Thanks for checking the story out. I'm getting tons of reads. Don't forget to review! I love them. I stan them. I need them.

Familiarize yourself with what an ASP defense baton is. Chapter will make much more sense.

Again, I'm gonna axe the dialect for Becky. She's pretty much the most famous wrestler on earth now. Y'all know what she sounds like.

Sorry, last thing: wanna give a special "thank you" to xXBalorBabeXx. She's the only one whos reviewed every chapter. You're a jewel in this community and we don't deserve you.

Chapter 6: Pick a Hand

Dean strode erratically through the glass double doors into the police precinct he once called "home." He hadn't expected to ever come back on police business, yet here he was, apparently summoned by the complaining witness in a domestic disturbance case. To Dean, that meant one of two things; either the attacker or the attackee was connected to organized crime in Titan City, or the complaining witness was someone he'd dealt with before.

As he strode down the hall, Dean was more relieved than he thought he would to see Sgt. Ray Traylor waiting for him in the open doorway to the large open office, known as the "bullpen." He extended a hand toward his former subordinate, with Dean accepting his handshake without stopping his long strides.

"Sarge, what's going on?"

Traylor pat Dean softly on the shoulder. "Good to see you too, Dean. Have a good Christmas?"

Dean nodded and grunted in the affirmative, though he still wasn't slowing down. "Yeah," he replied. "I thought I'd see you at Naomi's."

Traylor shook his head and snickered. "We were, but then the wife decided we needed to go see my oldest and her kids. She's a pain in the ass, but she's family, so…"

Traylor let his voice trail off. The two officers entered a small hallway of interview rooms behind the main thoroughfare.

"Which one is she in?"

Traylor gestured toward the first door on the left. "Room B."

Dean smiled tightly at Traylor. "I'm in a bit of a rush today, seeing as how it's Christmas and I woke up next to a doctor. Well, I guess she got up before I did, but she was making me eggs, so it still counts."

Traylor nodded. "You wanna get back. I understand."

Dean winked at his former boss. "Yeah. She said something about steak tonight, and she's just fun to be around, so I wanna get out of here as soon as I can."

Traylor clicked his lips and gave Dean another handshake. "I get it. We gotta catch up soon, though. Beers at Anvil's in a couple weeks?"

Dean nodded again. "Count on it. Send me a text when the holidays are over."

"Copy that, Ambrose."

With that, Dean opened the heavy grey door that led to the only occupied interview room in the building that day.

It took the slightly confused Ambrose a few seconds for his brain to register who was sitting at the metal table in front of him. She was wrapped in a blue blanket that was emblazoned with "TCPD" on both the top and bottom in big white block lettering. That was mostly because underneath the blanket was only a thin silk red nightgown that left very little to the imagination. She was apparently barefoot when the responding officers brought her in, because now her dainty feet, as perfectly tanned as the rest of her, were resting in a pair of slip on shoes ordinarily reserved for lockup detainees. It was also clear from her smeared makeup that she'd been crying, and there were also assorted bruises marking her eyes and around her lips.

"Carmella?" Dean asked incredulously. He'd known Carmella Van Dale since childhood, as their mothers were employed at the same place. She'd also attended the same high school as Dean, and their social circles often intertwined. He'd heard in the time since that she'd become romantically linked to Colin Cassady, who was otherwise known in Titan City underworld circles as "Big Cass." Dean was almost instantly certain that Cass was the one who'd put his hands on her.

"Hi, Dean. Long time no see." Carmella answered wryly. She even managed a half smile. Dean pulled the chair facing the battered girl closer to her, trying his best to present a more informal setting for their conversation. He lightly ran his hand back and forth on her shoulder, trying awkwardly to comfort her.

"I heard you asked for me, 'Mell. What's going on?"

The blonde nodded softly. "Yeah. I didn't trust anyone else." Looking at Dean for affirmation, which he gave with a gentle nod of his head, Carmella launched into her tragic tale;

"Cass has always been… volatile. That's kinda how it is with men like him. You know, guys who're connected. He and his boy Enzo started working for Alexandre Rusev last year."

With the mention of that name, Dean's ears perked up.

"Isn't he the imports guy? We've been trying to tie him to human trafficking for like, years. No luck."

Carmella shrugged. "I dunno anything about that. I just know that in the last few months Cass has been making four or five times more money than he was before he started with Rusev."

Dean nodded again, making sure his phone was still recording on the table.

"What set him off?"

Carmella rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Fuck if I know. I asked him for more money for winter clothes for the baby and he lost it. Told me I was wasting the money he already gave me. I said now that he was working for Rusev he could afford more clothes and basic needs for his child. He lost it. Said never to mention that he was working for Rusev again. Then he smacked me. I called him a pussy for hitting a woman and he hit me again."

Dean chuckled quietly at the woman's candor. "Did he say anything about what he was doing for Rusev?"

Carmella snickered and shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Probably sucking his dick. I dunno."

Dean sighed in disappointment. This wasn't getting him anywhere of importance. He'd heard Rusev's name connected to a half dozen different criminal enterprises in Titan City, but neither he nor anyone else had ever been able to make any of the charges stick. Dean was also reasonably sure that Rusev was a top lieutenant for Alberto Del Rio, one of Titan City's "Big three." Del Rio was the reputed king of Titan City's massive and overwhelming drug trade, and he unofficially employed over sixty mid level dealers, enforcers, and "Shopkeepers," or men who organized the drug dealing on street corners and in low-income apartment complexes. He had an iron grip on narcotics, and his empire expanded by the day.

For right now, however, he needed to deal with the problem in front of him. Namely, Carmella and getting her away from the abusive force in her home.

"Listen, Mell," Dean asserted, "you got anywhere you can go? Where's your kid?"

Carmella smiled. "Brady is with my parents for the holiday. They love to spoil him. I was gonna head out to Jersey this morning to see all of them, but then my shitdick boyfriend decided to start slapping me around."

Dean nodded, then thought for a minute. "And you're clean? You're still off the smack?"

Carmella nodded somberly. "Two years sober. I swear."

Dean nodded his head in affirmation. "Good. Okay, I want you to go to your house and pack everything you need for you and the kid. I'm gonna send you with two uniformed cops, so everybody knows not to fuck with you. We're gonna get you someplace safe, unless you want to stay. I can't force you to leave."

Carmella shook her head. "Fuck that motherfucker. I never want to see him again."

"Good," Dean replied. "You got a job or something?"

Carmella's face washed over with sadness. "No. I stayed home with Brady after he was born. It's gonna be a bitch to find a job. I got no college, no real references-"

Dean cut her off. "You good at answering phones? Faxes? We need someone to run our office over at Major Crimes, and I haven't been able to do any interviews. Been too busy. The job is yours if you think you can do it."

Carmella grinned and nodded in the affirmative. "I'm good as hell at that. I did it at the rehab center after I was clean. Does it have medical for me and the baby?"

Dean snickered. "Yeah. You get the same benefits we do. Starts tomorrow at 8 am. At the old Pittman fixture warehouse. That's 'base camp' for us. You good with that?"

Unable to wipe the grin off her face, Carmella nodded brightly. "I am. I just need a place to live. Cass took care of all that."

Dean nodded. He was also texting furiously on his phone. "Okay, I think I got a safehouse for you and Brady. Is your number still the same?"

Carmella's eyebrows raised in curiosity. "You still have my number?"

Dean nodded. "Yep. I never delete a contact. Unless she like, lights my sneakers on fire or something." He grinned at Carmella, mostly because her reaction was a serious deluge of laughter. "Someone will text you with an address by three PM. Go pack and we will get you to the safest spot in Titan City."

Carmella smiled more broadly this time, grateful for everything Dean was doing for her. "This is why I asked for you," she bantered playfully. "I just knew you'd take care of me."

She slid her arms around Dean's neck, giving his cheek a friendly kiss. Trying not to smile, Dean gave her a dismissive wave of her hand. "Officer Fatu is out there. Her first name is Naomi. She'll take you to your house and help you get away from that piece of garbage. Unless you'd rather stay with your parents?"

Carmella contemplated this for a moment. "Well, Cass is scared shitless of my mom's family. They're sicilians. Old school. My uncle Franco would cut his fucking heart out. Maybe I should just stay over there."

Dean snickered and raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, sounds safer there than anything we could do. Do I need to worry about anything in your background check if I give you this job? What with your apparent mafia ties?"

Carmella smiled slyly, but shook her head. "My family does a good job not getting us kids caught up in all the bullshit. I don't know anything, and my name isn't connected to anything. Truthfully, I only see my uncle and his family on holidays. He and my mom aren't close, since she didn't marry a 'wiseguy.' But that's a long story."

Dean smiled. "Yeah, today isn't the day for one of those." Dean searched through the manila folder left for him by Traylor marked "relocation." It was a collection of loose paperwork and various small gift cards and other items meant to ease a battered woman's transition out of an abusive home. He thumbed through a few envelopes quickly, until he found the correct one.

"Look," he continued, "I don't know how you or your family is situated here, but I got a little relocation gift here. There's a few gift cards for restaurants in here. Baby stuff. Furnishings. Things like that. You interested?"

Carmella lifted her eyebrows and tried her best to look coy, despite her current state. "You gonna come with us to the restaurant? My mom always asks about you."

Dean grinned. Mrs. Van Dale had been close with his mom, and there were times when the Carmella and Dean were growing up in proximity to each other where one of them had been interested in the other. Dean was a couple of years older than Carmella, but she'd been a cheerleader while he played football, and had it not been for Sasha, Dean could've seen himself getting together with her. But that had been before Carmella spent the bulk of her twenties making questionable life choices. She'd gotten addicted to heroin after a bad semester at college and ended up prostituting herself for drugs. Her downward spiral landed her with some rough people, and even though she'd gotten clean, she hadn't been able to completely shake loose of Titan City's criminal underworld. Hence her relationship with Cass.

Dean noticed that she was waiting for an answer. "Well, I would, but I'm seeing someone. It like, just happened." He slid his hand over hers, patting her lightly. "You have like, the worst timing ever."

Both parties shared a deep laugh. Dean stood first, intending to add a stop to his planned itinerary for the day. Carmella stood after, wrapping Dean again in her arms. She'd always been what Dean would call an "overhugger," often cradling Dean's head with one hand while pulling him close to her. When Dean was single, it wasn't the worst feeling in the world. Now, though, it seemed borderline inappropriate. This one time, however, given what Carmella had already been through that day, Dean was willing to let it slide.

Carmella broke the embrace after a moment. She smiled up at Dean, and briefly took one of his hands to squeeze.

"Thank you, Dean. So much. I swear, I am done with that piece of shit this time."

Dean nodded vigorously. "Good. Is Cass at the house now?"

Carmella chortled and shook her head. "Hell no. He's down at the docks doing...whatever the fuck he's doing down there. I know it isn't honest dock work, though."

That statement piqued Dean's curiosity. "What makes you say that?"

Carmella rolled her eyes. "My dad was a longshoreman for a while. He did it between his other jobs." She took Dean's hand again, opening it with her own and running a finger across his palm. "When my dad did longshore work, he'd come home and his hands would be calloused and rough. They felt way worse than sandpaper."

Dean wasn't sure where Carmella was going. He gently pulled away from the small girl, and she indicated nonverbally that she understood why. After a moment, Dean prompted her to finish her thought.

"Oh, sorry," she continued. "It's just that Cass goes down there four or five times a week for like, twelve hours a day. He says he's down there working but…" she trailed off, deep in thought. "His hands have never, ever, been nearly as rough as my dad's."

Dean's eyes raised at this new thought from Carmella. Still, he had to eliminate the most simple explanation. "I mean, he could be wearing gloves."

Carmella shook her head. "He doesn't. He's constantly getting texts from numbers I don't recognize and he told me once he couldn't keep taking them on and off. Whatever he's doing down there, it isn't work."

Dean nodded again. "Well, I probably owe Cass a friendly chat. Is he on the docks today?"

Carmella tried to hide her knowing smirk. "You're gonna go see Cass?"

Dean nodded, giving a tight-lipped, humorless smile. "Yeah. I wanna talk to him about what happens when you smack around women a quarter your size. You wanna press charges?"

Carmella shook her head. "No. It won't do any good. Rusev, and whoever Rusev is working for, have this hotshot lawyer that gets everyone out of everything anyway. Somebody Heyman. I just want a restraining order. And a divorce lawyer, but I can take care of that second part."

Dean nodded for what felt like the millionth time, quickly rattling off another text. "I'm texting the family advocate Judge right now. She owes me a couple favors after I did some extra protective duty. I can get that restraining order by the end of the day. One of the officers here will bring it out to your parent's house. Just leave the address with . I'll let him know what's happening."

Carmella smiled and wiped away a tear. "Thank you again, Dean. You're the only cop in this city I trust, and I'm glad I asked for you." She kissed Dean on the cheek again, this time more chastely, purely in gratitude for everything he'd done for her.

"It's no problem, Mell. Just get out of that house before Cass gets home. I get the feeling he's gonna be...delayed."

The blonde, tanned waif smiled brighter. "You gonna work him over?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah, we're just gonna have a chat. All the same, don't be there when he gets home. I'm gonna make sure Officer Fatu is one of the officers that goes to the house with you. She's my old partner. I trust her. You can, too."

She nodded. "Okay. I believe you." She pulled the large blue blanket over her shoulders again, trying to cover herself. Dean shrugged his jacket off in a single motion and carefully wrapped Carmella in it.

"Thank you," she softly intimated.

"No problem. Just leave it with Officer Fatu after you get dressed. Deal?"

Carmella grinned and nodded. Before Dean could turn away and leave, however, she pulled him in for one more hug. Part of him thought she was just trying to give him one more chance to accept one of her subtle advances, but he felt her warm tears on the side of his face and he understood how traumatic the experience had been for her. While Dean normally wasn't one to comfort or empathize, he did his best, gently running his hand up and Carmella's back.

"Seriously, Dean. I don't know how I ended up in this mess. But thank you. Not just for coming her on Christmas Day, but for the job and everything. You're a good friend."

Dean chuckled. "Don't tell anyone. I don't need them knowing."

After giving Carmella another minute or so to regain her composure, Dean guided her out into the bullpen. Traylor was waiting there, as was Naomi Fatu, who was working early shift that morning. Naomi kept Carmella moving, winking at Dean over the blonde girl's shoulder.

"See ya, Mell," he called toward his old friend as she waved at him, grinning. Naomi waved at him too, indicating that she'd text him later.

Dean turned toward Traylor.

"You wanna head down to the docks?" He asked the larger officer, smirk beginning to spread across his face.

"What're you gonna do down there?" Traylor asked cautiously, not sure what Dean was getting at.

Dean stopped, smirked, and looked over at Titus O'Neil. Titus was an old squadmate of Dean's, and he looked bored out of his mind at his desk. Holidays were almost always to one extreme or the other; insane, with calls coming in every minute, or quiet as a church. Today looked to be the latter. "A little action might do Titus good," Dean mused internally.

"Tell you what, Sargeant, you go with Naomi and Carmella. Make sure Mell gets all her stuff out. Who else is here?"

Traylor thought for a moment. "Breeze is here. Detective Gunn. He's got command if I leave. Phoenix is here, and Tyler Reks and Joe Seanoa are on call. They're in the squad room now sleeping."

Ambrose nodded. "So if you leave, you've still got anything less severe than a riot covered."

Traylor snickered. "Yeah."

Dean grinned. "Good." The scraggly-haired detective turned toward O'Neil. "Titus!?"

Titus snapped out of a trance. "What's up, Dean?"

Dean scoffed and fought the smirk that rose across his countenance. "Ride with me. I'm gonna ask Colin Cassady to pick a hand."

Finding Colin Cassady, even on Christmas Day, was pretty easy. Titan City's docks were amongst the busiest in the world, but "Big Cass" wasn't an ironic nickname. Cassidy was at least six feet ten inches tall, and he stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the rest of the men hustling and bustling along the shoreline.

"You straight with the gameplan?" Dean asked Titus.

"Man, I'm not sure this is a good idea."

Dean chortled quickly. "It's a terrible fucking idea. I'm still doing it."

Titus returned a nervous chuckle. "And you're sure Carmella doesn't want to press charges?"

Dean nodded, his mind briefly flashing back to his childhood friend. "All she wants is to be free of him. But he's a woman-beating piece of shit. He deserves this."

Titus smiled back at Dean. "Then I say let's give it to him."

Pausing briefly to carefully slide an unknown item of each leather jacket sleeve, Dean shoved the door to his truck open. Titus, knowing what Dean was about to do, shook his head and chuckled.

Both men began walking briskly toward a cluster of rough looking longshoreman gathered near a garbage barrel fire. Dean immediately picked out Colin Cassady, both from the description he'd received from Carmella AND a brief perusal of her social media. Almost running toward the giant man, Dean called out to him in his most intimidating voice.

"COLIN CASSADY!?"

The man he was addressing turned curiously toward Dean and Titus. His face bore a combination of bemusement and disbelief.

"Yeah?" He responded, trying to sound intimidating.

"Pick a hand!" Dean extended both of his closed fists toward the much larger man, not breaking stride.

"What?"

"Pick a hand, motherfucker."

Cassady was full-on angry now. "Fuck you. This is private property."

Dean winked over at Titus. He was within arms length of Cassady now. "Have it your way." As quick as a flash, Dean swung his left arm toward Cassady's leg. In one motion, the object he'd slid into his left sleeve found its way into Dean's hand, the ASP baton extending itself to full length in one arc of Dean's arm. The baton found its mark; the sweet spot on the outside of the big man's leg.

"Fuck!" Cassady exclaimed, a split second after Dean's blow made contact. Before anyone could say anything else, Dean's other arm started its movement toward the center of Colin's mass. A small taser, fully charged, found its way into Dean's grip. Ambrose pulled the trigger, sending a massive amount of voltage through Colin Cassady's body.

It was a low voltage. It wasn't even enough to render Colin Cassady incapacitated. What it did do, however, was bring the giant fully to his knees. Dean scoffed, throwing his knee directly into Colin's face. It connected with all the disdain Ambrose had for woman-beaters all concentrated into about four square inches. That herculean strike planted Colin fully on his back. Dean landed a few more blows with the ASP to the torso of Cassady for good measure.

"Don't ever go near Carmella again. Understand?" Dean growled, his anger nearly getting the best of him. Rather than a coherent response, Colin just groaned. As Cassady finished his incomprehensible utterance, Dean struck him a few more times across his ribs to make his point.

"I asked if you understood, you ugly motherfucker," Dean continued, trying to reign in his rage. Colin nodded, which took every bit of strength in his body.

"Good," Dean answered. "I'd hate to have to come back." He took a step back before landing several kicks and stomps to Cassady's abdominal area.

"Dean, let's go!" Titus exclaimed, making a mental note of the growing crowd around this confrontation.

"Show me you understand, bitch."

Colin nodded, mustering every ounce of awareness he had left. Dean landed another long strike to Cassady before sheathing the baton and briskly moving toward his truck. Titus climbed quickly back into the passenger's side, and the two plainclothes cops headed far away from their mild indiscretions.

A little action, finally. We'll do the New Year's Party and reveal more baddies next chapter. Review.