A/N: I can't say enough how much I appreciate your reviews, but I'll sure try. Thanks! I crammed a lot into this chapter: some M-ish rated sexytimes, humor, drama—you name it. I hope you enjoy all of it.
Chapter 7
They sat at the bar in the kitchen, dining on frozen dinners and wine glasses filled with water. But neither of them had much of an appetite, and it wasn't just the grainy mashed potatoes or the chopped and formed meatloaf.
"Any ideas?" Lisbon asked, breaking the strained silence.
"Yeah. This meatloaf should be on the hazardous waste list." He tossed the half-eaten dinner into the trash, plastic sectioned plate and all.
Lisbon took a last bite of her chicken(ish) pot pie and dropped it beside his meal in the trashcan beneath the sink.
"As for our predicament, I still got nothing."
It was nighttime in the desert, and when Lisbon looked out of the kitchen window, it was like staring into a fathomless black sea. There were no stars or moon this night, and the darkness made her feel even more isolated, even more claustrophobic in this cold, sterile house. She rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms and turned to Jane.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going to take a hot shower and try to go to sleep. It's been a long couple of days. Maybe we'll come up with something by morning."
He nodded in frustration, and she noticed how haggard he'd become. "Good idea," he said.
"You could use some sleep too, Jane. I'll take the bedroom in the southwest corner."
"I might watch some TV first to unwind. You go ahead. Good night."
She hesitated as she watched him walk tiredly to the living room, take a seat on the couch, and prop his feet up on the coffee table near the gun. Their hot kisses came to mind, and she shivered in remembrance, wondered what he would say if she asked him to join her for that shower. If they didn't come up with something to get out of this, they'd both likely be dead tomorrow afternoon, and she didn't want to leave this world never having known what it was like to be with him.
But in this at least, Lisbon lacked the courage, and she cursed herself all the way upstairs to the bathroom.
When he heard the shower stop running, Jane flipped off the television. According to the local news, he was still a fugitive and Lisbon was still dead. He sighed and made his way up the stairs. His mind racing, his thoughts travelled round and round in a pointless circle. His head injury and his lack of restful sleep were impeding his usual sharpness. Add that to the two unexpected encounters with Lisbon, and his brain was pretty well mush. He went to the en suite bathroom in the second bedroom upstairs and turned on the shower. He noticed the showroom bathroom had no soap, so he used the liquid hand soap from the sink and turn the shower on hot.
The soothing water went a long way toward relieving his achiness and reviving his spirits. He slid between the sheets of the bed naked, unwilling to put on his rumpled clothes again. He nearly moaned with relief when he stretched out and relaxed at last, his mind going pleasantly blank, save for the fleeting remembrance of Lisbon's lips on his. Five minutes later, he was asleep.
"Jane."
Lisbon's hushed voice woke him immediately, and he sat up to see her dark outline sitting on the edge of his bed.
"Lisbon? Something wrong?"
"I can't sleep."
He sighed internally. "I promise I'll think of something by morning."
"I know you will," she said, and her confidence in him unexpectedly touched his heart. He reached for her hand in the darkness, and as his eyes adjusted, he saw that she was wearing her shirt, but her legs were bare. He swallowed, completely awake now, the sensual awareness between them catching fire and heating his blood.
"I keep thinking of how stupid I was to trust Earl."
"I'm pretty good at reading people, Teresa, and even I didn't suspect anything. I figured he was just going along with my crazy plan because he wanted to rekindle his relationship with you. I couldn't blame him." He gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze. She squeezed back.
"It was just the one time," she said hesitantly. "With Earl. It meant nothing. We were drunk—"
"I really don't need to hear this, Lisbon," he said tightly, although he'd actually figured out the gist of their relationship earlier.
"I should have known better than to mix business with anything personal," she continued, despite his obvious distaste. "And worse, I used my past with him to get Earl to do me a favor. Or so I thought. I feel so stupid," she repeated morosely.
"I thought we agreed it was water under the bridge now, regardless of how we got here. Now why don't you try again to get some sleep." The longer she was in his room, the more difficult it was for him not to kiss her, and the timing was certainly inappropriate for any more of that business. They both needed sleep for what would come tomorrow.
"I can't seem to calm my brain enough to fall asleep. Plus, I think I heard coyotes outside."
Jane chuckled. "Don't tell me you're afraid of a bunch of yapping puppies."
He didn't have to see her face to know she was rolling her eyes at him.
"It's not that I'm afraid, exactly. Just…creeped out. Can I—can I stay in here with you?"
His heart picked up speed. "I'm not sure that's a good idea," he managed.
"I'll be good, I promise." Her voice was filled with sensual wickedness, a side of her he had never seen before but found he liked very much.
Much to his surprise, she went around to the other side of the bed and climbed in with him.
"Lisbon, I think you should know that I uh—"
Her cool foot brushed against his leg and he nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Sorry," she said. "The air conditioning works really well in this place."
"Uh, yeah. So it does."
Next to him, she plumped the pillows to get comfortable, then lay beside him. She sighed, trying to relax, but Jane stared wide-eyed up at the dark ceiling, listening to the sounds of a woman settling next to him in bed for the first time since his wife had died. No way he was getting to sleep now. Oddly, the fleeting thought of Angela didn't make him feel guilty, but that in itself was disconcerting. Lisbon's scent drifted to him, the same kind of hand soap she'd had to use in her shower too, adding an additional layer of shared intimacy. What would she think if she discovered he was naked? What might she do?
All he would need to do was reach across a foot of mattress to touch her, to pull her close and let her feel for herself just how much he wanted her. His breathing accelerated, and he feared she might hear it.
The coyotes howled in the distance, and Lisbon moved closer.
"City girl," he said in amusement, though by now her proximity caused his voice to tremble.
"Shut up."
Then he felt her hand low on his stomach as she reached out to him, and he gasped, his muscles tightening reflexively.
"Lisbon," he choked out. Her hand drifted higher, sliding over his chest, settling over his pounding heart, the quick rise and fall of his chest. She moved her body even closer till she was at his side, her small hand soft and cool against his heated flesh, her nails swirling in the hair around his flat nipples. He was powerless to stop her, and his body hardened further at her touch.
"Are you trying to seduce me?" he asked huskily.
"That depends. Is it working?"
That uncharacteristic sexiness of her tone was finally his undoing, and with a groan, he pulled her almost roughly across the short distance, simultaneously finding her mouth and covering her body with his.
He felt her shock as she realized his state of undress, felt his unfettered erection resting against her thigh. But he was already too far gone to allow her to acclimate to this new situation, his hands settling on her shoulders as he kissed her passionately, his tongue sliding into her mouth. Her knees came up to cradle him, and it took all his self-control not to embarrass himself at the incredible sensation. It had been so very long.
He unbuttoned her blouse, and nearly cried with pleasure when he realized she wasn't wearing a bra, that her naked breasts were pressing against his chest. His hands caressed her reverently, his thumbs brushing over her nipples while she gasped into his mouth. He nuzzled into her sweet smelling neck, then slid his open mouth further down upon her skin, bypassing her golden crucifix to kiss her delicate collar bone and then licked the warm valley of her cleavage. Her hands in his hair, he found her breast at last and took one tight bud into his mouth, sucking hard.
"Oh God…Jane…"
He tantalized her breasts with his teeth and tongue, raised his head briefly to rub his stubbled chin gently around her areola, delighting as she shuddered and moaned with pleasure. Meanwhile, his hands wandered down over her flat abdomen till he found the edge of her panties. He slipped dexterous fingers inside the silky garment, found her wet and aching for him. He bit back a groan of his own, wanting more than life to take her hard and fast and selfishly; but he held back, gritting his teeth for control. Slowly, he pulled off her panties, his hands skimming her incredible legs, smooth, muscular and shaking at his touch.
He returned his attention to the center of her passion, and it wasn't long until she was trembling on the brink.
"Please," she begged. "I need you."
And God, how he needed her, he thought, though it had almost taken him too long to realize it.
He wished he had thought to turn on the lights so he could see her face as he joined with her. Instead, he lowered his body to hers, found her mouth and kissed her gently, somehow finding the restraint to hold back so that he could make it right for her, to try to convey what being with her meant to him.
After Angela's murder, he'd had no desire for another woman, and for some time he'd still felt married to her in his heart. As the years passed without her, he'd lived a monk's existence, partly as self-flagellation, partly in an almost superstitious fear of what moving on would mean to his desire for vengeance. Sort of like a ball player who felt compelled to go through the same ceremonial rites before each game. But Jane's religion was not in a church or on the baseball field; it was his quest for Red John. His celibacy proved his devotion and sacrifice to the cause, his obsession with finding the man heretofore unshakeable.
But kissing Lisbon had muddled up his entire belief system. When she reached down to circle the hardness of his desire, guiding him into her softness, Jane knew he had found his new reason for being. The pure pleasure of it made his mind go pleasantly blank, and he found a euphoria that vengeance could never give him.
He moved within her, slowly at first, but his long-restrained passion and her sharp cries of ecstasy spurred him to a wilder rhythm. She came undone beneath him, and the intensity of her orgasm brought him over soon after. The years of denial of his basest instincts had finally caught up with him, and he fell bonelessly upon her, breathing harshly into her neck while she trembled in aftershock. He hadn't wanted this to be a quick roll in the hay. He'd wanted to savor this, to savor her.
"Forgive me," he said shakily, when he could form a coherent thought. He rolled off of her and onto his back, trying still to catch his breath.
"For what?" She sounded genuinely surprised.
"Brevity isn't always the soul of wit," he said wryly.
She chuckled. "That's okay. I could tell it has been awhile for you."
"That bad, huh?"
"On the contrary. Did you hear me complaining?"
They lay together, their bodies cooling. Their lovemaking should have relaxed them, should have allowed a new intimacy, where they could talk about their feelings and perhaps lead them to round two. But it seemed to give them both a second wind, and their minds began to churn with possibilities of making it out of their situation alive so that they could share many more nights like this.
"Have you ever read the story, The Most Dangerous Game?" Jane asked suddenly.
"Yes, in ninth grade. Why?"
"Well, it seems to me, Lisbon, that we have enough weapons and supplies in this house to rig quite a few booby traps. I'm thinking that if Red John comes tomorrow, he's not going to bring an army. Probably just Lorelei, the Hulk, maybe one or two others at most. We could set enough traps to keep them occupied, distractions to buy us some time to get the hell out of here and make it to the main road."
"The Hulk?" she asked in amusement.
"Yeah. Big guy with Lorelei. Has about the same vocabulary, too."
"Don't you think Red John will be expecting us to try something like this?"
"Maybe," said Jane, turning over on his side to face her. His hand went to her cheek, caressing it lovingly before lowering his head and lightly kissing her mouth. "Ok, probably. But the worst thing we could do is disappoint him."
"You're forgetting something though, Jane. What about the team, and the mole? Red John might have an arrangement that if the mole doesn't hear from him by a certain time, the mole kills one of ours."
"Once we get Red John into this house, the alarm goes off and we can make our escape. There's no cell phone reception here; that should buy us some time. We'll make it to a phone or to reception and try to warn them. If Red John ends up dead, the mole might not be able to carry out his orders without the boss. If we're lucky, we can steal their car."
"That's all moot though, if Red John doesn't come," said Lisbon, and he didn't have to see her face to know her brow was furrowing.
"Oh, he'll be here. He won't be able to resist. Once we get that alarm system off, the whole world opens up to us. At first light, we start using our resources."
"I don't know, Jane. There are a lot of things that can go wrong with this. Remember, they'll have guns. We've got one bullet."
"I know. I've got special plans for that bullet," he said darkly. "And since I won't be shooting you, and hopefully you won't feel compelled to shoot me-at least not tomorrow…You have any better ideas?"
"Maybe a few," she said, her voice turning husky. "Let me think about it some more."
He felt her hand skim over his hip and lower, caressing him intently. She shifted on the bed, her hair brushed his thighs, and he felt the wet warmth of her mouth.
"If you're trying to improve my, uh, my…aww…staying power, that probably isn't…ohhh…your best approach."
She hummed her reply and he let out a long moan of appreciation.
"Then again, whatever it takes for you to brainstorm, I'm all in. Necessity as they say, is the mother of…God, Lisbon…"
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
They lapsed into a deep sleep, both from mental and sexual exhaustion. At first light, they showered separately and got down to business—actual survival business. They utilized kitchen knives and other utensils, throw rugs, furniture, and even a frying pan. Jane unscrewed lightbulbs, rigged up ceiling fans, electrical cords and dish soap. It was crazy and complicated and like something out of a movie, but at last they were done to Jane's satisfaction, an hour to spare.
They hid away from the traps in the downstairs bathroom with the window, armed with the remaining knives, the gun with its single bullet, the box of cereal for a snack and the emptied jug of milk which they refilled with water for their possible escape into the desert, should the car prove out of reach.
They had a good vantage point from which to view the driveway, and once Red John and his crew were tied up with the surprises that awaited them in the rest of the house, they could slip out the window and make a run for it. Or so went the plan.
Lisbon sat on the toilet with the lid down, while Jane stretched out upon the floor, his back against the wall. He closed his eyes, trying to rest his mind and calm his nerves. His head was paining him, though it was much better than yesterday.
"So, MacGyver," she teased, "you have any ideas for a Plan B?"
He opened one eye. "Why do I always have to be the plan guy? What's your Plan B, Lisbon?"
"I can make plans," she replied petulantly.
She pretended to consider the bathtub, then the tasteful beige rug on the floor.
He grinned. "Go easy on me, woman. I can't make up for nearly ten years in a day."
Her answering smile dimmed. "You mean I'm the first since your-since…"
Both blue-green eyes were open now as he regarded her solemnly. "Yeah."
She had once thought that perhaps he had been with Erica Flynn, or maybe Kristina Frye.
"Why me?" she asked.
Because no one else could hold a candle to Angela, except you. Because I'm madly, passionately in love with you, Teresa.
But he was still afraid to voice those thoughts aloud.
He was saved from answering when the sound of first one, then two vehicles pulled into the driveway. Lisbon stood to look out.
"Showtime," she said. But then she hesitated. "It's Earl," she said, a mixture of anger and sadness. "And…Good God, Jane, it's the team!"
"What? He got up to stand beside her. Sure enough, Susan Darcy and Earl had stepped out of the first SUV, while Cho, Rigsby, Van Pelt and Wainwright exited the other.
"They don't know who he really is," said Lisbon fearfully.
"And they're all walking into a houseful of booby traps," added Jane.
In order to make it to the front door in time to warn them about Earl and the traps, Jane would have to disable several he'd set between the bathroom and the foyer.
"We could go out the window," said Lisbon. "Catch them before they go in."
"And risk Red John being alerted by tampering with it? Look how buddy-buddy they are with your friend Earl. I'm beginning to rethink a few things."
"Well, think faster, before we kill or maim one of our friends."
"We have until they get past the foyer and the alarm keypad," he said, unlocking the bathroom door. "We can make it within shouting distance.
Lisbon took the gun, following cautiously behind him.
The first trap was a few steps outside their door, a complicated system that incorporated a carpet and a frying pan, the victim of which would end up on his knees with a heavy skillet dropping from the ceiling onto his head.
Too soon, they could hear familiar voices at the door before it opened, and Earl commenting on the alarm system, then likely tapping in the code. Jane disabled the first trap, and they moved several more feet to the end of the hallway.
"Stop!" Lisbon yelled as loudly as she could, and she hoped everyone stayed still. "Nobody move!"
"Lisbon?" said Rigsby. "Where are you?"
"She sounds like she's somewhere down the hall," said Wainwright.
"Stay where you are!" she called again. "You're about to walk into a—"
Then Van Pelt let out a scream of surprise, Wainwright a yelp of pain.
"There goes my version of the Maylay Mancatcher," muttered Jane, frantically working on disabling trap number two.
"What the hell?" exclaimed Rigsby.
"Maylay Mancatcher," said Cho calmly from the foyer.
"Well, find something to cut him down with," said Susan Darcy. "There must be a knife in the kitchen."
"No!" yelled Lisbon. "Don't go into the kitchen! Hurry up, Jane!"
"I'm hurrying. I'm hurrying."
The next yell came from Earl Madison. "Sonofabitch! Jesus Christ! Get it out! Get it out!"
By then Jane had finished trap two and they could move within sight of the rest of their guests.
"Probably be best if everyone listened to Lisbon and stopped where you are," said Jane upon seeing the results of his handiwork. It was hard not to smile at his success with the booby traps, but Cho's admiration was fairly good compensation.
"Yuganda knife trap?" Cho said from the foyer, nodding to where Earl lay bleeding on the floor of the kitchen, Darcy tending to his wound with a dish towel.
"Yep," replied Jane with the barest hint of smugness.
Rigsby and Van Pelt were busy trying to get Wainwright down from where he was hanging upside down from the ceiling fan by a lamp cord. But they stopped to stare at Jane and Cho's exchange.
"What the hell is all this crap?" said Van Pelt, holding Wainwright up as best she could so he wouldn't just dangle like a fish on a line.
"Traps for unwelcome visitors," said Jane. "Now, if I were you, Rigsby, I'd be still before you step into my bear trap."
"What?" The tall agent looked down at his feet frantically.
"Just stay put, for God's sake," said Lisbon.
"Get me down right now!" said Wainwright, his face red from a mixture of embarrassment, anger, and gravity.
"Hold your horses," said Jane. "You guys have successfully found two of my traps, and I've disabled the two down the hall. That just leaves the one you're about to helpfully discover, Wayne, and which I will gladly save you from if you will kindly take two steps to your left."
The way clear, at least in her path to the kitchen, Lisbon walked over to Earl, Cho and Darcy on the floor, grimacing in spite of herself at the kitchen knife sticking out of Earl's thigh. She pointed Lorelei's gun at him.
"How long have you been working for Red John, you bastard?"
Earl looked up at her, his handsome face pale and clammy with pain and sweat.
"It's not what you think, Teresa," he said.
"Bullshit. You brought me to this place, then hours later, here come a couple of Red John's minions with Jane as captive. It might have been that they followed you, or that this was an amazing coincidence, except that his bitch Lorelei knew the alarm code to get into the place, and Red John decided we were now his prisoners. You'd better start talking, Earl, before I put this lovely bullet Red John reserved for me into your traitorous goddamn brain."
Everyone was silent now, befuddled and confused at her story, while all eyes turned to Earl.
"Earl's with the FBI," said Darcy calmly. "He's been undercover at the Crimson Hat Casino looking into a new rise of organized crime in Vegas that had some ties also to Vegas PD. Lorelei approached him about a month ago, recruited him to work for Red John."
Lisbon's eyes widened, and Jane stopped what he was doing to stare intently at the injured man.
"Helping you out and arranging this safe house was my test to get in with Red John's organization," added Earl. "Just like your test, Patrick, was to kill Teresa."
"But you were a cop with Vegas PD," said Lisbon, trying to weed out the truth from the lies.
"Yes, I was when we first met. I quietly finished my stint at Quantico about a year ago, and because of my years here in Vegas, was able to pretend to get my old job back. Chief Two Guns knows about my real mission, but nobody else on the force does. I lied and told my old coworkers I'd flunked out of Quantico. Landing a lead into the Red John case at the same time I was working the casino case was just a lucky break."
"So what, you've been like a triple agent or something?" commented Rigsby. "Cool."
"You knew about this?" she asked Darcy. "And you didn't tell us? We're the experts on Red John. We deserve to know about any breaks, if only out of professional courtesy."
"Sorry, Lisbon. But you know why we took over the Red John files. You and your team have played fast and loose with the law where that case is concerned."
"You could have told me," said Wainwright in annoyance.
Lisbon sighed in exasperation, feeling the onset of the mother of tension headaches.
Lisbon gestured with her gun at Earl. "How do we know you haven't actually been on Red John's payroll this whole time, Earl? We know that he has people working for him in law enforcement."
"What?" piped in Wainwright. "How do you know that?"
Jane, having disabled the last trap, shot a warning glance at Lisbon.
"We just know," she finished lamely to Wainwright. She looked back at Earl. "And because of that, I'm not ready to believe you yet."
"Be that as it may," said Darcy. "Agent Madison needs medical help. Cho, help me get him into the car and I'll take him to the ER back in Vegas."
"Sure," said Cho, bending to help Earl to stand on his good leg. Earl put his arms around Cho and Susan's shoulders.
Lisbon watched helplessly as one of Red John's people was being allowed to go free. She lowered her weapon in resignation.
"Wait," she said suddenly, and when the threesome stopped, she quickly frisked Earl, taking his gun and cell phone.
"Lisbon," said Darcy in warning.
"Better safe than sorry till we work this out," Lisbon said obstinately, and put Earl's gun in the back waistband of her jeans, then pocketed his cell phone.
"Fine," huffed Darcy. "But you yourself have a lot to answer for, Agent Lisbon. Mishandling a corpse, for one. Fraud too, and maybe even obstruction of justice. This could mean your badge."
Jane had remained uncharacteristically silent, though he'd retrieved another knife from the kitchen so Rigsby could cut down Wainwright. As Van Pelt and Rigsby gently lowered their boss to the floor, Wainwright cursed in pain.
"I think my freakin' ankle is broken." His eyes shot daggers at Jane, who shrugged in half-hearted apology.
"Sorry, Luther. Maybe you should catch up with Susan and head to the hospital with them to get that seen to."
As Van Pelt and Rigsby helped casualty number two out to Darcy's SUV, Jane and Lisbon looked around at the wreckage of their hours of painstaking work.
"What time is it?" asked Jane.
Startled, Lisbon looked down at Earl's phone at the clock readout. "Red John should be here in forty-five minutes."
Jane nodded grimly. "Probably sooner now, since he's probably been alerted that the alarm was turned off. Gimme the gun, please," he said, holding out his hand.
"No," she said, and watched as his eyes flashed angrily.
"This might be my only chance to get him, Teresa. I've worked on this for six long months, nearly threw everything away that I cared about to convince this bastard I was ripe for the picking. I can't give up now, not when I'm so close."
"Not even for me?" she asked, her throat tight with dread.
Jane said nothing, but his eyes told her his decision. Sadly, she wasn't surprised.
"He'll kill you if you screw him over like this," she said.
"I've always known that was a possibility." Then his eyes softened. He reached up and cupped her pretty cheek. "When he is gone, I can wholeheartedly devote my life to other things. But as long as Red John is still in the world, I'll never be free to do that."
He kissed her gently on the lips, silently willing her to understand. Helpless to resist him now, she kissed him back, the hot sting of tears behind her closed eyes. When he lifted his head, she blinked them away and placed Lorelei's gun in his hand.
"You won't be facing him alone, though, not as long as I'm around."
He smiled his old familiar smile. "I'm counting on it." He put the gun in his suit jacket pocket. "Now that that's settled, we need to get this place cleaned up before he gets here. It's Plan B time, which I am developing as we speak."
"You still think he'll come?" she asked. "What if Earl already tipped him off that the cavalry arrived?"
"I believe Earl is telling the truth," said Jane. "He's on our side."
By this time, Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt had returned to the house, and they could hear Darcy backing the SUV out of the drive.
"You guys ready to go, Boss?" asked Rigsby.
"Not quite yet," said Lisbon. "Rigsby, go park the other SUV in the garage."
"Why?" asked Cho.
Jane looked at his friends, relieved beyond measure that they were all here, even though he knew it was for Lisbon and not for him.
"Company's coming," he said, patting the gun in his pocket.
A/N: If you've read any of my other stuff, you know I sometimes stray into silliness and absurdity, and I admit I did here, at least a little, mainly to inject a bit of comic relief into the tension. I hope you liked this chapter. More soon.
