Day of Reckoning

"Sometimes, the best way to help someone is just to be near them." ~ Veronica Roth

May 2013. Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport, Arlington County, Virginia.

With a heavy sigh, David Rossi grabbed his go-bag from the overhead luggage bin, quietly waiting as the line moved forward, bringing him one step closer to home. Nevada had been hell; he'd sat in the Lovelands' living room as they'd held each other and wept at the news that their sweet Janie would truly never be coming home. Of course, they wanted to see the body—David understood that, understood the need to truly see and truly know that it was their girl, but he'd quietly told them that since Janie's body had been exposed to the elements for so long, it was best that they didn't see her. For the thousandth time, he'd asked himself what he would do in that situation—would he still insist to see the decayed remains, to be secure in the knowledge that his loved one was really gone, only to be haunted by the fact that it would be his last image of that person? He still didn't know the answer.

Once they deboarded the plane, he easily moved past the slower-moving passengers on the jetbridge, his legs relishing the ability to finally stretch their cramped and sore muscles. Of course, the main reason for his hurried pace had nothing to do with his legs—the quicker he moved, the sooner he would be back in Erin's arms.

He'd spoken to her just before his flight had taken off, and they'd decided that he would come to her house, since it was closer to the airport. The idea of her quietly waiting on the couch for him filled David with a soft warmth, and his entire being ached to be near her again.

As he exited the gate, he realized with sudden clarity that there must be a God above, and He must certainly love David Rossi.

Erin was standing anxiously in the waiting area, her face filling with an odd mixture of delight and concern when she saw him. He simply went to her, dropping his bag next to their feet as he wrapped his arms around her, taking a deep breath as he inhaled the familiar scent of her hair.

"I couldn't wait the extra hour," she whispered into his shoulder, referring to the time it would take for him to get from the airport to her front door.

"I'm glad," he admitted, planting a fierce kiss atop that blonde head. She turned her face up to meet his and they shared a quick, chaste kiss.

She grabbed his bag with her left hand as her right quietly slid into his own hand. David smiled at the gesture—it was simply another way for Erin Strauss to feel that she was taking care of her love, and truly, her gentle attentiveness was comforting.

She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as they wove their way through the crowd, offering a small smile as she whispered, "Let's get you home, my love."

David gave a tired, grateful smile at the statement, his heart softly singing with the sweet knowledge that home was no longer a place, but a person, and with her fingers wrapped around his own, he was already home.

Quantico, Virginia.

Dr. Spencer Reid stared at the wood grain pattern on the tabletop, his mind traveling down paths that he'd wandered incessantly for weeks now. There has to be something I'm missing. There has to be.

Reid's brown eyes traveled back to the envelope. The date on the postmark was their start date—and all other dates and events seemed to rotate around it, like a little temporal solar system. Rossi's birthday was three days ago. They were now exactly six days away from the six-week mark, and twenty days away from the eight-week mark, which really meant it was a total guessing game when it came to deciding how much time was left before the big event.

Hotch had told them to explore every option, but the more they tried, the more everyone seemed to agree that the invisible ink note was a precursor to some impending event, and Blake's invitation theory had prevailed. But an invitation to what?

Everything means something, even if it just means that it means nothing at all. Gideon had taught him that, and at first, Spencer had dismissed it as just another one of those odd sayings the FBI was so fond of quoting. Over the years, he'd realized the shining gem of truth among the contradictory words—one has to analyze every single detail in order to ensure that it truly has no meaning.

He did some quick mental math, and came up with his two dates—one for six weeks, one for eight weeks. Pulling out his cell phone, he did an internet search for holidays and historic events that fell on those dates. Grabbing a pen and notepad from the table, he jotted down a list of significant items, further researching the more mundane or archaic holidays, just to make sure that they didn't hold some significance.

Aaron Hotchner appeared in the doorway, his face lined with gentle concern as he asked, "How long have you been here?"

"Not long enough," Reid replied irritably. "I'll still haven't figured out what his plan is."

Hotch didn't have to ask who "he" was. "He" was the only other topic of conversation that his team seemed to discuss, aside from their current cases. Part of Aaron Hotchner hated that this UNSUB had taken away the casual camaraderie between his agents, the small comfort of being able to just talk about nothing, to allow them to unwind and recharge after the events of their day, but another part of him knew that the team's determination and single-mindedness was what made them good at their jobs, and eventually that would be what ended the Replicator's reign of terror.

"I know you're our resident genius, but catching this guy isn't solely your responsibility," he quietly reminded the younger agent.

Reid turned back to him, looking even younger with his crooked tie and his forlorn expression as he spoke in a heartbreakingly small voice, "But that's what I do, Hotch. I find the patterns that no one else can see. That's what I'm here for. If I can't do that, then what's the point?"

Aaron wanted to reassure Reid that the team valued him as more than just their own personal walking encyclopedia, to remind him that no one expected him to solve the entire case on his own, but he knew that the young doctor would only disagree more vehemently, so he simply crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the doorframe as he said, "Well, what've you got so far?"

Spencer turned back to the board, frowning as he organized his thoughts. "Garcia and I have the disposal sites narrowed down to three locations—the other sites have changed too much for our UNSUB to find them useful."

"And local PD has searched the sites and found nothing so far," Hotch added.

Reid sighed, "Which isn't surprising, considering the fact that we have no idea what they're supposed to be looking for."

"Maybe whatever we're supposed to find hasn't been dropped off yet," Hotch straightened his posture again, like a setter on-point as something in his mind clicked.

"It's possible," Reid said slowly, trying to figure out what was running through his unit chief's mind.

"When Haley and I sent out wedding invitations, the planner sent out an RSVP reminder two weeks before the wedding, for all the guests who hadn't responded yet," the older man continued. Then he gave a quick shake of his head, "I'm not sure that's what our UNSUB will do, but it's possible that he will send us something at least a week before the event. Yesterday would have been a week before the six-week mark. Let's re-contact all the local PD and have them look again today and next Saturday as well, since that will mark two weeks before the eight-week date."

Reid nodded in agreement, rifling through the stack of papers on the table to find the phone numbers for each police department. "If there isn't anything there today, that could mean that we are definitely looking at an eight-week time period."

"It could," Hotch agreed. "Or he could simply be lulling us into a false sense of security, or our theory is incorrect."

"I've looked at the two dates for each time frame," Reid added, glancing over at his notepad. "So far, neither seems to have any obvious significance, but I'll keep looking."

He found the contact information for each police department closest to a corresponding disposal site, dialing the first number and then handing the paper to Hotch, who already had his phone out as well.

"Good job on the RSVP connection," Reid commented before pressing the send button on his phone.

"We don't know if it's an actual connection yet," Hotch warned as he dialed the second number on the list.

"Well, it's more than we had before," the younger man reminded him.

Silently, Aaron Hotchner wondered if it was enough.

Vienna, Virginia.

David Rossi took a deep breath as he pressed the door bell at Erin's front door, swallowing another wave of nervousness as he glanced up at the clear blue sky. It felt weird, standing on her front doorstep like an awkward first date, when he'd spent so much (highly enjoyable) time here over the past few days.

Today was the day of reckoning. Anna was graduating high school tomorrow, and so Erin and her children were celebrating with a low-key day of grilling by the pool—and the trio of Strauss offspring had decreed that it would be the perfect time for everyone to get to meet Mother's Italian Lover (that was the moniker that her darling witty children had given David, using it as often as possible in casual conversation, mainly because they knew it aggravated their mother to no end).

It wasn't the first time that he'd dated a woman with children, but it was the first time that the children were all almost adults (something he'd never mention to Erin, for fear she would think that he was calling her old), and it was also the first time that he desperately wanted to be liked, because it was the first time that he'd entered a relationship with every intention of making it last.

He took a moment to glance back at the other vehicles parked in the driveway—the brightly colored Dodge Neon SRT4 with the spoiler and flashy rims was obviously Christopher's, and the hunter-green Jeep had to belong to Jordan (the EMILY's List bumper sticker was the final clue)—as he tried to profile the personalities depicted by the cars.

He heard the indistinct call of Erin's voice on the other side, heard someone shuffling behind the door. Then the door opened and his lover's smiling face appeared, looking slightly flustered.

"Everything alright?" He asked, only mildly concerned.

"I had to run to beat them to it," she admitted, her hand brushing back the hair that fell in her face. She stepped onto the front doorstep, closing the door behind her as she added, "I wanted to have a moment alone with you before I lead you into the lion's den."

"You make your children sound thoroughly charming," he quipped dryly and she laughed before leaning forward to kiss him. "Besides, I've met Anna, and she seems nice."

"She's my good one. I can't make any guarantees on the other two," Erin admitted. Noting his expression, she assured him, "They already love you and they haven't even met you yet."

"Maybe they love me because they haven't met me yet," he returned playfully, kissing her again, and Erin felt there might be a wave of fear behind his jokes.

Her fingers lightly smoothed across his chest as she warned, "They will—they will try to rattle you, but not in a malicious way. It's just how they are."

"Well, let's hope Mother's Italian Lover is up to the test," he grinned again as she rolled her eyes at the title.

"I should never have told you that," she sighed. "Your ego certainly didn't need the boost."

"It ain't ego if you really are awesome," he reminded her, and this earned him another eye roll. He could tell that her exasperation was mainly feigned, so he pulled her close, covering her mouth with his own one last time. His voice became softer as he asked, "You ready for this, bella?"

Erin felt another wave of nervousness pass through her entire body, but she plastered on a bright smile as she opened the door again, pulling him into the house.

"Only one way to find out."

Her smile faded when she turned away from him, leading him to the backyard, where her children were waiting—where Christopher was waiting, completely oblivious to just how significant this moment would be in his life, in all their lives. She felt another quiver of fear in her gut at the thought. What if David immediately recognized the similarities between the young man and himself? What if he did some simple math and figured it out, here, now, like this? What if Chris had some flash of perception? What if Jordan or Anna noticed the resemblance, what if they commented on it?

Only one way to find out.

Jordan and Christopher Strauss were already in the pool, conferring quietly as they awaited the return of their mother and the infamous David Rossi. Anna was seated on the edge of the concrete, her long legs dangling in the water, and from her higher vantage point, she was the first to see movement from inside the house. Silently, she nudged Jordan with her foot.

Her older sister sat up, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of David. The French doors opened and Erin walked out onto the patio, followed by a dark haired man whom they instantly recognized from the dust jackets of the true crime novels in their mother's library.

"Let the games begin," Chris murmured, just loud enough for Jordan to hear, as they waded towards the ladder, coming out of the pool to officially meet this familiar stranger. His sister shot a mischievous grin over her shoulder at him—they weren't going to make David Rossi feel unwelcome, but they also weren't going to let the opportunity to make their mother squirm pass by without taking advantage of it.

David took a moment to size up the two young adults moving towards him. Jordan was shorter, with her mother's curves and wide green eyes (darker than Erin's but still a lovely hue). She had tattoos on each wrist, one on her foot, and her hair was dyed a bright red that made her look like a character from a comic book or video game. Christopher was much taller, with naturally dark hair and dark brown eyes that set him apart from his sisters, though his facial features marked him as Erin's child. Jordan wore a welcoming smile, but Chris' expression was schooled into one of mild boredom.

"Jordan, Christopher, this is David Rossi," Erin placed her hand on the small of David's back, silently reassuring him.

The three exchanged handshakes and brief greetings. By now, Anna had slipped up to the group, smiling at David as she said, "It's nice to see you again, Agent Rossi."

"You, too, Anna," he returned her smile. "And please, call me David."

"I'm sure Mom told you that we've really been looking forward to meeting you," Jordan's green eyes bounced to her mother's face and back to David's again.

"Same here," he commented.

"Well, now that we've met, let's get all the awkward questions out of the way," Christopher announced, taking a moment to exchange a veiled glance with his eldest sister before turning his dark eyes back to the older man. "What exactly are your intentions towards our mother dearest?"

Erin's face turned beet red, "Christopher Strauss—"

"It's a valid question," he retorted.

"We basically want assurances that you're not the hit-and-run type," Jordan informed David, which only increased Erin's chagrin. "Because we would be honor-bound to avenge her, you see."

"I regret ever wanting children," Erin groaned, clutching her forehead.

Despite the blonde's embarrassment, David Rossi was having a great time. He laughed at the mock-seriousness of the two faces standing before him—they were obviously testing him, seeing if he could roll with their punches, and he immediately decided that he liked these two partners-in-crime, with their blunt statements and quick wit (which they got from their mother, he knew).

"And how exactly would honor be served—just for future reference?" He asked.

The two glanced at one another again, silently communicating before Chris stated, "That would depend on the nature of the offense."

"I see," David's grin deepened. He continued to play along, placing a hand over his heart as he assured them, "I have only the purest intentions."

"Oh, let's not keep them too pure," Jordan quipped.

"Jordan Elaine!"

"What?" She feigned innocent confusion.

The phone rang from inside the house, and Erin gave her offspring one last warning glance before stating, "I'll be right back."

The remaining four people watched her walk away. David turned his attention back to the bright-eyed, quick young things that were still watching him with the interest and skill of seasoned profilers. He could tell from their body language that they were still open, welcoming him into their little world, and the nerves that had been fluttering around in his stomach since that morning disappeared. They liked him. At least for now.

"Perhaps you should go easy on her," he commented, though his grin belied his concern.

"Ah, she's a tough ol' broad," Chris waved away the thought.

"It's payback for all the embarrassing question-and-answer sessions she used to have with all of our dates," Jordan added.

"Used to have?" Anna piped up, arching her eyebrow. "I still have to suffer the inquisition every time I even mention a guy's name."

"That's because you're still her innocent little lamb," Chris cooed, pinching his sister's cheek as if she were still an infant. She swatted him away with a dark scowl.

"Anna is her last hope of not raising a complete hellion," Jordan quipped, turning back to David with a smile. Her expression became softer as she returned to their earlier vein of conversation, "Seriously. Don't hurt her. She's still a bit fragile, although she'd die before admitting it."

David smiled at the assessment as Christopher spoke, finishing his sister's thought, "Mom wouldn't have let us meet you if she didn't think this was serious. We want her to be happy, but we also need you to understand what today means for her."

Erin's three children stared solemnly back at him, and David was actually touched by their concern (silently thankful that her kids really did adore her, the way he'd hoped they did). Like their mother, they apparently didn't believe in pulling punches, so David paid them the simple courtesy of being honest in return.

"I've known your mother for a very long time," he began.

"Almost thirty years," Jordan supplied.

He nodded, "Almost. And for most of that time, she was a good friend and a good colleague. I cared about her then, and I care even more deeply for her now."

"So deeply that you might even love her?" Anna's voice went up another notch, pressing the issue just a little bit further.

"Too far, Anna Claire," Jordan warned quietly. Erin was right—the older two apparently knew which lines not to cross. Anna had the excuse of still being a child.

The French doors opened again and the lady in question reappeared, quietly moving back to David as she commented dryly, "Well, I see they haven't ripped you apart completely."

"They were just asking if I love you," he answered easily, noting the silent glances exchanged between the three Strauss children.

"Oh? And what did you tell them?" She asked lightly, feigning concern.

"Nothing. You interrupted us."

"Then it looks like our secret's safe," Erin grinned. She turned back to her children, "Has the man passed whatever gauntlet you've devised, my clever dears?"

The two eldest Strauss progeny exchanged a quick glance. Then Christopher turned back to the older man, his face still serious, "Final question. Do you know how to operate a grill?"

Quantico, Virginia.

Spencer tossed the notepad back on the table with a sigh, slipping his cell phone into his back pocket as he announced, "That was the Carlin PD. They checked the site; they found nothing."

Aaron Hotchner simply gave a curt nod, his stomach sinking with the feeling that they were just on another wild goose chase, led astray by the Replicator in an attempt to distract them from his next move. All three police departments had called back to say that the Replicator hadn't left any obvious clues behind at the disposal sites, and it felt like they'd hit another dead end (despite Reid's insistence that it could mean that the UNSUB truly was operating on an eight-week time frame).

"I don't like this," Hotch admitted, those four words holding the fear and frustration of so many weeks.

Spencer let out a long sigh, his eyes traveling back to the boards, "Me, either."

Vienna, Virginia.

"No, no, that's totally not how it went," Jordan's voice rose to be heard over the laughter. "Because you were the one in the dress—"

"Absolutely not. I would never do such a thing," Christopher stated, his face in a mock expression of austerity. He and his elder sister were regaling the others with tales from their wild youth (which, technically, was still happening) as they sat around the patio table.

"That's not entirely true," Erin wiped away a tear (she'd been laughing so hard that she was crying). "Jordan used to dress you up in her princess gowns all the time when you were little."

"Whose side are you on, woman?" Chris demanded, and this only made his mother laugh even harder.

"You always did make such a pretty girl," Jordan cooed, reaching over to pat her brother's face. "With your pretty eyes and your soft skin."

"Wish I could say the same for you," he retorted, and his sister merely laughed.

David sat back, watching Erin's family interact. Aside from being highly entertaining, those three bright children brought out a side of Erin that he'd never witnessed—he'd seen her laugh before, and he'd seen her smile many times, but he'd never seen her so ecstatic.

Jordan suddenly turned her green eyes to David, stating, "I bet you and Mom have some great stories—after working together for so many years, you two must've had some fun times."

Now it was David and Erin's turn to exchange cryptic glances as Erin slowly said, "Well...we didn't work together all the time—just on a few cases. And in the beginning...in the beginning—"

"We hated each other," David answered succinctly, giving a slight smile at the surprised expressions on the kids' faces. "We fought like cats and dogs most of the time."

"Well, not at first," Erin reminded him gently.

"Not until we had to spend more than ten minutes in the same room together," he corrected, and this earned him another laugh from the rest of the table as Erin merely shrugged in agreement. He leaned forward, affecting a mock-serious tone as he continued, "I know you'll find it hard to believe that your dear, sweet, docile mother could ever be anything other than her usual charming self—"

Erin cuffed him on the shoulder with a scowl as the others laughed at the sugary-sweet description.

"May I point out that I never had an issue with anyone else I've ever worked with, when I was an analyst," Erin defended herself. "Everyone else seemed to simply understand that I am always right."

Their audience laughed again. Jordan leaned forward, "So, did you two meet on a case—like one of the cases in your books?"

"Actually, we met in a bar after an office Christmas party," David replied with a small smile.

"This definitely sounds like a story we need to hear," Christopher decreed, sitting up and gesturing for the older man to continue. David glanced over at Erin, who was still smiling.

"You're gonna have to tell this story," she gave a slight wave of her hand. "I know that's how we met, but I don't remember the event itself. That whole night was a bit fuzzy."

She sat back in her chair, curling her knees to her chin as she glanced around the table at the shining faces of her children, all so eager to hear David's tale. Despite their jokes and their giddy delight at being able to embarrass their mother, they truly seemed to enjoy David's company, and that was important to Erin. She felt a slight pang as she watched Christopher listening to David—their similarities were even more striking when they were seated across the table from each other, but apparently no one else noticed. Obviously, people don't doubt things that they believe to be true, and that simple trick of human nature had kept the whole world from tumbling down around Erin this very afternoon.

Erin Strauss was never one for regret—it was useless, it didn't change the past, it only marred the present and ruined the future. But in this moment, she allowed herself the chance to think that this was how her life should have been, seated in the warm spring sunshine, with David and their children (yes theirs, because if her life's path had led her to him instead of Paul, she would have borne him many beautiful dark-eyed children, laughing and loving and happy like their father), as he quietly told them stories under the hazy afternoon sky. However, her practical mind told her if that had happened, then Jordan and Anna would not exist, and she could never regret them, not her strong daughters who reminded her of her own mother and her own self in so many ways, not the bright spirits who'd filled her life with so much love and laughter and gentle moments of motherhood that she wouldn't trade for anything.

No, she didn't regret the past. Not even the darker parts. Not even the parts that could possibly destroy all chance of future moments like this. Erin was committed to living only in this moment when it came to her life with David, because any thought of the future filled her with white-hot fear. So she simply pushed away the dark thoughts and forced herself to enjoy the peaceful moment afforded by this lazy afternoon, smiling at her lover as he talked about days so long ago.

December 1985. Woodbridge, Virginia.

"How the hell did she get here?" Special Agent Don Adams growled, clutching his fifth beer a little tighter.

David Rossi turned to see the object of his drinking companion's disdain—a young blonde with wide eyes and a nervous expression, craning a lovely neck as she searched the room for someone. She looked as if she'd come straight from the field, with her blue jeans and polo shirt beneath a clean-cut navy blazer, which barely went past the gun holstered on her hip.

"Who is that?" Rossi asked, his eyes never leaving the stranger.

"The latest addition to the Bureau's Finest and Brightest," Adams surled. "Erin Strauss."

Their other drinking buddy, Ruthie Golden, leaned forward in interest, "I've heard of her. Wasn't she tapped straight out of the Academy to join Keller's team in White Collar?"

"Yup." Adams grimaced. "She's a fast-tracker."

He made the last word sound like an insult, and in a way, it was. Fast-trackers were notoriously ruthless career-agents who wouldn't think twice about throwing a fellow agent under the bus if it meant keeping a bad mark off their own reputation.

"She doesn't look like a fast-tracker," Rossi commented, watching as she moved across the room, smiling nervously as she approached another group of agents and support personnel, mostly female. They welcomed her to their table, but when she sat down, she kept her shoulders forward, hands in her lap, self-contained. She looked as if she was ready to bolt out the door at any second.

"She is. And a total bitch to boot."

Rossi turned his attention back to Adams, who wasn't the most pleasant drunk, but usually wasn't quite so vehement or bitter. Of course, he usually didn't drink this much, either—this was the after-party for the office party, an unofficial and informal get-together with several other agents at the nearest bar, the cool-kids table of the Quantico lunch room.

"Whatsa' matter, Donnie?" Rossi wore an amused expression. "Did you make a pass and she turned you down?"

Adams next reply was completely unrepeatable.

Now Rossi and Ruthie exchanged knowing smiles, suddenly understanding the agent's ill humor. Don Adams was a hound of the worst kind, and whenever a woman rebuffed his advances (and they did so quite often), they somehow became the scum of the earth, unworthy of Don's attentions in the first place.

Adams continued mumbling into his beer, and Rossi excused himself to go talk to a cute little redhead who had caught his eye earlier in the evening.

Half an hour later, Rossi was leaning on the bar, waiting to order another round for himself and his ruby-locked friend, who was waiting patiently in a corner booth.

The Infamous Fast-Tracker appeared next to him, not really noticing him as she leaned across the bar, trying to get the bartender's attention. This gave Rossi a chance to check out her rather lovely posterior, which he gladly took.

Failing in her efforts to catch the bartender's eye, she gave a slight sigh, tapping her fingers nervously on the slick, dark wood of the countertop.

"It's gonna be awhile," David informed her, leaning in to be heard over the noise of the bar.

She jumped slightly, blushing at the realization that someone had been watching her.

"Is it always this busy?" She looked around, offering a smile as she tried to make polite conversation.

"Only around the holidays," he admitted. He motioned to the gun strapped to her hip. "Pretty brave, bringing that in here."

She self-consciously tucked her blazer closer to her body, as if shielding the weapon from his gaze. "I don't like leaving it in my car, especially in neighborhoods that I'm not familiar with."

He nodded in understanding. With his suavest of smiles, he extended his hand, "Special Agent David Rossi."

"Special Agent Erin Strauss." She smiled as she shook his hand (one firm shake, good grip, no-nonsense type).

The bartender came and took their orders, and they turned back to one another.

"I've heard of you, you know," her smile was something unreadable, almost coy, but not quite.

Knowing. It's a knowing smile. His brain found the word to describe it.

He simply feigned humility, waving away what was certain to be a litany of his greatest hits (the cases he cracked, the hard-hitting interviews he'd conducted with the world's darkest killers, the hostages he'd saved), something he'd become accustomed to hearing from wide-eyed cadets and news reporters everywhere.

"You really fucked up the negotiations down in Birmingham."

Those were not the words that he was expecting. He looked down at the smirking blonde, caught off-guard by her sudden change in gears. "Excuse me?"

She apparently thought he hadn't heard her, because she leaned in, raising her voice over the awful jukebox, "Birmingham! You really made a mess of it."

The look he gave her was priceless, and suddenly, she was howling with laughter.

"I'm sorry, I'm a little drunk," she admitted, still grinning mischievously up at the dark-haired agent. "I figured you have scores of cute co-eds singing your praises, so I thought I'd mix it up a bit."

Despite his initial shock, David found himself returning her smile. She had a little spark in her. He liked that.

The bartender set their beers in front of them. Erin quickly gathered up the ones for her table, with another smirk and a nod to his red-headed companion, "Speaking of cute co-eds, looks like you better get back to business."

Again, he couldn't help but grin at the blonde bombshell that was weaving her way through the crowd—almost a completely different person from the nervous woman who'd entered just thirty minutes earlier.

He made a mental note to find her and get her drunk in the future. That one looked like trouble, trouble indeed. And Rossi was nothing if not a sucker for a saucy broad.

*Author's Note: Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has been so kind to leave reviews so far.*