And we're at Chapter 10! I can hardly believe it! Bobby will be fighting some serious demons here, which seems appropriate, since I'm watching Endgame right now. And Alex will feel the cumulative effects of these dysfunctional family murders. Case file, socializing...and a deepening relationship between our detectives. Ah, September. Labor Day weekend. Cooler weather. Hotter smut. Okay, in this alternate universe, it's the weekend of Hurricane Irene. I don't own them, because if I did, they'd be on TNT this fall. Or Winter. USA sure doesn't deserve this quality show.
He was gripping her ass, shoving into her over and over. No, no! Her mouth was moving, but no sound came out. Still, his body was using hers. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to look into the sneering face of Mark Ford Brady. Bobby felt himself falling through space, a scream ripping from his throat.
"Bobby, Bobby, Sweetie, wake up! It's just a bad dream," her voice was in his ear, her hand on his chest. His heart was pounding, he was soaked in sweat. Bobby's eyes struggled to focus, and when he did, Alex was gone. He was lying in her bed, in Forest Hills. Not in Brooklyn. He tried to catch his breath, willing away the specter of his father.
"Here, baby," she was back, pressing a cold damp towel to his face and chest, her hands wiping the sweat away.
He still couldn't speak, just gripped her forearms and pulled her close.
Alex was truly terrified for him. She had been wakened from a dead sleep by his scream, and it seemed like it took forever to shake him from the clutches of his nightmare. His face was pale, and his skin slick with sweat. His heart beat crazily under her ear. "You can tell me about it, if you want to," she said softly, lifting her head off his chest.
He clutched her hand tightly against him, "We-we were back...in my apartment like...earlier. I was...we were up against the door and you were telling me no...but I couldn't hear..." his voice was hoarse, and he was still fighting for breath. "And then Brady was there, pulling me away from you, t-taking you from me.." he sobbed, heaving, bone shaking sobs. "Never want to be him, never want to hurt you."
"Oh, Bobby," she let her breath out in a gusty sigh. "You could never be him. And what happened...you didn't force me."
"Right," he said bitterly.
"Listen to me," she eased him into a sitting position, the lamp throwing her face into shadow. "Everyone has their own way of exorcising their demons. Yesterday...if that was what it took to help you, I was more than willing. Infinitely preferable to you getting hammered, getting in a bar fight, or taking an unnecessary risk on the job." A lopsided grin crossed her face, "And it wasn't like I didn't end up satisfied."
Bobby caressed her face, "You are my blessing, do you know that?"
"And you're mine, every single day. Don't ever forget that," her voice was tender. "Think you can get back to sleep?"
"Dunno," he sighed.
"Let me run you a warm bath," she kissed him, then got out of bed.
He shook his head, "You're tired, baby." He could see the dark circles under her eyes.
"Bath will relax us both," she said over her shoulder.
She left the bathroom dark, with the hall light on. He got into the tub first and she eased in in front of him, her back to his chest, his arms around her waist.
Alex was right, the warm water was soothing to them both. After a half hour, they dried each other off, and she quickly put fresh sheets on the bed.
"Call in sick today," she whispered in his ear.
"I'm fine, really," he shook his head.
The rest of the night passed peacefully.
They spent the morning at the office, working the phones and interviewing the Raider family, including fifteen year old Melisande. They decided Alex would interview the girl, while Bobby talked to the parents.
The teen looked exhausted, her face puffy and eyes bloodshot from hours of weeping.
"I don't know what I can tell you," she sighed, scrubbing at her face with her hands.
"Tell me about your sister, what was she like?" Alex's tone was gentle.
"She was my best friend," Melisande began. "She never acted like I was a pain, or in the way. And she loved Curtis and Brian so much," the tears rolled down her cheeks. "Mariah wanted to marry Curtis, now that he was clean, but Mom and Dad...they didn't approve."
"Did she tell you why she was going to the city Sunday?" Alex prompted.
"She was going to see Curtis," she scowled. "Mom was okay with her going, but Dad...I heard him and Mariah arguing Saturday night."
Alex took a sip of water, carefully phrasing her comment, "If he's anything like my dad, he was probably just trying to protect his little girl."
"Your dad's like that? Even now that you're...?" the girl was incredulous.
"Old?" Alex was amused. "I'll let you in on a little secret, they think you're a little girl even when you're my age."
"Great," Melisande muttered. "He'll never let me out of his sight again." Her face crumpled as she remembered why she was there, "That was mean, I shouldn't have said..."
"It's okay, sweetie," Alex said quietly. "Did you hear what they were arguing about?"
"It didn't make sense," her brow furrowed. "Dad was saying..." she closed her eyes, trying to remember the exact words, "'He never cared about you or your mother before, why should he care now?' Weird, because that wasn't Curtis. I mean, he could be a jerk when he was drinking or using, but he never hit Mariah, and he was respectful to my parents. And he was a good dad to Brian, especially after he got sober."
"Do you think...your dad was talking about someone else?" Alex asked.
Melisande looked puzzled, "I guess. But Mariah didn't know anyone else in the city, just Curtis."
The detective got the girl another soda, and then went to check on Bobby's progress with the parents.
She sensed the temperature in the conference room was heating up, from the father's tense body language and the mother's agitated shifting in her seat. "Mrs. Raider, I think your daughter could use a little comforting right now," she said sympathetically. "Can I take you to her and get you some tea?"
Sedona looked relieved, "Yes, I'd like that."
Bobby stood and braced his hands on the edge of the table, fixing Gordon Raider with a stare. "You said that your daughter was going to see her boyfriend Sunday night."
"Yes, she was. Didn't you talk to him?" Raider asked.
"We did. He has an alibi for the time of the murder," Bobby said.
"So do I," he was adamant.
"Home in bed with your wife," he said sarcastically. "In the course of our investigation, we also found out that your daughter's grandfather lives right here in the city. And you knew it. In fact, she was going to meet him Sunday."
Raider's face was pale, "How-how did you know...?"
"Like I said, we're investigating your daughter's murder," Bobby slapped a computer printout in front of him. "Also, we found out that you work at the brokerage firm that Stephen Epstein uses. Care to explain that?"
"It's a national firm, you can't prove anything by that," he was dismissive.
"What did you want to do, make him pay for abandoning your wife when she was a kid? For not acknowledging his grandchildren?" Bobby hammered.
Raider straightened in his seat, "I fail to see what this has to do with my murdered daughter."
"It gives you a motive for fraud. And people hate losing money. The timing's interesting. Theft. Fraud. Murder," Bobby said.
"You don't have anything, because if you did, I'd be under arrest," the man rose to leave.
Alex detoured to the break room, taking her time making the tea. "I can't imagine what you're going through right now."
"It's like a nightmare I can't wake up from," Mrs Raider admitted, watching Alex dunk the tea bag.
"Lemon or sweetener?" she asked.
"Um, honey," Sedona reached for the bear-shaped bottle and drizzled some into the cup Alex handed her.
She poured about four packets of sugar into her own cup, "Terrible sugar addiction," she admitted with a rueful laugh. "You said that you thought Curtis hurt Mariah," she said cautiously.
Sedona shook her head, "Maybe that was the heat of the moment." She cast her eyes downward as she took a sip of the hot tea. "I don't know who hurt my baby."
"And you're sure she didn't know anyone else in New York?" Alex prodded.
Sedona dropped to the nearest chair, as if her legs could no longer support her, her face ashen.
"Mrs Raider, we know that you were born here, that your father lives here," she said quietly.
"That man was never my father," she ground out the words. "He didn't know my children, had no right to. And they didn't know him."
"We've heard evidence to the contrary," Alex said levelly. "I have to ask, where were you on Sunday?"
Her expression was indignant, "I told you. I went to church that morning, and was at my sewing circle all afternoon. Melisande watched Brian. I got home about six, and cooked dinner for my family. My daughter and husband could tell you that."
"And after dinner?" she inquired.
"I did the dishes and bathed Brian. He went down about nine. We'd had a busy day, so we were all in bed by ten," she answered.
"Your husband, too?" she reinforced.
"Yes," she hissed, angry now. She pushed the tea away, and bit out, "Why are you asking me these questions, why aren't you out finding my daughter's murderer?"
"We have to ask these questions," Alex said. "One last thing, have you had any contact with your birth father lately?"
"No! The last time I saw him was in a courtroom, according to my mom. I was all of two. Now take me to Melisande," she rose to leave.
As she was taking Mrs Raider to her surviving daughter, they ran into her equally angry husband, "Let's get the hell out of here, Sedona!"
Bobby, Alex and the captain watched the family leave the bullpen.
"What the hell did you say to them?" Hannah wondered.
"I suggested he had a motive for ripping off his father in law, and that might have gotten his daughter killed," Bobby admitted.
"Great, have any proof of that?" he groaned.
"Nope, but his reaction tells me a lot," he replied.
The captain turned to Alex, "What's your excuse?"
"Oh, I confronted her with the fact that Stephen Epstein was her father, and that Mariah knew it," she explained.
He put his head in his hands, "You're giving me one large Excedrin headache."
"Hey, don't blame us that our DB hooked in with our fraud case, Joe," Bobby said.
"Well, find the connection and solve this, for Chrissakes," Joe said bluntly, dismissing them.
"Let's see if Josh and Ira have anything more for us," Bobby decided as they crossed the bullpen.
"Lunch first," she said firmly.
"Okay," he acquiesced.
Ira scrolled through the electronic footprint of the fraud. "The brokerage firm has pretty good security, but an employee with even half-assed hacking skills could make it happen."
"What about Epstein's financials, say, from this past weekend?" Bobby wondered.
"Don't we need a warrant for that?" Alex said reprovingly.
"We got carte blanche from Epstein by way of a written consent, plus a warrant giving us access to all his accounts to trace the source of the fraud," Ira tapped a few keys. "Here you go."
Alex watched the scroll, pointing out one entry, "Look at that-a withdrawal from an ATM about what, eight blocks from here? At ten o'clock Sunday night."
"Got to be security camera footage available," Bobby muttered.
Ira mused, "You know what really surprises me? Epstein reported a loss of 200 grand, right? This guy is worth over ten million."
"We've met him. Nothing surprises us about this bastard," Alex snarked.
Back in the conference room, they worked out a time-line, scribbling on a dry erase board.
"We know she was alive at nine o'clock, from Curtis' statement," she waved a marker.
"Say she was planning to meet Grandpa dearest downtown. Could show their pics around the bars near the ATM."
"It would give us a little better picture of her movements, and bust Epstein's alibi," Bobby agreed.
"Do you think he killed her?" she wondered.
"He's a son of a bitch, sometimes that's all the motive you need," he countered.
"These are the problems I have: First, why report the fraud in the first place, especially if he knew who took the money? It really is a drop in the bucket in his net worth. And second, this guy is all about secrets. I'll bet you anything his kids don't know about their big sister and her family. Why risk them finding out by reporting missing money stolen by his own son in law? And the biggest thing of all, why kill someone who is a virtual stranger to him?" Alex pondered.
"If she really was a stranger. Keep in mind, he knew those girls' names. He impresses me as a man who pretty much keeps his hand on everything, his kids, his money, even if he wasn't attached to them. It's about control. He may not have perceived Raider as a threat because he was inconsequential, just as Sedona was," Bobby said.
"So why kill, or even meet with Mariah?" she pressed.
"Because she threatened his secret," he theorized.
"Think about what the boyfriend said. That Mariah wanted to meet her grandfather, and it was about money. That her father had at least peripheral knowledge of the meeting. And Melisande, the sister. She said that Mariah and her dad had an argument Saturday night about her going into the city. It could be inferred that Gordon Raider knew who she was meeting, and why. It'd give Raider a big fat motive," she reminded him.
"He has an alibi, I couldn't see his wife covering for him if he killed their own daughter," he shook his head.
"Secrets," Alex said firmly. "I think if we find who took that money, we're going to get motive for Mariah's murder."
Daniels stuck his head in briefly, "The video discs will be here in the morning."
"Thanks," Alex said. "You know, we could do a little bar-hopping, show their pictures around.
"Sounds like a plan," he said.
They struck gold at the fifth place. The waitress recognized both Epstein and Mariah from the photos, and put them there from about ten thirty to shortly before midnight Sunday.
"Good memory," Bobby commented.
"It was busy here, and this tool wanted to make sure they got a back booth. Was pretty obnoxious about it, too. Don't think he wanted to be seen with the girl," she flicked Mariah's photo.
"How did they seem? Familiar? Cordial?" Alex wondered.
"She seemed sweet, very polite and well spoken. Nervous. The older guy..." she rolled her eyes. "Total jerk. Very short when I served them. He ordered her a drink, but she didn't touch it. Got the impression he wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible," she commented.
"Did you happen to hear any of their conversation?" Bobby inquired.
"She said...'can't you help your own daughter?' Something like that, He just said...'your mother doesn't want any part of me,'" she recalled. "That's all I remember."
Alex showed her one last picture, "Ever seen this guy?"
"Um, don't think so," she shook her head.
"C'mon, you didn't really think you could bust Raider's alibi?" Bobby sighed.
"Covering all the bases. Want a drink? We're off the clock," she motioned towards the bar.
"Oh, yeah," he agreed.
After their second drink, on a hunch, Alex showed Raider's picture to the bartender.
The man thought a minute, then nodded, "Uh, yeah. Sunday night, maybe a little after 12? He was looking for his daughter."
The detectives exchanged a stunned look. "You're sure?" Bobby asked.
"The place had emptied out pretty good, so yeah. I saw a girl that looked like the picture he had leave maybe a little before that. That's what I told him," the man said.
They got his contact information, and left the bar, walking back towards One PP.
"Can't believe it," Bobby muttered.
"I was hoping I was wrong," Alex sighed as they got on the train. By tacit agreement, they spent the night at her place.
Thursday began with a look at the video from the ATM. Epstein was clearly the one who withdrew the money Sunday night. No one else was visible in the frame. "Well, we need to take another run at him, especially with what we learned yesterday," Alex commented.
This time, Epstein came to One PP, his lawyer in tow. "I hope this isn't a waste of my time," he said snidely.
"You tell us," Bobby slapped the ATM photo on the table, as well as the witness statement from the waitress. "Care to change your story?"
Mr Epstein leaned back in his chair and exchanged a glance with his lawyer, "So, I met Mariah for a drink. At her request."
"Why?" Alex queried.
"Because she wanted money for her mother," Epstein sighed. "She said Sedona is...sick, needed medical treatment that wasn't covered by insurance."
"Go on," Bobby prodded.
"I told her that the only money they would ever get was the two hundred grand her old man had ripped off from my brokerage account," his tone was vicious.
"So you think Gordon Raider has your money," Alex mused. "Interesting. Because at that point, we hadn't established who hacked your account."
"I have my sources," he said stiffly.
"We just found the money this morning," Bobby slapped another printout in from of him. "If you had proof, it would have been nice to let the police in on it, don't you think?"
"I had my suspicions, not real proof," he admitted. "Now that I have it, I want you to arrest that bastard."
"We're not done talking about your granddaughter," Alex snipped. "How did she react to what you said?"
"At first, I don't think she believed me. Then she asked a lot of questions. Did I have proof? Why wouldn't I help my own daughter?" he stumbled over his next few words. "She said she was a mother, and had a baby boy. That if her son needed anything, she'd give her life's blood."
"Good question," Bobby said. "Did you have an answer?"
"No, my son called me, saying that Barbie needed me to come to the hospital. I paid the tab and left around midnight," Epstein said indifferently.
"It was midnight in New York City, and you didn't...call your granddaughter a cab? Walk her to the train?" Alex was incredulous.
"She looked like she could take care of herself. My family needed me," the man was cold. "My car service took me to Mt Sinai, you can check for yourself."
"Oh, we will," Bobby assured him.
They walked into the observation room, where Joe was waiting.
"Jesus Christ," the captain muttered. "Coldest bastard I've run across in a while."
"Too bad," Alex groaned.
"Why?" Joe was curious.
"Thing about this guy, you just know his alibi is going to check out," Bobby answered.
And it did. They sat in the bullpen that afternoon, staring at each other glumly. "So, we have to bust a man who stole money to save his sick wife, because said wife's deadbeat father won't help them financially," Bobby said.
"And we still don't have Mariah Raider's murderer," Alex added. "You know what we have to do."
"Her funeral is tomorrow," he reminded her. "And there's a hurricane about ready to tear up the coast."
"If her father killed her, he has no right to be at said funeral," Alex shook her head.
"We have to question Sedona and Gordon separately," Bobby agreed.
By three PM, the Raiders were back at One PP, this time with the family lawyer and an ADA observing. They had decided to flip interviews, Bobby would interview Sedona, and Alex would have a run at Gordon Raider.
The couple was placed in separate interrogation rooms, and their lawyer accompanied Mr Raider.
Sedona declined counsel, even after Bobby mirandized her.
"I think you have a lot of nerve dragging us here the day of our daughter's wake," she was indignant.
"Mrs Raider, we are trying to solve her murder," Bobby's expression was earnest. "I'm sorry about the timing. Losing your daughter, a potential hurricane...and your own health issues."
She was startled, "How-how did you know about that?"
"I know what it's like to have someone you love so sick. My mom...died of cancer four years ago. The treatment that might have helped her...was beyond my reach. I'd have done anything to help her," he said quietly.
"I have a lot of faith that the Lord will provide a solution," she said serenely.
"Your daughter went to your father to ask for his help," he said gently.
"No, you must be mistaken," she shook her head.
"Mr Epstein has admitted to meeting her Sunday night. He declined to give her the money, because..." he broke off, unsure whether to continue.
"He gave up every claim to me because he had someone else," she said bitterly. "I would rather die than ask him for a cent."
"Mariah...she was a good girl. She wanted you to live, to see Brian grow up. And if begging your deadbeat father for money would make that happen, she was willing to do it," he explained.
Alex was much more confrontational with Gordon Raider. After advising him of his rights, she slapped the printout proving his theft, fraud from Epstein's brokerage account.
His lawyer took the file, perused it, "I thought we were here to talk about his daughter's murder."
"We are," Alex laid the bartender's statement next to the printout.
"You can't prove that he was even in New York at the time. He was home with his wife,"
the lawyer shrugged.
"We plan on a lineup within the hour," she replied. "But this might just prove him to be the liar he is," she tapped the disc in her hand. "Video of your client passing through toll booths, along with his easy pass record. What did you do, wait for your family to fall asleep, then hit the road?"
Raider blanched, "I didn't...it wasn't supposed to..."
"Quiet, Gordon," his lawyer cautioned.
"Why did you do it?" Alex wondered. "Afraid that she'd spill the source of your little secret money stash?"
He put his head in his hands, "I just wanted to...save my wife. Epstein...I asked him for money when Sedona got sick. We'd used all our savings, and mortgaged the house..insurance wouldn't pay for the treatment, said it was too experimental. He acted like...we were...dirt under his feet. Said he had no inclination to help her, that he had his own family. All that money, and he couldn't spare a nickel. I figured he wouldn't miss the money, especially if he thought his family took it," he spat.
"You argued with Mariah the night before she was murdered," Alex said.
"About meeting Curtis," Raider said, his eyes shifting.
"Melisande was pretty sure you meant someone else," she said.
"Melisande...heard?" he put his face in his hands. "I tried to talk Mariah out of meeting Epstein. I was going to tell her...I got the money from...a loan."
"Then why didn't you?" she prodded.
"I don't know," he shook his head. "I went to the city...but she...Epstein told her I was a thief, that I had his money."
"Gordon, for the last time," his lawyer warned.
"I don't fucking care. She was screaming at me, saying I was no better than her deadbeat grandfather. How I wouldn't give Curtis a chance, that I held myself up to be this...pillar of the community...when I was just as corrupt as Epstein," his eyes were haunted.
"And?" Alex prompted.
"I was so angry. Here I risked everything to get the money, to save Sedona," he agonized. "My own kid looked at me like I was...scum. I tried to get her to be quiet, to...but she was so angry...The brick was in my hand..and she was lying on the ground." He started to sob.
"You threw her in a dumpster," Alex was accusatory.
"So ashamed," he continued to sob.
There was a tap on the mirror, signaling her next move, "Gordon Raider, you are under arrest for the murder of Mariah Raider, for wire fraud and grand theft." She snapped the cuffs on him.
Before he was led away, he was allowed to see his wife for a moment. Her screams of distress echoed down the hall.
Alex and Bobby worked silently, brushing off their colleagues congratulations at solving this case.
"Whole family blown to shreds," Bobby lamented as they left the office after seven o'clock.
"He wanted to protect his family, and ended up destroying it," Alex agreed.
"I don't know, I think he's a lot more like Sedona's father than he'd like to admit," he sighed, leaning against the back of the elevator. "Secrets and lies, veiled in this veneer of honor."
"So sick of this," she agreed as they got into her car.
"Sick of what?" he was curious.
"Dysfunctional families. A mother manipulating her son to kill. A father abandoning his child, favoring the children of his second marriage. A man who maybe started out doing the right thing, but then torched his family by murdering his own precious child. His wife may die, his grandchild will grow up without a mother. Sick of it all," she rubbed her hands over her face, looking every bit of her age.
Bobby shut the ignition off, and turned to her, "Maybe...you should talk to someone."
"I'm talking to you," she looked at him.
"You know what I mean," he countered. "Look, I'm the first one to admit that therapy...isn't my idea of a good time. But...Gyson...has helped me. Keeping it bottled up...I don't want you to suffer the way I have."
After a long silence, Alex admitted, "It has crossed my mind that I'm not handling this very well. And I saw Olivet years ago."
"I know," he was non committal.
"You didn't care much for her when she was your therapist," she laughed. "Seeing Gyson...I think that would be a little too...incestuous."
"If Olivet helped you, then by all means, make an appointment," he pulled her close.
"Need you," she buried her face in his neck.
"Have you home soon," he reluctantly let her go, and started the Malibu.
"Your place is closer," she rubbed his thigh.
"I was thinking...I would use some of that fancy massage oil on you," he chuckled. "The only oil I have is...olive oil."
"I'd be fine with that," she giggled.
"It's very natural, good for the skin...edible," he grinned.
"Um, like that idea," her hand crept up his thigh.
"Keep your hands to yourself, tonight is all about you," he scolded tenderly.
He spread a soft bath sheet over the bed, as Alex was in the bathroom, washing up and taking care of necessities. The bottle of olive oil was warming in the sink.
Alex came into the bedroom, and began to undress.
"Let me," he requested, putting her hands back down to her sides. The only light was from a single small lamp on the nightstand. He eased each button of her blouse from its buttonhole, his fingertips slowly caressing the skin beneath, then laid the blouse over a chair.
Goosebumps rose on her skin as he rubbed his hands down her shoulders, over her hips, "Bobby," she breathed.
"Shh," he rubbed a finger over her lips, while his other hand unbuttoned her slacks, slid the zipper down. He helped her step out of them, them motioned her to sit on the edge of the bed. He slipped her socks off, taking the time to massage her feet.
"Ohhh," she moaned softly.
He moved his hands to her back, unhooking her bra and tossing it aside. "Lie down on your belly," he whispered, running his fingers through her hair. Once she was settled, he eased her panties off. He undressed down to his briefs, then got the warmed bottle of oil.
"Ready?' he breathed.
Her voice was muffled by the pillow, "Making me crazy."
"This is about relaxation," he reminded her. "Like the first massage you ever gave me, remember?"
"We weren't naked, and that was before we were fucking each other's brains out," she snarked.
He laughed, "I love it when you talk dirty."
"Bobby!" she tried to turn onto her back, but his hand held her in place.
"Lie still and enjoy this," Bobby chuckled.
"'Kay," she acquiesced.
He massaged the warm oil into her shoulders, kneading the tension away. His fingers lightly squeezed the tendons of her neck, working the knots there, and stroked her scalp. He worked the muscles of her back, taking time to loosen up each one.
In spite of herself, Alex felt her body drifting from the tautness of desire to nearly complete lassitude.
Bobby could feel the grip of stress leave her as he rubbed her butt and thighs. He was having a hard time focusing his actions as he watched the play of light on her body, the slick feel of her skin. He sighed and continued to massage her lower legs, her feet.
Alex's breathing had evened out, and he was pretty sure she was asleep. Reluctantly he got off the bed, and replaced the bottle of oil on the dresser.
"Hey, you didn't do my front," she said sleepily, rolling over.
"I-uh-thought...you were asleep,"he stammered.
"Almost," she purred, teasingly running her hand between her breasts. "You, on the other hand, look like you could use a little relief."
He picked up the bottle of oil, "Not about me tonight."
"Could be if you wanted," she teased.
"I'm fine, really," he smiled.
"Pants on fire," she chuckled, reaching out to stroke him.
Bobby gently placed her hands at her sides, and resumed tending to his partner. Shoulders to toes, he kneaded and rubbed, soothed and plied, talking quietly to her, doing to his best to ignore the pleasure response of his own body.
Alex was floating, barely conscious, so deeply content.
He lifted her enough to remove the towel, and tuck her under the covers. Bobby cuddled her close, trying to settle his racing heart.
"Bobby,"she murmured, her hand inside his briefs. "'s okay."
"Sleep," he tried to suppress a groan.
"I will," she yawned. "Do what you need," her eyes drifted closed.
He looked into her sleeping face and rose over her, parting her relaxed thighs, slipping inside easily. It was a warm, liquid comfort, an undemanding, fast release. He fell asleep, snug within her.
Sunlight made her scowl, as well as the weight of Bobby's body on hers. She still felt utterly limp from his ministrations, worked better than any sleeping pill she'd ever taken.
Probably had overslept, no time for a run. The thought didn't even particularly bother her, but her full bladder did. She pushed at his shoulder, "Baby, let me up."
"Uh," he grunted and moved off her, but didn't wake.
She took care of her biological needs, then climbed into the shower. Knew she should wake Bobby, but didn't have the heart.
Alex dressed in sweats, picked up her cell, and called the captain, "Look, I hate to call in late, but yesterday...was a little too much."
Joe had picked up on the second ring, "Detective, there is still cleanup to do on this case. Plus we have public safety issues with the hurricane."
"I know," Alex felt her heart sink, tried to keep her voice steady. "Bobby and I...need a personal day."
"Look, you've gotten the crap kicked out of you this past couple months. The thing is, I can't...show favoritism," his tone was regretful.
She looked at the clock, "Be in as soon as we can." Alex hung up and dialed Olivet's office, making an appointment for later next week. She heard the shower going, went to make coffee.
Bobby shrugged into his jacket, "Why didn't you wake me?"
"Because you needed the sleep," she shot back. "So did I."
"Better call in," he reached for his phone.
"I already did. Drink your coffee and eat some breakfast," she insisted, thrusting a full mug at him.
"It's still a work day," he said, irritated.
"Running a damn press gauntlet, and doing paperwork on another loser case. People going nuts about a hurricane," she snarked, eating a spoonful of yogurt.
He threw a couple frozen waffles in the toaster, and took a gulp of coffee, "It's what we do."
"Not who we are," she snapped. "Look, we need more of last night and less of this..." she gestured towards their guns and badges on the counter.
"When...when we came back to Major Case, you knew what we were getting into," he said. "I am trying really hard to strike a balance, but there are times...not going to happen." He smeared peanut butter on the waffles and slapped them together.
Alex tossed her empty yogurt cup into the recycler, "I know. I-uh-scheduled a session with Olivet next week."
"Good," Bobby nodded, stuffing the last of his waffle sandwich in his mouth.
She changed from sweats to work day clothes, and swiped some makeup on.
The friction between them eased as she slid behind the wheel. Once in the office, they dug into paperwork and fielded phone calls. The television in the captain's office was tuned to the news channel. Hurricane Irene pushed the Raider/Epstein case off the radar, so to speak.
Alex got a text from Liz about four o'clock, "Hurricane party in Rockaway tonight, to be followed by hangover cure breakfast tomorrow. RSVP, bring your fave beverage."
She showed the message to Bobby, "What do you think?"
"Let's do it," he said. "Joe let us off the call hook until Sunday."
She picked up her phone and said, "Hey, Liz? We're in. Uh huh. No, we probably won't stay over."
"The guest room is all yours, private bath, lock on the door and all," Liz teased.
"Where will the rest of the family sleep?" Alex wondered.
"Dad will sleep in Nate's room, Matt and Darla can pull out the couch in the family room, the kids are bringing their sleeping bags. Ashley and Ryan said they'd flop anywhere they can find a spot. The neighbors can crash at their own houses. Everyone else is either driving back home tonight, too chicken or working," her sister said.
"Let's take your car," Alex said as they left his apartment. They planned a stop in Forest Hills for her to pick up a change of clothes before heading to Rockaway.
"What if it storms?" Bobby objected.
"Eric will let you park your baby in the garage, I'm sure," she grinned. "We're going to be back home before then anyway."
"Fine," he huffed.
The house and yard rocked with laughter and music, Mardi Gras beads and little fake palm trees adorned the tables. The party was fueled by barbecued ribs, salads, veggies, fruit, chips, ice cream and homemade pies. And lots of beer, wine, and sodas. The crowd swelled to about forty people by eight o'clock. The weather channel played on the big screen in the family room.
Alex and Bobby stumbled into the dark guest room after two AM, feeling not much pain after partaking liberally in the adult beverage selection. The house was quiet, save for the rising wind outside. Everyone had retired to their respective accommodations.
She clicked the lock, and regarded her partner, who was sprawled on the bed, still fully dressed.
"Gonna your sleep in your clothes, baby?" she slurred her words a bit.
"Uh huh," he groaned.
"Not me," she began a slow striptease.
"We're in your sister's house," he said hoarsely."Your dad is right down the hall."
"Passed out, no doubt," she said in a stage whisper. T shirt off, she was now shimmying out of her shorts. "Ouch," she banged her knee on the nightstand.
"Be quiet," he sat up in bed, his voice a furious whisper.
"Make me," she giggled, crawling on top of him, kissing and sucking at his neck, making lewd suggestions in his ear.
"Alex, should stop that," Bobby sighed.
"I thought you liked it when I talk dirty," she was fumbling with the zipper on his jeans.
"I do," he groaned as she succeeded in opening his fly, her hands inside. "Please, baby."
"Please what? Please you? I'm doing the best I can," she replaced her hands with her mouth.
Bobby arched up, focused on her drunken ministrations, "Fine, if that's what you want."
"Oh, I want," she breathed, taking off her panties and bra. "And you want, too."
He shoved his jeans and briefs over his hips, and rolled her onto her back.
Muffled moans, shifting bodies...and so another weekend began.
"Ow," Alex was having difficulty opening her eyes.
"Serves you right," Bobby was fresh from his shower.
"I hate you," she moaned, putting the pillow over her head.
"Seemed to like me well enough earlier this morning," he smirked.
"That was a...lapse in judgment," she muttered.
He pulled the covers off her, and lifted her up, "You'll feel much better after a shower and some breakfast."
There was a knock on the door, "Aunt Alex? Bobby? Are you still sleeping?" Nate wondered.
"No, buddy, she's in the shower," Bobby called out, setting Alex down and giving her butt a light pat. "See you downstairs," he whispered in her ear.
She slammed the bathroom door, "Good morning to you, too." he added, going to join the rest of the family for breakfast.
"You look like hell," her youngest brother Matt blurted when Alex put in an appearance a half hour later. She was clad in a sleeveless white eyelet blouse, and a loose coral cotton skirt with flip flops.
"Gee, thanks," Alex poured herself a cup of coffee and dumped liberal amounts of sugar and creamer in.
"Want an omelet? They're really good," Bobby's eyes twinkled, digging into his breakfast with gusto.
"This will suit me fine," she swallowed a few ibuprofen.
"You need to rehydrate, so have some juice," Liz shoved a glass towards her. "And the cinnamon roll might settle you."
"You shouldn't drink so much, Lex" her dad scolded.
"Look who's talking," Alex muttered under her breath, taking a bite of the pastry.
Two cups of coffee, juice and water, with the sugar from the cinnamon roll, Alex was feeling nearly human. She even managed to share some of Nate's omelet.
Bobby backed the Shelby from the garage, as Alex said good bye to her family, "Great party, guys," she hugged her sister and brother in law.
Nate was in the passenger seat, checking out the car, "So, do you ever put the top down?"
"I do, when the weather's nice," Bobby answered, getting out and tossing Alex's bag in the trunk.
"Show him how you do it," Alex urged.
"Now?" he was surprised.
"Let the wind blow through our hair on the way back," she smirked.
"Bossy, isn't she?" Johnny was getting ready to leave with Matt and his family. "Just like her mother, God rest her soul."
They hit the road, the rain holding off for the moment. "You're in a strange mood," Bobby observed.
"Strange how?" she smiled.
"Getting drunk, insisting we drive with the top down on a stormy day..." he explained.
"Not every day we have a horror-cane in New York," she grinned.
"A new experience kind of thing," he chuckled. "Or...pants on fire?"
"You could say that," her eyes twinkled. "Speaking of new experiences, maybe you could turn off there," she indicated an exit with beach access.
He looked askance at her, "Um, the storm is going to be here soon."
She looked up at the sky, "Looks like it'll hold off for a little while. C'mon, trust me?"
The car edged towards the beach turnoff, "I do trust you, but we should stop and put the top up."
"We will after we're done," she pressed a hand into his groin.
"Done doing what?" he had a nagging suspicion. "Having a party on the dunes?"
"Um, just contributing to your fantasy list...and mine," she reached for the snap on his jeans.
He put his hand over hers, "Going to love explaining this if we get pulled over."
"We'll badge them, tell 'em we're out helping with evacuations," she squeezed. "And besides, you told me that you wanted to make out in the backseat during a concert."
"With a hurricane on it's way? That must be your fantasy," he chuckled.
"Um, sex on the beach, without lying in the itchy sand," she ran the tip of her tongue in his ear.
Bobby groaned, "Killing me."
"Hmm, you look pretty healthy," she laughed softly, turning the satellite radio to the love songs station.
Bobby found a relatively isolated spot, a deserted parking lot hard by the sea. The sky was leaden, with the wind whipping up and the sound of the surf close by. People seemingly were heeding the warnings to leave the beaches, as they appeared to be the only ones around. He shut the engine off, leaving the radio playing on low, "Probably would be more comfortable in the back seat," he conceded.
"Um hmm," she rather gracelessly crawled over the seat, while he got out and slid the seat forward.
The light was rapidly fading, and the wind picked up, the salt air strong. They sat side by side, Alex working the zipper, and opening his fly.
Bobby was popping the buttons open on her white eyelet blouse, delighted to find she had a front hook bra on. He deftly unfastened it, and whipped it to the side, palming and plucking at her nipples. He felt her reach inside his briefs, and stroke him from top to bottom, "God, Alex...keep going."'
Alex moaned as he tipped his head down to capture a nipple in his teeth and flick it with his tongue, "Makes me...wet."
"Really?" he moved his hand up her loose skirt, moving to the juncture of her thighs. First he scowled, then laughed, "Where...where are your panties?"he stroked her intimately.
She caught his mouth in a searing kiss, "At home in the underwear drawer."
"Commando? I love it!" he gasped as her fingers nimbly squeezed his erection.
"Thought you might like...the path to least resistance," she sighed, as his fingers slipped inside her, while his thumb worried the little pearl. Pleasure rushed through her body, making her thoughts scatter.
"Come sit on my lap," he picked up her quivering body, letting her guide him inside her.
Her eyes fluttered closed as they moved together, a second climax flying through her before she could catch her breath from her first. She clawed his t shirt up, letting her bare breasts rub against his chest while he held a firm grip on her hips, their mouths and tongues moving in the same frenetic rhythm.
The sound of the wind and surf, coupled with the danger of public sex, ratcheted their release.
The syrupy strains of Johnny Rivers' "Slow Dancing" emanated from the radio.
"Love this song," she murmured into his neck.
"Me, too," He let out a wheezy chuckle, kissing her ear."These fantasies are going to be the death of me, but what a way to go,"
"You're telling me," she sighed. "Three times?"
"So you're satisfied?" he was playing with her hair.
"Half dead satisfied," she giggled.
"Me, too," he sighed. "Who's going to drive home?"
"Maybe we can just stay here," she said drowsily.
"Might drown," he considered.
A few fat raindrops hit their faces, bringing them back to their senses. They hastily rearranged their clothes, got the convertible top back in place and headed to Brooklyn. By the time they parked the car and ran for cover, the rain was coming down in sheets. Rain, wind, power failures, floods...but inside the apartment, it was peaceful, serene.
Wow. Now that we've dispensed with the Epstein/Raider case, let's have a little fun. Or let Bobby and Alex have some fun. Oh, that's right, they did have a little fun. Or a lot. Depends on your perspective. Next chapter will have a little broader focus-the month of September. It has been suggested that the little secret of their affair was outed at Bobby's birthday party. Really, the only brass present was Captain Hannah, and I think he is firmly in the "don't ask, don't tell" mode. The bond between Bobby and Alex was obvious long before season ten. From Deakins to Nicole to Declan Gage, they knew. Even poor departed Danny Ross surely got it. But what happens when the brass finds out? These and other questions will be addressed as the story moves along. Any ideas, suggestions, and cookies are welcome.