A/N: Tomorrow's the day! I've been seeing commercials for the premiere and it looks very exciting! I can't wait!
Thank you to my awesome reviewers: Super Gran, WishfulThinker66, and FaithOriginal! Here's something to hold you over until then!
Enjoy! :)
Deacon sat with Reagan on the roof of his apartment building, each with a glass of wine in hand as they snuggled on the couch that overlooked the city. They'd made dinner together, which had mostly consisted of Reagan eating ingredients while watching Deacon cook, since cooking wasn't her favorite. Nonetheless, he'd enjoyed her company.
The past two weeks had been blissful for him, ever since they'd decided to give their relationship a try—still in secret, of course. He had missed this feeling of togetherness, of sharing something so deeply personal. Reagan made him truly happy, and he'd been a fool to ignore that in the beginning. Thank goodness he came to his senses before he almost lost her to another man. Speaking of...
"How've things been with Street lately?" he asked, trying to come off as casual and not paranoid.
She sighed and snuggled closer into the curve of Deacon's arm, which he took as a good sign. "Fine. I think he's a little bummed that it didn't work out between us, but it wasn't meant to be."
"And we are?"
Her dark eyes looked up at him over the rim of her wineglass. "Don't you think so?"
Deacon smiled, admiring the sweep of her long lashes. "I do."
"Good," she said, and rested her head on his shoulder.
Damn, he could get used to this.
"It never gets old," she whispered.
"What?"
"This view."
"Agreed," he said, studying her content expression.
She looked at him again and must've realized he was talking about her. He thought he saw a faint blush seep into her cheeks.
"When did you become so charming?"
He chuckled. "It's not exactly in my job description."
"Oh come on. Think about how smoothly the crime rates would go down by exposition of Deacon Kay's charm."
He laughed harder now. "Pretty sure it wouldn't work like that."
"You're right," she said, blowing out a theatrical breath. "Guess I'll have to keep your charm all to myself." With a teasing stroke, she rested her hand at the top of his thigh and inched upward. "It's hard a job, but somebody's gotta do it."
When he laughed this time, the sound had turned rough and deep. "You're insatiable," he murmured against her parted lips. He was referring to the fact that she'd jumped him in the living room before any cooking could be done.
"You love it," she replied, very lightly brushing their lips together but still holding back.
"I wasn't complaining," he said, and then kissed her with intent, clumsily relocating their wine glasses to the low table in front of them. He moved over her, settling between her legs as they sank into the patio cushions.
They took their time, savored the moment. It didn't help that they were technically in a public space. He wasn't in any hurry to get caught, literally with his pants down, by one of the building tenants. But it had been ages since he'd had a good old-fashioned make out session.
He curved a hand up the outside of her right thigh and underneath the hem of her bright blue dress. He could not get over the beautiful sight she made in a sundress. It had shocked the hell out of him, and given leeway to their pre-dinner quickie, so he was partly to blame for that.
Eventually they had to come up for air. Deacon nudged her over so he could lie against the back of the couch and return her to the curve of his arm. She touched his face, tracing his beard, as she studied his features.
"What're you doing tomorrow?" she asked.
"I don't know. Luca mentioned something about a softball game with a bunch of guys from work."
"What about the ladies? Are we invited?"
"Well, I don't know. The guys might be afraid of getting their asses handed to them."
Reagan's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Very true. There is a strong possibility of that."
"But in all seriousness, we'd love to have you there. Chris, too."
"Okay, count me in. I'll message her in the morning." Reagan was quiet for a moment. "What time is it right now?"
Deacon twisted his wrist from where it rested behind her head and looked at his watch face. "9:50."
"Oh shit. I'm going to be late." She launched off the couch and began to gather their stuff.
"Where are you going in such a hurry?"
"It's Friday. Blue Bloods is on."
"Oh yeah," he said. "You watch that with your neighbor, right?"
"Yes, and she's going to be wondering where I am." Reagan stopped and pointed at an unopened bottle of wine next to their glasses. "Can I take that? She'll forgive me if I bring her wine."
Deacon smiled. "If it helps, sure."
"Thank you!" she said quickly, snatching it off the table. She tried to grab more things, precariously balancing them in her arms.
"Don't worry about the rest of the stuff. I can get it downstairs."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, go ahead. I don't want you to be even later on my account."
"Thank you," she repeated, and then leaned in to kiss him. It was quick yet firm. She took off for the door, but halted when he called out to her.
"I'll see you tomorrow, babe."
Reagan's face lit up and she scurried back to give him another kiss. "Bye," she whispered, kissing him repeatedly.
He laughed, breaking the sequence of pecks. "Okay, go. You're already going to be pretty late."
"I know, but you're worth it," she said, and then added one more for good measure before running off with a wave.
Reagan sped home and parked next to Luca's car in her driveway. She didn't bother stopping in to her own place first, just headed next door. She knocked on the screen door, but saw that the front was ajar, so she pulled open the outside door and stepped inside.
"Hey, June! I'm sorry I'm late. The movie went longer than I thought it would…"
"Not to worry, honey! We saved a spot for you!"
'We'? Reagan wondered. Maybe she was referring to her tabby cat, Mr. Dancy.
Flickers from the television bounced off the flowered wallpaper. She spotted two silhouettes on the couch and frowned. When she rounded it, she almost burst out laughing.
Sitting next to June, Luca held a cup of tea in one large hand and a pastry in the other. Mr. Dancy sat in his lap, tail swishing.
"Hey, Cas! June made these killer blueberry scones. You've gotta try one," he said, before taking a big bite.
Reagan set down the bottle of wine as she took a seat between them. "For you," she said, kissing June's wrinkled cheek.
June patted her short gray curls. "Oh my, you sure know the way to a woman's heart. Diamonds are a girl's best friend, but a lady loves a good Merlot," she said in the British accent that she'd somehow managed to keep after all these years.
As June poured tea into a china cup for Reagan, Luca shoved a scone into her hand. "Seriously, try it."
"This isn't my first time here, you know," Reagan said, laughing.
"Then why've you been holding out on me?" Luca asked in an accusing tone.
"Who invited you anyway?"
"Well, I did, honey," June said. "I got worried when you didn't show up, so I knocked on the door and there was this big, strong man in your house. I was wondering when you'd introduce me to your new squeeze."
Reagan froze, unsure how June knew about Deacon.
"Oh we're not together," Luca said. "Cassie's letting me stay with her for a bit while I look for a new place."
"And here I thought I'd have to steal you away."
As Luca gave her one of his 100-watt smiles, Reagan sucked in a breath of relief. June patted her arm.
"He's already helped me move that old chair in my bedroom, and on Sunday we're going to rearrange the guest room."
Reagan smiled. "He's really good at rearranging a refrigerator, too."
Luca nudged her. "Hey, low blow. You know I'm working on that. Don't ruin my moment."
She laughed and noticed that the show was about to come back from break. "So what'd I miss?"
Sometime during the night, Luca dreamt of distant noises—a car door, murmuring voices, boots scratching against sand on pavement. He questioned what they could mean, and why did they seem to be getting closer? He couldn't see; everything was black…
Unfortunately, it was too late for him to realize that it wasn't a dream.
Luca was startled fully awake by the sound of someone smashing in Cassie's front door. Yellow-orange light from the street flooded the dark room, casting multiple moving shadows. He rolled forward off the couch to reach for his service weapon on the coffee table, but the intruders were too fast. He took a sharp blow to the head and found his face pressed to the floor, convulsing again when a boot stomped onto his ribcage. He coughed and writhed, desperate to fight back but he'd been caught badly off guard. A shriek came from down the hall and he knew it had to be his roommate.
"Cassie!" he shouted, wheezing after he took another kick to the gut.
"Luca!" Her scream was shrill, terrified, and that hit him in the pit of his stomach just as bad as the blows he'd taken.
He glanced up, wincing against the blood that dripped past his brow, and tried to get up as Cassie was dragged past him. The shadows had a tight grip on her long, tousled hair, but she thrashed against their hold. She earned a violent punch across the face and went limp, allowing one of the men to throw her over their shoulder without a fight.
"What do you want?" Luca yelled, still trying to right himself and reach for his gun. "Take me instead! You don't need her!"
Apparently the intruders didn't agree, leaving Luca with a parting thump that left him woozy and weak. "We'll be in touch," the last man said.
But Luca wouldn't give up. After sliding his gun off the table, he crawled toward the broken door, calling out Cassie's name. The men had disappeared outside into a dark-colored van. Lying in the doorway, Luca raised his gun and fired a slew of shots at the tires. He didn't want to aim at the inside because there was a chance he could hit Cassie in the process.
Despite his efforts, they screeched down the empty street, leaving the smell of burned rubber in their wake.
Breathing heavy from the physical and emotional exertion, Luca clambered back to the coffee table and retrieved his cell phone. He called 911 and reported the incident to the best of his ability, as his head wouldn't stop spinning.
When that call was completed, he dialed the first person who would need to know about this.
"Luca?" Deacon asked, his voice raspy from sleep. "Isn't it kinda late?"
"They took her, Deke!"
The man's voice suddenly sounded more alert. "What? Who took who?"
"Some thugs took Cassie," he whimpered. "I couldn't stop them. She's gone…"