Chapter 7

Warrick knocked again, shaking his head as all he heard was silence – not even a bark. He'd called on his way over to tell the uniform he could leave – Deaver had plead guilty.

"You lookin' for Annika?" He turned, watching Mrs. Hawthorne – Betty, he remembered – wave from across the street.

"Yeah," Warrick called back, glancing before crossing the street. "You know where she went?"

"Down the street to the market with Shasta," she answered, nodding her head to the left. The pair had just rounded the corner, Shasta wearing a harness and Annika holding a paper bag in her free arm. Warrick smiled as Shasta paused at the curb, looking around before leading Nika across the street. "She has surgery in a couple days, you know," Betty offered. Shasta just might get rid of that harness soon, God willing."

"Yeah she mentioned that. Where's that being done?"

"She's got a special doctor at a hospital over on Rainbow," Betty said with a shrug. "I don't remember the name of the place, but it's the closest one." They both watched as Nika searched her pockets for her keys, feeling out the door handle before coaxing the key into the lock and swinging it open, Shasta jogging in behind her.

Thanks, Betty," Warrick said, sending her a bright smile as he headed back across the street.

"Anytime, sweetheart," Betty called. He waved over his shoulder, not turning back to the older woman. Ferocious barking started the moment his first knock hit the door, and he had to smile.

"Shut it, mutt," he heard Nika say, muffled behind the door. As the lock turned, she already wore a smile, Shasta giving one last short and quiet woof before settling down as the door opened. "Hi, Warrick," Nika said brightly.

"Morning."

"It's afternoon," she said, backing away from the door to let him in. "I got your message just now," she continued, gesturing toward the phone. "It's really over?" Her hand was still on the doorknob, the attached shoulder thrust up toward her ear in a gesture that seemed shy to Warrick. He smiled, turning back to her.

"In the mood for bourbon?" he asked, watching a smile light her face.

"Can I show you something first?"

"Sure," he said with a shrug. She grinned, reaching for his hand and pulling him toward her, turning to open the door behind her, on the wall cattycorner to the front door.

"Could you flip the light?" she asked. "It's been a while since I've been in here." He did, his eyes widening at what sat in front of him, and he let out a whistle. She smiled, shaking her head a little as he walked around the thing, running his fingers along behind him. "1964 Chevelle, five-speed, black leather interior, ragtop convertible," she said proudly. "Haven't seen it in about fourteen years, and it probably doesn't run, but I thought maybe if one of these surgeries worked out we could bond again," She said, shrugging. "Is she as pretty as I remember?"

"Absolutely," Warrick said. "You know, I know a couple of gearheads," he continued. "I'm sure they'd jump at the chance to check this baby out." She smiled.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"Now how 'bout that bourbon?" Another grin, and he nodded. "I know just the place." That eyebrow rose, and he chuckled.

"Gotta be someplace I can wear jeans and a tee shirt. Not much else in the closet and the stuff in there that isn't, I wouldn't be able to mix and match," she explained. "I mean, if you've got your heart set on someplace, I know I've got stuff in there, but I don't have any idea what goes with what, it's been so long since I had to dress up.

"You could get by with what you're wearing," he said. Truth be told, the place had a dress code, but he knew everyone there and was sure they wouldn't say anything just because it was him.

"Get by?" she repeated. "Don't start lying to me know. You were doing so well." Warrick snickered, taking her by the hand again.

"Let's go see what you've got in there." She narrowed her eyes, brows furling, but a smile played on her lips.

"You've been through my entire house," she said slowly. "Who got my room?"

"I did," he admitted.

"So you know what's in there," she continued.

"Not off the top of my head, no," he said, but his tone held a coyness that made her want more information.

"And you've been planning this for how long?"

"Ever since you said something about bourbon a while ago," he admitted. She let out a laugh, leading him back into the house. She leaned against the doorframe until he called her over, taking her hand and depositing the hangers. Her fingers ran over the material, a small smile lighting her face.

"I remember this," she said quietly. "Okay, give me a minute." He nodded, dropping her hand and shutting the door behind him. She didn't even consider the possibility of him fooling her by shutting the door, soon hearing him talking on his phone in the living room. She smiled a little, changing quickly. After taking the time to feel for the shoes she'd worn last with this – seeing how her Converse were almost the only shoes she owned now – she opened the door, and Warrick snapped his phone shut, standing quickly.

"You ready?" he asked, fighting the urge to give her a catcall.

"As ready as I can be."

"What do you mean?"

"Casey usually did my hair and makeup for stuff like this," she said with a shrug.

"It looks fine and you don't need it, respectively," Warrick said, receiving a tiny, shy smile.

"Then I guess I'm ready," she said with a shrug.

xxx

She could tell it was a club, but all she could hear so far was the bass and people talking outside. But since they were still walking, she didn't know if all these people were just hanging out or waiting in a line they could somehow bypass.

"Hey, Rick," someone, a voice she didn't recognize, said. Warrick replied, and his arm shook as he apparently shook the man's hand. "Your buddy Alvin's playing tonight."

"Is he?" Warrick asked, wrapping an arm around Nika's waist. "We got a step here, Nika," he said quietly to her. "Right in front of you."

"Curb?"

"Yeah." Then to the doorman: "You full tonight or is there someplace to sit down?"

"Should be a couple tables open. We usually leave two or three near the stage for friends," the man replied. Nika picked up the smile in his voice, and found herself smiling as well as she navigated the curb. His hand remained on the small of her back, guiding her through the mass of people with directive pressures with his fingers until they got to the table, at which point, his fingers slid around her side to the side of her middle, pulling her back gently. She stopped and heard metal scrape beside her, and he took her hand, placing it on the back of the chair.

"Thanks," she said, slowly taking a seat.

"No problem," he replied, pulling a chair up next to her, his arm settling around her shoulders. No sooner than they sat down, the music started up again, and she found herself smiling. She leaned toward him a little.

"Duke Ellington, huh?" she asked.

"I'm impressed." She heard his grin and shrugged.

"Live?"

"Naturally."

"Nice," she commented, shifting in her seat toward him a little. His thumb stroked a small area of her shoulder, in time with the music, and she found herself smiling. A moment later, she heard Warrick take a breath.

"Uh… gin and tonic and…" he turned to her. "What do you want, Nika?"

"Bourbon on the rocks." Warrick's shoulder moved again, she supposed to nod to their server, and she gasped a minute later when he pressed something cold to her arm. "Thanks," she said, finding the glass and taking a sip.

"You look great, by the way," he said, leaning toward her so he wouldn't have to yell over the music. She only smiled, and though the club was darker while the band was on stage, he felt the heat in her cheeks. "You got a look from Scott, the doorman."

"Is that good?"

"He sees so many women every day he usually doesn't notice." Her smile widened. "So yes, that's good. And you're on my arm." She let a laugh slip, nudging his side with an elbow to get a laugh from him.

As a song wound down, she finished her drink, using the tablecloth pooling over her ankles to judge where the table was to rid her hands of the glass. She turned to him, brows raised as a piano song started.

"Band's taking a break," he said, and she learned she was much closer to him than she'd thought.

"But there's still music," she said, tilting her head to the side.

"And there is a dance floor if that's what you're thinking," he said after a beat. She wiggled her eyebrows at him, and he took her hand, pulling her to her feet and spinning her a couple times before settling an arm around her and starting a slow sway. Her arms went around his shoulders, the side of her forehead pressed to his cheek. His shirt felt like silk, and she found herself stroking the fabric between his shoulder blades, smiling lightly.

"What's it look like?" she asked quietly.

"You'll see it in a few days," he whispered, pulling her a little closer. She lifted her head, a little surprised at that, both in his confidence that the surgery would work and at his obvious intentions to bring her here again.

"Yeah?" His fingers threaded through her hair to settle his hand against the back of her neck, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Her hand left his back, settling on his cheek before tracing his face, and the smile she expected wasn't there. She lowered her hand to his chest, her eyes following where she knew her hand to be. Butterflies flitted around in her stomach, and she licked her lips nervously, closing her eyes as he lifted her chin with a finger, brushing his lips over hers. Her breath caught in her throat, breaking through with a quiet vibration as he turned the touch into a gentle kiss, lingering without lasting. The butterflies dissipated as she lowered her head to his shoulder, letting him lead her around in circles as the piano played on, not realizing she and Warrick were the center of attention, and the only people on the floor.