Chapter Thirteen:
Buffy sat across from Angel at a table in one of the nicer restaurants in town. She couldn't help but look around her nervously, her eyes scanning the faces of the men around her, wondering if one of them could be the man who was going to try to take her.
"Stop being so nervous," Angel laughed, reaching out and taking her hand, though he too scanned the faces around them. He picked out the plains clothes detectives though, knowing each one of them, since he hand picked them for this detail.
"I just can't believe you brought me out to dinner," she said, picking up the glass of wine he'd ordered her and taking a sip of the bright fruity liquid. "I figured once I got off those steps I'd never see the sun again until he's behind bars."
"Well, enjoy it," Angel sai then grinned. "We're eating on the department tonight."
The waitress stepped up as if waiting for his cue, her pad and pencil ready, a huge smile on her lips as her eyes took him in. They settled on Buffy for a moment before sliding right over her as if she were no threat, and gifting him with a huge, toothy grin, pushing her shoulders back a little more to make the buttons of her white blouse gape over her breasts. "What can I get for you?" she gushed, her voice practice sexy as if she thought every syllable out, dedicating her life to making it sound like sin on toast.
Before Angel could answer, Buffy spoke up, her voice full of sweetness. "Oh, my honey, is that a hair in your drink?" She reached out, acting like she was pulling something out of his glass, holding it up. "Oh, it must be yours," she said to the waitress. "It's dyed." From the table just behind her, Buffy heard Lindsey snort into his drink, choking on the alcoholic fluid. She smiled up at the waitress, batting her eyes at her while Angel hid his own smile. "I think we could use a moment or two more," he said to the red faced girl who glared at Buffy as she walked away.
"You may want to watch your food," Lindsey said from behind his napkin as he leaned back in his chair as if taking a deep breath.
"Want to switch with me?" Buffy asked him, elbowing him lightly in the back as he crowded her some.
"I really don't think so," he snorted before moving back towards his table.
"You two have gotten close," Angel said, trying to make it sound like idle conversation as he perused his menu.
"Well, him being the short stick and all, we've both kind of been bored." Buffy settled her elbows on the table, settling her chin down on her hands and looking at him. "So what kind of fun thing are we going to do after this, go for a walk down a dark alley? Head out to the nearest biker bar? I know, tie me up and plop me down on the tracks to play the Pay The Rent game?"
"Buffy," Angel began, his voice low.
"I know. I signed up for this, it's just a little nerve wracking knowing that he could be out there and I don't know who he is. I'll be fine." She plopped open her menu staring unseeingly at the selections.
"Have you decided?" A young man's voice came from over Buffy's shoulder and she jerked, her arm hitting his hands and knocking his pad and pen out of them.
"Oh, God, I'm sorry," she said, hiding her face in her hands. She counted to ten and then looked up at Angel from under the thick fan of her lashes. She heard Lindsey snort again from behind her and wanted to turn and glare at him, but didn't. She wasn't supposed to know him. She was supposed to be here on a romantic evening out with her boyfriend, not as the department's "sitting duck" as she liked to think of herself.
"It's okay, honey," Angel said, reaching out and patting her hand. "She's a little nervous. I told her I have something important to talk to her about tonight and she's been a wreck since then."
Buffy gave him a stare that should have froze him to the spot, instead he grinned like an unrepentant little boy.
"It's the baby that does it," she said to the waiter after sending a sweet smile towards Angel. "Pregnancy makes me jumpy." She heard Lindsey snort yet again and leaned closer to the waiter. "You might want to ask the gentleman behind me if he's okay, I keep hearing him choking."
"I will, thank you," the young waiter said, blushing. "Congratulations," he turned and walked away from them, stopping by Lindsey's table to lean down and say something to him that had Linds laughing.
"You know, baby, if you keep doing this, we'll never get our food."
"I'm not very hungry," she sighed, staring around the room once more.
"But you've got to eat, love. If only for the baby's sake?"
Buffy burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist."
"It's okay," he said, grinning widely. "I love a woman who can think on her feet. Now how about some soup, you haven't eaten much today at all."
"Okay, mother," she sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically. "I'll eat, okay?"
The waiter came back and they gave him their orders, trying to act nonchalant, like a couple just enjoying a night out after work. They didn't discuss "the case" but it was there between them, like the pink elephant no one wants to admit to seeing. They talked about things that people in love discuss, family, stories of growing up, anything but work.
All the while, Buffy stared around the dining room, her hands fidgeting with her napkin, pulling apart the small hem until Angel took her hands in his. "It's okay, Buffy. There are enough cops in here to make a donut shop happy. You're safe." He took a last sip of his coffee and glanced at his watch.
"It's time?" she asked him.
He nodded.
"I just have to make a quick trip to the ladies room," she said, dropping her napkin on the table. She picked up her purse, bending to give him a fast kiss before heading to the back of the restaurant.
Angel paid the bill, pocketing the receipt and leaving a healthy tip. He was ready to go when she returned, picking up her jacket and holding it for her to slip her arms into the sleeves. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and walked her to the front of the restaurant. "Wait here," he told her. "I'm going to go get the car. I'll be right back."
The cool night air felt good on her skin after the heat of the restaurant. She sighed, staring around her, ever watchful. She saw Lindsey come out and smiled politely at him. He walked by her and stood as if waiting for a cab to come by, though she knew he'd driven his own car to the restaurant.
Every sound seemed so loud, every person who walked by her was suspect. She jumped when a hand brushed her back, turning to see a guy, probably no older than a teenager smile and give her a wink. She frowned at him, then turned to watch for Angel once more.
It happened suddenly, a party of twelve that had also been in the restaurant celebrating during a rehearsal dinner for a happy young couple, pushed out of the restaurant in a big crowd. They seemed to almost surround her, pushing her away from the stairs that led into the restaurant and out closer to the street. The car came from nowhere, it pulled up next to her, the door opening and a hand reaching out, grabbing her and yanking her into the car and across the driver's lap. The door slammed shut and the driver made to gun the engine.
Lindsey stepped out, directly in the path of the car, his badge raised, his gun drawn.
He never got off a shot. The gun was jarred from his hand by the impact of the car, landing to skitter across the pavement. His body was thrown forcibly in the air, rolling to come down hard across the hood of the car. He slammed into the windshield before being flicked off the car as the driver hit the brakes. He hit the pavement hard, hearing the snap of more bones break against the concrete. He screamed as he rolled, trying to get away from the tires of the car and felt something seem to almost pop inside of him. The pain was terrible, and he fought for consciousness for one instant in time before the blackness became unstoppable. Fuck! We've lost her! was his last conscious thought.
Angel was running before he heard the first squeal of the tires. He'd known what was going to happen as soon as the crowd of people had pushed through the door. He reached the scene just as the car was careening around the corner, hearing the screams of the witnesses with half an ear. Running over to Lindsey, he put his hand on the man's shoulder, bending down.
It didn't take much to determine that he was in bad shape. Angel grabbed his cell, radioing in for back up and for an officer down call. "Hang on, Linds," he said, squatting down next to him.
Plain clothes cops seem to come from everywhere, gathering around them. Angel growled at them, giving them crowd duties and to take statements. He could only hope that the small tracking device that they'd put in the bottom of Buffy's purse as a last resort was working and they had a team out right now following it. If not? He hated to think that far ahead.
Sirens came from the distance as the officer down call was relayed. He sent detectives to interview the crowd of people who'd stepped from the restaurant and anyone else seen on the streets, hoping someone caught a car description or a license plate number. The ambulance showed and Lindsey was carted aboard strapped to a backboard with a thick white collar around his neck. He hadn't regained consciousness. The EMTs had put oxygen on him, starting a line of saline solution as a just incase. They'd splinted his leg to keep it stationary and had him set up to a heart monitor. Angel watched as they left the scene, Lindsey's duty weapon in his hand.
How had everything gone south so fast?
She struggled, using every tool in her arsenal of self defense to get away. But he was too strong, too determined and too in control. He hit her, bloodying her nose, blacking her eye, but still she fought. Finally, he managed, while driving with one hand, to pull out a cloth, plastering it to her face, over her nose. Things grew foggy quick and she knew, from the strange smell coming from the cloth, that it was drugged with something. She tried to pull his hand away but couldn't budge it. Finally she could do nothing but give in to the darkness that pulled at her.
Her head slumped, her eyes rolled back into her head before closing and she relaxed completely against the seat.
He took a deep breath, dropping the cloth to her lap and ran his hand through his hair. He had to dump this car and do it quickly. It was a good thing he'd stolen it before checking out the restaurant earlier. Damage like this done to his own car would be hard to explain.
He drove to the small alley where he'd left his car, picking up Buffy with one arm around her waist, as if she were no more than a little drunk. Scanning the area and seeing no one, he flipped the trunk release and draped her inside, her hair falling across her face and hiding it from his sight. That was okay. He had her now. They had a lot of time to get to know each other. They had the rest of their lives.
He slammed the lid closed, taking the time to wipe out the car he'd stolen, moving the seat back so it looked like a much taller man had driven it, moving the steering wheel up a ways as if his stomach needed to fit under it. He changed the setting of the mirrors, wiped off anywhere he might have touched and then brushed a lint roller over the seats to pick up any stray hairs. He even turned the stereo system all the way up and left it on the most bible thumping Christian station he could find. That should give them a thrill when they turned on the ignition, he thought with an uncharacteristic glee.
Now, he had to get home with his prize. He was glad he'd fucked Cassie earlier, it had taken the edge off so that even this thrill ride, while having his dick hard with his success, wasn't affecting his thoughts as it usually did.
Getting back in his car, he took the time to smooth down his hair, brushing a bit of dirt off of his cheek and straightening his shirt. Then he calmly started his car, making sure his seat belt was on and left the alley. He took a long and circuitous route home, wanting to be sure that anyone following wasn't following him. Then he opened his garage door, drove the car inside and closed it behind him. Waiting until it was fully down, he opened his car door and got out, hitting the release on the trunk as he stepped up to it. He let it pop open on his own, glancing behind him to check out the windows of the garage.
"Okay, you son of a bitch. Back up and put your hands on your head!"