A/N: I'm back!! Vacation was great... spending some time with the cool weather in Vancouver (much better than Texas heat), sipping tea in Victoria, sightseeing... and I even started working on a sequel for this story! :D Thanks again for all the reviews. It's nice to know you're still interested in this story. I have to say, out of all the stories I've written, I think this is my favorite. And I think you'll like where I'll take the sequel. But, until then, here's the next chapter! Enjoy! Please R&R for me!

Chapter 4

The McHale Company
Upper West Side

Olivia and Elliot pushed open a pair of double glass doors that led to the lobby of the McHale Company. The young lady at the desk smiled at them. "Welcome!" she said cheerfully. Elliot looked at Olivia and rolled his eyes. "How can I help you?"

Elliot flashed his badge at her. "Detective Stabler, Special Victims Unit. This is my partner, Detective Benson."

The receptionist's false, toothy grin disappeared when her eyes landed on the detective shield. "What can I do for you, Detective?"

"We'd like to speak to Philip Sullivan."

"I'm sorry, he's not in today."

"When will he be in?" Olivia asked.

The receptionist huffed and quickly typed something on her computer. She squinted at the computer screen. "Not until Monday."

"Is there anyone else we can talk to?" Elliot inquired.

This time she rolled her eyes. "His assistant, Mr. O'Brian, is here."

"Can you see if he can speak to us?"

She sighed and picked up the phone, her obviously-manicured nails pounding the digits on the phone with frustration. She waited for a minute as the other line rang. "Mr. O'Brian? I'm sorry to bother you… There're a couple of detectives here to talk to you… No… no, they didn't… They wanted to speak with Mr. Sullivan, but I said he wasn't here… Yes… Yes, I'll send them back." She replaced the receiver and turned to the detectives. "Through those doors, all the way to the back. Mr. O'Brian will meet you there." She pointed to another set of glass double-doors.

Elliot bit back a sarcastic remark and smiled at the woman. "Thank you."

He followed Olivia through the double doors and down the hall. It wasn't long before they spotted a tall, handsome man standing by an open door at the end of the hall.

"Mr. O'Brian?" Olivia asked as they approached him.

He nodded and smiled genuinely. "You must be the detectives Julie told me about. I'm sorry, but Mr. Sullivan isn't here today."

"Yeah, we got that part. What exactly is your job here?" Elliot asked, a growing suspicion bothering him. He got the feeling this O'Brian character wasn't what he seemed.

"I'm in charge of Mr. Sullivan's security." He swept one hand toward the open door. "Perhaps we can take this somewhere more private?"

Olivia and Elliot followed him into a spacious and comfortable office with a large window behind the mahogany desk. He motioned to a couple of chairs in front of his desk, which bore the name Jack O'Brian.

Elliot motioned to the window behind the desk. "That's quite a view, Mr. O'Brian. You can see quite a bit of the Upper West Side."

He grinned, his blue eyes twinkling. "I like it. Distracts me from my work." His voice held a soft Southern accent; no real twang, but enough to be noticeable in a Yankee town like Manhattan. He leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers. "Now, how can I help the NYPD?"

"We're investigating the murders of some of your clients," Olivia replied, leaning back in her own chair.

O'Brian's eyebrows went up. "The Callahans and the Harrises?" I heard about that. It's quite a tragedy."

"Were you aware that they each put ten thousand dollars into your company?"

He smiled. "Detective Benson, it's not unusual for relatives of Irish immigrants to put money into our company."

"What exactly does your company do?" Elliot asked.

"We help Irish families find jobs here in the Tri-state area."

"So you weren't aware that the twenty thousand dollars was put into your company off the books?"

O'Brian's blue eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm not a financial advisor, Detective Stabler. I'm not necessarily aware of the financial aspects of this organization."

"Seems a little strange to me, this big office for the head of security."

"My job includes financial protection as well as physical protection. This is Mr. Sullivan's primary company. If you check with the receptionist out front, I'm rarely here. In fact, I'm only here today because Mr. Sullivan can't be here."

"Have you ever seen this man?" Olivia handed him a picture of Connor Miller.

Elliot watched O'Brian's face carefully. He thought he saw just a flicker in the eyes, but O'Brian recovered quickly. Impressive, he thought.

He shook his head. "Sorry," he replied, handing the picture back to Olivia.

"He's been linked to your boss."

"And to a couple dozen murders in the last three years," Elliot added.

O'Brian shook his head again. "I'm sorry, I've never seen this guy before." He stood, apparently trying to convey that the interview was over. "If you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do."

Olivia glanced at Elliot, and they stood simultaneously and filed out the door. Within minutes, they were out on the busy New York street. "There's something about that guy," Olivia mused.

"You saw it, too?"

"That quick look on his face when he saw Miller's picture?" Olivia nodded. "Oh yeah. He did a good job of hiding it."

"I think we oughta take a better look at Jack O'Brian's background."

As soon as the detectives left, Jack sank into his chair and let his head fall into his hands. For the first time in three years, he had no idea how to handle this issue. There was no way that would be beneficial for him or his job. But it wasn't time to call it in yet. He was sure that he could handle the situation for at least the next couple of days. If they came back, if he had to talk with them… then he would act.

Until then, he had a date to plan with one of the most amazing women he'd ever met. The danger in what he was doing briefly crossed his mind. If he got involved with someone, he could endanger three years of hard work. Worse, he could endanger her life. He had to tell her. And he had to tell her soon.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed. It rang twice before a familiar voice answered, "Novak."

"Hey, it's Jack," he said, unconsciously smiling.

"Hey!" Casey sounded bright and cheery, but he distinctly heard the rustling of papers in the background.

"Did I interrupt something?"

"No, not at all." He grinned as he heard the sound of a door slamming. "Just doing some filing, that's all."

"I was wondering if you were still up for dinner tonight."

"Absolutely." He could tell she was trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. "Where and what time?"

"At my apartment on 37th. Can you break away by seven?"

He heard more rustling of paper and assumed she was looking through a day planner. "Yeah, I think so. I'm not in court today, so I can break away whenever."

"Well, in that case, can we push it up to six?" Jack grinned as she laughed.

"A bit eager, aren't we?" she asked, her voice taking on a slightly seductive tone.

"Can you blame me?"

"I guess not." Casey's voice grew soft. "I'm a little eager myself."

"Good. Six it is, then?"

She paused, and he could tell she was smiling. "Sure. What's the apartment number?"

"802 W. 37th, Apartment 8."

"Got it. And your lasagna had better live up to your bragging, sir."

He smiled again. "Be ready to be impressed, Ms. Novak. I'll see you at six."

"Bye."

The dial tone sounded in his ear, and he sighed as he flipped the phone shut. He couldn't tell her the truth. Casey Novak seemed too… upstanding. She wouldn't understand. He didn't even understand sometimes. One thing was for sure though—he couldn't keep up the charade for much longer. It was going to end soon… one way or another.

TARU Lab
One Police Plaza

Elliot impatiently tapped his finger on the desk next to the computer. The TARU tech, Reuben Morales, glanced up at the obviously antsy detective. "You know, Detective," he said, a smile playing on the corner of his mouth, "The more you tap, the more I get distracted, and the slower I work."

Elliot rolled his eyes toward Olivia, who couldn't suppress her smile. "He's got a point," she said quietly.

"Funny." He leaned on the back of Morales's chair. "What did you find?"

Morales's fingers moved with lightning speed across the keyboard. Jack O'Brian's handsome face quickly appeared on the screen. "Okay, New York state driver's license, issued three years ago. Three arrests going back to 1999, no convictions."

"Where did he live before?" Olivia asked as she folded her arms across her chest.

He quickly hit a few more keys and suddenly narrowed his eyes. "Okay, this is weird."

"What?" Elliot inquired.

"There's no record of this Jack O'Brian in any other state."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Morales pointed to the monitor. "I ran a search by social security number. It doesn't pop up anywhere except here in New York three years ago. Despite the convictions. That really doesn't make sense."

"What about the birth date?" Olivia asked.

"No Jack O'Brians born on that date anywhere in the U.S." Morales shook his head and glanced up at Elliot. "Look, I know I'm not a detective, but these arrests seem like they were almost made up. It seems to me like Jack O'Brian didn't exist until three years ago."

At precisely six, Jack heard a soft knock on his apartment door. He crossed the living room and opened the door. Casey stood on the other side, a bottle of wine in her hand. She grinned and held it up. "Hope you don't mind."

"Not at all." He smiled and stepped aside to let her in the apartment.

Casey's eyes swept over the tiny, but well-furnished, apartment. She nodded once in approval.

"You like it?"

She turned to see Jack standing behind her, a nervous smile on his face. "Definitely," she replied with a smile. "It's nice. Typical bachelor pad." She sniffed the air, her stomach rumbling at the smell of cooking Italian spices. "Although it doesn't exactly smell like a typical bachelor pad."

Jack returned her smile and led her to the couch in the living room. "It'll take about forty-five minutes for the lasagna to finish." He gestured to the couch. "Have a seat. I'll get us some glasses."

Casey sat on the couch with a sigh and let her eyes roam around the apartment, trying to get some details of his tastes. Landscape photos hung in strategic places around the room, including over the medium-sized television sitting on a black entertainment center across from the couch. She squinted slightly to read his DVD tastes. The Patriot, We Were Soldiers, Austin Powers… She almost snickered at the surprising array of chick flicks sitting discreetly to one corner.

"Something funny?"

Jack's voice startled her slightly, and she looked up to see him standing in the doorway to his kitchen, two wineglasses and a corkscrew in hand. "You don't exactly strike me as a 'Music and Lyrics' or 'Princess Bride' type of guy," she said with a grin.

"I'm a hopeless romantic," he said sheepishly as he stepped over her and sat down next to her on the couch. He quickly uncorked the bottle and poured the deep red liquid into the glasses. He handed one to Casey and softly clinked their glasses together. "To new beginnings," he said with a smile.

Casey smiled back and sipped her wine. Her mind whirled. It had been so long since she'd been on a real date… alone, in a man's apartment. She glanced at Jack and felt a little better when she saw his nervous posture. Finally he turned to look at her, and the desire she saw in his blue eyes made her breath hitch. "What?" she asked, her voice sounding more like a croak.

"I'm having a hell of a time keeping my hands off you, Counselor," he said huskily.

His honesty caught her off guard, and she inhaled sharply. "Well," she said, clearing her throat. "I might have a remedy for you." With that, she leaned in and brushed her lips against his.

Jack took her cue and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his body, deepening the kiss. Her fingers played with his dark hair and her tongue skimmed his bottom lip, begging for entrance. His lips willingly parted, and her tongue darted in, tangling with his own. His hands had a mind of their own, and he entangled his own fingers in her red hair.

Casey groaned as he shifted his weight so that she rested her head on the armrest and he hovered over her. She groaned again when he pulled his lips back and attacked her neck. "Maybe we should wait until after dinner," she said breathlessly, biting back another moan as he nipped at her throat.

"Maybe I like dessert first," he whispered with a grin.

She grabbed his head and recaptured his lips with hers. Suddenly a knock sounded at the door, and it was Jack's turn to groan. "Who the hell could that be?" he muttered as he sat up.

She gave him an apologetic look and sat up too. "You should probably get that." A slow grin crossed her face as he stumbled toward the door, mumbling curses the whole way.

His expression changed from annoyance to shock as he opened the door. Elliot and Olivia stood in the hall, their arms crossed. "Detectives," he said, finally finding his voice.

"Mr. O'Brian, we'd like to have a talk with you down at the precinct," Elliot said.

"Can it wait?"

Olivia shook her head. "Sorry, but you'll have to come with us." Her eyes suddenly caught a very familiar, very shocked face in the living room. "Casey?" she asked, surprised.

"Is there anything wrong?" Casey asked, jumping to her feet.

"Wait, you know each other?" Jack asked.

"Ms. Novak is our ADA," Elliot answered. "How do you know each other?"

Olivia's eyes widened as the answer dawned on her. "Is this the bar guy? This is that Jack?"

Casey nodded and folded her arms, her face all business. "Why are you taking him to the precinct?"

Elliot looked back and forth between Casey and Jack. "We want to talk with him in connection to the Callahan murders."

She trained her green eyes on Jack, who looked at his feet guiltily. "You know something about the Callahan murders?"

He said nothing.

She nodded and bit back the tears that threatened to well up in her eyes. "Fine."

Elliot placed his hand on Jack's shoulder. "Let's go," he whispered.

After they disappeared around the corner, Olivia slowly moved toward Casey, who still stood in front of the couch. "Casey, are you okay?" she asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," she returned, willing herself to not break down and cry. "Let's just go."