"Clare, darling," Edgar Moss gushed walking into the boardroom.
Tim was not disappointed. Edgar Moss seemed pretty milquetoast, sure, but the air, something about him screamed predator. He was about Tim's height, dark-haired, watery-eyed and soft. He wasn't quite the corporate Lecter Tim had pictured, but he seemed damn close. "Edgar, we're curious why you started your offers to buy out the Sullivan family started when Dr. Lidet was falsely accused?"
"I'm sorry. Who're you?" Tim's skin crawled slightly when Moss had his glassy eyes on him. There was no soul behind them. He'd rather have a sit-down with Boyd Crowder. Crowder had weaknesses, like Ava, while Moss's were unknown, no matter how much paper Tim had on him. And currently, Tim was watching Moss approach Clare, his hackles rising.
"This is Deputy Marshal Gutterson, Edgar. He's protecting me today," Clare said, offering her hand congenially. "How've things been?"
Moss's eyes flicked, snakelike, between them, before he took her hand, watching Tim's face. "Rather well, dear. How is life, now you're no longer running?"
"My feet appreciate it. Please, have a seat."
Moss's eyes slipped to her feet, in their heels, and Tim's jaw clenched. "Mr. Moss-"
"Yes, Deputy Marshal Gutterson, I do recall your question," Moss said grandly, sitting across from Tim. "I started moving then, Deputy -or should I call you Marshal?- Gutterson, because my competitor was vulnerable then. I have a, well, you could call it, a sense for that."
"I can see that," Tim drawled.
Jeez, Moss even smiled like a snake. "Yes, I imagine you would, Deputy. You were a sniper, yes? In the Army?"
"With the Rangers. You got a file on me?"
Moss's smile widened. "Naturally. After your office lost our Clare here, of course."
Tim returned the smile, mirthlessly.
Clare's eyes moved between them. Sensing her opening she leaned against the table, back to Tim, looking at Moss's face. "The Marshals Service would like to know about the timing of your sense, Mr. Moss. They find it curious that I could be so important..."
"Is that why I'm here?" Moss seemed delighted now.
Clare nodded, giving him her full attention, ignoring Tim, "Please explain it to him."
"Yes, Mr. Moss, please explain it to me." Clare shot him a look, he shrugged.
Moss watched them with interest, "Clare, as tiebreaker, was responsible for all decisions Graham and Brian could not agree upon. Thus, our fair doctor was responsible for much of their success. Why wouldn't I seize the opportunity to take advantage of the Sullivan's convenient, if tragic, misfortune?"
Clare nodded, "Just good business."
"The company isn't what it was though. That's what I wanted to discuss with you."
"You want to buy me out? I only have eight and a third percent of my own, the rest is-"
"Regardless, Clare, if you set the example..."
"Of selling out the family business to its major competitor?"
Moss shrugged.
Tim cut in, "So, Dr. Lidet returning to her position, that would be inconvenient for you?"
"Inconvenient, but not necessarily unwanted," Moss directed his snake gaze at Clare again, "It is lovely to have you back. We should have dinner."
Clare returned his smile, "With or without my bodyguard?"
"With. Why not?" Moss grinned. "Are you busy this evening? We can go to Sabio. We'll get my table."
Clare looked at Tim, "Are we busy this evening?"
"You have to check with him? My goodness, a life of crime has mellowed you."
Clare's chuckle was more flirtatious than polite, in Tim's opinion.
"I'll check with my chief, Mr. Moss," Tim said.
"Ok, fine. Check in. I'll have the reservations for seven regardless," Moss said. "Is that all?"
Tim nodded, still seated.
"It's great to see you, love." Moss stood and kissed Clare's cheek, touching her arm, "Call about dinner, I'll see you later. Nice to meet you, Deputy Marshal Gutterson."
"You too, Mr. Moss," Tim smiled.
Moss started out the door then turned, "It's quite refreshing how you don't hold Clare losing you in the wood's against her. It was you, wasn't it?"
"It was," Tim affirmed, lacing his fingers behind his head. "You have a great afternoon, Mr. Moss."
"Be careful, Clare," Moss warned before he left.
Tim watched the door for a moment, "Did he just warn you to be careful of me?"
"Seemed that way," she nodded, walking toward him, positioning herself against the table in front of him.
Tim slid her directly in front of him, "You were flirting with him."
"Yes," she nodded, "That's sort of how Moss and I relate."
"You were flirting with a sociopath. In front of me."
"Is this you being jealous? Because I'm kind of expecting you to lean me over this table and screw my brains out," she said conversationally.
"I am thinking of doing that, yes."
"I think we should lock that door first then."
"Clare, if you do anything that reckless again...I am going to hit you and drag you back to my cave," Tim said, holding her hips as he stood.
"Door. Locked."
"You protectee. Me marshal. Rules."
Clare leaned her forehead against his chest, "Stupid rules."
"I know."
She looked up at him, "I want you."
"Do you have to make this harder? I'm trying to be good here."
"Then we shouldn't be alone together," Clare said, leaning into his lips.
Tim agreed, sliding her onto the table, pushing her skirt up. He kissed her neck, feeling her legs wrap around him.
Clare's hands were inside his shirt, moving to his belt. She moaned as his mouth moved on her throat, unbuttoning his jeans and slipping her hand in. He bucked against her, groaning her name.
The brief knock on the door was enough time for Clare to free her hand and Tim to pull away, but Q still got a pretty good visual before he shut the door back up.
"See. Rules exist for a reason," he muttered against her lips.
She laughed, pulling her skirt down. "Not quite your 'Mad Men' fantasy?"
"Pretty close. Come in, Q."
Q opened the door slowly, his face curiously free from expression. "Um, I got those lists you asked for;" he passed them to Tim, nodding to Clare, "Welcome back, doc."
"Thanks."
Tim was distracted by the lists. "Are these recent?"
"As of this morning."
"I gotta call Art. Where's a fax machine?"
Clare pointed and slid back to sit on the table again, "So, how's things, Q?"
***
Rachel had caught a nap with Raylan keeping watch early the previous night, so she was still alert when she drove the Sullivan's back home, meeting Art at their door. "Art," she nodded to him.
"Any trouble?" Off the shake of her head Art continued, "The house is clear. I'll keep Marshals here. Two at the front door, the back and inside."
Brian nodded, watching the kids precede him into the house, and shaking Art's hand, "Thank you."
"What about Clare?" Gretchen asked. "You only have so many people, Chief Mullen. We have space for her, if that'll help."
Brian looked at his wife, "Sweetie, Clare's got a price on her head. We don't even know if what happened with my car is connected."
"She's your niece, Brian," she admonished, to Art and Rachel's amusement, "she's always welcome. Besides, really? What are the odds someone's going to blow up your car the same week Clare comes home?" She included the marshals in her question, "Well?"
Art suppressed a smile, "True, Mrs. Sullivan, but we are still investigating. As it stands, we'd like to keep you family in the home. Deputy Brooks will drop off the kids' homework before her shift is over. Deputy Nelson is inside; he'll be heading up your security tonight, if you'll follow me." Art shot Rachel a look as he led the Sullivan's in. Rachel was smirking on her way back to her car. Not her problem anymore.
***
Art approved the dinner with Moss, Tim would wear a wire to dinner and Clare would do what she was told. The new list of plates would be compared with what Tim recorded from the tapes the previous night.
But there was a glaring omission. Graham Sullivan's car.
***
Tim kept eagle eyes on Clare the rest of the afternoon at the office. She'd been camped out in Graham's office while he'd explained things like Profit and Loss statements and depreciation and all sorts of terminology Tim tuned out to watch and see if Graham Sullivan could have tried to frame his niece and kill his brother.
Graham wasn't terribly Lecter-ish, like Moss. But he was attentive. Tim had noticed it here years ago, when Graham had been the one to smirk at Tim and say Tim had a bit of a crush and how it was too bad Clare was just like Maggie. Tim had figured it was more to screw with him, implying they both were attractive to lawmen. The whole reason Tim had kept his distance from Clare in his office had been her uncles. If they thought they could play Tim's attraction to Clare, they were in for a rude awakening. Something he knew he should keep in mind for Moss later.