Chapter Six (2)
What's a Guy to Do?
"Phone call...line two." Abigail Evers stuck her head in the door of Jim Brass' office, not so much to deliver the message cause the desk duty cop could have done it easier...but to gauge the man's reaction to her, maybe.
"You bailed on me...bitch." Brass has caressed the word, as his eyes were doing the woman herself. "Where the hell did you get to this morning."
"Left a note." She reminded respectfully, that word causing a slight pitch to her tummy. "You swear a lot, anyone ever tell you?"
"Turn you on?" it was as if he could read her mind.
Abigail managed a scowl. "Only certain words, smart butt." She advised. "Take the call, Captain...it's important. Might get you in a better mood."
Jim smiled. "My mood was great...when I woke up expecting to find a warm, hot little body next to mine."
"I'll do better next time." She managed a sheepish look, then a dark frown. "There will be a next time, right? You promised."
"I'll make it my life's ambition, Evers." Brass teased. "Get back to work. Not paying you to sit on that cute ass and do nothing all day."
"You don't pay me at all...the city does."
"Actually, it's the county." Brass picked up the phone, pushing 'line two'. "Captain Brass, how may I help you?" He noted the woman still lingered at the door, half in, half out, leaning on the frame. The man's expression altered instantly at the recognized voice.
"I have your man." Red Reddington's deep, soothing baritone could not be mistaken for any other. "But, we need to discuss a few things before an official exchange, if indeed...that is what you wish me to do in this particular case."
Brass sat up, holding the receiver closer to his ear. "You...have the fucker?"
"One of Lady Heather's girls was corresponding with him, unbeknownst to us. She was apprehended trying to sneak out of the mansion." Red cut short a lot of unnecessary details. "Our men followed her...the 'fucker' was sitting there, waiting. Like the idiot he is."
"So, your guys grabbed him." Brass could see how this might not be such a good thing, at least for the LVPD. "Is he still alive?"
"He was when I left." Red glanced out the window of the moving vehicle. "I left him in Heather's keeping. She wasn't happy with him." He recalled the woman's face when finally the two advocates confronted each other. "She's head strong and has a way with a whip."
Red caught Dembe's eyes in the mirror, both men's brows lifting with respect and admiration for such a talent.
"So...why call me?" Brass wasn't sure what was going down. "I'm assuming, you will now handle the matter?"
"Well, usually yes." Red had Mr. Kaplan's number on speed-dial, after all. "But we have a problem, don't we, you and I."
"Do we?" Brass didn't like the sound of that, his eyes lifting to an interested Abigail Evers who had wondered into the room, having taken a seat across from his desk, her face...concerned.
"You issued a warrant for Heather's arrest."
"That was just the cop in me. Hey, I like the woman, personally." Brass told the truth. "She did cross a line though, I think we both can agree?"
"She handled a problem." Red corrected. "Just like I do...and I think, you have that capability too, Captain." Dembe had researched the guy...extensively. "Your record is clean. You seem to play by the rules, mostly...it's that mostly that gave me hope, you see."
"Ohhh, are we going down that road?" Brass grimaced slightly, sitting back in his chair.
"I'm not talking bribe." Red smiled. "Would it could be that simple. But, no...you had to go and have principles, didn't you, Captain Brass."
"Well, damn me." Brass concurred with such an outlook. "I'm working on that failing, cut me some slack."
"Bottom line. I have something you want. I have no qualms about turning the bastard over to the proper authorities" Red motioned for Dembe to pull into a deli up the way. Lizzy was hungry. They were making a sandwich run.
"Doesn't sound like you." Brass didn't think. "See, I've done some research, Sir. On you. Well, I had my people do it." Abigail had shown a stricken face at his bald-faced lie. "An underling...a person of no real value. I can't be bothered with such menial tasks, you understand."
"Is Detective Evers sitting there with you now?" Red asked pleasantly. "Did you both enjoy your evening? It seemed promising there for a while but then, I had to leave. Missed the ending. Can't go wrong with Sinatra, can ya."
Brass sat back up, his hand gripping the phone tighter.
"Don't get paranoid on me." Red sensed the 'why' of the silence coming from the other end of the line. "I don't care where you live and I don't care that you're banging your 'underling'..."
Or at least, I hope you scored big time. A man needs some down time, after all, am I right?"
Red continued before Brass could react one way or another. "My point is, if your DA wants his name in the papers as the guy who brought in the 'Strip Killer', then he will work with me on this...and so will you, Captain Brass."
"So we are calling him the 'Strip Killer'." Brass was never at a loss for long. "And in return, I'm assuming all charges against the lovely Lady 'H' will be dropped and forgotten."
"That would be the most logical and beneficial outcome for all, don't you agree?" Red asked.
"I do agree, whether the DA will agree? Who knows. I'll try my best." Brass knew he would. "Just curious, if this falls through...do we have to worry about Alistair Bennington showing up again any time soon?"
"Well, not here in your city." Red held his cards close to his chest. "At least, not in the city limits."
Brass nodded. "This has been a most enlightening conversation." He mused. "I wish all our interfacing with the criminal element, pardon the expression...was as pleasant and productive as this encounter." He shrugged over to Abigail Evers wide shock-filled eyes. "Which begs the eternal question: why can't we all just get along?"
"Red sing-songed his head, smiling at Dembe who was just now leaving the deli, his hands loaded down with sandwich orders. "Because your kind, pardon the expression, tend to see in black and whites...not greys, Captain."
"Ah." Brass nodded sagely. "Time has a way of tempering such an outlook. I think, in my youth, my vision was just as narrow."
"Would you like us to bring you by a sandwich?" Red asked on impulse. "There's this sweet little shop off Fremont. Has the best home-made relish this side of Sinatra's Chicago."
"I know the place." Brass did. "I will take my underling there for lunch, if I can't find some menial task for her to do, you understand."
Evers narrowed her eyes and stuck out her tongue.
"There are better things to do with a tongue, Detective." Brass chastised. "We'll talk later, when the grown-ups are finished here."
Red smiled. "She's a very lovely lady. I think, in this case." He scowled lightly for he couldn't find any of that special sauce he so loved in the bags through which he was rummaging. He lifted devastated eyes Dembe's way. "You hit one of Vegas' infamous 'jack pots'...do you concur?"
Dembe held up a special container full of the sauce which he had placed in the front floorboard. Red was happy again.
"We are on the same wavelength, yes." Brass wasn't going to admit anything on the record just yet, of course but his eyes rested on the woman, his expression gentle.
"Get back to me." Red had sauce to think about.
"Wait!' Brass hurriedly arose, a burning question on his mind. "How?"
"Oh." Reddington realized his faux pas. "...I'll get back to you."
"When?" Brass spread his hands wide, shaking his head, wonderingly.
"Soon." Red hung up. "Dembe, did we get enough? There are a lot of guards to feed."
Dembe glanced at the bags, sighing heavily. "I will be right back." He exited the car, re-entering the deli. Red sat back, munching on a ham and rye. "Lizzy's going to love these." He always enjoyed showing her his 'finds' over the years. So many cool places he and Dembe had found by accident. Usually he brought the woman in person but it was daytime and it was Vegas.
The chances he could be spotted were high. No need for drama if at all possible to avoid. He would keep a low profile until this matter was settled.
It was turning out to be a pretty good day...not for Alistair Bennington, Red didn't imagine but...otherwise...
CSI/TBL
Francis Holbrook looked up from the latest edition of Marvel Comics. He sighed lightly, arising, crossing to where Lady Heather had taken a breather from the strenuous activities with which she had previously been occupied.
"Precious," the man smiled down at the sweaty little face. "Love of my life...don't you think he's had enough for a while. I think he passed out fifteen minutes ago."
The woman lifted angry eyes.
"Oh, not that I would even consider stopping your play-time...no, no no." Francis back-tracked hastily at that look. "But, where's the fun if the guy isn't feeling any of the pain? I mean..really."
Heather cut cold eyes Alistair's way. The man sat, slumped in a chair, tied securely in place. Blood ran down his arms and legs, his clothes slashed to shreds by the woman's 'weapon' which she wielded so expertly. His face a mask of it's former, smarmy confidence, it too, cut beyond recognition by the whip's sharp slice.
The 'weapon' lay surrounding her feet, waiting it's Mistresses' pleasure.
"I thought we could grab some lunch?" Francis offered amicably.
"He hurt my girls." Heather snapped her fury, reminded of why she was here in the first place.
"And he should be punished...as much as you deem necessary but, you're wearing yourself out, Angel." Francis' concern was genuine. "Take a break...come back when you're fresh, yes?"
Heather's mask broke, and she cried out her own pain, her head dropping against Francis' chest. The man's arms embraced her readily. He cradled her lovingly. "It's okay...let it out. I'm here, baby."
Heather wept brokenly, her fists tightly embedded in the man's shirt front. Her body heaved with the exhaustion and depression descending. "I want him dead." She stammered the need.
"Then...do what you have to do." Francis wiped her face with his thumbs, his look a gentle one. "Just...pace yourself." He smiled, having offered over a handkerchief when all was said and done. "We have all the time in the world, Heather. He's not going anywhere. Trust me."
Heather looked at all the large, menacing looking men standing so idly by. Most stood at military rest, hands folded before them...if they judged or condemned her actions, none was letting on. They had stood by, silent witnesses to her condemnation of this piece of trash before them.
She swallowed the need for more tears. "He hurt them before they..." her words trailed away. "He hurt them so profoundly."
Francis spared the guy a glance. "Take the fucker down...like I said. He will be here when you return."
Heather allowed herself to be led away, Francis' strong arms holding her, giving her stability.
She cast one dark look back to the unconscious individual then...lifted her head proudly as she exited. She felt a sense of peace descend. She was ever so glad Gil Grissom was not here to stop her...this time. She felt a sense of righteous justice...a settling of the Cosmos.
Her girls were avenged. In some small way, she had managed, with Red Reddington's help, to salvage some sort of dignity for them.
It was not over though...not by a long shot.
CSI/TBL
"What the hell are you doing?" Brass chuckled, glancing over to his passenger. "Behave yourself, little girl...before I pull this fucking car over and teach you a lesson about bothering a police officer when he's attempting to do his duty."
"I need some alone time with you." Abigail pouted prettily for the man, the man having slapped her hand away...yet again, from it's preoccupation with the front of his slacks.
"Could have had that this morning...I was going to lick that sweet, pouty little pussy for you." Brass couldn't resist although her anxious manner and earnest pleadings did not fall on deaf ears. "But you choose to bolt, didn't ya."
Abigail moaned a delicious sounding rasp that ran along Brass' dick like smooth, silky vibrations. "Don't say things like that when I'm sitting here, wanting your cock so badly, JimBrass." She pleaded openly.
The man closed his eyes. "Oh shit, baby...shut the fuck up, can't you. I'm trying to drive here." He motioned. "You ever try to drive with a hard-on the size of Mount Olympus? I don't think you have! Or you would just..." He grimaced his pain. "Shut the fuck up already."
She went back to her pouting for all of two seconds. "I could help you with that." She cut sincere eyes the guy's way.
Brass laughed his nervous energy away. "Oh, could you." He made a sound in his throat. "You're gonna pay for this, Sweet Pea...I have a very long memory about some things."
"Well, I don't see what is so important it can't wait for a second or two." The woman didn't. "It won't take that long, will it?" She looked hopefully to his readily evident bulge. "I'm ready and you're ready...right?"
Brass shook his head but this time, he was annoyed. "Abigail!" He tersely cast her a 'look'. "Don't you say another word until I tell you can speak...got that?"
The girl sat back, sighing lightly. She crossed her arms over that amble chest, returning to her 'pouting' mode.
The silence was not only strained, it was brittle...at least for Jim Brass, who shifted about slowly, trying like hell to find a comfortable position so his cock would stop chafing against the fabric of his slacks.
The man cast a dark scowl his detective's way. "I have to get this proposition to the DA...it's our job. It's what we do." He snipped. "I can give you my cock after that."
"I don't want it now." She snipped right back.
"Yeah, well, I can change your mind." He was relatively sure for he was one determined individual now. "We'll talk about it later. A man's life may hang in the balance here."
Abigail rolled her eyes but settled back, arms still very much crossed over her chest, her mood no better for his explanation.
Jim Brass was well versed in pissy women, 101. He closed his eyes wearily, lifting a look on high. "Give me strength, Lord." He muttered bleakly. "That I might not smite this woman."
Abigail cut him a very old-fashioned look, then turned her attention to the passing scenery.
CSI/TBL
"You gonna eat that pickle?" Lizzy lifted hopeful eyes.
Red glanced at said pickle. "I don't know...you gonna eat my cock later tonight?"
Lizzy looked longingly at the pickle then...the front of his slacks. "...I really want that pickle." She knew.
"Then...you're gonna have to earn it, baby." He shrugged any concern away. "Tit for tat, right?"
"Why are you being mean to me?" She...pouted.
"Just teaching you that there is always a price you have to pay for things you want in life." Red... rephrased tactfully.
"You sound like your friend, that creepy little DMV guy." Lizzy turned up that perk little nose.
"Glen asked you to eat his pickle?" Red was not only shocked, he was ready to be pissed.
Liz rolled her eyes. "Not in so many words but the intent was there and oh...this shocks you?" She was flabbergasted. "It's the DMV guy, Red! When hasn't he offered over some sexual innuendo to any and all females passing through his line of vision!"
Red tried not to be amused. "I'll kill the son-of-a-bitch!"
"You won't either...you think it's funny." It was caustically accused. "I am so disappointed in you, Red Reddington!"
"Here." He mellowed, handing the pickle over.
Lizzy took it, smiling happily. "He said that would work." She held her grin.
"...What?" The man's mind snapped to clarity. "Who said...what?" he didn't really have to ask for he already knew.
"The DMV guy." Liz sank her teeth into the sour object, holding her smile. "He said, next time, if you were being a butthead, I should say...what I said and that you would feel bad and give me what I wanted."
"Oh he did, did he." Red blustered accordingly.
"He sure did and...it worked." Liz held up the pickle to prove as much.
Red fought his urge to kill and maim. "Give me back that fucking pickle." he held out his hand.
Liz shoved the remaining piece into her mouth.
Red held his laugh, lunging for her wrist but...it was too late. Lizzy laughed, falling back with the guy's weight on top of her.
Red grinned, playfully trying to pry her mouth open. She giggled infectiously, refusing to give the tidbit over.
"You're gonna choke, idiot." He laughed his delight, backing off a little.
Lizzy finished her pickle in peace, shoving from the man's vicinity, her blue eyes twinkling triumphantly.
"Alright...fine." Red sat back, nodding his amusement, the playtime having worked it's magic. "We'll see how much...pickle you can swallow tonight, hum?"
Lizzy wiped her mouth. "It was worth it." She sat up primly, adjusting her clothing. "...just to see your face. You're always so...confident and smug."
"You have me mixed up with Dembe." Red teased.
"Hey, Red." She quieted somewhat. "...you gonna eat that chip?" She dissolved into another fit of giggles that charmed the hell out of the man. He managed a stern look all the same, popping the chip into his mouth before she could confiscate it.
The lunch proceeded in a good-naturedly fashion for a while until Liz was reminded of something she had been meaning to ask all morning. "Red...what about Lady Heather. Aren't you going to stop...what she's doing down there? It's getting pretty bad for Bennington."
"He made it pretty bad for those women." Red put his beer aside. "Who has a better right, Lizzy? I ask you?
"Well, yeah, but..." The woman shrugged. "She's going to kill him if you don't stop her."
"And there goes her immunity papers." Red nodded. "Okay." He arose, sighing heavily. "I'll go stop the play but have no illusions. If it wasn't for her own good? I'd let her at the bastard until she felt the scale of justice was balanced."
Lizzy nodded she understood the parameters being put down.
"She never got that closure with her daughter." Red knew. "It screwed her the hell up for quite a while. She's better now. I plan to keep her that way."
"She's very important to you, isn't she."
"Not in that way, baby. You're the only woman that's my priority now but..." He touched her cheek lovingly. "Yeah, she needs a friend right now. I gotta be that, okay?"
Lizzy smiled up at the man. "Yeah...you gonna drink the rest of your beer?"
He laughed heartily, going on his way.
CSI/TBL
"Stop pouting and come here." Brass had made his pitch to the DA who sent it up the Chain of Command. He didn't expect to hear anything this afternoon.
Abigail Evers didn't want to do any of that, clearly, her set expression a formidable one, indeed.
Brass crossed, sitting on the edge of her desk. "We can hold a grudge or we can go into that vacant office back there, where most of us cops go to...have illicit meetings with our co-workers..." He motioned with his head. "And bang each other's brains out. Now, which would really make you feel better?"
"Holding a grudge." Abigail had a ready answer. "And ewww...that desk back there has seen more action than the back seat of a WWII jeep."
"What do you know about the back seat of a WWII jeep?" Brass shook a woeful head.
"My dad told many a tale...to my brothers." She lifted a superior smirk. "I just happened to be listening innocently on the other side of the door, Mr. Know-it-All Cop Guy."
Brass was impressed. "Want to share a few of those tales?" he asked pleasantly. "Might help to set the mood."
"There's not need to set any mood." She was relatively positive. "That ship has sailed into the freaking iceberg."
Brass held his smile. "That's too bad. My cock is just so hard right now, what with me sitting here looking down your blouse for the last few moments." He continued his past time.
The girl gasped, leaning from her position, her expression one of effrontery. "I did not give you permission to look down my blouse!"
"I didn't ask it." he lifted noble brows. "But just in case you're wondering? I really liked what I saw."
She...settled. "You did?"
He nodded slowly. "Very...very much."
"Oh." she wasn't quite ready to forgive just yet, he sensed. "Well, I didn't know you were doing that or I certainly...wouldn't have let you."
Brass shrugged. "Then I'm glad I waited to tell you."
She frowned up at him.
"You're wise not to go into that room with me, though." He cocked his head, his smile a pleasant one. "Cause I was going to spank your ass good for what you put me through in that car today. Wonder what my handprint would have looked like on your ass cheek...bet it would have turned me the hell on...more than I am right at this exact moment, I mean."
"You wouldn't dare!" her mouth fell agape. "What...Neanderthal behavior!"
"Yeah." Brass nodded his agreement. "Totally."
Abigail swallowed...hard. "...But...you wouldn't have...really..right?"
Those green eyes lifted, wide and innocently inquiring.
He lifted his ass off her desk, his look a confidently smug one. "...One way to find out." He walked away, holding his smile.