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Lisbon pushed the grinning man into her car, all the while blushing like she was a virgin bride. She allowed him to put his belt on before handcuffing his wrists together in front of him.

"Ehy! There's no need to be rude! I'm a delicate man!" he complained, pouting like he was a spoiled brat. Which, Lisbon guessed, could exactly be what he had turned out to be. She could almost imagine him. Maybe he didn't get a lot as a child, with just a father who used him around (she knew the feeling quite well), but with that look she guessed he could have everything he wished for. He was a con-artist, a manipulator, a liar and a cheater, and everything he was he owed to his good look as well. How many times as a kid he had had to just make puppy eyes to some old lady to get an apple pie all for himself? And clothes, and books and girls and who knew what else.

"Oh, I'm so sorry mister Jane. I know your face is your job, so I'll do my best to avoid ruining your merchandising." She sarcastically said, grunting behind her dark sunglasses as she entered in the heavy midday Sacramento traffic.

"Jeez, no need to be so snappy just because I got you horny, Detective Lisbon." He purred her name licking his lips slightly, more intrigued than really excited; Teresa groaned and the retort died in her throat – why bother, after all? – but she gasped when, at her side, Jane put his feet on the console of the car, his hands crossed behind his head.

"What the…" she asked, getting redder and redder with rage. That man! How dared he… she took a big breath and willed herself to not take her gun and kill him on the spot with some ridicule excuse, just because he was exasperating and damn right in reading her sexual responses to his advances. So, he was a good-looking man, all right? And she was a hot-blooded female who happened to like men. Of course she knew he was sexy. And yeah, she was pretty sure her dreams were going to get pretty XXX Rated if she didn't do something to wear herself out before going to bed- like going to bed not alone. And obviously, not with Jane, whatever the man seemed to think in that thick skull of his.

"So, agent Lisbon, out of curiosity, how far are we from your precinct?" She didn't answer, didn't even bother to look in his general direction, as she worked the gear. But she could feel his eyes on her, his stare burning her skin. He wasn't going to ask her again, no, she was sure that Patrick Jane wasn't that kind of man. But she guessed he would have looked at her until she wouldn't relent and answer him already.

"Uhm. Downtown, eh? Major Crimes, I bet." He chuckled as he saw her opening and closing her mouth like she was a goldfish. He shook his head, amused. He liked to play. He had always been an hunter, and his marks his prey. They didn't even knew what was going on until it wasn't too late- when they discovered it, period. He had been a master manipulator since a young age, so much he sometimes wondered if it wasn't written in his blood. As a kid, he had used his angelic look to get away with things and obtain what he wanted- a toy, a candy, a kiss on the cheek from the nicest girl on the playground- but with time, and his father's help, he had learned to master his abilities. He learnt things about his marks, and then allowed them to think it was magic, or, like in Teresa's case, that he was so damn good at cold-reading people.

"So, how far are we? Thirty, forty minutes from Downtown? I bet we could stop somewhere for a quickie and no one would ever find out." He smirked as she blushed furthermore, her breathing increased. He had been at her side for few minutes, but in Marie's bathroom they had been that close to touch each other. He had seen her reacting to his naked body, his proximity, and knew she wanted him. It was good. It was something he could use at his advantage. "Or maybe…" he sighed, than shook his head. "No, you'd never do that."

She looked quizzically at him with the corner of her eye.

"Well, as you didn't have any warrant, my educated guess is that no one knows you got me. So, we could get downtown and you could try to explain yourself, hoping that Marie wouldn't call and demand for your head on a silver platter- trust me, she is that kind of woman."

I know, she thought, a bit annoyed. She knew exactly what kind of woman Marie Jarrett was, thanks to Lisbon's frequentation of the sheets in Walter Mashburn's bed. Marie had married Walter when they were just nineteen and he had gotten his first million thanks to his start-up. He had believed it to be a bed of roses, just to find her in said bed with his best friend, Yuri, shortly before their six months anniversary. Marie had tried to put the blame on him, but Walt had seen through her lies, and while thinking that his obsession and getting richer and richer was to blame too, he left her. Marie had tried everything in her arsenal to get him the full blame in the divorce- which she did- and half of his empire, and Walt had been that stupid to fall for it. Marie was still ever-present in his words, in his home, she was a ghost who hunted his whole life, and Teresa had never allowed things to get more serious with him not because she didn't find Walt interesting or didn't like him, but because it didn't take a genius to understand he would have never been over his first wife.

"I'm willingly to give you whatever you want." He suddenly said, his voice low, serious, his left hand on her arm. She looked at the point where his fingers were burning her skin, and eyed suspiciously a tan-line on his ring finger. "Just let me be, Teresa." He rolled her name on the tip of his tongue, like it was exotic, a foreign language that made it all more erotic.

"What I want, Rick." She said, emeralds lost in sea green eyes, voice low and husky as the world stopped around them along with the traffic, as her breath was hot on his skin, igniting feelings he thought long gone, forgotten once and for all. "Is the USB stick Angela gave you, and the truth about what went down in room 416." She added resolute, smirking.

"I don't know what you are talking about." He said.

She smirked as she turned her car on, shaking her head. It was a lie, she could hear it in his tone. Maybe she wasn't as good as he was, but she was damn good at her own job; there was a reason she had made it to detective just few years after having left the academy, after all. "Well, I know you may not have it on you, Rick…"

He smirked, chuckling shamelessly with innuendo at her words. "Oh, don't you, Teresa?"

"… but McAllister's men think you have it, and when McAllister thinks something, he is usually right. So, now we'll go downtown, we'll have a nice chat and you'll tell me where I can find that damn USB, so that I could save your sorry ass from being killed by the Irish mob, bring justice to Angela's soul and the ones who had been wronged by McAllister in the past AND, if I'm right and in that USB there's what I think there is… I could bring down his whole crime empire, together with all the Sacramento cops on his paycheck." And maybe, just maybe, she could finally find her redemption- redemption for the blood running through her veins, and now for what she had done to Angela, too.

"If you bring me downtown I'm as good as dead, Teresa. Please. Let me go." He begged, and then paused. "Teresa… I know you felt the spark. I know you want me. Let me go… and I'll give you your heart's desire."

She didn't answer him. She just looked in front of her, mouth slightly open in disbelief as she shook her head. "I can't believe I've been just propositioned by a prostitute. Me." God, and I thought it was bad when I worked vice undercover…

"You just offended my male ego, detective." He pouted again. "I'd like to let you know I'm an escort, not a prostitute."

"Hate to break it to you, buster, but escort is just a nice, politically correct word for prostitute you use in public while talking about sex-workers." She grunted in a very un-lady like manner.

"Oh, Teresa, Teresa, Teresa…" he chuckled again, his mega-watt grin enough to turn on the lights of Sacramento for at least an hour. "They don't pay to have sex with me. Actually, I don't ask them to pay me at all."

"Oh, I know. I've seen it all enough times. You talk them into giving you money, things, whatever you fancy whenever you fancy it, and you make sure they think it's their idea right from the start."

"Sometimes." He chuckled, hands behind his head again, looking at the world passing by from the window. "But they aren't always the idiotic primadonna kind. Sometimes they want to make someone jealous. Other times, they need someone who's willingly to listen to them, to accept them despite their faults, and their problems. Having sex with them, it may be their desire, but ultimately, it's my own decision." He paused again, and turned to face her. He could see Teresa was deep in thoughts, and he guessed she was thinking about her dear Angela, and what kind of relationship she had had with him. Even if Teresa wasn't aware yet, he knew her secret, and he knew of her relationship with Angela. Teresa knew the beloved woman, she had been like a daughter to the Ruskin woman. So, she knew Angela hadn't been with him because she was in need of attention or trying to make her husband jealous. But was she aware of the real reason she had spent to much time with him? And why he had helped her out? He doubted it, but being honest with the sweet cop wasn't going to do any good to him right now. If he wanted to get out of troubles alive, he better try another angle.

"Money makes the world turn, Teresa, don't you think?"

"Good. So, now not only I've been propositioned by a prostitute, but I've been propositioned and attempted to be bribed by a control freak prostitute."

"Ehy!"

She simply glared at him as he spoke again, feeling insulted by her opinion of him. He wasn't a control freak (differently from her), he simply had standards, was high-maintenance and enjoyed the beautiful things in life, and neither of those things meant that he was a) a prostitute, or b) a control freak.

"Shout up. Go to hell. Take a toothbrush." She said, and he grinned behind his teeth; Angela like to use the same sentence when he was too smug, too arrogant, when he behaved like he was the smartest in the room. He could see so much of Angie in Teresa, there was no doubt who had raised her; not for how similar their features where- except for the hair- but their whole demeanor. Especially towards him: the first time they met, Angie had behaved just like Teresa did, intrigued by him, and yet repulsed by his self-centered behavior.

But like he did with Angela… he was going to win her. Only, this time he didn't have days, nor months at his disposal, but minutes, and seduction and money hadn't worked so far.

"Listen…" he tried again, but she simply lifted her right index right before his eyes, indicating that whatever discussion he was planning was already over; he lifted his hands on mock surrender, and sighed, as he understood that his plan was already screwed. Not that there had been already a plan: he liked to improvise, going with the wind, as they said.

He stood in silence for the rest of the car ride, trying to think of how he was supposed to escape from that situation. Because if he didn't… he would be dead as soon as he entered downtown.

"There's no way you are going to let me go, right?" she smiled, and shook her head, and he could almost see her eyes shining and mischievous behind the big, dark sunglasses. "Yeah, I guessed as much. Listen, I was thinking…"

"Shut up or you'll discover how my right hook feels like." He gulped down a mouthful of saliva as he understood she meant business, and stood in silence, his brain filled with ideas and images and plans, one crazier and more desperate than the other.

He was lost, whatever was going to happen. For Patrick Jane, it was the end, and despite knowing it… there was nothing he could do to stop it.

|/\|/\|/\|/\|

They entered in the Major Crimes bullpen, Jane in handcuffs, and for once he didn't protest; Lisbon had hit him once on their way upstairs, and he could say she hadn't used all her strength. But it had been quite painful- as he had told her – and he was pretty sure he was going to spot some interesting bruises in the next few days. Well, at least the ladies were always into helping out an injured knight in white armor. All he had to do was voiding saying how he had gotten the bruises. Of course, that if he was going to escape Detective Lisbon's grip. And McAllister's vengeance.

"Ehy T, what did the poor bastard did?" A tall dark-haired guy asked, grinning, as Teresa pushed him down on the chair before her desk. Tall, dark, handsome, dangerous biker (those so were biker shoes) approached Lisbon's desk, keep his arms crossed as he looked down at Jane like he was an idiot.

God. Why couldn't detectives be like in those cool TV-shows where they were sexy and smart? In reality, the men were all donuts-addicted with a small brain. The only person with some form of intellect in the room seemed Lisbon. Well, Lisbon and the Asian guy who looked at him from his desk, without batting an eye. That seemed a smart man- and one he could enjoy playing poker with.

"This, Rigsby, is Patrick Jane…" Ah. The infamous Wayne Rigsby. Jane hadn't heard about Rigsby father more than once- the man wasn't well-known as he had liked to think when he was still alive- but his son was often present in Angela's stories. In particular, she had said a couple of times about how Reese was supposed to stop sleeping with him already and find a nice man to get married to. Now, he got what she had meant: it wasn't like he wasn't good looking- if he and Teresa would have produced daughters, they would have been HOT –but he wasn't the smartest man alive either, and he could understand why Angela wanted something better for Teresa. Angie had never told him all the particulars, only that she had to pay a price so that Teresa could be free. And whatever the price was, whatever Angie had been forced to renounce to, it was right to think that she would have wanted the best for Teresa, that her sacrifice would be worth it in the end.

"And, how did you say you found him again?" Rigsby asked, smirking, his eyes falling in the valley between her breasts, showed by the low-cut top of her dress. Jane rolled his eyes. He liked women, and yeah, all right, Teresa was sexy (especially with that little number) but at least he had class and he didn't behave like a Neanderthal in heat.

"I didn't." She said, and took from her purse a small recorder, showing it to him with a proud smile, knowing where she wanted to go. Jane sighed. Of course Lisbon was smart enough to record their whole conversation, including the salient points where he asked her if sex or money could interest her in exchange for his liberty.

"You can't use them. You didn't mirandize me. It's unconstitutional." She said as she threw the recorder to the Asian guy, who took it like he hadn't done anything else for his entire life. Jane lifted quizzically an eyebrow, and wondered how long the man and Lisbon had worked together to be so… in tune with each other.

"Yeah, well, you know what they say, right?" she looked at him, and paused, her eyes smirking as she took a pen and played with it. "If we didn't lie and manipulate, our cells would be empty."

"You wouldn't allow a DA to manipulate a jury to get me behind bars." He said, extremely full of himself, the arrogant smile ever present on his face. "You are too good for that. How it is that they call you? Saint Teresa, right?"

Teresa tightened the grip on her pen, so much she swore she felt the plastic cracking under her fingers. Gritting her teeth, she looked at him with emerald eyes on fire. She hated that nickname, hated why it had been first given to her, and the new meaning her co-workers had given to the two words; she wasn't her father's daughter, but she wasn't a goody-two-shoes either. There was a middle ground, but people had never seen it about her. With Teresa Lisbon, it had always been either black or white.

"Has anyone ever told you what a bastard you are?" he smirked, all proud of himself as she looked at him like all she wanted to do was killing him on the spot. Or was it pity he saw in her eyes? He wasn't sure. After all, the only person who had truly felt pity for him was Angela. And maybe… maybe her. But that was another life, one he didn't like thinking about.

"Yeah. Women especially. Normally before slapping me." he shuddered, like it was normal.

"Yeah, I wonder why." She simply said, rolling her eyes a little bit- an action that made Jane smile. The woman was damn adorable, and just couldn't accept it, so obsessed she was with being a though cop. She looked at him, and sighed like she couldn't believe what kind of man he was. But it wasn't the point. The point was that she didn't understand the other women, and why they did what they choose to do with him. She saw him like she did her friend with benefits Wayne, after sex, and like her ex, Walter, after the money, but it was much more than that, and much less at the same time. And… he wasn't going to waste air for this. she wouldn't understand anyway.

"Cho, bring him in interrogation two, let's see what our mister Jane has to tell us…" she said as she left her seat, walking in direction of the Captain's office. From his position, Jane could see her behind, and was impressed by how she walked on high heels, how her hips moved, enchanting the male population. He didn't resist whistling in appreciating, and got, as reward, a soundly slap on the back of his head by Rigsby.

"Ehy, you should be proud that people compliments the beauty of the woman you usually sleep with!" he said, quite at loud. Rigsby, in answer, turned on his heels and stormed out of the room (looking for food, probably. He seemed that kind of man) while the pretty redhead in the corner (nice too, but too shy. He liked them with the fire in their veins, when they weren't paying) blushed, and lowered her head, like she was ashamed or… Ah, interesting. She has the hots for tall, dark, handsome and dangerous, he realized with a smirk.

"Get up." The Asiatic man ("Cho") took him into the room, and forced Jane to sat, undoing the handcuffs. Cho simply stood, sitting before Jane, arms uncrossed. The con-man and seducer looked at his "opponent", grinning; Lisbon thought Cho was the best option, as he seemed to be the interrogation expert of the team. But if they thought he was like some b rated movie villain, ready to spill his guts and reveal his greatest plan as soon as the good guys fell into silence.

Over half an hour later, Lisbon joined them in the room, and sat before him, dressed like any good cop would; Jane barely resisted the urge of sighing and shaking his head at the sight of the conservative blouse, of the black pants and the tied hair. If she could have been less feminine, do as the mythical Amazons and cut her breast to act more like a man, he was sure Teresa Lisbon would have done that. Didn't mind him, he kind of understood why emasculating herself in a male-dominated environment, but it was such a waste: Teresa was a beautiful woman, and any man would have seen that- hell, he wasn't oblivious to her just because she didn't' have money- even if she did her best to hide herself away, concealing her true self behind a mask of professionalism. But who was he to judge? After all, he didn't know anyone who didn't wear masks, nowadays.

"So, how are we going, Mister Jane?" she asked.

"Hasn't said a word." Was Cho's cryptic answer.

"I want a lawyer." He said, looking at Lisbon. He wasn't an idiot- he knew she liked him, and he was willingly to use his charm on her if it could mean getting away with whatever they had on him.

"We aren't arresting you yet, Mister Jane, but you are a person of interest in our case, and if you don't help us…" she made a movement with her hands, trying to make him understand what was going to happen if he didn't collaborate, and that she meant business.

"I don't care. I'm not helping you because I don't have anything you may be interested in, and I know nothing, all right?" he said, panicking a little, leaning on the table toward Teresa. He wanted to leave that damn precinct, he wanted to take his car- any car- and leave California altogether, start anew somewhere else where nobody knew him and where McAllister didn't held any power nor connection.

"I know you have the USB Pen-drive, Jane. Give it to me, and I'll talk the DA in cutting a deal with you, drop any charge." She whispered, her voice luscious and husky, sexy as a peacock's feather, as their eyes met. He gulped down a mouthful of saliva, and he wondered if ti was possible for Teresa Lisbon hypnotizing him, because that was exactly how he felt in that instant.

God. Was it possible to want someone that much, and hating her with all of himself at the same time?

"I don't know what you are talking about, detective." he said, trying to maintain some kind of composure, of control over his emotions and his features. He couldn't smirk, or she would have seen the arrogance, and understood that he was hiding something from her. She already had some doubts, he couldn't add to them.

"You were in the room, Jane, if we wanted, we could held you on account of murder in the first degree."

But he shook his head. "I had sex with Angela, so what? It doesn't prove anything. You said it yourself, after all: I'm a gigolo, just a gigolo…" he sing-sang, quoting the old song.

"Yep" Teresa answered him, crossing her arms. "And we got your seminal liquid, and… what else? Right. There's skin underneath Angela's fingernails, and I think that CSU will discover it to be a match to the sperm. I also wonder if it will be a match to something else- say, the scratch marks I'm sure we'll find on your back, were you to undress for us."

"You are…"

"A bastard? Yeah, been there, done that. Few hundred times, actually. Normally before putting people behind bars and throwing the key away. So, anyway, where were we? Of course, now I remember: where I tell you I have enough evidence to have you for murder. So, what do you…"

She stopped when someone knocked at the door, and before she could tell them it was all right to come over, a tall thirty something guy joined them in the room, dressed in uniform. Jane stilled immediately, the breath dead in his throat as he understood that something was very off about him; before Lisbon could say anything, they all saw him going for his gun at his hip.

"Agent Hardy? What's going on?" she asked him, standing, and walking slowly in his direction, like to not startle him. He didn't answer, just shook his head as she saw his hand reaching for gun. "Hardy, please…" she begged, hands lifted in surrender.

"Tyger, Tyger, burning bright, in the forests of the night; what immortal hand or eye, could frame thy fearful symmetry?" He simply said, quoting what Jane knew to be a Blake poem. He looked around, like searching for confirmation, but when both Lisbon and Cho didn't give any sign of understanding him, sighing, he lifted his gun, and pointed it in the direction of Jane's head.

"Please, I think we could reach an agreement and.." Jane begged, lifting his hands as well. Hardy, worried for him and with him didn't noticed Lisbon, lowering her hands and going for her gun, moving stealthy at the cop's back, shaking her head as to tell Jane to keep it quiet and just distract him.

But Hardy just shook his head, his hand ready at the trigger as he started to cry, like he was sorry for what was happening. "Red John says hi." He said, and as soon as did so, gunshots reverberated into the room, and everything went dark for Patrick Jane.

Somehow, he had always knew he would have never left that building alive.