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I've been waiting for this day for a very long time, she had said to him, pulling him away from his 16th birthday party. I have a surprise for you.
He loved surprises and he loved her: the beautiful Italian woman who had helped him through his mother's death and was always there for him when his own father wasn't. She had been his mother's best friend growing up and now she had become the envy of all his friends. She had promised his mother that she'd look after him, and she did in a way that only a beautiful woman could, from a distance. But that was all about to change. Tonight was different; she was different.
She drove him into town to a small gallery where up and coming artists displayed their works. She owned and operated it, and from what he'd heard about the place, it carried some very valuable pieces, but the store itself never made much money. Rich people had their portraits commissioned, and poor people couldn't afford her place, but the store was a tax deduction, or so that's what his father had been told, and he'd only ever been there once with his mother years earlier.
She took his hand and they walked through the door. He wondered if she had requisitioned a painting of him, but she guided him past all the fine works and up a narrow staircase and into the attic where canvasses and statues were stacked eight and ten feet deep. As they came to a wooden door, she pulled a lone key from her purse and unlocked it. Before she would let him go through, she brushed her lips to his ear and whispered words that he had never forgetten. She said, "When you walk through this door, your world will forever change."
And it did.
"Agent DiNozzo, wake up. Agent DiNozzo?"
Tony jerked awake, seeing Chantal Payne's face very near his.
"You were having a bad dream."
He blinked, assessing his situation. "Are you okay?" he mumbled, getting his bearings and remembering where he was and why.
"I'm fine. I made us some breakfast. Do you like eggs?"
He rubbed a hand down his face and stretched, "What time is it?"
"Seven in the morning. I'm an early riser."
"Yes, but no."
"Excuse me?" she asked, resuming her ministrations in the kitchen.
"I like eggs, but I'm not hungry."
"Well, I'll leave them here in case you change your mind."
He used the bathroom and then checked the house again. When he returned, she commented, "Are you expecting something to happen while we're here, Special Agent DiNozzo?"
"No. Why?"
"Because you're always going outside and checking the cabin. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were avoiding me. But a guy like you can't avoid me forever, you know."
The threat hung in the air like diesel fumes, and it made him nauseous. Without speaking, he went outside again, needing to breathe in fresh air. The late fall morning was crisp and clean and sunny. It was going to be a beautiful day and if it were Sunday, he'd be preparing to watch the football game, but it was only Tuesday, and he was stuck in a safe house protecting a witness.
Some protection, he mused. If Bowers showed up right now, he just might hand her over. Then he'd lie down in that bed and go to sleep.
His ears picked up when he heard a faint sound in the distance. Returning to the house, he locked the door behind him and peeked out the window.
"What's wrong?"
"Stay out of sight. Get into the bathroom and shut the door."
She did as she was told. Two black sedans were making their way down the overgrown drive. One of them looked familiar, and as it approached, he could see four people inside. Holstering his gun, he yelled, "It's okay, Ms. Payne, you can come out."
Gibbs, Ziva, Tim, and Allison Hart got out of the first car and Fornell, Slacks, and Higgins got out of the second one. They all stretched as it was a good two hour drive through the back towns of western Maryland to reach the place.
From the porch he wondered why seven people were making the trip. Maybe something had come up with the case. "Bowers die of a heart attack and there's no longer going to be a trial?" he asked, praying the latter half of his statement was correct.
"Not exactly," McGee answered, giving him the once over and furrowing his brow.
Ziva raised hers as well at his appearance and asked, "Rough night?"
"No. Why do you ask?" he said, becoming agitated with her suggestion.
"No reason. You may do whatever it takes to keep her safe."
He didn't like what she was insinuating, but then again, he wasn't exactly sure what she was insinuating.
Fornell gave him the once over, smiling at his general disheveled appearance and asked, "You have any problems last night?"
"No, were you expecting any?"
He shrugged, "Can never be too careful when you're dealing with a serial killer."
Tony instantly knew she was standing behind him by the way they were looking. Higgins especially acted like a schoolboy, drooling at the sight of a pretty teacher. He puffed up and rested his hands on his hips, displaying his FBI badge and weapon. Tony almost rolled his eyes but didn't get the chance because she stepped up next to him, very near to him, and slid her arm through his.
"Agent Gibbs, Fornell," she greeted. Then she frowned as her tall agent stepped away from her. "I hope you haven't come to take him away. He's doing a wonderful job protecting me."
Gibbs shook his head, "No, he's staying. But Ms. Hart has a few questions she needs to have clarified before the trial."
She flashed her lawyer a smile and replied, "Of course, please come in." All eyes were on her as she and the lawyer disappeared inside the cabin.
For a computer geek, McGee had some pretty decent interpersonal skills, and he could read his colleague like he could bust through a firewall. He saw the tension in his friend's body as it seemed to grip his shoulders and arms and he quickly realized that today was not the day to tease him about his unkempt appearance. "I brought you the sports section of the paper," he said, handing it over.
"Thanks."
"You got plans for the game this Sunday? Ziva and I were thinking about watching it at Al's Sports Bar. They got a new ninety-two inch LCD screen, high definition."
Tony was beginning to relax, although the porch seemed a bit crowded now that everyone was on it, and Higgins was antsy, grinning like he wanted to say something. "Yeah, that sounds good," Tony answered, thinking an afternoon of drinking and watching the game would be a nice distraction from this assignment.
Ziva added, "I think Abby is coming. She wants to get Sister Rosita and Sister Mary to watch a game. She said something about broadening their worlds."
He smiled at the image of downing a few brews with a couple of nuns and thought that would be a first.
Gibbs observed the change in his agent. His shoulders loosened slightly and his facial muscles relaxed. He even leaned back against the railing, casual like. Gibbs was pleased that Ziva and McGee were having the intended effect on his agent. Worked every time, and it was the only reason he'd brought them along. Tony only ever let a very few people into his world and Ziva and McGee were a member of that club. They could say things and do things that others only dreamt about saying and doing. In turn, he would open up, let his guard down, and relax. He looked like he needed it, too.
That is until Higgins opened his mouth. "So, tell me," he leaned over towards Tony and whispered, like one buddy might whisper to another, "what's she like?"
Tony lost his smile and straightened his back.
"I hear she knows things and does things that guys only dream about. By the looks of you, she must have kept you up all night—."
Higgins found himself plastered against the house with blazing eyes glaring down on him. "What are you implying?" Tony seethed.
"Nuthin'!" he sputtered, not realizing the full extent of the danger he was in.
Gibbs grabbed Tony's arm and pulled, but the leverage wasn't there. Fornell worked his way around the other side and wedged both arms between the men. It was no easy task pulling the larger NCIS agent off the smaller FBI agent but Tony finally let go when he heard her voice.
"Is everything okay?" Chantal asked from the doorway where both she and Ms. Hart were standing.
Ziva quickly turned them around and ushered them back inside, "Everything's fine. You know, boys being boys."
Gibbs pulled Tony back to the railing on the porch, and Fornell stood between the two, chastising his man, "Agent Higgens, get in the car!"
Stunned, Higgins argued, "What'd I do? I just want to find out about her! Look at him! He didn't get any sleep and it's obvious what they did all night. Besides, we're all curious down at the bureau!"
"Go!"
"We even took bets! We all want to know if she knows things the average guy doesn't!"
Gibbs and McGee were quick to grab Tony's arms again and present just enough of an obstacle for him to think twice about going after him again.
"That's an order, Higgins. Back to the car!"
Grumbling, he stepped off the porch and stalked away.
Fornell straightened his tie and replied, "I'm sorry about that, Agent DiNotso. What you do is your own business—"
"—I didn't do anything!" he seethed.
Even Fornell found it hard to believe that nothing happened. "I believe you," he lied, "but for now, if you need anything, don't hesitate to call us. Taking down Captain Bowers will close two open case files for us, so we're as vested in this as NCIS."
Tony shrugged away from his colleagues and replied, "Why don't you supply the protection detail for her then!"
"Because she won't testify unless you do it. But believe me, I have more than enough agents wanting this job."
"They can have it," he called after him. Then he noticed Gibbs and McGee staring at him and he mumbled, "Well, they can."
"What was that about?" Gibbs asked, although he may as well been referring to the phone call late last night as the encounter just a minute ago.
Tony froze, looking out over the mountains, wishing they'd never come out.
Gibbs gave McGee the look he gave when he wanted him to leave.
"Right…ah, if you need me, I'll be checking the perimeter of the house."
Alone on the porch, Gibbs' tone softened and he approached his agent, "C'mon, take a walk with me."
He was surprised when Tony followed. They walked single file down the path where Gibbs knew the location of a small pond. After ten minutes, the woods gave way to a clearing with a good sized pool of water whose surface was dotted with bright yellow and red leaves. Gibbs stared at it, taking in the crisp autumn smells that hinted of a fire burning somewhere off in the distance.
The walk had done him good and Tony felt the tension and irritability fade away. "I'm sorry about what happened back there."
Gibbs shrugged, "He had it coming."
"Yeah," Tony agreed. "I wasn't expecting you. I wasn't expecting any of you."
"Ms. Hart is trying to convince her to let the FBI take over this detail."
Tony almost snorted out loud at the notion. "She'll never go for it. She doesn't trust the FBI, for one, and she doesn't like Fornell, for two."
"Maybe, but it's worth a try." Gibbs turned around and looked over his agent, sizing up (among other things) his state of mind.
Tony thought for sure the questions were coming. His brain raced for possible answers, but he was as blank now as he was last night.
But Gibbs just turned and started back down the path.
Relieved, Tony followed, thankful that he didn't press for answers about last night's three AM phone call.
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Tony watched them drive away knowing that M. Allison Hart didn't have much success; next to him stood Chantal, happily waving goodbye.
"So, what's on the agenda for today?" she asked.
He looked down on her. God, she was beautiful. Her eyes were brown and accentuated by long black lashes. Her button nose was dwarfed by full lips that looked shiny even without any lipstick on, and she hid years' worth of aging behind a middle eastern ancestry of olive colored skin and baby-like softness. Her body, with not an ounce of fat, could best be described as voluptuous. At any given time, she could pass for twenty and not the forty-something that she was. She could easily be her twin.
He looked away, "You're going to stay inside and I'm going to read the sports pages of the newspaper that Agent McGee brought me."
"Doesn't sound very exciting." She moved over next to him, rubbing her shoulder against his arm, "I could think of something to pass the time."
He pulled back and nervously laughed, "Ms. Payne, you have to understand that I'm on duty and can't be engaging in such activities."
She disregarded his excuse, "If you were undercover, you could. And please, call me Chantal."
Chantal was just like her, having an answer for everything. And just like Chantal, she had wanted him to call her Hanna instead of Miss Votelli. The parallelism was uncanny, and scary. He moved inside, and upon seeing her following him, he headed straight for the bathroom. In there, at least, he was afforded a small measure of privacy. He took deep breaths to calm his nerves.
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"I'm sorry, Agent Gibbs," Allison said, "but she wasn't being very agreeable. I'm afraid she has her mind set on Agent DiNozzo. There wasn't much I could say to persuade her otherwise."
He ticked his head; his version of saying, 'thank you for trying.'
"We should have just pulled Tony off this detail and made Higgins babysit her." Ziva's voice was full of disdain, or was it jealousy? "On second thought, I should have stayed behind and done the job."
Tim nodded, "I have to agree that I haven't seen Tony that angry ever. He usually lets comments like that roll off his back, or better yet, he's the one to make such comments. I hate to admit it, but he can be pretty damn scary when he's mad."
Hart said, "I take it Higgins said something he didn't like."
"Oh, yeah," Gibbs said, remembering the look in Tony's eyes. But there was something more than anger. There was uncertainty. Dare he think it? Was DiNozzo afraid? Yes, it was fear the lingered just under the surface of his retinas. And that could interfere with his ability to do his job.
"Ziva," he said, "when we get back, I want a history of Chantal Payne. Anything written publicly about her, I want to read it. McGee, I want her life from the standpoint of private records. I want to know about any medical issues she's had, any legal problems, any business concerns. I want anything that didn't already make headlines."
"On it, Boss." After glancing at the lawyer's expression, he added, "And of course I'll get all the legal papers in order."
"And I'll get Abby to help," Ziva said. "She's been wanting to work on this case."
*****************************************8
Tony had showered and cleaned up some before he returned to the living room. Only she wasn't there. His heart skipped a beat as he hurried outside. She wasn't on the porch either, nor in the immediate area.
"Chantal!" he called.
He pulled his weapon and trotted down the driveway. "Chantal!"
He found her sitting next the pond. "Chantal, if you leave, you need to tell me. In case you've forgotten, there are people out there wanting you dead."
She didn't look too concerned. She shrugged off his request like one might wave off an annoying gnat. She looked up at him and asked, "Why don't you like me?"
He wasn't expecting such a pointed question. "It's not that I don't like you…it's that I have a job to do and romping around between the sheets interferes with my ability to do that job."
She looked him up and down, no doubt pleased by what she saw. "I see you showered. Feel better?"
She was so good at deflecting, or was it guiding, the conversation. Just like her.
He took in the fresh air again, ignoring her comment. As long as she kept her distance, he was going to be okay. And if she couldn't keep a safe distance, he was just going to have to keep one for her. He looked around, the shower and fresh air seemed to be doing him a world of good and he could practically feel the anxiety slide off his body as he peered over the glassy surface of the water at the reflection it made of the autumn trees. It was the perfect mirror image and if you took a picture, you'd be hard-pressed to determine the real trees from the reflection. Only the occasional air bubble disturbed the scene, causing a small ripple on the otherwise pristine surface.
The sun was warm against his face and he sat down on the bank in the soft grass that hadn't turned yet. He shot her a quick glance just to make sure she wasn't making any unwanted moves, but she seemed content to take in the morning sun too. His eyes were so heavy that he let them close for just a minute.
That's right, let yourself relax, Anthony. Don't be afraid of what you see. These things are meant for pleasure. We'll take everything nice and slow. But first, do you know what a submissive is?
That night, she taught him things he never knew existed. She did things to him that were simultaneously painful and pleasurable. He didn't understand the feelings. How could something produce so much pain and agony, yet be so mysteriously… pleasing? Erotic? Sadistic? Sensual? Brutal? Exciting?
He woke up, startled. Trying to separate reality from fiction. Was he dreaming or was she kissing him?
She was kissing him, a warm and sensuous kiss that made him question his own little reality, but it was real and she was taking him places—very dangerous places. He pushed her away and scrambled out from under her. "We can't!" he croaked, forcing his body to reject the stimulation.
She smiled, like she knew something he didn't. "You were having another dream. The next thing I knew, you were kissing me."
"That's a lie. I didn't kiss you."
'Was it?' her eyes said to him. She gently took his hand, brushing up against him, making him aware of his own aroused state.
"You have to leave me alone or I'm calling for another agent to guard you."
"If you do that, I won't testify. And if I don't testify, you don't have much of a case against Captain Bowers."
He was going to argue, but it was of no use. She held the cards, all of them. His lungs clenched at the trapped feeling.
"Relax, Agent DiNozzo, you're going to hyperventilate if you keep that up. There's something that you should know about me. I don't do anything to anybody without permission. But from what I heard you mumble, I think you already know that."
It felt like a vise had clamped around his head. Swallowing didn't help, nor did trying to concentrate on breathing. His urges were strong, yet he had managed to suppress them for years, but she was chipping away at that wall, causing parts of it to crumble. Like a child, he let her lead him back to the cabin.
She was smooth, telling him to lie down, making him comfortable and letting him drift off to sleep. It felt good to let the sandman take him but not until he'd made her promise to wake him if she heard any strange noises or felt in danger. She said she would, and he believed her. That was just one of the many mistakes he had made in his life.
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TBC
Thanks for the comments. As always, it keeps me going. So many of my stories die towards the end and become dust bunnies rolling around on my hard drive. Mostly, though, I never try to post a story that I don't at least having an ending for in my head. Thanks to everyone who has supplied me with meaningful criticism or is cheering me along! ~Jasmine