Chapter 6

Sam Axe surprised Fraser. For a man who seemed to enjoy wearing casual clothes every day, he knew how to dress up when necessary. He picked out some nice suits and shirt combinations, and while Fraser tried them on to make sure they fit properly, Sam found some elegant ties to go with them. The clubs that Fraser and Michael would be visiting were more high end, so he had to appear as if he was made of money. Of course, these things didn't come cheap; Fraser did his best to keep the bill to a minimum, yet not compromise on his cover for the stake out. He knew he was ready when Sam said, "Benny, you look like you belong here."

Fraser came out of the bathroom in the hotel room wearing a black suit with a deep aqua shirt and a tasteful tie with a peacock feather design on it. He wore shiny leather shoes to match, cufflinks, and a couple of rings and a gold watch that he borrowed from Sam to complete the outfit.

"The watch was a gift from an old girlfriend. It's a Rolex. Be careful with it," Sam urged him.

"I assure you, nothing will happen to it."

"Wow, Fraser, you look smokin', man!" Ray gave him a once over. "If Frannie saw you right now, wow, we'd need a blowtorch to get her off you!"

Fraser looked at himself in the mirror and straightened his tie. Sam watched. "You look fine, Benny. That color suits you, although, I gotta say that red is pretty dramatic," he said, referring to the red dress tunic that Fraser usually wore. "Hey, what time is it?"

"It's six-fifty," Fraser answered as he checked out the Rolex on his wrist.

"Okay, let's split up in the lounge and meet Mike, Fi, and Grace there."

Ray adjusted his open collar. "Good idea. If Finley happens to be in this hotel, he won't see us all together."

"Agreed."

There was a knock on the door, and Ray went to answer it. Michael and Fiona entered the room dressed for their roles. Fiona wore a classy yet sexy dark blue dress that complimented Ray's gray suit and light blue shirt. Michael wore a suit very similar to Fraser's, but his shirt was white with a red tie.

"Have you seen Agent Chatham," Fraser asked.

"No, not yet," Fiona answered. "It's still early."

"Maybe our teams should get going, and Sam can just wait in the lobby for her, which is what we originally agreed upon," Michael said.

Michael and Fraser left first and took an elevator down. Ray locked up the room, let Fiona take his arm, and the two grabbed another elevator going down. Sam waited a couple of minutes to make sure they were out of the building before going to the lobby. He wore a light tan suit with a coral shirt, and as he stood there, he realized that he had no idea what Agent Chatham would be wearing. Everyone else coordinated with their partners, for the most part. It would be his luck that she came down wearing black or some dark color that clashed.

He heard the light tapping of heels crossing the marble floor, and he turned. From her auburn updo created with a wig down to her peach strappy sandals, she looked like she could give Cinderella a run for her money. Her dress clung to her and swayed as she moved, showing off her assets nicely. Fiona must have given her some makeup tips, because she didn't look anything like he'd seen when she held him captive. She'd succeeded in taking his breath away, despite his resolve to not let himself be affected by however she looked when she arrived.

Grace knew when Sam stared at her that he was captivated by her appearance. A broad smile crossed her face and she approached him. She'd hoped to get a positive reaction, and she wasn't disappointed. When he took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, she felt a rush, like she was a princess and he was her prince. But that was a fairy tale, and they were only dressed like this because they had a job to do. Sam didn't realize that if she weren't on the clock all the time, she would opt for the comfortable clothes he liked. Spending time in Florida would allow her that luxury. Spending time with him, even if it was just a job, would be the highlight of this assignment.

"You look great," he complimented her softly as he helped her into the cab.

"Thank you, Sam." She replied just as softly. "You do too. Love the hair."

Not another word passed between them as they traveled to the restaurant that Finley frequented the most during his time in Miami. It was risky for Sam to be in the same place, so he took the extra step of darkening his hair, changing the cut and style, and wearing glasses. He changed his appearance enough that he had to take a second glance at himself in the mirror before he left his apartment.

"Sam, he's here, and he's not alone. There's a woman with him."

He was helping her with her chair, so he didn't see. He bent closer and whispered near her ear. "Where are they?"

"Over to our left, three tables away. He's wearing a gray double-breasted suit."

Sam's cheek brushed hers as he quickly glanced that way, then to cover up his move, he kissed her cheek. It flamed red as he pulled away, and he casually went around the table to sit on the opposite end. It was a small table for two with candlelight casting a warm glow around them. As they watched Finley and the woman while pretending to study their menus, the restaurants lights dimmed for atmosphere. It made it harder to see their prey, but it also made it more difficult for him to pick them out of the crowd.

Grace asked as she reached for her water glass. "Do you have any idea who the woman is?"

Sam shook his head. "Not a clue. I wish there was more light. I could get a photograph and the CIA could try to run it through their database."

"What else can we do?"

"We tail him for awhile. Or we could just grab him like some other organization did..." He smirked at her narrow eyed expression. "Seriously we need to watch him, see what he's up to. If he's planning something, catching him in the act of that rather than just nabbing him for the kidnapping will assure we get him on something stickier. You know what I mean?"

"I understand. You want to be sure you have the right man." She looked into his eyes and hers crinkled with a smile. "Have I told you lately that I still regret how we handled that whole situation?"

"We?"

"Well, I was in charge while my boss was gone, but there were others involved besides me. We all suffered from poor judgement. I'm sorry."

"You can make it up to me by picking up the tab tonight." He winked.

"You've got a deal, mister."

Sam ordered a bottle of wine to go with dinner, and he spared no expense. At first she was peeved, but the CSIS had it coming. She had it coming. So she threw caution to the wind and ordered what she wanted, versus what was economical, and they enjoyed the dinner and the time with each other. But they were always on their game, watching Finley and the mystery woman. They left shortly before Grace and Sam were half way through their final course.

Waving the waiter over, Sam said, "We'd like the check, please."

"Certainly, sir."

"My...my wife isn't feeling well, we need it quickly."

The waiter looked at her and she played along, covering her mouth with her hand. His eyes widened as he feared what her not feeling well entailed. "I'll get it right away, sir!"

Sam got on his phone and called Michael. "Mike, Finley was at the Seashell having dinner with a female companion. Neither Grace nor I could id her. They bugged out, don't know which way they were headed, but once we get out of here, we're going to the Porpoise Club."

"Alright, Sam. Good luck."

"Thanks, Mike. You too."

They left the restaurant and walked up the street to the club. They passed Fraser and Michael and nodded briefly to them. With a hand signal from Mike, Sam knew they were going to a club south of the restaurant, betting that Finley walked rather than taking a cab to his next destination.

The Porpoise Club was loud, jammed, and dimly lit by the glow from purple and aqua neon lighting. Sam had to take Grace's hand or risk losing her in the mash of bodies. Her hand was strong but soft, and warm. He looked back to see how she was keeping up, and she trotted behind with a grin, looking as if she were completely enjoying herself. They stayed long enough to nurse one drink and get a good look at the patrons. Finley and his woman weren't there.

Fiona and Ray ate dinner at their site, an expensive Italian restaurant, without seeing Finley. They left and went to their next destination, a salsa dance club. The music hit them full force even before they entered the club, and when they got inside the heavy beat caused them to weave through the crowd. They found a small table on a loft that gave them a bird's eye view of the establishment, ordered a couple of drinks, and settled in for awhile.

"Hey, you wanna dance?" Ray asked.

"You dance?" Fiona looked surprised. She didn't expect such a laid-back, rough looking man to appreciate the art of dancing.

"Oh yeah. I miss it. My ex-wife Stella and I used to go out a lot." He shrugged. "Other than dancing and sex, we didn't really have a whole lot in common." He laughed self-consciously.

"Such a shame. You're such a nice guy, Ray." Fiona smiled wide. "I'll dance with you. Think you can keep up with the salsa?"

"Oh yeah, just try me."

They got out on the floor and lit it up. Fiona felt the electricity, and if she weren't completely devoted to Michael, not to mention married, a state she still had to get used to, she could have let herself get carried away by this man. He had the moves, and he was smooth and precise, matching her as if they'd danced together forever. He left her catching her breath when they finally got off the floor and found their table occupied.

"We...we should probably get out of here," Fiona said. "I didn't see Finley. Did you?"

"Nah, and I was trying to keep an eye out while we were dancing."

"Me too."

"Come on, let's try the next club on the list."

By the time they'd visited all three clubs, Fiona's feet ached and her toes pinched in the highest of high heeled shoes that she wore. After leaving the last club around one in the morning, she removed the shoes and carried them by the straps as she and Ray headed back to the Beacon. He walked close, but not too close. Just enough to keep up appearances, to make it seem as if they were a couple. Her perfume wafted on the wind, and it reminded him of Stella. What he wouldn't give to be there right now with her, instead of another man's wife, trying to pretend they were a couple! The spy life was not for him, that much he'd figured out after only a few hours. He tried to avoid drinking too much, and Fiona was able to give him a few pointers on that, but his head still felt fuzzy and he knew he would have a hangover the next day.

"Ray," Fiona whispered harshly, grabbed his sleeve to turn him toward her, and threw her arms around his shoulders. She pulled his mouth down to hers and said, "I just saw Finley...with a woman."

"Where?"

She laughed as if he'd said something funny, grabbed his elbow, and swung him around to see the couple moving away. "Does she look familiar at all?"

Ray waited another minute before letting her go. "Nope. Never saw her before."

She peered around Ray's shoulder and saw them enter the Hilton. "I wonder if that's where they're staying."

"I don't know. Do you wanna check it out?"

"We have to be careful, Ray. He probably knows us, at least me and Michael, and Sam, of course."

"Well, then Fraser, Grace and I, we'll get them." He held her upper arms and stared into her eyes. "I promise, we'll stop Finley."

"Good luck, Ray."

He turned and hailed a cab. As he opened the door for Fiona, he said, "Go home, Fi. We'll meet with you guys tomorrow and plan our next strategy. I'm going to stake this place out tonight and find out if this is where they're staying."

"Okay." She placed a hand on his cheek. "Please, don't try to go after them yourself. This woman could be dangerous."

"I won't. Don't worry!" He gave her a smile and closed the door, and he watched the cab as it disappeared down the street. Inside the hotel he found a discreet corner of the lobby behind a column, pulled out his phone and texted Michael, Grace, and Sam, so they all knew what he was doing. Then he bided his time, hoping the woman would leave eventually, if she was just some chick that Finley picked up. He had a long wait.

"Ray. Ray!"

Ray opened his eyes with a start. "Fraser! What are you doing here?"

"Michael got your text. He talked with Fiona, and he decided it was wisest for me to come to the hotel and watch with you. In the morning, Fiona and Agent Chatham will appropriate maid carts and uniforms, and start going floor to floor and room by room, hoping they'll find Finley."

"Fraser, that's crazy! This is a big hotel, and you know they have more than two maids."

"I know." Fraser nodded and smiled. "They'll have help." His smile widened. "Inspector Thatcher has been recruited to assist. She's on her way to Miami as we speak, and with her assistance, that gives us a sixty percent chance of finding his room."

"The Dragon Lady is coming here. Great. Boy, I'd love to see her at one of those dance clubs Fi and I went to tonight." He mimicked a dancing robot sitting in his seat.

"Now, Ray..."

Ray sat back in the chair and yawned. "I think we better go back to our own hotel, Frase. It's after bar closing, so I doubt they'll be up and about anywhere."

"Indeed. Have you seen Agent Chatham?"

"Nope. She's probably back at the hotel by now, getting her beauty rest."

"I hope so. She's going to need it tomorrow."

Grace couldn't remember the last time she'd had such a great evening. Dinner was excellent, and while she wasn't one for clubbing, hanging onto Sam and pretending that they were together was fun. They capped off the evening with a late latte at a coffee shop near the Beacon, watching the few patrons, whispering between themselves and debriefing over the evening's events.

"I think this is the most fun I've had on a job in years," Grace admitted to him. A cool breeze came in through a window, and she was thankful for the warmth of her drink.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, it's been awhile since I've had this good a time on a stake out. I usually wind up going with Mike, and he's not as good a dancer as you."

Grace laughed out loud and two heads turned her way, but she ignored them. "I sure hope you're kidding about that, Sam."

"Well, not about his dancing, but then I wouldn't really know. I like my partners to be ladies." He smiled.

The way he looked at her, if she didn't know it was all for show, she would have turned into a puddle at that moment. Instead, she accidentally bumped her mug and spilled her cooling latte all over the front of her dress, dousing the rising feelings she had no business entertaining. "Oh no!"

Sam grabbed a pile of napkins from the dispenser at their table and asked, "Hey, are you okay?" He held them out, and she noted the conflicted expression on his face.

Grace smiled and replied, "Thanks, Sam. I'm fine." She took the napkins, knowing that if she'd let him, he would have mopped up the mess himself. His eyes locked onto hers, and hers locked onto his as she dabbed at her bare skin over the bodice. "This is dry clean only. I hope this doesn't ruin it. I'd like to wear this dress again some day."

"I'd really like you to wear that dress again some day too," he said the words before he knew what he was saying. Then he blinked and the fire went out of his eyes.

She saw it happen, and Grace was not just disappointed. She was devastated, because as much as she tried, she couldn't help herself. She was falling in love with him. It was the one cardinal rule of working with male agents, to not fall in love with your partner, and she blew it. But maybe it was a good thing that he seemed to have more restraint than she. That look in his eyes was just typical male desire, and she made herself easy pickings. What a fool I am!

Grace stood and picked up her purse. "I, uh, better get back to the hotel. If I'm going to play chambermaid tomorrow, I need my sleep." She gave him a smile.

He stood and placed a hand on her elbow. "I'll walk you back to the hotel."

"It's not that far."

"I don't care. It's not safe for a woman to be alone this late at night."

She patted his lapel. "That's very...chivalrous...of you, Sam. But I know how to defend myself."

"Grace, don't be so stubborn, okay?" The vehemence in his voice surprised her.

She swallowed her pride. "Thank you."

Sam released her elbow and let her walk past. He followed her out of the coffee shop, held the door as she passed through, and captured her hand as they walked to the hotel. Grace looked up at him, hoping it was a romantic gesture. But she could see in his eyes that he was only being nice. As they walked along the street, neither of them could find anything to say. He must have felt awkward, because Sam dropped her hand and stuffed his hands into his pockets. The ocean breeze was a little cool and she wished she'd brought a sweater.

"I thought it was always warm in Miami," she said as she wrapped her arms around herself.

"You're cold? Coming from the great white north, I would think this was balmy for you!" He laughed. Then he looked down and saw how she held herself. "Here, put this on." He took off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

"You don't have to do that..."

"No, I do. You're cold."

"We're almost there! I'll be fine!"

"I'll be fine. Just accept it, okay?"

As they argued, they didn't notice the young man on a bike riding toward them until he swooped past, leaned over and grabbed at Grace's purse.

"Hey!" With lightning quick speed, she whirled and grabbed the strap, pulled, and wrenched the startled skinny guy right off his bike. He crashed to the pavement, the air knocked out of him.

Sam pulled his gun and held it on him. "Okay kid, turn over, now!"

"Do you need some cuffs?"

Sam glanced up at her. "You have cuffs in your purse?"

"Always prepared," she replied with a sheepish grin as she pulled them out and handed them to him.

A squad car with flashing lights pulled up behind her, and Sam quickly stowed his weapon. The kid was cuffed and ready to be thrown into the back of the cruiser.

"What happened here, folks?"

"He tried to steal my purse, but I wouldn't let him. My...my friend has him all wrapped up for you."

It took a little time to make the report and for Grace to get the cuffs back, and by then it was quite late. After the police left, Sam said, "See now why I didn't want you walking alone? Come on." He placed his coat back on her shoulders, put his arm around her, and led her across the street. They were half a block from the hotel.

Grace could have handled herself, but she was grateful to Sam. Otherwise, the perpetrator might have gotten away. She was temporarily in shock and didn't move fast enough to restrain him like Sam did. His kindness afterward stunned her even more, holding her to his side until she stopped in front of her room. It went above and beyond, causing her to question his motives. She looked up at him as she removed his jacket and gave it to him. He shrugged into it while his eyes never left hers.

"Thanks, Sam, for being there." She spoke softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You're welcome." He replied hoarsely.

The electric lock beeped as her keycard released it. It slipped open, she pulled the card out, and dropped it into her purse. All that time, he never stopped watching her. "Sam...what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Everything. I don't know." He suddenly framed her face with his hands and bent his head to kiss her lips.

Grace let out a soft startled noise, but her arms went around his back and pulled him closer to her as she accepted his embrace and welcomed his lips with her own. The kiss deepened, and she felt powerless to stop it. She didn't want to make it stop. Her whole body wanted this man, and as long as he seemed to want her, she was willing to take things as far as they would go.

With a groan, Sam ripped himself away. Her lips felt as if he'd physically torn them. His breath came in short gasps as he pulled out of her arms, and his eyes, which had been full of desire just moments earlier, were full of regret.

"I'm sorry, Gracie. I shouldn't have..." He shook his head and took a step back. "Good night. I'll, uh, I'll see you tomorrow. Okay?" Before she could answer him, he turned and strode quickly toward the elevators.

Gracie. He called her Gracie. Nobody called her that, unless they wanted to get decked. She touched her lips, and they were fine. But her heart, that was a different matter entirely. The elevator chimed, the doors opened, and she could barely make out Sam thrusting himself inside. He was close enough for her to run to him, but she couldn't see through the tears. She wanted to call out his name, but her throat closed up and she remained silent. Then he was gone.