham? No, that's insane. Get a hold of yourself, Pezzini! He's your psycho freak stalker, remember? You'll never be that hard up.'
Sara washed her hands, glancing at her reflection in the mirror above the sink and groaning as she realized that she'd been walking around with raccoon eyes ever since she'd left her godparents' house. She washed her pale, tired face, using a soapy paper towel to wipe off the smudged mascara, and then carefully reapplied her lip gloss, telling herself she didn't want her lips to become chapped from the cold.
'What if Nottingham weren't Kenneth Irons pet assassin?' she suddenly found herself thinking. 'What if he were the legitimate head of security of some rich guy who wasn't obsessed with the Witchblade?' Sara shook her head at the pointlessness of this exercise. 'But he does work for Irons. And nothing can change that.' Sighing, she put her coat on and left the bathroom.
Nottingham stood at the top of the stairs in his habitual parade rest stance. Sara's heart sank as she saw that he had reverted to his old, expressionless self. This tall, unsmiling man with the shuttered, downcast eyes was suddenly like a stranger to her. Until that very moment, she hadn't realized how much she had grown to like the teasing, almost relaxed persona that he had begun to display of late. Not only had she been stunned to discover that he actually possessed a sense of humor, but she'd come to realize that it was very similar to her own (minus the world weary cynicism and biting sarcasm). And it had been undeniably gratifying to know that it was she who had brought it out in him. Somehow, she knew that life with Kenneth Irons rarely permitted him to express this side of himself, if at all.
They descended to the first floor of the precinct in silence. But just before they rounded the corner and came into view of the front desk, Sara impulsively stepped closer to Nottingham and slipped her bare left hand into his gloved right hand.
"Goodnight, Mac. Have a nice holiday at the in-laws!" she said to the desk sergeant as they passed his station.
"Yeah, happy Thanksgiving to you, too, Pezzini," Mac said wryly, eyeing their joined hands with obvious interest. "Any luck identifying that gang tag, Mr. Nottingham?"
"Yes, the book Sara showed me was most helpful. I will pass the information along to the local anti-crime unit," Ian replied. "Goodnight, Sergeant McGwire."
"Goodnight, kids."
They left the precinct and headed in the direction of where the SUV was parked, still holding hands.
After scanning the dark street intently, Ian glanced at Sara and saw that a little smile was on her lips. "Why did you do that?" he finally asked quietly.
"In for a penny, in for a pound," she said, shrugging. "Besides, it was worth it for the look on Mac's face." She smirked. "And on yours."
"I do not believe my expression changed at all, Sara."
"Are you kidding? Your jaw practically hit the floor, Nottingham."
"It did not."
"Did so."
Abruptly, he stopped walking and brought her hand up to his mouth, brushing it with his warm lips. "Thank you, my Lady," he murmured, intense hazel eyes meeting hers.
"F-for what?" Sara stuttered, heart suddenly racing.
"For salving my pride."
"Oh. Sure. Any time." Flustered, she glanced around the dark street self-consciously. "Um, think I could have my hand back now?" she said when he continued to stand there holding it close to his heart in both of his, gazing at her with those big, expressive eyes of his.
With obvious reluctance, he released her hand and they continued on to his car.
"Before we head to Mr. Brown's home, we need to stop at the drugstore a couple of blocks from here. It's open 24 hours," Sara told Ian once she was seated in the passenger seat.
A slight frown creased the skin between his dark brows. "Very well," he said, starting the car.
Ian had hoped that she had forgotten about this particular errand. He did not want to be forced to return to the estate before they had located Angel and Joaquin Medina because of his ill health. A surge of resentment toward Kenneth Irons for placing him in this predicament filled Ian, surprising him with its intensity.
Moments later, they pulled up in front of the store. "You may as well take this opportunity to purchase the Tampax that you will soon need," Ian told her absently.
Sara froze in the act of opening the car door and threw him a disbelieving look. "How the hell do you know that I'll need -- ? Never mind. I don't even wanna know," she muttered, getting out.
"Your desk calendar at work, Sara," he said softly before she could close the door. "You wrote 'Get Tampax' on it."
"Gee, how very observant of you," she said acidly. "Thanks ever so much for the reminder, Nottingham." She slammed the car door with more force than necessary and then turned and marched into the drugstore.
Ian winced. "Smooth move, Nottingham," he muttered aloud, watching her stomp away. "Now she thinks she has no privacy whatsoever." Sighing, he leaned his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes in a futile attempt to meditate. The buzz of fever in his brain was growing louder, preventing him from concentrating. He wondered if it was beginning to cloud his judgment, which was already suspect where Sara Pezzini was concerned. Why else would he be risking his master's wrath by continuing to aid her in her quest to keep her nephew from coming to harm?
These were uncharted waters, and Ian felt more than slightly out of his depth. As this latest misstep proved, the alliance between the Wielder and himself was tentative at best. He could not shake the feeling that as soon as their objective was achieved, Sara would once again look upon him with dislike and suspicion. It was obvious that his master's keen interest in her made her feel threatened, and Ian's unwelcome demonstration of his knowledge of the most intimate aspects of her life had reinforced this sentiment.
'Do I have any secrets from Nottingham or Irons?' Sara wondered as she wandered the drugstore's brightly lit aisles in search of a digital thermometer. 'Probably not.' Grudgingly, she grabbed a box of tampons when she came upon them. She also bought a couple of bottles of water.
Nottingham's head was leaning against the headrest and his eyes were closed when she returned to the car. He looked so weary, Sara felt guilty about disturbing him but he straightened up and unlocked the door before she could even raise her hand to knock on the glass.
"I got us some water," she said, putting the bottles in the cupholders. Taking out the thermometer, Sara removed it from its packaging. She pressed the button, waited the requisite amount of time for the device to become ready for use, and then turned to Ian, who allowed her to place it under his tongue.
Sara stared at his mouth, noting that his lips were full and nicely shaped, and that his beard and mustache were neatly trimmed. She remembered how soft his beard had felt when she had lifted his chin earlier.
Fast double-beeps sounded, and Sara removed the thermometer, frowning as she read the tiny LED screen. "102.4. I'm gonna check it again in an hour. I'm serious about what I said earlier, Nottingham, even if we haven't found Angel and Joaquin Medina by then."
"Yes, my Lady," he said sullenly.
Sara pulled out the piece of paper on which she'd written Alonzo Brown's address. "Okay, here's where we're headed," she said, handing it to him.
Nottingham glanced at it, gave it back to her, and started the car.
Putting the thermometer in her coat pocket, Sara placed the empty packaging back into the bag containing her other purchase then flung it into the back seat, hoping -- most likely in vain -- that Nottingham hadn't noticed that she'd taken his advice. She was fast learning that very little escaped the assassin's notice.
"What's your plan for when we get to Alonzo's place?" she asked him.
"Are you certain you want to hear it? It involves unlawful activities such as breaking and entering."
"What else is new?" Sara murmured, staring at his profile moodily.
"If Mr. Brown is not home, I will canvas the neighborhood for him. I will report back to you in an hour, whether or not I have located him. Is this agreeable?"
"Yeah, except for the part where I sit in the car and twiddle my thumbs while you get to have all the fun."
"Please give me your cell phone."
"Why?"
"I am going to program my number into it. That way, we can stay in touch."
"Might as well, since you already have my number on speed dial."
One of his brief but brilliant smiles made an appearance. "Yes, I do indeed."
"Which reminds me, we gotta work on your phone etiquette, Nottingham. Kenny might not be big on goodbyes, but I'm kinda partial to them." When they stopped at a red light, Sara handed her cell phone to him.
Ian quickly programmed his number into it. "Please feel free to call me at any hour of the day or night," he said, handing the phone back to her. "I am always at your service, my Lady."
"Why thank you, Nottingham. Rest assured I will call you if you're not back in an hour once we reach Alonzo's nabe." She glanced out the window. "Which, surprise, surprise, happens to be in Alphabet City."
Moments later, Ian found a parking space some blocks from the address Sara had given him.
"Nottingham, I don't do waiting very well. How about you call me when you find him, so I can be there when you question him?" Sara said.
Ian shook his head. "Not a good idea. As I pointed out earlier, you tend to attract attention to yourself in this kind of neighborhood. And although they did not believe you when you claimed to be a police officer the other night, if one of your assailants happens to see you entering Mr. Brown's building, they might alert Angel to the fact. We simply cannot take that chance. Just sit tight, my Lady. I will return in an hour."
Reluctantly, Sara conceded that he was right. "Okay, but, please, try to keep the physical damage to a minimum. And, Nottingham, be careful."
"You do not have to worry about me, Sara. I am a shadow," he flashed her that wolfish grin again, "until I am not." Shrugging out of his overcoat, he reached under his seat and pulled out the harness containing his holstered Glocks, putting it on over his black silk dress shirt.
"Does this mean you actually faced down my godmother unarmed? You're a braver man than I thought, Nottingham," Sara cracked.
"I was not exactly weaponless. I never am," Ian admitted. "However, she is a formidable opponent, and I felt quite defenseless in the face of her inquisition."
"Yeah, I had to rescue your ass for a change," Sara grinned.
"I never did thank you for that, did I? Perhaps because, at the time, I was too busy running away," he said with an answering grin. "See you in an hour, my Lady. Hopefully, with good news."
"Yeah, hopefully," Sara sighed. She watched him cross the street, blinking as one moment he was visible under the light of a street lamp and the next he had disappeared. Just like that.
"I am a shadow," he had said. "Until I am not." Once again, the shiver that gripped Sara's body had very little to do with the cold air that had briefly invaded the car's warm interior.
More to come. Feed me feedback! Please?