The hotel bar was massive in scale, opulent in its décor, and full of people holding expensive drinks.

Lisbon looked around the crowded room with dread. God, she hated stuff like this. Give her a bad neighborhood and a pack of angry thugs with guns any day. At least when you were on a bust, the criminals didn't expect you to make small talk. "Where do you think we should start?" she hissed to Jane.

"Hmm." Jane surveyed the room, no doubt taking in personalities, income levels, and interpersonal dynamics amongst the clusters of chit-chatting guests in a single sweep of his gaze. His eyes landed on the bartender, a tall, lean man serving out drinks with an easy grace. "You should get us drinks," he said decisively.

Lisbon blinked. Not that she minded—she was perfectly capable of buying her own drinks, of course—but Jane had a gallant streak that had somehow accustomed her over the years to him designating himself as the person to fetch drinks on the occasions they found themselves raising a glass together, whether they were at a bar or only drinking tea. "Okay," she said. "Any particular reason?"

"That bartender probably knows the key players in the room," Jane said. "And he will be particularly susceptible to you in that dress."

Lisbon blushed and tried desperately to not think about the heat of Jane's hand on her thigh less than five minutes ago. "Fine," she said, drawing herself up. "Be right back."

She made it across the room without falling over, which she counted as a great success. When she reached the bar, she saw the bartender chatting with Sevechenko as he poured the man a bourbon. She cringed at the sight of Sevechenko and had to repress the absurd urge to duck out of sight. He was their target, she told herself sternly. If she had the good fortune to engage him in conversation, it would be a boon to the investigation. Her personal feelings of mortification at him having caught her in a public space with her tongue down her consultant's throat had no place in the matter.

The recollection of Jane's tongue caused her to lose time again. She only became aware of herself again when she realized the bartender was speaking to her.

She blinked up at him. "Sorry, what was that?"

He flashed her a grin. "What can I get you?"

"Oh, right," she said, feeling like an idiot. "Two glasses of red wine, please."

"Two, huh? I suppose it was too much to hope that a woman like you would be here alone," he said, giving her another easy smile. "I'm Liam."

"Teresa."

He nodded to her left hand. "You're here with your husband, I take it?"

Lisbon glanced at her left hand, which was adorned with a fake diamond large enough to be seen from space. Jane had presented it to her with a flourish before they'd entered the hotel. "Uh. Right."

"Ah, well," he sighed. "What kind of wine would you like?"

"I'm not picky. But my, uh, husband is a bit of a snob."

"What does he like?"

She smiled wryly. "I'm afraid I can never retain the details of his excitement about top notes and oakiness well enough to give you any specifics. Just give me two house reds—he can deal with it."

He laughed. "I think I can do a little better than that."

"So was that a friend of yours?" Lisbon asked as he rummaged around under the bar.

"Who?" he said, straightening with a bottle in his hand.

"That man you were speaking to a moment ago."

"Mr. Sevechenko? No. He's a regular, is all."

"This place is pretty fancy for regular travel," Lisbon commented. "Does he come here on business or something?"

"I think so," Liam said. "I'm not really sure what he does. He's pretty well known among the staff, though."

"What do you mean?"

"He throws a lot of parties upstairs. They're sort of infamous among the staff."

"The hotel doesn't mind?"

"Well, the people who have to clean the rooms aren't crazy about it. Those parties can get pretty wild."

"What's so wild about them?"

Liam looked embarrassed. "Nothing, I guess. They just get really loud and drunk and well—there are always a lot of beautiful women there."

Lisbon raised her eyebrows. "What, like an orgy or something?"

"Nothing like that!" Liam said. "It's just… a lot of older men with younger women. My friend Anna and I—she works in the restaurant—we figure the guys must all be loaded."

"I'm surprised the hotel doesn't complain, if they get so loud and create a lot of mess."

Liam shrugged. "Like I said, he's a regular, and he has rich friends. He brings a lot of business to the hotel, so the management tells the staff to just deal with it. They keep all the rooms on one part of one floor reserved for him and his friends so the other guests won't have reason to complain about the noise."

"Hm," Lisbon said, her mind going to the hotel manager. Could Rutherford be involved in the trafficking organization? Her brain went into overdrive, trying to assess the logistics involved in trafficking women in and out of a luxury hotel like this. Thinking about potential weak points in the operation was a welcome relief to the constant replay of that kiss that had been playing in her mind on an endless loop since the moment the kiss had ended.

Liam finished pouring the second glass of wine. "Here you go," he said, sliding the drinks towards her. "You're all set."

"Thanks," Lisbon said. "What do I owe you?"

When he gave her the bill, she noticed that he'd only charged her for two house reds, though the bottle he'd unearthed had definitely had the word 'Special Reserve' on the label. "Thanks again," she said, surprised. She added a generous tip. "Nice talking to you, Liam."

"You, too, Teresa."

xxx

She took the two glasses of wine from the counter and turned back to the rest of the room in search of Jane. She spied him at the center of a knot of about eight people, clearly the life of the party after having inveigled himself into their midst under God knew what pretenses. She shook her head and walked towards him.

"Ah, there you are, dearest," Jane said when she reached his side. He put his arm around her again. Lisbon didn't flinch this time. Instead, she slipped her arm around Jane's waist to give him a taste of his own medicine. Jane only smirked and ran his hand up and down her spine. She controlled the impulse to shiver.

Jane addressed the group. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet my wife, Teresa. Teresa, I'd like you to meet some new friends. They'll be joining us for the retreat." He indicated the couple to his right, a dark-haired couple, both tanned and stocky. They looked like they'd be more at home at a hockey game than mingling with the social elite in a luxury hotel. "Tony and Andrea, you first. Tell us a little about yourselves."

"We're from New Jersey," Tony said to the group. "We came to get away from our kids."

"We won the trip in the school fundraising raffle," Andrea added. She looked around at the rest of the group. "What about you all? Are you all from here in California?"

"We're from San Diego," said a pretty, plump woman with a kind face who introduced herself as 'Shelly.' "Isaac is a flight instructor at Miramar."

"Top Gun," Tony said with a grin.

Isaac, a tall, severe man with iron gray hair, nodded in acknowledgment but didn't smile. He looked like he'd prefer to walk into enemy fire than remain five more minutes making small talk with a group of strangers. Lisbon could relate.

"What about you two?" Shelly asked the couple to her left. "Stephen and Lisa, right?"

Stephen, blond, blue-eyed, with self-assured, boyish good looks that made him look as though he'd just stepped out of a prep school uniform catalogue, answered. "We live in Phoenix. But I travel so much for work that sometimes it feels like I'm abroad more than I'm there," he said with a smile.

The woman opposite him asked politely, "What do you do?" She was petite, her dark hair in a pixie cut. She wore black cat eye glasses and a button with an image of Ruth Bader Ginsburg pinned to her vintage cocktail dress.

"I'm a sales rep for Amgen," Stephen said. He put his arm around his wife, a slender woman with light brown hair. "Lisa is an analyst for J.P. Morgan." She gave a tight smile and shifted away from him slightly. Stephen's smile flickered. His hand slipped from around her waist and fell back to his side.

"Wow, you must be super smart," a tall, beautiful blonde woman said to Lisa with admiration. The petite dark-haired woman glanced at her, a shadow crossing her features at the lingering look the blonde cast at Lisa.

"I do all right," Lisa said. "What about you two? Sorry—I forgot your names."

"Yvonne and Michaela," said the tall blonde, taking the petite woman's hand in hers with a smile. "We live here in San Francisco."

"Are you two married?" Tony asked.

Yvonne's smile slipped. "No." She let go of her girlfriend's hand and crossed her arms over her chest instead.

Michaela, the dark-haired woman, said stiffly, "We were engaged. But now—we're working through a few issues. Taking it one day at a time."

Tony blinked. "Oh," he said, uncertain how to navigate out of the conversational cul de sac.

"Guess that's what we're all here for, huh?" Lisa said unexpectedly. "Working through our issues."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Then Michaela said desperately, "What about you, Patrick? What do you and Teresa do?"

"Oh, Teresa's the valuable member of society in our marriage," Jane said carelessly. "She's an assistant DA who puts dirty rotten crooks behind bars. I'm just a trust fund kid who never grew up."

"Must be nice," Tony said with palpable envy. "Where do you two live?"

"We live in Napa. A beautiful place overlooking my grandfather's old vineyards. Teresa didn't think it was practical at first, because she has to commute to Sacramento for work. But she stopped complaining about the drive after I gave her a Tesla for her birthday," Jane informed their audience. "And even you admit the view is worth it," he added to Lisbon.

"Yeah," Lisbon mumbled. "S'great." Like she would ever be able to afford a Tesla on her state salary. Or a view.

Jane leaned in and kissed her hair. At the sensation, Lisbon's body swayed closer to him without her permission. God, he smelled good. "Teresa doesn't like it when I talk about money," he said to the group confidentially. "She thinks it alienates people. But I say, there's no point pretending to be what I'm not. So how about I buy you fine folks dinner, and we prepare to spill our deepest secrets to one another with a nice bottle of Louis Jadot Chapelle?"

"I'll drink to that," Tony said eagerly, and they all went to dinner.

Xxx

"So," Jane said, nuzzling Lisbon's hair in the elevator when they'd said goodnight to the last of the group later that evening. "What do you think?"

Lisbon wished he would stop doing that. It was very distracting. And he still smelled entirely too good. "About what?" she said, managing to keep her voice even despite her increased heart rate.

"About our new friends," he said, tracing his index finger down the side of her neck.

"Would you cut that out?" she hissed, tightening her grip on his arm and fighting the goosebumps that threatened to break out over her whole body at the sensation of his finger running down her neck. "Everyone else is gone. We don't have to pretend anymore."

He leaned in and nuzzled her hair again. "But there are security cameras in the elevator, Teresa," he said, his voice slow and lazy. "Can't be too careful. You never know who may or may not be watching."

Lisbon wrinkled her nose. "Ugh. That's super creepy, Jane." But she let him kiss her neck. Purely for the sake of the cover, of course. And the way her hands wound themselves into his hair to bring him closer, that was also—she bit back a moan as he pressed another kiss to her neck—for the sake of duty.

The elevator dinged, and Jane led her by the hand down the hallway to their room. Lisbon's step faltered when they reached the door to their suite, the image of that massive bed flashing across her mind's eye. She slipped her hand out of his and clasped her hands together in front of her. She took a deep breath and tried to calm her racing heart.

Jane opened the door and gestured for her to precede him inside.

"I'm gonna change," Lisbon said, studiously avoiding looking at the bed.

"Mm-kay," Jane said, wandering over to the window to admire the view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

Lisbon went over to her bag and rummaged through it, looking for her pajamas. When she found them, she turned towards the bathroom, but Jane called her name, his voice a little strained.

She looked up, questioning. Jane was still standing at the window, but he wasn't looking out the window. Instead, he was frowning at the fireplace.

He turned his head towards her. "Come over here, darling," he said, beckoning to her to join him by the window.

She frowned. What was with the endearment? Was he planning to method act his way through this whole weekend? "J—"

"You really must take in this view, Teresa," Jane interrupted, giving her a significant look.

Her hackles rose. "Okay." She set down her pajamas on top of her bag, crossed the room, and went to stand by Jane's side. The moon hung over the golden lights of the bridge, perfectly framed by the two bright towers lit up against the night sky.

Jane put his arm around her and bent to nuzzle her hair again.

She turned into him, slipping her arm around his waist and pressing a kiss to his jaw to give herself an excuse to bring her mouth close enough to his ear to whisper. The barely there stubble on his jaw rasped pleasantly under her lips. "What's going on?"

His arm tightened around her. "I don't want to alarm you," Jane murmured into her ear. "But there's a bug in this room."

Lisbon tensed. "What? Where?"

"Easy," he said, rubbing his hand up and down her arm. "It's on the mantel. In the flower arrangement."

Lisbon glanced over at the beautiful arrangement of lilies on the mantel over the fireplace. She kept her voice low. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

She cast her mind over the brief period of time they'd spent in the hotel room before going down to dinner. "Was it here when we first arrived?" she murmured. "Have we been made?"

Jane shook his head. "I would have noticed it if it had been here earlier. It was brought into the room after we went down to dinner."

"What kind of bug is it?"

"I'm afraid that's more your area of expertise than mine, my dear. If I, ah, maneuver us over to it, do you think you can take a closer look?"

"Yeah," Lisbon breathed. "Good thinking."

He gave her a long look, then slowly, deliberately, gathered her in his arms and kissed her. Sweetly. Deeply.

Lisbon swallowed a moan. He was so good at that. She kissed him back, indulging the instinct to bury her hands in his golden curls again.

Jane stumbled a bit, trying to press closer. She stepped back, pulling him with her. Jane groaned into her mouth and brought his hands up to cup her face, continuing to press forward.

She pivoted him, wresting control. Now she pressed closer, closer.

Jane fell back against the wall next to the fireplace, his hands sliding against her hips, her lower back, still pulling her closer. "Well?" he managed to gasp out into her ear as she slid her hands down his chest. "Can you see it?"

The bug. Right. She tilted her head and wove her fingers into his hair again as he lowered his mouth to her neck once more. She turned her face towards to the flower arrangement, trying to get a good look through a half-lidded gaze.

She spotted the tiny lens nestled amongst the blossoms. Ew. It was pointed straight at the bed. "It's okay," she managed to get out. "I recognize the model. No audio, just video."

"Good, good," Jane said distractedly, trailing kisses down her neck. "That's very good. Can you, uh—"

She kissed him again, pressing her body along the length of his.

"Ungh… never mind. That works." He groped blindly along the mantelpiece for purchase, and when she fingered his shirt buttons, he gasped out, "God, Teresa," and knocked over the vase.

Lisbon took great satisfaction in hearing the lens crack under her heel a moment later.

Jane went still, his hands still buried in her hair. "Did you get it?" he whispered.

"Yeah," she whispered back, gripping the lapels of his jacket.

Jane took a deep, calming breath. "Right. So I guess we should, uh—" he drew in another ragged breath but didn't release her.

"Right," Lisbon agreed. Her fingers didn't seem to want to let go of Jane's jacket.

He stared at her mouth. "Right."

She stared at his mouth. So close. "I think we're supposed to let go now."

He closed his eyes. "Right." He let her go reluctantly, then collapsed into one of the brocade chairs in front of the fireplace, breathing as heavily as if he'd just finished a marathon.

Lisbon sank down in the chair next to him, her knees a bit wobbly. She looked at the mess of lilies on the carpet. "Could Sevechenko have somehow learned who we are?" she wondered aloud. "How could he have gotten that into our room so quickly after our arrival when he was busy schmoozing downstairs?"

Jane frowned. "I don't think it was Sevechenko."

She glanced at him, surprised. "Why not?"

"Did you notice where that camera was pointed?"

She blushed. "Yeah."

"If Sevechenko suspected we were law enforcement, he wouldn't have planted a surveillance device that only has video capabilities and aimed it at the bed," Jane said. "He would have wanted to find out what we knew, and he wouldn't have expected there to be anything of interest happening in the bed. He would have planted an audio device wherever would have given him the greatest chance of overhearing our conversations."

"But we already know Sevechenko's a creep," Lisbon pointed out. "And who else would have wanted to plant a bug in our room at all?"

Jane shrugged. "A different brand of creep. My guess is a garden variety peeping tom."

"A peeping tom who just happened to bug the room of a cop?" Lisbon said skeptically.

"Peeping toms can have bad luck, just like everybody else," Jane said.

"All right," Lisbon said, rubbing her temples. She suddenly felt exhausted. "What did you think about the people from the retreat? Anybody stand out to you?"

"Stephen seems ambitious," Jane said with a frown. "Out to prove himself. Bringing in some extra-legal cash would be one way to do that."

"He said he travels a lot for work," Lisbon agreed. "That could give him opportunities to connect with Sevechenko and his crew."

"Maybe," Jane said, unconvinced.

"What about Isaac?" Lisbon said. "He could have connections overseas through his military career. If he has access to military planes, he could be helping to smuggle the women into the country, then doctoring the flight manifests."

Jane shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"He's too 'Heathcliff on the moors.' His brooding façade masks the tortured soul of a poet."

"The Heathcliff defense doesn't mean much under the law," Lisbon said, exasperated. "He has means and opportunity."

"Fine, we'll keep an eye on him," Jane said, with an air of great indulgence. "But personally, of the people at the retreat, my money's on Yvonne."

Lisbon blinked. "The blonde? She seemed kind of vapid to me."

"She seems like someone who could easily make a mistake and find herself in over her head with the wrong kind of people," Jane countered.

Lisbon frowned. "I guess so," she said reluctantly. She couldn't find fault with Jane's analysis, and only wished, rather than believed it to be untrue. Not for Yvonne's sake, whose conversation she'd found tedious and insipid, but for Michaela's. Michaela was sharp, funny, and engaging. If Jane turned out to be right, Lisbon didn't want to be the one to tell Michaela her girlfriend had gotten involved in criminal activity with some seriously bad people.

"What about the bartender?" Jane asked. "Did you learn anything from him?"

"Nothing too surprising, given what we already know." Lisbon told him about the parties Sevechenko threw at the hotel. "I was wondering if the hotel manager might be involved. It's tough to believe that he wouldn't have picked up on what's happening if Sevechenko is routinely trafficking women through the hotel. It would make sense if Rutherford was complicit in the whole thing, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, he does have that deeply repressed air, doesn't he?" Jane mused. "We'll have to keep him in mind."

"Okay," Lisbon said. "What about the conference? I was thinking maybe we could duck out of one of the sessions tomorrow and check out the attendees at the conference instead."

"Don't you think our absence would be a bit conspicuous?" Jane said skeptically. "Besides, the intel said Organized Crime suspected someone involved with the retreat, didn't it?"

"Yeah," Lisbon said gloomily. "But I was hoping you would say that listening to their intel was a dull and unimaginative approach to solving the case and that you had a far more interesting way to catch the inside man than listen to a bunch of strangers talk about their emotional issues for hours on end."

Jane chuckled. "I don't know, Teresa. Talking about emotional issues with you, at least, doesn't sound the least bit dull to me."

"If you think you're hearing any stories from my childhood or about ex-boyfriends tomorrow, you can forget it," Lisbon told him.

"Very well," Jane said. "I will await with eagerness whatever emotional truths choose to reveal themselves."

"Ha, ha."

Jane met her gaze. "Speaking of emotional truths… do you want to talk about, uh…"

Lisbon flashed on the sensation of his body pressed against hers in the foyer, the heat of his mouth against hers. And again in this room, only a few moments ago. She flushed. "Not really," she said, straining to keep her voice even. She risked a glance at him. "Do you?"

Jane frowned, as though he wasn't sure what to make of this response. "All right," he said. "Let's table it for now. We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow, after all."

"Right." Lisbon stood up. "I'm going to get ready for bed."

Jane raised his eyebrows. "Are you going to make me sleep on the floor? Or are you planning to share?"

"Yeah," Lisbon said wearily. "It's fine. We can share." It seemed silly to make him sleep on the floor when she'd been ten seconds from ripping his clothes off less than five minutes ago. Though perhaps that was an argument in favor of the idea, rather than against.

"Your level of enthusiasm is less than flattering," Jane commented. "But I'll take what I can get."