Book 3 of Cat and Mouse
Title: Startup Costs
Rating: PG-13 for language, violence, and adult situations
Summary: Sam, former FBI agent and friend of the turtles starts a private security business in New York City, while back in the lair Mike deals with family life, and the return of Agent Sanders.
Credits: Thanks to the beautifully talented and endlessly patient Sassy for the beta read.
Disclaimer: I do not own the turtles, Splinter, Casey, April, or a toaster oven. Not for profit – only for fun.
Chapter 1:
Ten years earlier …
Walking quickly across campus, a young woman fought fierce gusts of wind for possession of her pile of textbooks. The air was raw on her face, and she tried to hunch her shoulders and get her chin inside her scarf. She almost toppled over when a man charged up and threw a hearty arm around her shoulders.
"Juliet!" the man crowed happily. She hung on to her books, but just barely. "Just the woman I was looking for."
"Greg, don't you have class?" Juliet asked, her face puckering into a worried frown. She, herself, needed to be at class in just a few minutes.
"Aw, it's okay. But you have to answer my question right now," he insisted, eyes sparkling. Juliet shook her head.
"Greg, we'll talk about it tonight," she demurred, looking over at the building she needed to get to.
"No, now. Come on and say you'll marry me," Greg cajoled. Juliet bit her lip, and looked across the campus parking lot at the winter nude trees. They had been dating for less than a year, but he had already picked out a ring. It wasn't that she didn't love him, but she wanted to finish college before getting married.
"What about school?" she asked, voicing her concerns.
"We'll finish! I've already been accepted at the FBI academy, and you can transfer to a school that's nearby," he explained enthusiastically, nearly crushing her in a bear hug. "It'll be great, babe. You'll see."
Juliet sighed, and shook her head. He was like a little boy in his excitement. "Yes. Okay. We'll get married in the spring."
"Nope, we'll get married this winter over Christmas break," he returned firmly. "I have it all planned."
Juliet smiled, but inside she felt a flicker of frustration at his high handedness.
The door on the back of the truck rolled up with a bang, and Casey climbed up to shove some boxes to the edge so Sam could carry them in.
"Sorry we didn't have an apartment for ya," Casey said, his voice muffled as he dragged boxes out from behind furniture. "Building's actually full for once. Not that we aren't grateful for the tenants."
"That's okay," Sam replied. "At least I can get all this stuff stored in your basement."
"Yeah. Be a shame if you had to sell everything, and it's just not gonna work haulin' this stuff through the sewers," Casey continued. He slid two boxes up, and Sam lifted the top one out. Casey jumped down to the ground, and grabbed the other box. "Yeah, you're not gonna need any of this stuff, huh? Not roomin' with Donnie. He's got everything …" Casey's speech halted as he noted Sam's wide eyed and open mouthed stare. "What?"
"I am not 'rooming' with Don," Sam replied, aghast, as a blush stole over her cheeks. "For your information, I will have my own room at the lair."
"Hey," Casey said, taking a step back and holding up the box in a warding gesture. "I was just assumin', seein' as how you two are always together, that … ya know." Casey lifted his massive shoulders in a little shrug, and Sam shut her mouth, a sour look on her face.
"There is no … 'you know', so … Just unload the truck," Sam said at last, uneasy and completely embarrassed over the entire conversation. Casey shrugged again, and turned to enter the back door to the building. It seemed to take less time to unload everything and haul it into April and Casey's basement than it had to load everything from her apartment
The sky was just beginning to move from the brilliant blue of the day to the purple of dusk when Sam's cell phone rang. She tugged it free from her backpack, and answered it.
"Hello?" Sam paused, and listened to the unfamiliar voice. "Oh yes, Mr. Adams. Your uncle said you needed some security help. Mmm-hmm. Tonight?" Sam glanced down at herself, and wrinkled her nose with disgust. "In about two hours, will work just fine." Sam was relieved she would have some time to shower and change before meeting a potential client. "Yes, I know where that park is. Great. I'll see you there." Sam disconnected, and smiled a little at the view through the windshield of the rental truck. Her possessions were stored; she had a place to live, and now maybe even a job again. It really couldn't get any better.
Opening one eye and peering at the darkness, Mike took a moment to reflect. What had woken him up? A sharp cry from the next room brought him to his feet instantly, and he ran out and whipped in through the neighboring door without pausing to knock.
The figure on the bed was thrashing around, fighting the blankets that had twisted around her body during the night. Not seeing any direct danger, Mike stepped over to the bed, and sat down on the edge carefully. Her eyes were closed tightly, and her face was marred by a grimace of fear.
"Please, no," she begged, obviously in the throes of a nightmare. Her hands clawed at the blankets, and Mike caught her shoulders, giving her a gentle shake.
"Juliet, come on," he said, keeping his voice low. "Wake up. Juliet." Her eyes snapped open, and stared up at him, wide and alarmed. Her heart was pounding in her chest so hard he could see it through her thin t-shirt. "Just a dream, Jules," he assured her.
"The girls," Juliet gasped, panting as though she had been running for miles.
"They're fine. Asleep," Mike replied. He started unwinding the blanket from around her right arm. "You wanna talk about it?" He kept his eyes down, concentrating on freeing her from the bedding. He didn't want to pressure her into answering if she wasn't ready.
"It was just a dream," she whispered. She kicked at the blankets that had trapped her legs, and started to breathe easier when they weren't touching her anymore. She glanced up at Mike, and noticed that he was staring off into space. "It was a memory, actually." Mike's eyes turned to meet hers, and she tried on a lopsided smile. "Not a good memory." She bit her lip, and looked away from his face.
"Jules," Mike said softly, stroking her cheek. She blinked a few times.
"If I talk about it, then I'm going to cry," Juliet admitted.
"It's okay if you cry," Mike responded quietly.
"I don't want to cry. I'm sick of it," she whispered, choking up in spite of her intention not to. Mike stretched out next to her, and gathered Juliet into his arms. She pressed her face to his cheek. Like Noelle had when she was frightened and wanted to hide.
"It's okay," Mike offered. He pulled her body close to his, and tried to think of anything he could say that would make her feel better. He settled on the best thing he could think of. "You're safe now."
"I know," she replied, her breath tickling his skin. "But there's some stuff …" She moved back and looked into his eyes, meeting his concern with truth. "There's some stuff I need to deal with inside, okay?" She took a deep breath, calming a little more. "It's like there's poison inside me – his poison – and I need to get it out."
"You can tell me anything," Mike said firmly. "Anything. It won't make any difference."
Juliet laughed wryly. "Well, some of it … You'll probably go out and kill him."
Mike had to close his eyes for a moment. He had suspected that things had been very bad for Juliet during her marriage. His imagination had run wild for a while, wondering exactly what had driven her to such extremes to escape. But Raph had sat him down, and told him to hang on. To wait until Juliet could give him the facts.
"When I tell you, I want you to promise me something," Juliet began hesitantly. "You can never tell any of it to Rachel or Noelle."
"I wouldn't," Mike replied, a little relieved that he hadn't been forced to promise not to hurt the guy, although he was back in D.C. now, as far as they knew. "But don't they already know?"
Juliet shook her head a little, and brushed her knuckles over the back of his neck. Mike shivered, but forced himself to concentrate. "Rachel may remember some things, but I don't think Noelle remembers him at all." Juliet continued to slide her fingers around to the side of his neck, and caressed the muscle between neck and shoulder. "Whatever they remember, whatever he has done, he's their father. I can't … I can't badmouth him to them."
"Okay," Mike agreed. "I promise." Juliet leaned forward and kissed him lightly.
"Could you stay? For a little while?" Juliet asked, snuggling down into her pillow.
"Yeah," Mike sighed. He waited as her breathing evened out into sleep, and lulled by her warmth he allowed his eyes to close.
The park was reasonably small, and actually gorgeous at this time of night. The trees were nearly black where the streetlights didn't hit them. There were a few people walking on the paths, and enjoying the air. Sam parked across the street, and crossed quickly to the opposite side. On the sidewalk was the man she suspected she was meeting.
"Mr. Adams?" Sam asked staring very far up at the tall man dressed in a sharp black suit and tan overcoat. She put out her hand at his slight nod. "Samantha Gallagher."
"You're a bodyguard?" Carl Adams said doubtfully. He sized her up with a dismissive eye roll, and shook his head. "I know my uncle's blind, but he said you were an FBI agent."
"I was," Sam responded. She glanced down at the little boy standing next to Mr. Adams. He looked to be around 10 or 11 years old, and his clothes weren't nearly as nice as his father's. "And who are you?" Sam queried the boy. He shied back, hiding behind Carl Adams' leg.
"That's Russell. Never mind about him," Carl said dismissively. Sam frowned, but it really wasn't her business how this guy dealt with his child. "So, I'm looking for a bodyguard. It's a full-time gig. That gonna work for you?"
"Absolutely," Sam replied, starting to feel relieved. A full-time job guarding this guy couldn't be all that bad. "I have a list of references you can call …" Sam opened up her bag, and tugged out a small sheaf of papers. Behind her, she heard brakes squeal sharply as a vehicle stopped suddenly. Sam held out the papers, but Carl failed to take them from her. His eyes were on the car behind her.
A man stepped out on the passenger side. Sam started to turn, and saw the muzzle of a gun out of the corner of her eye. She dropped, and on instinct grabbed the boy, jerking him to the ground as well. At least six shots rang out, and someone in the park screamed. Sam rolled onto her back, gun out now, and watched as the car drove off. A thud, and Carl Adams was lying on the sidewalk, blood pouring out of his chest and face.
Sam caught the boy when he tried to look, and covered his eyes. He just didn't need to see this. With her other hand, she scrambled out her cell phone, and dialed 911.
"You have the worst luck, Sam," Dan noted sadly from where he was crouched over the body.
"Well?" she asked her friend. The NYPD detective shook his head, and stood up.
"Well, he's dead," he replied. He nodded to the coroner's people, and they began to move the body.
"Thanks. I wouldn't have guessed that," Sam retorted. "I'd like to know why."
"I would say that the .38 caliber slugs in him might have something to do with it," Dan continued dryly. "Sam, what the hell are you doing?"
"I was trying to get a job," Sam explained shortly. She glanced over at the boy, Russell, where he was sitting in the passenger seat of a squad car. She offered him a reassuring smile.
"A job? With Carl Adams?" Dan questioned sharply.
"He needed a bodyguard," Sam said, returning her attention to Dan. Dan goggled at her with a combination of amusement and scorn.
"Of course he does. He's only one of the biggest drug dealers in the city, not to mention a pimp," Dan pointed out. It was Sam's turn to gape in surprise. "Didn't you check him out first?"
"My neighbor said …" Sam shut her mouth quickly, and looked down at the ground. She wondered if the 'I'm an idiot' sign over her head was blinking.
"You know, if you wanted work, all you had to do was ask," Dan stated. Sam looked up at him. "There's a burger place right down the street that's hiring." Sam scowled at him. "By the way, who's the kid?" Dan asked, hooking a thumb in the direction of the squad car.
"Carl Adams' son," Sam replied, her face still wrinkled up in a frown.
Dan's eyebrows shot up. "I didn't know he had a kid. You want me to call child protective services?"
"No." The word was out of her mouth before she even thought about it. She could have slapped her forehead a moment later. What was she going to do with him? "I'll find his mom," she stated.
"It would probably be better if we let the proper authorities handle that," Dan conjectured. Sam ground her teeth together in frustration. Did no one trust her to do a simple job anymore? Reading her expression, Dan relented. "Okay, you take him to his mom, but let me know where he is. Deal?"
"Sure," Sam agreed blithely. "May I go now, detective? Or do you want to take me in for questioning?"
Dan smiled, and draped a friendly arm around her shoulders. "Not today. I know where to find you."
Sam found herself smirking in response. Not anymore, she thought.
Knocking on the familiar door, Sam tried to figure out the right way to tell her old friend his nephew had died. There seemed no decent way to do it, but maybe knowing his nephew's son was alive would help. Sam glanced down at the boy, but he seemed puzzled. The door opened in front of them, and Richard Adams stood in the open doorway.
"Mr. Adams," Samantha greeted.
"Samantha, what are you doing here at this time of night?" Richard asked. He tilted his head for a moment. "You've got someone with you, too."
"Yes, Carl's son. I hate to just drop this on you, Mr. Adams …" Sam started.
"Carl doesn't have a son, Samantha," Richard intoned. Sam glanced down at the boy in confusion. He hadn't said a word on the trip over, so she had assumed … "Maybe you'd better come in and tell me what's going on," Richard invited.
Sam stepped into the dim hallway, and looked back to find Russell hadn't moved with her. "It's okay," she reassured him. He came forward, and Sam let the door close. In the living room, Richard flipped on a lamp for their comfort, and sat down on his sofa.
"Would you like anything Sam?" he queried politely.
"No, I don't want to take up too much of your time," Sam began. She leaned forward in her chair, and fumbled to explain. "I met your nephew, Carl, in the park this evening."
"Oh, wonderful," Mr. Adams said, his face lighting up. "I hope you two got on well."
Sam swallowed and shifted in her seat. "Um, well, I didn't have much of a chance to talk with him."
"He's dead," Russell said bluntly. Sam looked over at the boy with surprise. "He got shot."
"Sam?" Richard questioned in a shocked whisper.
"Um," Sam mumbled, wishing she could crawl into a hole. "I'm so sorry Mr. Adams. It was a drive-by. I'm afraid Russell is correct. Carl is dead." Richard's head bowed forward, and Sam bit her lip. "The police are investigating," she offered, trying to comfort him.
"Sure they are," Russell added, his tone sarcastic. "They'll look real hard for the guy who shot my mom's pimp."
"Russell," Sam said angrily, and to her friend, in a calmer tone. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Adams." She started to rise intending to get the boy out of there, but stopped at her old neighbor's voice.
"I know … what he was doing was wrong," Richard confessed, his words broken and slow. "I know that, but he was a good boy, Samantha. He paid my rent here, and looked after everyone in our family who needed help." Sam crossed to him, and knelt in front of him. She could see tears tracking down his lined face.
"If there's anything I can do," she offered gently. She touched his hand, as she had earlier in the hallway to say goodbye. He caught her hand between his, and held on tightly.
"Find the person who did this, Samantha. See that there's justice," Richard said fiercely. Sam found herself nodding.
"Of course. Of course, Richard," Sam replied.