A/N: Sorry so long on the delay. Ran in to a few minor problems over on the home hearth, such as Net problems and trying to find the energy to write when I'm struggling to hold on to the contents of my stomach (I'm 7 weeks pregnant and it's looking more and more like I've got twins due to the fact that I'm already starting to show!!!). In the mean time, thank you kindly for your comments and hope this chapter meets your expectations.

Chapter 6

The rain finally let up after a day, to the relief of everyone, bringing with it warmer temperatures. That was the only major thing that changed.

The DEA were still not having much luck cracking down on the source of Godiva and everyone was still on edge. It was getting to the point that the Chief Medical Examiner was starting to strongly suggest that the city think about building another morgue or at least hire another bunch of Medical Examiners to help with the already over-worked examiners if this continued much longer.

It was another late night and another long shift for Mac and he was looking forward to entering his apartment, taking a hot shower, and getting some sleep. He was about to unlock the main building door when he sensed someone watching him. His senses went on alert as he scanned the street, carefully studying the shadows of the streets, even as he cautiously put his hand on his gun and released the strap. He nearly jumped out of his skin when someone spoke from somewhere within the shadows.

"Paranoid fellow, aren't ya?" came a quietly amused familiar voice.

Artie stepped from the shadows near the apartment building, grinning with amusement at him. He glared at her even as he tried to get his heart to slow down from the hammering rate that it was at.

"You enjoy doing that, don't you?" he asked, noticing she was dressed all in black, right down to her black leather skull cap and small black backpack.

"Every chance I get," she said sweetly.

"How've you been?" he asked, not having seen her since she'd found her friend in the alleyway about a few days ago.

She shrugged. "Living, which is about all any of us can do. Got a present for you." She joined him on the steps and handed him a piece of paper with an address. On the other side was a crude layout map of the address. "It's not exact but it's solid."

Mac studied the map under the building light and chuckled when he saw a handwritten notion on the paper.

There be assholes.

"Appreciate this, Artie," he said.

"You think that's good, this is even better," she said, reaching in to her backpack and pulling out what looked like a tape-wrapped package with white showing through it. It was tightly sealed and it even had a logo on it. "You got rubbers with you?" she asked. He quickly pulled a pair of latex gloves from his coat pocket and tugged them on. He had learned to keep a pair in his pockets case he ever needed them, like now. She tossed the package to him.

"Cocaine," he guessed, studying the package.

"Even better, that's Godiva," she said.

"Where'd you get this?" he asked, thinking. He could extract fingerprints and possible DNA from this, as well as a better chemical composition of the drug for their databases. This was like gold for the DEA.

"Got the info off a dealer operating near a high school. He was kind enough to give me directions to the warehouse and I swiped this before it could be cut," she said easily. She lifted her black glove-covered hands and tightened the gloves around her hands, flexing her fingers.

It was then that Mac spotted what looked like a glistening liquid on the knuckle area of the gloves. "What did you do to get this?" he asked suspiciously.

She chuckled. "Man oh man are you ever full of questions, Stubby old boy. What, you want to know my blood-type too? Or my real name?"

"I wouldn't object to that."

"Not a chance. My life is private and I like it that way," she said easily. "As for the info, tell your DEA buddies to get their rear in gear because I'm starting to get tired of doing their dirty work for them."

"You're going to get killed doing this," he shot back.

"Then tell the DEA to get off their fat asses and get with the program; I'm sick of watching the people I care about die because of that shit. There's more happening out there than what they damn well realize."

He reluctantly conceded she had a point as he studied the map and the cocaine, accepting her answers, for now. "You know, you really should think about a career as a cop. You're good at this."

She snorted. "Right, Stubby. I've already been declared certifiably insane. Working as a cop would drive me over the brink."

He chuckled and took out his cellphone to make a call to the DEA whom he'd given the last tip to. As the line rang, he said, "You want a cup of…" He looked up. She was gone. Again. "Artie, would you quit doing that?" he yelped indignantly.