Part Twelve

XLIII.

She felt ridiculous, but, then again, Jason didn't seem to mind. In fact, if anything, he was practically encouraging her strange behavior, enjoying it, and that just made her worry even more. The glaring harsh truth was that he could very well have died that afternoon. She could have lost him before ever truly having him in the first place, and that realization had shaken her to the core, and she felt trapped in the moment. While logic told her that the man she loved was alright, the rest of her body hadn't quite grasped that fact yet, so she sat there, practically unblinking, simply staring at the former enforcer.

And, in return, he stared back. But it was a different sort of attention. While she was avidly inspecting him for injuries, mentally running over an invisible checklist of everything that could have gone wrong and making sure that it hadn't, he seemed to be watching her for something – some kind of reaction, some kind of signal, and, even though they hadn't touched since they entered the bedroom they had shared platonically since the afternoon Jason had told her about his own painful history, she felt his gaze like a caress.

They were positioned on the bed across from each other, facing each other. While he was leaning up against the headboard, she was in front of him, sitting with her legs crossed, one of his legs curled around in front of him to wrap protectively, possessively around her. It was like an invisible shield, and, though the fabric of his denim jeans had yet to come in contact with her own clothes, Elizabeth felt cocooned in safety by the simple gesture. However, that didn't mean that she wasn't aware of the confusing yet exhilarating emotions zigzagging around inside of her form, and she was almost painfully cognizant of the similar feelings ricocheting between the two of them. The question was: was Jason conscious of them as well?

"Are you okay?"

It took the twenty-three year old several seconds to realize that he had just asked her a question. Despite the fact that they had been together, never leaving the other's side, since the moment they had spotted one another at the construction site, neither of them had attempted to discuss what had happened, and, now that the blonde in front of her was, it took her a few beats to gather her wits and respond appropriately.

"Are you?"

He didn't move, but she could see the slight flare of annoyance pass through his features when she sidestepped his question with one of her own. "Elizabeth…"

But she wouldn't allow him the chance to reprimand her or to press for an answer. Right then, in that moment, she didn't really matter. Instead, what did was him – his health, his safety, his reaction and acceptance of the fact that it very well could have been him who had been electrocuted that day, not that she particularly wanted to dwell on that idea for too long…. And she told him as much as well. "I'm pretty irrelevant right now."

"Not to me."

Again, she ignored his words, though the sentiment behind them sent a warm rush of exhilaration swirling and dancing through her bloodstream. In fact, she could feel the affect of his words from the tips of her suddenly crimson ears to the tiniest toes on her petite, 

sock covered feet. It was the same sensation she felt earlier that evening when Jason had kissed her, knowing that she wasn't pretending as his wife, as Ellis Martin, but that she was kissing him as plain old, boring, wannabe artist Elizabeth Webber. The surge of adrenaline, of desire was addicting, and she almost begged then and there for him to do something to her to make her feel it again. And again. And again. But she didn't. Instead, she focused on what she thought the onetime hitman needed.

"Jason, you could have…" Her words trailed off, and she swallowed roughly, refusing to finish the statement they both already understood perfectly clearly. "It was a freak accident, something that could happen to anyone, and, even though you weren't physically injured, that had to have freaked you out. And I know that guys don't like to admit when they're scared or unsure of themselves, but you're safe with me. I promise that whatever you say here this evening will just be between the two of us, and I won't judge you, or think that you're weak, and I would never make fun of you or use anything you told me against…"

"Oh!" The exclamation popped out of her mouth just as it pursed with surprise. The petite brunette could feel her eyes grow wide with wonder before a multitude of emotions flashed across her open and honest visage. As the man she lived with slowly reached out, grasped one of her hands in his own, and brought her suddenly trembling fingers to his stubble roughened face, she couldn't prevent herself from reacting clearly and honestly enough for him to read each and every single thought churning in her mind, in her heart, through her warm, tender, sapphire irises. There was attraction and awe, shyness and insecurity, passion and hope, and they were all meant for and because of the man she was in love with.

When he started to talk, his words were slowly spoken, low in tone and deep in timber, but Elizabeth could hear them as soundly as though he was speaking the words directly into her mind. "I'm really okay," he promised her, encouraging her hand to explore and touch his face to her heart's content with just a simple tip of his chin to nudge her digits out of inaction. And, as he continued to talk, she did just that, lifting her second, free hand to his face and using her palm and the pads of her fingers to trace and memorize, explore and examine every dip and contour of his handsome countenance. "In fact, right now, here with you, I'm better than okay."

Her thumb skirted the edge of his mouth, and the almost silent sigh he released at the contact made her shiver with responsiveness and bolder in her study. "But before…"

"Before, I wasn't really worried about me," he confessed, and her right hand fell down to embrace his throat while her left trailed behind his face into his hair only for her to drag her fingers through his thick, wheat hued locks and stop to idly scratch his scalp at the nape of his neck. She waited until he continued, until he finished that thought to progress her touch further. "Yes, I realized that it could just as easily have been me as it was Gary, but I really wasn't worried about my own life. I just… I didn't like the idea of never seeing you again, of leaving you, of…" This time it was Jason's turn to swallow thickly before he finished his thought. "I hated the idea of dying without being with you first."

They both fell silent – his admission and her touch enough in that moment to sustain them both. Wandering seemingly without purpose or aim, she continued to scrutinize him with her delicate artist attention. Although she could see for herself the fact that he was without injury, her hands seemed to have a mind of their own, and, apparently, they needed the reassurance that the blonde was just as whole, just as perfect as he had been earlier that morning when he had so unwittingly gone to work.



Her fingers trailed across his shoulders and down his arms, stopping briefly to tangle and interlock with his own before following their own trail back up to his chest. From there, she swept her digits back and forth along his torso, starting at the top and working her way down to the waistband of his pants. Despite the fact that never before in her life had she ever been so bold with a man, so aggressive, there was no awkwardness, no discomfiture, perhaps because the motions weren't sexual or seductive in nature, but, more than likely, the easiness that existed between them was simply there because she wasn't with just some other man but with Jason, and, for the first time in her life since the rape, she trusted him even more than she trusted herself.

When her hands wrapped around to continue their examination on his back, she scooted closer to him, their legs finally brushing as she settled herself just inches in front of his own body. Needing more than just the touch of her fingers against his steady and strong form, she leaned forward until their chests were pressed together and lowered her head to rest against his heart. The rhythm of his life's blood beneath her ear was constant and reassuring, freeing, and she lost herself in his nearness.

All of a sudden, without recognizing the shift of her own attentions, Elizabeth felt as if she was willingly drowning in the man before her. His scent – pure and male and erotic - encompassed her, surrounded her, consumed her; the feel of him against her awakened nerve endings in her body previously dormant and unfamiliar. She felt as if she couldn't breathe, but she wasn't hurting for the loss of oxygen. Her heart rate sped up, her stomach twisted itself into anticipating knots, and her palms grew clammy with expectation. And it wasn't until she realized that the retired enforcer's heart was beating just as rapidly, just as erratically as her own that she became sensitive of the fact that he felt what was between them, too.

She pulled away from him then, her hands following the retreating motion and coming to rest this time on his jean clad thighs. Quickly licking her lips in a futile effort to moisten her unexpectedly dry mouth, the twenty three year old brunette locked her burning gaze with his, daring, pleading, coaxing him to touch her in return, to reassure her with some kind of action that what they were about to do was what he wanted as well. They stayed like that, trapped in each other's hesitation for several moments, until she bit her lip and an unconscious, almost painfully aroused groan escaped Jason's tightly clenched mouth, and it was all the encouragement she needed.

Taking her inactive hands and leisurely, almost reverently stripping the blonde's shirt off of him, the college graduate grinned in seductive pleasure when he obliged her attentions, lifting his arms to assist her. The plain, basic t-shirt dropped unceremoniously to the floor, forgotten once it was removed. Even though she had seen the man she loved with his chest bare and exposed before, it felt like a new experience for her, simply because of the reason why he was now partially nude before her, and she murmured her satisfaction.

Like before, she scooted closer to him, but, instead of wrapping her arms around him in a hug or laying her head to rest against his chest, Elizabeth leaned forward until her lips brushed against his tanned and heated flesh, placing a chaste yet lingering kiss right over where his heart resided below. Pulling back far enough to glance at the onetime hitman through the smoky veil of her thick, dark lashes, she allowed herself the opportunity to flick her tongue against her lips, briefly savoring the taste of his skin on her mouth.

"Elizabeth," Jason groaned out, almost sounding as if he was physically in pain.

But she shushed him by sitting up on her knees and placing a single, silky digit against his 

parted lips, quivering with longing when he then, in reaction, kissed her finger. She knew that she needed to say something to convince him that she was sure, that she wasn't going to back down, or change her mind, or regret their actions in the morning, but everything she thought of sounded too clichéd or even too rehearsed. So, she settled with the plain truth of her emotions, going for the simplistic rather than the complicated.

Biting her lip, the young artist met his enflamed gaze with her own equally aroused orbs of liquid lust and devotion, whispering, whimpering the one and only word she could think of to express to him just how much she wanted and needed to be with him. "Please." And before it had even finished crossing over her plump and already swollen lips, she knew they were both lost, and she was thankful for the surrender.

Realizing that, despite her conviction, she was nervous, Jason allowed her to set their pace, and, as she slowly undressed, her eyes never once leaving his, he observed her with such keen wonder and affection that she knew the simple act of giving herself to him, of trusting him with not only her heart but her body as well, meant more to the onetime enforcer than anything physical that they might share with each other that evening. It made her feel cherished and special and beyond beautiful, and she abruptly came to understand something very important. What they were about to do wasn't just about a man being with a woman; it was about one man in particular – Jason – being with one woman in particular – her, and, not only would it be different than any other coupling in the history of mankind before them, but it could only happen between the two of them together, for it wasn't about the act but what that act symbolized for them as a couple. The insight gave her clarity, and the clarity released her from any inhibitions or fears the past had provided her with.

Their clothes melted away unhurriedly, rhythmically, and she undressed them both, first herself and then him, and, when they were finally both sitting there perfectly nude, perfectly vulnerable in the others presence and attention, she felt anything but. Rather, she felt invincible, and that confidence did not stem from any wall she had built around herself, for the walls had all come tumbling down, and it didn't originate from any physical barrier she had place about her body; instead, it came from Jason's love for her, his devotion, his patience, his acceptance, and the fact that he recognized and accepted those very same things from her in return.

Eventually, when they reached an impasse where her inexperience dictated that he assume control, Elizabeth willingly, trustingly submitted herself to his worshipping touch. He loved her gently yet ardently, delicately yet with absolute fervor and obsession. Her put her need, her desire first, bringing her to completion more than once without any concern or thought to his own release. He found it, though, eventually, when they shattered and erupted and splintered apart one lasting, final time together, and, as she was unabashedly freefalling into an abyss of nothing but absolute sensation, the twenty three year old realized that being with a man, that making love with Jason was nothing like what she had thought it would be like, had feared it would be like. In fact, it was the complete and totally perfect opposite, and she had never been more grateful for anything in her entire life.

XLIV.

After what they had just experienced together, Elizabeth wasn't sure she would ever be able to let Jason go now. Emotionally, no matter what happened in the future, he would always be a part of her, but, physically, she wanted to hold him in her arms forever, insisting that he return the intimate gesture and hold her as well. When they were this close to each other, she felt as if her world was perfect, and, even though their demons were waiting for them outside their bedroom door, never gone just temporarily banished, the artist knew 

that they no longer held as much potency for either of them.

Despite the fact that night had fallen and taken over their little corner of the world hours before, neither of them showed signs of wanting to move. Dinnertime had come and gone, but the last thing she was hungry for was food. In fact, if it meant remaining in bed with Jason for the rest of her life, she'd gladly stop eating for eternity. Suddenly, such normally routine cravings held no sway with her; her appetite was focused on more rewarding necessities.

At that thought, she grinned, an unmistakably purely satisfied, feminine smirk, and, in return, the man she was wrapped so familiarly around shifted his legs just a fraction, the slight movement sending a shamelessly decadent jolt of sexual awareness careening through her sated and pliable form. It reminded her of how closely they were pressed together. With their limbs tangled beyond recognition, their chests crushed against one another's, and their faces just a breath apart, they were practically one interconnected body instead of two flawlessly matched individuals, and the ease and informality of their arrangement was utterly addictive to the petite brunette.

"What are you thinking about?"

His words stirred the damp and curling tendrils of hair that formed a halo around her face, and the movement tickled her delicate skin slightly, and, as he asked her the simple yet deceptively complicated question, Jason ran the fingers of his left hand from her round, impossibly soft shoulder down to the peaches and cream perfection that was the curve of her naked hip. It took almost all of her will to answer him and not lose herself, again, in his touch.

"I'm thinking about you and about me, about us, and I'm thinking about my brother."

Although the retired enforcer laughed, there was no humor behind the gesture. "Now, that's what every man wants to hear from the woman he's just made love to."

Although said in a way that was meant to tease her, the twenty three year old could hear the vulnerability to his voice, and she rushed forward to reassure him. "It's not like that, I swear."

"Then make me understand," he asked of her. "Tell me what it is like."

Although she was ready to tell him everything, she wanted a little reassurance nonetheless. So, moving her head just a fraction of an inch, Elizabeth brushed her lips against his, allowing her mouth to stall in its action to breathe him in. Fortified and confident about what she was going to do, she closed her eyes, inhaled deeply once, and then repositioned them so that her forehead was resting against his. If she could trust him with her body, with her heart, she could trust him with her shame and guilt, too. Fluttering her lashes open, the brunette relocked their gazes together and started to talk.

"Did you ever meet Steven, my brother?"

"Once and informally," he responded. "Actually, it was more like we saw each other in passing," Jason expanded. "Sonny didn't really want his forensic genius, his inside man on the police force anywhere near me."

Although hearing the name of her former friend made the college graduate tense slightly, 

she, instead, forced herself to focus on what the man she lived with was saying. "What? Why not? Surely Steven was there to help you as well if you ever got in trouble."

He tipped his head in challenge. "Don't you remember what I told you about Sonny having me taken out… or so he thought?"

"Oh, yeah. That."

"Plus," he continued despite her revelation, "I was the brain damaged thug, the one with no conscious and no morals. I don't think Sonny wanted your brother to meet me, because he feared Steven might start to think all mobsters were the same way, and then he'd stop working for the organization."

"Well, that's just ridiculous," Elizabeth snapped, glaring, not at him necessarily but at what his words made her think and feel. "First of all, you're not all those things, and my brother wasn't some foolish, wet behind the ears, little boy. He was well aware of what he was getting himself into when he first went to work for Sonny. Of all the hypocritical, low-life…"

His laughter startled her into silence. "Who knew you were this protective? I think I like this side of you, but I also think you're forgetting what you thought about me yourself all those years ago. You hated me, so I'm sure you thought all those things about me yourself and more."

"No," the artist contradicted him. "I didn't."

"You didn't?"

"While I was scared of you and acted like I hated you, it was less about what you did to me on that beach long ago and more about my reaction to you."

She watched as the onetime hitman's face screwed up in confusion. "I don't understand."

"Despite everything that happened between us, I was…" She paused, bit her lip, rolled her eyes, and then confessed, all the while knowing that her cheeks were turning a brilliant shade of mortified crimson. Whispering, she finished her previous thought. "I was attracted to you."

"Really?"

Jason's eyes lit up with mischief, with arrogance, and she swiftly changed the topic, because she knew that, if she didn't, their discussion would stall for a revisit to more pleasurable activities, and she'd be forced into having to start their talk all over again at a later time. "Yes, but that's not the point right now. What I was trying to get at before was that, despite the fact that my brother would probably feel he was obligated to try – and fail – to beat you up for taking his innocent baby sister's virginity, I think he would eventually liked you, and, no matter what, I know that he'd be happy for me that I've found someone to love who returns my feelings."

This seemed to intrigue him. "Why do you think that your brother would like me?"

"Well, you're a lot like he was. You're polite and well mannered in your own, unique way, you're insanely protective of me, almost to a fault, and you think in a very methodical, scientific way just like Steven did."


"And are you okay with that, with me reminding you of your brother?"

"Oh, yes," Elizabeth was quick to reassure him. "In fact, it's almost a comfort – like he's still, in his own way, here with me, even though I don't deserve such a thing."

The blonde's face visibly darkened. "Why would you say such a thing?"

The tears that had been gathering in her eyes disappeared at the sound of his astonishment. Blinking to clear her vision, she responded, "because I'm the reason he's dead." Voice rising to near hysteria, she yelled, "I essentially killed my own brother."

"No, you didn't."

"Of course I did," the twenty three year old countered, forgetting their previous intimacy and sitting up in the bed out of sheer frustration and her feelings of culpability. "If it wasn't for me introducing him to Sonny, he never would have gone to work for the mafia, and, if he wouldn't have gone to work for the mafia, there would have been no reason for Sonny to sit back and allow my brother to take the rap for a crime he committed. Because he wouldn't come forward for killing that undercover cop, Steven was sent to jail, and, because he refused to lift a finger to help my brother, Steven was beat day in and day out in prison because he was a snitch for the mob, and, because Sonny didn't want the case to go to trial just in case the authorities realized their mistake, he gave the order for my brother to be killed while he was in jail, and all that happened because of me – because I got raped and allowed Sonny to take care of me, because I was so desperate for someone to love me, that I befriended a crime lord, oblivious to the fact that he was just using me, and because I was so stupid, so naïve to think that I could have my own little family with Sonny and Steven if I only introduced the two of them to each other. That's how I know that I killed my brother."

"Elizabeth, you can't take responsibility for other people's actions. Sonny was a dangerous and selfish man long before he ever stumbled upon you in that park. How were you supposed to know that the only reason he helped you was because he knew who you were, that he knew who your brother was? And, even after you introduced them to each other, you didn't force Steven to accept the job that Sonny offered him."

"But I wanted him to," she protested weakly, but the former enforcer simply ignored her interruption.

"And you definitely weren't the one to make the decision to have your brother killed while he was in prison. If I know you at all, and I know that I do, you were probably doing anything and everything in your power to make sure that Steven survived and got out of the mess he was in alive."

"Well, of course," the brunette agreed, hiccupping slightly in an effort to fight back her tears. "I loved him. He was my brother, the most important person in my life at that point, but that doesn't erase my guilt."

"It's a guilt that only you see," Jason told her gently, "and I think the only thing that will ease it, that will get rid of it, is time."

She wanted to argue that she didn't deserve for it to go away, but she knew that was one thing the two of them would never agree on, so she, instead, refocused their conversation on another aspect of her past. "You know, I saw him just hours before he was killed, and, 

looking back on it now, I'm pretty sure that he knew what was coming."

"Why do you think that?"

"Although he was cryptic and acting strangely, I left knowing that I had to go to the bank and that I was to clean out his safety deposit box. Before he told me about it, I didn't even know that he had one." Taking a deep breath, the artist continued. "It was full of information on Sonny and the organization, among other things, and, even to this day, I'm not sure if Steven was just a pack rat or if he had been gathering information to go to the FBI himself. But, anyway, I took everything he had, and I went home, unsure of what he wanted me to do with the folders. Then, just hours later, news of his death hit the media, and I didn't even think about what I was going to do next. I simply called a taxi, went down to the PCPD with all that evidence just piled in my arms, and demanded that they call in an agent for me. And, now, all these months later, here I am. With you."

The last two words were said in a whisper, and they made the man she loved sit up to face her, mirroring the position she was in herself. With a soothing, almost hesitant touch, he lifted his right hand to her face, touching it carefully, conscientiously before using it to cup her jaw and pull her closer to him. Once they were close enough for their noses to brush together, he paused, nudged her countenance with his own, and murmured, his words floating around her almost like the melody of a exquisitely poignant song, "I'm so sorry, Elizabeth."

"For what?"

"For not knowing," he answered, pressing on with more reasons. "For not being able to do anything to stop it from happening or, at least, helping your brother, for being unaware of what was going on in the first place." He kissed her then, just a sigh of an embrace. "For not realizing what you meant to me long ago so that I could be there for you when you needed me."

"I've never heard you talk like this before." When the onetime hitman quirked one of his sandy brows up at her in question, she explained. "You always seem so sure of yourself and your actions, and I've never seen you look back with regret or think about what might have been if you had done something differently."

"You make me do, think, feel a lot of things I've never done, or thought, or felt before," he admitted sheepishly. This time it was his turn to blush, and the college graduate reveled secretly in it, for he looked adorable all flustered and embarrassed. It made her love him even more.

Confessing as well, she practically breathed her next words into his mouth. "You do the same thing to me, too. I guess it just surprised me, because, even when you were talking about Michael and losing him, you didn't seem as ashamed, as repentant." Elizabeth noticed his gaze cloud with tears and sadness, and she immediately lamented the fact that she had brought up his dead son. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…"

"No," her roommate interjected, stopping her apology. "It doesn't hurt as much to talk about Michael anymore, and I never want you to feel as if you can't bring him up around me. I'll miss him for the rest of my life, and I'll always partially blame myself for his death, but that doesn't mean I don't want to remember him either. To answer your question," he expelled a swift, severe breath. "I've had almost a year to get used to the fact that he's gone, and I've come to realize that, even if I would have been around, he still could have 

been killed. The fact that I was his father was always a constant threat to his life, but Carly was as well. She had already turned to Sonny before I was shot, so she had placed Michael in his orbit with or without me there to protect him.

"With you, though, it's a fresh wound, hearing about how much your brother's death hurt you, about how much pain you were in, and I hate the fact that you had to go through that all alone. What you did – going through Steven's things, taking them to the FBI, and then turning yourself into the Witness Protection Program, those things could have gotten you killed."

"They still could," the petite brunette pointed out, not unkindly but simply presenting fact.

But Jason would hear none of it. "No," he disputed heatedly. "The whole purpose of us being placed here in Dovetree together in the first place was for me to make sure that you survive this ordeal, no matter what, and, now that it's more than just an assignment, now that you're more than just an assignment to me, I promise you that you'll make it out of this live, no matter what I have to do to ensure your safety."

"And yours as well."

"That doesn't matter," he disagreed, reaching for her, but she batted his hands away, glaring at him. Without realizing how absurd she looked, she fisted her hands at her naked hips, challenging the man she loved. Relenting, he admitted, "of course, I want to make it out of this alive, too, but you come first."

"I disagree."

"And you have the right to," he admitted, "but that doesn't change the fact that, for me, you're more important."

She wanted to groan out loud in frustration, but she didn't. Sometimes the man sitting across from her was so stubborn, she could just scream. And then hit him. And then kiss him until she felt faint. But she did none of those three things, and, instead, changed the topic once again. "I think there's something else we need to talk about."

Jason grinned roguishly, finally succeeding in pulling her into his lap. "How about in the morning?"

"No, I don't think this will wait."

Teasing her, he replied, "well, neither can I."

Protesting, Elizabeth said, "I'm being serious here. We, well… You see… Everything just sort of happened between us, no thinking involved."

"That's always the best way," the onetime enforcer commented impishly, leaning forward to kiss the indentation on her chin then pulling back just an inch to lick and then bite it.

She battled on, though, determined to say what was on her mind. "We didn't use any protection, Jason!"

"Oh," he paused, seemingly distracted from distracting her. "Are you worried about…? I wouldn't be with you if I thought I could hurt you in any way or put into danger. I hope you 

know that."

"Of course I do," the artist reassured him. "I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about…"

"A baby," the blonde finished breathlessly.

"Yeah."

"Could you be?"

"I don't think so."

"But there's a chance?"

"A very slim one."

"But it's there nonetheless?"

The twenty three year old laughed. "You almost sound as if you hope I am pregnant."

"Would that be such a bad thing," he asked, shrugging nonchalantly. Smiling widely, he confessed, "I wouldn't mind. Would you?"

Grinning, too, Elizabeth divulged, "no, not really. But with everything that happened with Michael, I wasn't sure how you would feel about the idea of ever becoming a father again."

"It's scary, and, if it ever happens for us, you better be prepared for me to be your shadow."

"Oh, like that would be such a hardship."

"But I realize that what happened to Michael didn't happen to him because I was his father or because of the decisions I made; he died because of things that were out of my control, and I can't stop living my life because of it."

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him on the lips softly, slowly, seductively. "Has anyone ever told you before that you're a very wise man, Jason Morgan?"

The only response she received was a snort, and, before she knew what was happening, he had her on her back and giggling beneath him. Finally, he commented, "I'm wise enough to know that I should take advantage of every single second we have together… just in case."

And she was wise enough to let him.

XLV.

The tracking device he wore on his ankle itched, but Sonny refused to move in order to scratch the annoyance. It wasn't like the effort would be able to afford him even a moment's relief. The monitor was a constant source of nuisance. If it wasn't itching, then it was just plain cumbersome, and if it wasn't itchy or cumbersome, then it ruined the line of his expensive, designer, one of a kind suits, and that did not make him happy. In fact, very little in his life these days did make him happy, but, at least, he was no longer in jail.


It had gotten to the point where he wasn't sure he was going to be able to make it a day longer when his attorney finally came through and got him released on bail. The only stipulation, besides the usual don't leave town, was that he had to wear the tracking device, and he hated it. The electronic gadget was a constant reminder to him that he was under investigation and, soon, trial for racketeering, facing life in prison if not the death penalty… that was if he didn't get rid of the evidence against him first.

Partly, it was his own fault that he had gotten caught. He had gotten sloppy with Jason, allowing Johnny to simply leave his body instead of taking it with him to make sure that the former enforcer did not receive medical attention, but, really, what were the odds that an FBI agent would be the one to stumble upon him? And then there was Elizabeth - sweet, little Elizabeth who had served such a wonderful purpose for him for so long. When her brother had mysteriously died in prison, he had assumed she would either crawl under a rock and disappear or come begging back to him, desperate for someone to, at least, pretend to care about her. But the younger woman, apparently, had found her backbone, and she was now the government's second witness against him. The thing that bothered him the most, though, with the pathetic artist was that he had not predicted her actions, something he prided himself on being able to do.

The trial was set for March of the next year, leaving him with less than three months to find, take care of, and get rid of the witnesses set to testify against him, and, so far, they had nothing to go on. So, he had called a meeting, uniting only his most loyal men in his office down at the warehouse for an update, hoping one of them had been able to dig up something, someplace for them to start looking. However, looking at the various guards and associates, their eyes studiously avoiding his own, he knew that, once again, they had come to him empty handed. Well, except for one. Johnny looked to be fairly jumping out of his skin with anticipation, but he was there just as Sonny's protection; he had not been assigned to looking into Jason and Elizabeth's disappearances, so he had little faith in whatever it was the guard felt he had to report.

"Just spit it out already, O'Brien."

"So, I've been seeing this one chick, and, last night, she insisted that we go to the library. She has a paper due next week or something. Anyway, while I was waiting for her to finish up, I started playing around with those microfiche files. There's some damn interesting stuff on there."

Interrupting his story, the don hit the desk before him once, silencing the security expert. "I do not want to know nor do I care to know about your personal life, so either tell me something useful or shut the fuck up."

"There was this article on there about a married couple named Jack and Ellis Martin."

"That's wonderful, Johnny," Sonny mocked the younger man. "Beautiful even, but why in the hell should I give two shits about some random…"


"They're not random," the Irishman insisted, earning himself a glower from his boss for cutting him off. "She won some local prize for some drawing she did of him, and they took their picture for the local paper. I think you'll recognize them." With that, he slid the Cuban a print out copy of the news article, smirking smugly.

"Well, I'll be damned…"

"Can you believe it," Johnny enthused. "Morgan and Webber, who would have ever imagined they'd end up together?"

"They're not married, you moron," the crime boss exploded. "The FBI put them together so that he could watch out for her. If you have a lethal hitman helping you out, you might as well put his skills to good use. Plus, we haven't been looking for a couple in our searches. No wonder it took us so long to find them, and I guess we wouldn't have if you didn't have a thing for inexperienced college sluts."

The guard grinned smartly, leaning back in his chair and resting his arms behind his head. "It appears as though my dating habits have more than one advantage to them, doesn't it?"

And, really, Sonny couldn't argue with that.