Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…
"So what sort of party is this that we're going to?" Sara asked as she downed the last drop of milk in her glass.
Catherine had fixed grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for lunch. Comfort food, she had called it. As Catherine slipped the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, she explained, "Sam's having a party. Just a bunch of tight-assed, well-to-do society types."
Sara's eyes didn't leave the blonde, "I see. And how should I dress for this shindig?"
"I'm wearing a cocktail dress. Perhaps you should wear the same," Catherine suggested.
"I won't be caught dead in a dress. I'll wear a suit. Think that'll be okay?"
Catherine gave her a wink and nodded, "Yeah, that should be fine. A dark suit, right?"
"Always," Sara cooed. "Look, we need to discuss how this will work tonight."
Sara knew that she was possibly severing the apparent truce between the two of them with this question, but she had to know how Catherine expected the evening to go. Sara was trained to deal with the unexpected, but whenever possible, she liked to avoid it.
"Just what are you asking?" The tone in Catherine's question was flat, unemotional. She was toeing the line and waiting to see exactly what Sara wanted to know before she answered.
"I'm asking how you foresee this evening going," she reiterated. "It's not a complicated question."
The blonde gave her question little consideration before she cocked her head to the side and queried, "Are you asking if I'm going there to get fucked?"
Sara's eyes didn't leave hers. "Well, I suppose I am."
Catherine snorted and threw the hand towel down on the counter before opening her mouth to answer Sara. As quickly as she opened it, she closed it. As she bounded up the stairs she shouted back, "Be ready to go by seven."
XXXXX
Catherine had made it perfectly clear. Sara was to steer clear of her at the party. She was not to approach her. She wasn't even to walk in at the same time as Catherine; she was expected to walk in a few minutes afterwards so that no one thought they were together.
So Sara stood at the bar, perched on one arm, a ginger-ale held firmly in the other. While she watched the crowd with little enthusiasm, she was careful to always keep Catherine in her line of sight.
They had been there nearly an hour when a striking young brunette approached Sara at the bar. This did not go unnoticed by Catherine, who was now engaged in a conversation with a group of people.
From across the room, she noticed the shy smile that graced Sara's lips. The younger brunette, for her part, was obviously flirting with the older woman. Catherine could only laugh inwardly at the pair from across the room. Textbook flirting was going on and Sara seemed to be indulging the younger woman.
Every few minutes, the younger woman would throw her head back and laugh. She touched Sara constantly during their flirting session.
Catherine imbibed in another glass of champagne and dismissed her father when he approached her, opting instead, to interrupt Sara and her new friend.
As Catherine approached, Sara shifted her stance and smiled in her direction. The woman who had been occupying Sara's attention for the last half hour smiled curtly and nodded as she said, "Catherine, it's good to see you."
"Jordan Meyers, will wonders never cease? How's your court case going?" Catherine asked, please with the fact that she had managed a catty, snippy remark at the young woman's expense. Catherine stood a bit closer to Sara than was absolutely necessary, their shoulders brushing against one another.
"I'll take that as my cue to leave," Jordan said as she touched Sara's arm. "Call me."
Catherine waited for the brown-haired girl to make her way across the room before reeling around to face Sara.
"Someone could have lopped my head off and you wouldn't have even noticed. That slut was all over you like some cheap…cheap…fur. You were so involved in flirting with her that you weren't even watching me. And on top of that," she pointed the glass in Sara's hand, "you're drinking."
Sara sat her empty glass down and laughed. "You've danced with two different men," she pointed each of them out. "You stood over there and talked for maybe fifteen minutes with that man and his wife. You took a glass of champagne from that waiter before Sam walked up to you. Then you came over here and insulted the young woman who was so happy to make my acquaintance." Sara leaned in closer so that her mouth was near Catherine's ear before continuing, "I notice everything. And for the record, it's only ginger ale."
Catherine, true to form, narrowed her eyes and readied herself for a fight. Sara was ready, but suddenly, the blonde looked around the room and, remembering where she was, relaxed her features, and walked away. Sara could only watch as she crossed the room, back into the waiting flock of socialites that were busy making idle and pointless conversation if only to prove their worthiness of an invite.
"Things not any better between the two of you," the deep voice boomed beside Sara.
She turned to find Sam now at her side doing as she was doing, watching Catherine.
"Being with your daughter is a bit like taking a long shower in a house full of people. Sometimes it's warm, and sometimes it's cold—just depends on whether or not someone steps in and flushes the toilet unexpectedly," she explained.
"I warned you that things wouldn't be easy. I still think you're the best person for the job, Ms. Sidle," he turned his back to the throng of guests crowded around the room and go the bartender's attention.
Reluctantly, Sara turned her back and leaned on her elbows against the bar. "I've had security cameras installed around the property and taken some other measures. Her 'profession' is certainly making things more interesting. You'll have to excuse me for saying this, but I can't believe you're accepting of her choice."
He finished his drink and then put the glass back on the bar. "What makes you think I had a say in it at all? Look," he said as he put his heavy hand on Sara's shoulder and squeezed gently, "the truth is, if I had known that damn Heather was putting all those ideas in her head, I'd have run her ass out of Vegas sooner than I did."
Sara turned to look over her shoulder and didn't see Catherine. She quickly turned, her back against the bar, and scanned the room.
"Something wrong?" Sam asked as he turned around, a new drink in hand.
Sara studied the room once more before answering quietly, "I don't see her."
He slapped her on the back and added, "Mugs is probably in the bathroom or making new business contacts somewhere."
Sara whipped around quickly in his direction, "We agreed before coming to this party that she would stay in the main room at all times and that if she needed to leave, she'd let me know."
"She's perfectly safe here. Someone would have to be crazy to hurt my daughter at my party. You're worrying for nothing, Sidle. Just relax."
Even though he was able to walk away without a care in the world, Sara felt like something was wrong. She walked toward the last group of people she had seen Catherine with and noticed a hallway with several people standing around. She smiled politely at people as she walked down the hallway and turned a corner. Over the din of the party, Sara could make out the bass of a man's voice followed by Catherine's warning that he was hurting her.
Without a second thought, Sara drew her gun and snatched the door open. She recognized the man as the one that was tied up in Catherine's office a few days earlier.
His focus on Sara and the gun aimed dead at him were enough of a distraction that Catherine was able to yank herself free of his grasp.
"Is there a problem here?" Sara said, never lowering her gun or taking her eyes off of the man in front of her.
Catherine moved behind her before speaking dismissively, "There's no problem here." Sara wasn't sure if her tone was directed at the man or her.
"There sure as fuck is a problem," he shot back. "I paid for certain services and you didn't deliver on them." He punctuated his last statement by taking a step toward Catherine, who, although she was behind Sara and Sara's gun, stepped back when she saw his quick movements.
Sara reached out, grabbed the man by his lapel, stuck the gun under his chin and swung him around—all seemingly in one swift movement—pinning him against the closest wall.
"Here's what I don't understand," she started. "I'm standing here with a gun and you're still going to jump at her like you're going to do something. We both know that you have a wife out there, so why don't you take your sorry ass back out there to her before you go back less of a man than you did before you decided to fuck with Catherine here. And trust me, I've seen how much of a man you are, there's not much I could do to make you less of one, but I certainly would have a good time doing it."
She dropped the lapel of his jacket and slowly lowered her gun and backed away from him, still keeping herself between Catherine and the bastard. She holstered her gun, but never took her eyes off of the menacing man.
Once he was safely in the hallway, he straightened his jacket and tie before glaring at Catherine. "This isn't over, Flynn. You're not always going to have your goon protecting you."
When he was safely down the hall, Sara turned to Catherine, only to be met with the blunt force of a slap to the face.
"I don't need you to stick your nose into every little disagreement I have. I wouldn't have even had to deal with him tonight if it hadn't been for you the other night. You're…you're…just back off, okay? Just back off."
"I can't back off, Ms. Flynn."
"I know…I know…I know. You're supposed to protect me. How the hell can you protect me when all you do is make more trouble for me?" Her voice was raised, nearly shouting.
Anger was evident in Sara's voice when she barked, "Your chosen line of work makes trouble for you. That's all your doing. That's not my fault. If you weren't dealing with married men with everything to lose you wouldn't have to worry about sneaking around and hiding in dark rooms to discuss so called business matters."
Without thinking, Sara had stepped closer to Catherine, effectively putting her against a wall. Now, pressed against her, each was keenly aware of the other's presence.
"You're infuriating. You always have an answer for everything, don't you?" Catherine's voice was an octave lower. She bit her lip as she looked up at her chocolate eyed guardian.
Sara could feel her blood pounding in her ears and her heart beating feverishly in her chest. "Yeah, yeah I do. And right now," she ran her hand up the outside of Catherine's arm, feeling goosebumps rise in the wake of her fingers moving over the creamy skin, " right now, I'd like," she leaned a little further into her, "to get you out of here."
Catherine rose on her tiptoes, bringing herself closer to Sara's height, her eyes clearly darkening, even in the dim light of the room they were in. "And then what?" Her question hinted at wanting more and needing to know what Sara was playing at.
Sara brought her hand up to cup Catherine's cheek, "And then…."
Light flooded the room as they both turned to face the intruder who had flipped the light-switch. They quickly put distance between themselves.
"I am so sorry," the short woman blushed. "I was looking for my coat. I thought they were in this room. I'll just let you two," she motioned between the two of them as she smiled, "get back to whatever you were doing."
She hastily turned the light off and pulled the door shut behind her. The spell broken, neither woman moved back to their previous position.
Sara let out the breath she'd been holding in. "We should probably go back out there. Sam knows I was looking for you. Much longer and he might start to wonder if something was really wrong," she reasoned as she opened the door and motioned for Catherine to leave ahead of her.
"Sara, I…" Catherine started but was quickly silence by the hand held up and meant to silence her.
"Don't. Save us both the trouble," Sara looked down at her watch. "It's almost ten. How much longer do you want to stay?"
Catherine lowered her head and brought her hand to the back of her neck and rubbed it briefly. "We can leave whenever you'd like. It's been a long evening."
As they walked down the hall, they made sure to put more space than was absolutely necessary between the two of them. Sam nodded and raised his glass in their direction. Sara nodded in return.
Once they were in the car and had pulled out of Sam's estate, an uncomfortable silence hung in the air.
Sara never took her eyes off of the road ahead of her. She was aware of Catherine watching her and that the woman had opened her mouth several times to speak, but had quickly thought better and kept whatever thoughts she had to herself.
After a series of quick turns and weaving in and out of traffic, Catherine spoke up. "This isn't the way back to my house. Where are we going?"
"Someone is following us," the former agent stated coolly and matter-of-factly as she turned onto a road that led them out of the city.
With the glow of the neon city behind them and the bright headlights in the rearview mirror, Sara warned Catherine, "Put your seatbelt on." She looked over at the blonde who was trying to gingerly drape the belt over her lap. "Don't worry about wrinkling your damn dress. Put the belt on and tighten it."
Sara looked into her side mirrors and noticed that the car was closing in on them. "Reach into the glove box. There's a gun in there."
Catherine leaned forward as far as the cinched belt would allow and opened the box. She pulled the gun out and shut it back.
"It's loaded. Just pull the slide back…the thing on the top. All you have to do is point and squeeze the trigger."
"I'm not using a gun," she said as she attempted to hand the gun over to Sara, who was busy checking mirrors and looking over her shoulder.
"Dammit, Catherine. If they wreck us and something happens, you need to be able to defend yourself. It's easy. Squeeze the trigger. You can do this," Sara said as she put her hand over Catherine's and squeezed.
Just then, the car lurched forward.
The gun in Catherine's hands fell to the floorboard. A thunderous 'bang' echoed around the car as Sara moved the steering wheel back and forth, trying to keep them on the road.
Another nudge, and a scream from Catherine, and the back end of the car came around. Sara slammed on the brakes and continued to work the steering wheel to keep the car from spinning wildly out of control. When the car came to a rest, it was pointed back towards Vegas and the tail lights of the chasing car were growing distant in the opposite direction.
Sara took a deep breath and turned towards Catherine, who was sobbing uncontrollably. Sara released both seatbelts and pulled Catherine to her. The blonde promptly buried her head in the crook of Sara's neck.
"It's okay," Sara cooed as she tenderly rocked Cath back and forth while running her hand up and down the shaking woman's back. "Let's get you home, okay?" she asked as she pulled back.
Cath could only nod and stared out the window into the dark night. One thought careened through her head while they drove in silence back to her home—maybe she did need someone to protect her.
They pulled through the gate to her home and up the long drive to the front door. Sara rushed to the other side of the car and opened the door, helping Catherine out. She picked the gun up from the floor of the car, switched the safety back on and slid it back in the glove box before turning her attention back to the blonde she was charged with protecting.
Catherine stood, staring at her door. Something about this picture was odd. When Sara climbed the few steps to the door, she noticed what Catherine was staring at. Across the door was the carved the warning Next time we won't be so nice, bitch.