A/N: Thanks a lot for the story alerts and for favoring this story. But most of all, of course, thanks to those of you who took the time and left a review: charleantheresas, sarwebber22, HGRHfan35, HouseBroken, HPforever-after, Mydnyte Houre. I hope you stick with the story and come back to read and review again. And those of you who haven't reviewed yet – give it a try! :)
Disclaimer: I own some things but definitely not Criminal Minds. CBS does. I just borrow the characters from time to time and promise to give them back unharmed. In this chapter I also borrowed parts of scenes from 6x18 that, of course, don't belong to me either but to CBS.
Present day...
His team doesn't need to know. Their hunt for Doyle started out as a team challenge. They were in this together. But they aren't anymore. Not since his plans – what to do with Ian Doyle once they traced him – have changed.
So that's what Aaron Hotchner orders Penelope Garcia to do behind closed doors – inform him about Doyle's whereabouts, tell no-one else, get out of the office and remain silent. He knows she won't last long. Sooner or later she will tell someone, most likely Morgan. It doesn't matter though. He just needs a head start. A split of a second alone with Doyle.
Hotch is about to break his oath and kill Ian Doyle in cold blood.
One ½ weeks ago...
It was only a phone call this time. But if phone calls could wear dark suits and sunglasses to remain undiscovered, this one definitely had the complete accouterment. No names, no greetings, overall duration within the limits so that the call could not be traced – just in case someone should manage to eavesdrop despite all the precautions and the secure line.
"It has been done," Mr. X's voice. "How can we assure that he won't call her, won't ask her what really happened?"
"They don't know how to reach her," Mr. Y responded. "And they are well aware that it would be too risky to trace her whereabouts as long as Doyle is alive."
"The blonde met with her in Paris," Mr. X argued.
"This meeting had been approved previously," Mr. Y stated slightly annoyed.
As if the world dared to turn without his permission. As if one of the puppets dared to escape, when he was the one pulling the strings.
All they had to do now was wait.
One week ago...
It was odd.
First the photos, now this.
Hotch remembered how all the members of the BAU had stared petrified at the pictures. A woman dressed in white, the bright clothes a sharp contrast to her dark hair and eyes. The photos had been taken on the stately home of an internationally wanted terrorist, but the woman looked comfortable, at ease with the situation. In one of the pictures she held a flower in her hands and smelled at it.
There had been no doubt that the woman in these photographs was their colleague and friend, Special Agent Emily Prentiss. Except that she had had another name back then and obviously a whole other life as an undercover agent despite the fact that she hated politics. Well, who would've thought that.
The voices brought him back to the here and now. This had to be a recording from her past as a weapon dealer, as Lauren Reynolds, her undercover assignment to bring Ian Doyle down. There was no urgency to do anything to prevent the weapon deal. It had happened long ago. Yet there was no reason to relax. It was even more unsettling why somebody had sent him the recording just now.
Present day...
Hotch only makes one phone call before he leaves the office.
Well, three to be exact, but he neither counts the one in which he makes sure that Jack is taken care of as long as he will be out of town nor the one in which he books his flight.
The only phone call that matters is the one to the person who wants to see Ian Doyle dead just as much as he does.
One week ago...
As the recording proceeded there were more negotiations and then Hotch heard Prentiss laughing, still somewhere in the background, but it was her without a doubt. Hearing her laugh made it somehow worse, because it didn't fit the situation and showed how – at least seemingly – she had managed to adapt to the surroundings.
A male voice talked to her and told her to get in the car. Doors opened and closed and suddenly their voices were as clear as if they were here in the room with him. The microphone must have been hidden in the car. Probably a clever move. Should it be detected, it couldn't be necessarily backtracked to her. Well, obviously it hadn't been detected. Otherwise the recording wouldn't exist.
"Are you going to take care of me?" Her voice and it was hard to tell whether she was scared or flirting, maybe both, maybe she didn't know herself at the time.
The answer to her question was a short deep laughter from the man who was in the car with her and Hotch believed and feared at the same time that it was him, Ian Doyle. Yet there was no confirmation.
The man didn't answer. Then there was some rustling, followed by heavy breathing. Even if Hotch was alone in his office the silence felt uncomfortable when he realized that he was listening to Emily Prentiss making out.
He really didn't want to listen to this, but there could be a hint upcoming where to find Doyle or at least what made him tick. If it was Doyle.
The rustling stopped, although the panting didn't. Voices filled the room again.
"Come with me to my residence. I want to show you where I live. You can stay with me there." The man's voice. Apparently they were ready to go, but the motor of the car hadn't started. He let his men wait for her decision whether she wanted to come with him or not.
"Ian...," Prentiss' voice gave Hotch the confirmation he had been waiting for. He felt no relief though.
He was listening to Emily Prentiss talking to her nemesis, to the men who had tried to kill her and almost succeeded.
Present day...
It's hot, but Aaron Hotchner doesn't mind. There is no inappropriate weather for what he is about to do.
If anything, it's almost too damn easy. They find Doyle without too much effort.
He sits in a diner in the middle of nowhere. All they have to do is wait for him to leave so there will be no witnesses. The desert keeps it's secrets.
One week ago...
Ian... The seconds were ticking away as Hotch listened how Prentiss obviously hesitated to answer Ian Doyle.
Of course, she had no answer. Agreeing would have led inevitably to a consequence that apparently hadn't happened at this time of her undercover mission. She hadn't slept with him and being alone with him in his house would make it difficult if not impossible for her to defer it any longer. Ian Doyle didn't sound like a man who waited too long for what he wanted. Disagreeing unfortunately was no option either – basically for the same reasons.
"Come with me, Lauren," Doyle repeated, his voice rough with lust, and Hotch winced. Somehow it helped that he called her Lauren. In a way he was able to tell himself that this was not the woman he knew, that it all happened to someone else.
The rustling started again, longer this time, more panting. Hotch had somehow avoided it until this point – congratulating himself inwardly on his bravery – but now the imagines rushed in even faster. He was not able to hold them back.
Would Doyle have pushed her back or given her a tender squeeze? Most likely he pushed her back, because he was a man of power who liked to overwhelm other people. Hotch imagined Doyle's body on top of her and felt his stomach tighten. Doyle wouldn't have been satisfied with only kissing, now that he had her that close. It was hard not to imagine how his hands ripped open her blouse or whatever she was wearing to touch bare skin or even taste it.
Suddenly there was a moan, definitely a woman's voice. It had to be her, although he couldn't tell for sure. How should he? He never had heard her in such a situation before. But since there was no-one else in the car, it had to be her. It sounded as if she was... really enjoying this. Then again she perhaps only was a good actress.
Hotch never had crossed the line with one of his female team members or other female colleagues. He sometimes had wanted to, had let chances pass by after word had gotten round about his divorce. He is a handsome man and some women certainly would like to add him to their collection. Most of the time it was easy for him to refuse the offer. Then again he never had gotten an offer from the one woman he wouldn't have been able to reject. Emily Prentiss.
So now, sitting here and listening to the recording, it felt like mockery. She hadn't even considered him important enough to tell him about her problems, about the current threat Doyle was to this day. Let alone recognized him as a man.
There had been a time – after Foyet's attack – when they had been close, but somehow everyday life and countless cases had affected their special bond. Perhaps it still was there. He couldn't ask her though. Not as long as Doyle was alive. Not as long as there was the risk that Doyle would try to kill her again, if he knew that she survived his assault.
And here he was envious of Ian Doyle about being close to a woman he, Aaron Hotchner, obviously never knew. A woman who might or might not be interested in him as well as he always had been interested in her and just never had shown it. Because it hadn't mattered, until he had to listen to her being with someone else.
To be continued
Any ideas who Hotch called?
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