Swiped Away: Chapter 2 (Side swipe undercover as a human, 'Con ali send's security chief to asses him.)

Casey didn't have to wait long to find out what her boss's orders were about this Autobot alli. About twenty minutes later her Ipod pings: Follow him. Report back.

She reaches under her chair for her clutch purse with the long strap. She just retrieved it when the elevator dings and she looks up. Sideswipe, as Dolce introduce him, glides out of the elevator. As he passes the security desk, he tips his head and with two fingers to his brow, salutes Casey. Then he glides to the door.

She quietly tells Carla, "I'm out."

"How long?"

"On assignment."

"Oh," she sighs as she turns around to take Casey's position. Carla watches Casey at a fast clip head towards the glass doors. They both see the elegant tall stranger slide into the very sleek Corvette parked directly out front. Why does that car seem to mold around him, they both ponder.

He pulls into New York traffic. Casey quickly hails a cab and tells the driver to follow the silver sports car.

They don't make it more than three lights when the next light turns red. He slides out of the Corvette and strides four cars back to Casey's cab. With one hand he opens the passenger door, with the other he sides the $50 to the driver. She gapes at him while he extends his hand to help her from the cab. Just like a gentleman.

"If you are going to follow me, you must do it in style," his smile gleams. Casey isn't sure what to do. The honking horns make her move. She takes his hand and leaves the cab. Those warm sensations go down her arm again at his touch. Just as a gentleman would, he puts a hand to her lower back to guide her. But as a pro, he releases the catch on her holster and removes her pistol without her knowing. See Prime, all those pranks have come in quite handy, Sideswipe smirks to himself.

Guiding Casey to his car, holds the passenger door for her and she slips down into his car. Now he feels a chill go down his own spine looking at this lovely creature inside… himself?

Quickly he rounds the back of the car and slides into the driver's seat. He deftly slips her pistol under his seat and floors the car through the intersection. He doesn't say a word. But out of the corner of his eye he assess his capture… body guard, assasin? Whatever.

Casey is no dumb blonde. Dolce doesn't waste his time on bimbos. Beside her target, Casey is in a conservative, yet appealing fawn colored suede skirt. The lighter colored silk blouse hangs on the outside of her skirt to conceal the pistol. But it does not detrude the eye from her narrow waist. As first glance she is supposed to look like secretary that could be a dumb bunny or a real secretary. But to the trained eye, he sees the solid calves and firm forearms and biceps. This is no floozy. This is an ex-military, possibly secret service, well trained and toned professional. Part of her training is attire to cast an illusion and slide in under cover. He will have to get Blaster to do a back ground check on this femme, correction: woman. Now he turns to her and gives her a curious smile, maybe he could find out on his own and not even need Blaster. Oh, that would frost his circuits!

Swipe quickly changes lanes and swings the car around headed back and then down another side street. Clearly he is having fun with Casey and being a bit of a show off with his grace and skill in handling the car. Casey also knows, he is checking to see if Dolce sent any more tails. Something she would be doing herself in Mr. Sideswipe's position. She doesn't flinch outwardly. But inside she feels like she just ate the entire Japanese butterfly garden. She surprises herself at her calm voice, "So, where are we going?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving. I heard there is a place down here to die for." She raises a curious eyebrow at him. He smirks in amusement, "Sorry. I am still working on my language skills."

Now she turns to face him more directly. "Language skills? So where do you hail from?"

His voice cracks with laughter, "Funny you should phrase it that way." But that is all he says.

They drive on in silence. He turns on the radio to something soothing. She finds herself settling back. She should be completely on guard. But on guard for what? She leans her elbow on the door and lets the wind streak through her hair. Swipe hops on the highway and takes them to the north along the quiet shore of New York. She turns to him to make her own humanistic scans. He is very content and comfortable in this car. It isn't that old, but he makes it seem like he has driven in it for years. He knows every aspect of the car with out a hesitation or look. Like when Casey had driven her beat up Corolla through college. How can he do that?

Swipe glances over at her as well. He enjoys seeing a genuine smile on her. She lays her head back against the head rest. She closes her eyes, "I'm not easy."

"I didn't expect you to be."

"A nice dinner and a sleek sports car doesn't turn me or turn me on."

He answers simply, "I didn't expect it to," and turns back to the road a head easily slipping through the traffic jam ahead. Even a race car driver couldn't have made it through and Indy pile-up more smoothly. His moves are precise, calculated but smooth as water. Just like he walked into the building and slid his way right into the office of the most feared manufacturing scientist.

"Then what did you expect?" She some how got out without getting angry. This guy is really something and it unnerves her completely that she can't peg him.

"Look, we are both professionals. There is no reason we should be crawling through the dark sewers to do our jobs. We may have a dirty job, but that doesn't mean we have to stink." Now she is very intrigued by this mysterious man.

He pulls up to a quaint restaurant that looks over the ocean. He folds up the roof and then comes to her side. "I'm sorry, I should have had you bring your wrap. I didn't expect the cold weather."

She smiles up at him as she takes his hand stepping out of the car, "I'll be fine. I don't faint easily."

His smile is genuine and respectful and slightly amused at her retort, "No, I bet you don't." He locks the car and tucks her hand into his elbow as they enter the restaurant. The maturate stands up straight when he sees the Silver Lord. Some how this Sideswipe's appearance commands attention every where he goes. She's used to Dolce turning everyone' head due to fear and power. But some how, there's a different way people look at this man. They look at him like he deserves respect. People don't cower to him, they know he has earned the respect they give. The maturate bows respectfully as Sideswipe holds Casey's chair. She slips in and the maturate hands her a menu. Sideswipe takes the menu from her and hands it back to the maturate ever so smoothly again. Not a condescending way nor even in a forceful way. The maturate probably never even knew how the menus got back into his hand.

Swipe smiles up at him, "What is the chef trying out today?" The maturate smiles broadly. He should have known better. This is the man who had helped the chef/owner when the mob tried to terrorize him into " protection fees."

The maturate bows again respectfully, "I will find out."

"And then we will take two."

"Wine?"

Sideswipe looks over at Casey. She is still trying to figure out what is going on. Sideswipe shakes his head, "Unfortunately, we are on business tonight and must keep our heads clear."

"How about a lovely sparkling water with a twist of lemon and lime?" Casey nods. And Sideswipe makes a gesture with his hand. The maturate leaves.

Sideswipe weaves his fingers together setting his elbows on the table. Yes it isn't proper etiquette, but neither is dining with the enemy.

"This is a nice place," Casey says looking anywhere but directly into his warm pools of blue water called eyes.

"Yes, the family is very nice and the food is delightful," Swipe answers softly.

"Mob ties?" Casey checks out the patrons.

He smiles amused, "Not any more." Now Casey turns back to him. The waiter returns with their water and a couple of appetizers just then leaving the conversation unfinished. Stuffed mushrooms sit between them. She stares at Sideswipe.

"Go ahead. If I won't answer it, then I won't. If I will, then so be it."

"Who are you?"

He cocks an eyebrow: he won't answer that one, "Too vague."

"What do you want with Dolce?"

"What are you doing with him?"

"I asked you first."

And he sips his water. He cocks that eyebrow at her again. He won't answer that question either. He carefully sets his glass down. "My turn." He stares at her and assess her. Even with the glasses on, she feels like she is being scanned like a specimen. But then he gaze stops on her eyes. "Ex-secret service or black ops?"

She decides, two can play this game. She twirls the cheese from the stuffed mushroom, "Wouldn't you like to know," and she pops the mushroom in her mouth. He sits back and laughs heartily. He's not mad. He is enjoying this game. She laughs back. So is she. The salads arrive and they banter some more with questions neither will answer.

After the salads he stands up, "Come dance with me." He holds out his hand. She looks at him pondering him. No, she afraid of herself not him. Dancing with her target has never been a problem in the past. But this one…. She doesn't want to get that close to him. She wasn't afraid to kill him earlier, but now she is afraid to touch him. What if she enjoys dancing with him? He will know. "I won't bite," he says softly letting his extended hand finish the rest of the inuedo.

She knows she has no choice. It was part of her job to find out about him. He holds her chair and she gets up. She follows him to the dance floor. There are a few other couples on the small dance floor. One couple looks like they are celebrating a birthday dinner. Another looks like they are here for a proposal. She swallows hard looking at how close they are and how they gaze into each other's eyes. She has to look away quickly. Sideswipe notices this instantly. The couple on the other side effects her even more. They look like they are celebrating their fiftieth anniversary. He takes her hand and slips his other around her waist holding her at a respectable distance. She lays a hand up on his shoulder. It would be more comfortable against this lapel, for how tall he is, but that would also be too intimate. She doesn't look up at him. She keeps her eyes on his tie. She her mind drifts to how the knot was tied. She can picture his long fingers tying it… she closes her eyes. She sways with him and the music. It drives her crazy that their bodies move so perfectly in unison. Other targets she had to adjust and make herself match their movements, but not this one. He body just… moves of it's own accord.

Swipe doesn't enter her in conversation right away, he just continues to try unraveling the mystery of Casey…. Finally. "What is your last name?" He asks softly.

"Jones," she says simply enough.

"Why did he call you Sideswipe?" She softly counters

"Because you can't pronounce my real name. Only my brothers can." He says it just as simply. This definitely intrigues her more.

She looks up at him again and feels herself sucked into his gaze, "Why are we here?"

"Where would you rather be?" His tone is so smooth and intiment. Like they were old friends. Her hand slips from his shoulder to his lapel. Her gaze falls to the engaged couple.

"There." She can't believe she let that slip out. There is sorrow to her voice. He steps closer to her and draws his arm tighter around her waist. Comfort. She feels his hand press tenderly in to her waist. She should be feeling her pistol cut into her back against his forearm. When did he disarm her? She should be completely unnerved. She lets her hand slip from his lapel and press against the outside of his thigh. She can feel the retracted sword there. But she didn't expect his voice right next to her ear so softly, "Yes, it's still there. I have one on the other side as well, if you would like to check."

She turns her head and sees a gleam in his eye and a proud smile on his face. His face is right next to hers. If she moved a hair, she could touch his lips with her mouth. She steps back quickly. He lets her slip from his arms.

She carefully makes her way to the ladies' room with a very controlled commanding stride. Closing the door to one of the stalls, she looks down at her hands. They are shaking badly. She has never felt so vulnerable. Even when she had been engaged to Brian and cried in his arms the night he proposed. Brian was comfort and the dream of a family life. The American dream. But this man on the dance floor, challenges her senses. In everyway.

She goes to the mirror and make sure she looks composed. Time to bring her firewall back up. She won't let him through again. Casey straightens her skirt and strides out to the table.

Dinner has arrived. He stands as she approaches and holds her chair. She slides in and he takes his seat, waiting for her to start first. She picks up her fork, "I want my Glock back."

He nods, "Fine. It's in the car. I'll return it when we are headed back."

She looks down at the dinner. It's a simple yet elegant dinner of stuffed raviolis. Some are filled with spinach, while other with crab. A simple white cream sauce over the top. Dotted with mushrooms. They dine in silence. She keeps her eyes on her dinner afraid to look at the challenge across the table. Please God, let this meal end quickly and get me home before I loose it. Don't let me loose my cool in front of him. Please be my strength.

Casey felt God keep her calm and focused, until when the engaged couple gets up to leave. She watches them leave. The young man's arm possessively around his love's waist. The soon to be bride leans into her soon to be groom's embrace. They are very much in love. The maturate congratulates them happily. Certainly the highlight of his evening to help a couple celebrate the next step in their wonderful life.

Casey's dinner partner examines her reaction. Most curious. As soon as the couple departs, Casey returns to her dinner. She is embarrassed that Sideswipe saw a vulnerable part of herself revealed. She quickly averts his gaze. She can't wait for dinner to be over and she can return to her lonely apartment. What is she going to report to Dolce? She has gained nothing but more questions. If anything, the Silver Lord has won in the information gathering game.

The maturate comes over and asks if they would like desert. Sideswipe leaves the answer to Casey. She shakes her head. "I really must be going." Sideswipe reaches for his wallet, the maturate waves his hand, "Then chef said your money is no good to him."

"Humm, well then, maybe it will be good for you and the dishwasher." He pulls out two crisp $100 bill and hands it over. "You may donate it or whatever. Thank you for a lovely evening, as usual." Then he stands. The maturate smiles and bows.

Sideswipe goes for Casey' chair but she has already stood. He tries to touch her back but she takes a few steps ahead of him, out of his reach. He knows he has gotten under her armor. He likes that. She reaches the car before him and waits. The ocean mist is coming in. She must be cold. He can see the bumps on her arms, but she will never reveal that weakness. He unlocks the car and she slides in. He shuts the door and rounds the to get into the driver's side. And her eyes instantly turn vicious, "Give me my gun!"

He smiles like he succeeded in a battle. He reaches under the seat and fiddles for a moment. Then he hands over the gun. She looks at it. "Very funny, now the ammo."

Without a word, he starts the engine and pulls away. But doesn't answer her. She has to sit and stew. She knows he has beaten her. The ride home is absolutely silent and tense. He never asks her where she lives. She figures he has found some way to get that information. But she was wrong.

He takes her to a building she knows well. This is Dolce's building. He has one of the penthouse suites. Sideswipe slides the Corvette into the parking garage. She is going to wait to see what he does next. They exit the car on their own. But he holds the elevator for her. Finally she enters but neither one acknowledges the other. To her surprise, he takes them to the top floor. But he opens the door to the other penthouse suite. He holds the door open for her. Then he looks across the hall to the other front door, Dolce's. "Your choice. But if you are here to gather information, be my guest." She is very confused. But decides to enter Sideswipe's suite. He shuts and locks the door behind himself. Pocketing his keys but removes his suit jacket, he tosses it lightly to the back of industrial looking couch.

Casey looks around the suite. It is very simple. The walls are easily twenty feet tall. Dolce has his suite in two stories. But Sideswipe has left it open all the way to the top. There even looks like there were scratches on the ceiling. He sees her curious at the marks. He laughs, "I have friends in high places." She somehow has to take that very seriously. "Do you want a drink?"

She is still trying to figure out why he brought her back to his place. "Water." He nods and gets a glass from the steal and glass trimmed cabinet. She continues to gaze at the room. The walls are lined in grey marble with blue and red streaks. There is a massive gas fireplace on the east wall. The entire north wall is a window looking out to the city. The shimmering silver drapes are pulled all the way back to the east and west walls revealing the Manhattan sky line. The loft off to the west side of the main room is raised, and trimmed in a Plexiglas waist high wall. Large cabinet like doors enclose the support for the loft. The bed has no frame or headboard. The marble wall is the head board. There is a simple steel military looking locker at the foot of the bed. The bed is covered in a thick downy sliver & royal red silk comforter.

The main room has the one leather couch in front of the fireplace. But the place is very open. Bizarre. It looks like it was meant for open work space on something large? The kitchen is small and right beside the front entry. He comes from the kitchen and hands her the glass of water. She looks at it hesitantly.

So he takes it back and drinks half of it, then hands it back and cocks a smirk at her, "Satisfied?" She sets the glass down on the mantel.

Slowly, she turns to him and scowls, "I'm not going to tell you anything."

He leans in ever so close to her ear. She can feel his warm breath, "I wouldn't trust you if you did." Then continues to stride past to the couch.

She turns and watches him walk away. He picks up his jacket from the couch, without breaking his stride and heads up to the loft. Casey watches as he disppears into the room off to the side of the loft. She is left standing there trying to figure out what she is supposed to do. Has she become his prisoner? No, he said she could leave. There is no reason for her to stay. But she doesn't live with Dolce. Did he think she did? What is he expecting of her?

Sideswipe steps back into the loft area. He has changed into a pair of black silk pajama bottoms, his vest is unbuttoned and his shirt is parted. But what makes her curious is what is in his hands. He acts as if she isn't even there. He lays the swords that had been strapped to his thighs inside the steel trunk at the foot of the bed. Letting the shirt and vest slide down his arms tugs off, he tosses them on the foot of the bed. She sees his right shoulder as he turns. He has that mask from his business card tattooed. But it is done in an incredible silver that shimmers and is raised. She has never seen a tattoo like that before. It looks like it is real metal. He goes into the other room, what she supposes it the rest room. A few minutes later he returns. She sees as he pulls on his t-shirt, the tattoo is now a thin black pencil line. How did he do that? Barefoot, he flits down the loft stairs towards her. He swipes a hand through his hair putting it perfectly into place. Then stands before her. With a body posture that asks, So now what?

She is still shocked at why she is here. "I don't live with Dolce." He shrugs indifference. "Why am I here?"

"You were told to keep tabs on me and report back, right?" She nods. "Well, what do you want to know?"

He settles onto the leather couch crossing his arms. She stays backed against the mantel. She carefully ponders what questions she is going to ask. She finally decides, who cares about Dolce. She wants to know for herself.: "What is going on?"

Leaning forward his smile gleams, "Now there is a really good question."

Chapter 3 on it's way….