ROUGH AND READY

Phoenix, Arizona – The Clarendon Hotel

Noon


"This has to be it. Look at all the Mercedes' and Bentley's. He's got the place booked for a hundred or more of his closest friends tonight."

Carter took a drag of his cigarette, eyeing up the hotel front at a distance with Shane. "Think we'll get a room?"

"Of course. We have mafia connections all the way from Brooklyn."

He smirked, "Ah yes, dearest Valentino..."

"Good ole' Tony," she replied, dialing her phone without a hitch.

Sands snored in the far back of the truck, while Andy worked surveillance of the hotel's perimeter. Shane waited for the ever-pronounced and protected three rings, before she heard a gruff and impatient, "What, hello?"

His thick accent, especially when turned to speakerphone, left them all completely humored.

"Tony. It's Shane. I need your help, ASAP."

"Shanie? Baby girl, what in God's name could ya need from me nah?"

"I need your connection, your irrepressible name."

"For what? Guns? I'm out of that now whole thing, little Sands."

"No, not guns. We have plenty of those. I need a hotel room."

There was a silent pause and a loud, grumbling stretch from the far back seat as they all turned to watch Sands wipe the drool from his mouth. When Tony spoke again, it was amid the shuffle of Sands to the front of the truck, as soon as he heard the voice.

"Where are you?"

"We're in Phoenix."

Sands threw himself to the seat space beside Andy, blindly shoving him and his computer equipment aside.

"Move your ass, Radio Shack."

Miles rolled his eyes and gave him space, as he leaned over where he heard Valentino's voice emitting from.

"Tony."

"Yeah, what?"

"It's Sands, man."

"There's my boy! What the fuck are you and your sister doing twisted up out in Phoenix?"

He sighed, scratching his five o'clock shadow roughly, "We're on Jimmy Tuzla's tail again."

There was dead silence, then a grunt and a slamming fist of gold jewelry to a marble countertop. Sands and Shane knew the sound well.

"That goddamn prick still owes me for getting his ass out of the clink in '82."

"Well, he's about to have his ass blown off. Shane's right, we need a room."

Shane interjected, "He's got the place booked, Tony. But your name will get us in."

"Alright, alright. Fuggetaboutit, I'll take care o' it. Just give me a few minutes."

There were smiles and gratitude when they hung up. Sands' slumped back against the leather seat, drawing out a fresh cigarette and listening to the sound of Carter and Shane's plotting. They had the entire hotel mapped out, and predicted that the soiree would most likely be taking place on the 'oh so quaint', multimillion dollar, rooftop lounge. Thanks to the Rolling Stones and a few trashed couches by Steven Tyler's posse, it's what the Clarendon was famous for.

It didn't take Tony long, ten minutes tops, to book them a suite on the top floor, as near to the rooftop entrance as was physically possible. With mock wigs, hats and mustaches, they checked in under assumed names, all of which were heavily mafia related.

They made it to their room. They set up as many taps as they could with retained conspicuousness. And while Sands rested off the exhaustion from his wounds and heavy, empty heart, Shane and Andy ran off to gather up the proper attire they would need from a boutique in downtown Phoenix.

Stretched across the bed, Sands held Shane's phone in one hand and a Corona in the other, just waiting. It had been three hours since he'd heard from her. She had promised to call when she got settled with that 'Agent Smith' in their San Francisco hotel room. The thought of which alone, made his already aching, bleeding gut swell with agony, jealousy, hatred toward every pair of balls in existence beside his.

He was soothed only by the bed beneath him, the air conditioning, and the sound of water running by Carter in the bathroom mixed with the vibration of the phone, when it finally rang two hours later. He was quicker to answer than ever before.

"Hello?"

"Jeff. It's me."

He sat up quick, jolting with the pain, "God, you had me nervous."

"Why? I'm fine, we just checked into a room."

"A room, a single room? With him?"


From merely across the street, at the doorway of a dress shop, Lily stared at the impending height of the hotel, the phone pressed tenderly to her ear as she listened to the reacting jealousy in his voice. Only she knew, that it was more than pointless.

"Yes, one room. He's not allowed to keep me out of his sight. It's his job."

"Well he better keep his hands off you while you're in his line of vision."

"Trust me. It's not an issue."

She smiled lightly in spite of the situation at hand and threw her shade covered eyes to Tommy, walking back in her direction from the hotel. He had assured her he had connections with some ex-drug lord back in the Bronx, some oddball Italian named Curly Gallo. She had laughed at first, but was grateful to know that all of his undercover, 'poltergeist' work over the years, had lent him the right names and contacts when it was needed.

He stepped past her with a consciously safe hand on her cheek before moving into the tux store. Lily turned back to her conversation when she heard his voice again.

"Is he there with you now?"

"Why?"

"'Cause I wanna know what you're wearing over those pretty little bandages of yours."

She laughed and leaned against the window of the shop, "You really are desperate aren't you?"

"More than you'll ever know."

Lily sighed, pushed her aviators higher, and tapped her boot on the cement before replying in a coy whisper.

"I'm wearing nothing but black lace. Just for you," she teased, wishing that in actuality, she was wearing nothing but lace, lying underneath of him, a hundred miles from this desert wasteland.

"I do love you in lace, Mrs. Sands."

The name alone was enough to make her cry, but she held tight, "Don't I know it."

"I wish I was where you are. I'd be tearing through every scrap of that lace with my teeth. I'd kiss and lick every single, fiery inch of you, Lil. Right down to your sweet, wet cu--"

"Lily."

Her concentration, which was ever hot and bothered without the assistance of the midday Arizona sun, was broken when Tom poked his head out of the shop.

"Come on, we got to hurry."

She nodded, gulped back her twisted thoughts from public view, and heard Jeff again.

"Lily? You there?"

"I'm here. But I have to go."

"What are you talking about? What else do you have to do but wait around for me?"

She paused, thinking fast on her feet, literally so. "My mom's calling in. I need to make sure she's okay and not freaking out. I'll call you back. We'll finish this then."

He sighed tiredly and left her with a mere, "Love ya,"before she hung up and went inside to find Tommy.


The Clarendon Hotel – 7:20 PM


At the top of the world, where no one could see what existed in room 1206, four agents were getting dressed for an event that had been too long coming, and one that for two agents, a brother and his little sister, was going to be the settled score of a lifetime, honestly. This was the night they had begged to have for nearly eight years.

It was a night of vengeance.

"Hold still, will you?"

Sands shifted his weight against the bathroom counter, letting Shane nearly choke him in the process of fixing his bolo tie. He wasn't much for this part of the job, the 007 part. It was too cheesy, even for him and his fake mustache collection.

"I'd like to breathe, some time tonight."

He hacked up what sounded like a hairball and she laughed, finishing with a pat on his chest and a button of his coat breast.

"Here," she grasped a pair of brand new black Ray Ban's from the marble counter and placed them in his hands, "I found these in town. They're classier looking than your other ones. Early birthday present."

"Aviators?"

"You know it," she teased, moving them up to replace the older ones. "There."

Shane stood back and took a look at him. He could be handsome when he actually tried. Although she was sure that the rugged, roughneck look was what Lily and every other woman in the world had gone for to begin with anyway.

"You look good, but now you need a disguise."

"Don't think the tux and shave is enough for me?"

Shane sighed with a laugh, ignoring the way he stroked his chin so suggestively and she began tearing through his case of faux facial hair and paints.

"Who do you want to be? Dali or Dr. John?"

He chuckled and felt around on the counter for his discarded jeans. When he found them, he pulled something from the back pocket and then dropped it into Shane's hand.

"Glue that one on."

She took a quick look at it and gave an odd smile before glancing up at his content face.

"Going for the Burt Reynolds look, huh?"

He smiled as she began painting the glue to the hair.

"It's the one Lily picked in Vegas. She said I looked like a young Waylon Jennings."

He tilted his face back as Shane pressed the mustache under his nose, tickling his nostrils with misguided hairs.

"Yeah, I can see that." As it dried, he let his face fall back down again, stroking it on purpose to frighten Shane. To which she only replied, "If Waylon ever starred in a 70's porn film, maybe."

He laughed and shuffled around on the counter for his smokes.

"You want a beauty mark too, 'Oh great Watasha'?"

"No. Give me my Stetson and I'll be good to go."

Shane reached for the black cowboy hat across the counter, toyed with the feather on it for a minute and then tossed it in his lap. He propped it on his head, stood tall in his shiny black boots, all black suit, with a sterling silver bolo tie on his neck, that insane mustache, aviators and a ten gallon hat. She couldn't help but to laugh at him.

"You put Billy the Kid to shame, bro."

He gave a twisted smirk, tipped the front of his hat in the direction her perfume was wafting from, and whispered with a husky twang, "Thank you little lady." Then he adjusted the waistband of his pants, tucked both of his semi-automatics into the pockets of his dress jacket, and aimed for the doorway he could sense by the noise from outside of it.

"Now if you don't mind," the western drawl concluded, leaving Shane breathless with laughter, "I've got me some Brooklyn hogs to tie up."


Boston, MA – Jeff's Apartment

July 13th, 1994


"Ready?"

He could hear her voice echoing from the bathroom and could barely contain the need to get up from the bed, rip the door off the hinges and take her right there in the middle of the floor. But he held back, nearly punched his hardened pants just to keep control, and let her have her fun.

"Ready, baby."

The knob on the door turned, creaked open to reveal only darkness within, and then from the jaws of the blackness, slipped out a single leg. Attached to this leg, was a single, strappy, silver stiletto. And while Jeff tried to repeat those details a hundred times over in his mind without letting his brain stutter, his eyes were caught in a whirlwind.

Lily's single leg caressed the doorway panel, making him altogether jealous of his apartment along with everything else she'd ever touched in the world. Her shoe hit the wood floor as she carefully slithered from out of the darkness, the silver sparkles of her thigh split dress, dancing everywhere in the moonlight of the bedroom. When he finally saw her face, it was half hidden by fiercely painted on red lipstick and a perfectly twirled blonde wig, making his cock jump with a hunger unlike anything before it.

And that's when she began to sing.

"Happy Birthday to you…"

She walked like grace and sex in a fist fight, clear across his bedroom.

"…Happy Birthday to you…"

Her hands roved over the skin tight sequins of her plunging dress in ways that made him sick with need. She stepped in front of the bed where his legs dangled off the edge and his fingers tingled with the ache to touch her.

Her hands rubbed his legs, reaching for the bulge she saw within his black dress pants. Her lips came within a centimeter of his, and with a pouty, twisty sort of whisper, she finally hummed, "…Happy Birthday Mr. President…"

He choked with a laugh when she winked at him through heavy makeup and then crawled onto his lap completely. Lily held his face and brought her lips down to his ear, concluding with a slide against his firm mid section.

"…Happy Birthday…to you."

He wrapped his arms around her as tightly as could be managed, pulled back on her face and brought her directly to his lips, sucking at the cherry flavored gloss until his were the same shade. Lily laughed at him even as he turned her over and tossed her into the middle of the bed, dress pushed out of the way, legs forced as far as they would go to allow his hips all the access they desired, and two 'strappy silver stilettos', grinding into his back.

Before he pulled his firm and dripping cock from his pants, he hovered over her mouth, never letting her eyes look away from his, and whispered softly.

"Thank you, Miss Monroe. But…"

She giggled as he tore off the wig to reveal her flowing and spritzed curls, the ones she'd spent two hours working on just to take him out to a nice birthday dinner.

"…Can I have my girlfriend back now?"

Lily leaned up on her elbows to reach his mouth again.

"Come and get her."


Suite #1205 – 7:48 PM


"Lily? You done?"

There was no answer, so he knocked again.

"Lil?"

"Just a second. One more pin."

Tom laughed and leaned on the doorway of the bathroom, trying to remember the night he'd driven home from Boston with Jeff so he could take her to prom. He tried to remember the night of her high school graduation, when he'd nearly fallen asleep waiting for her to finish doing her makeup. And then he remembered the night of her 21st birthday, two months before the world ended, when she had spent almost 6 hours getting ready, so that Jeff could carry her out of Flynn's with green cheeks anyway.

"Okay," she whispered as she turned the knob and walked out, catching him laughing over something. "What do you think?"

Tom could only smile, soundly. There wasn't much else he could do. Not with how she looked.

Her dress, the one she'd chosen faster than anything else he could ever remember before it, was a short cocktail dress, but no less classy for that matter. It was blue, but more than that, it was the same shade as the early evening sky outside. Everything plunged, same as the little black dress she'd worn back in Tampa, the one he'd never seen. The front was at ground zero, the back matched and all of it sent his head reeling, in the most respectful and protective of ways.

Tom knew he'd be on edge the rest of the night, watching her like a hawk.

Lily did a little spin and the curls in her dark hair danced on her shoulders with a bounce or two.

"Well? Am I mafia worthy?"

He chuckled and took her hand, twirling her a second and third time just for the effect it had on his melted heart. His little sister wasn't twenty-one anymore. She wasn't sixteen, or nine, or two anymore. She was a grown woman, right there, before his very eyes. It was as if he had blinked in the hallway of his mother's house, leaning on the bathroom door, waiting for her to get ready for her 21st at Flynn's, and everything had jumped to her 29th from there.

"Are you speechless, Tommy?"

Lily stopped spinning to look up at him, to admire him in his pressed tux, and saw a sparkling sort of glow in his eyes.

She gulped sadly, "You're crying."

"What?" He rubbed his eyes, "No. I'm not."

She knew, but didn't push it. Instead, she offered him a tissue from the bathroom and hugged him with a squeeze.

"It's okay. We'll get him and you can go back to rolling your eyes at me when I take too long."

He laughed and wiped his eyes, then tossed the tissue aside, hugged her quick once more and sat her down on the bed of the room as he went through the logistics of everything. He handed her a small handgun, and instructed her on how to keep it tapered in the leg holster he'd given her.

"Just make sure none of these pricks cops a feel at your leg, and you should be fine."

She half smiled and examined the gun, "When I use it, will it be loud?"

"No, it's a quiet little thing. As long as the door to the room is shut and you press it hard enough to their gut, it'll take care of business without alerting the Feds."

Lily nodded and slipped it into the holster under her dress. Then Tom handed her a familiar old sort of friend.

"This is so that I can hear--"

"Don't worry," she cut him off, took the bud and pinched it into her ear beneath her curls. "I'm well established with the inner workings of CIA communication."

Tom shook his head with a soft laugh.

"I'm just glad there's no camera this time."

"Oh God, they didn't?"

"Yeah," she chided with a fierce eye, "They did."

"Well, luckily you're spared tonight. I just need to hear you wherever you end up, so I know when to make the drop call."

"Drop call?"

"For my buddies across the street."

Lily looked at him kind of funny and he grabbed her hand, walking her to the huge wall length window, lending her a pair of binoculars.

"Down to the left, near the taco drive thru."

She followed the directions, scanning with the night vision specs and trying not to feel like she was in a movie.

"A little further left. Further. At the run down Texaco station."

Into her view came a huddle of identical black SUV's, same as the ones she'd grown so accustomed to as of late. She smiled, watching the men inside as they watched her in return with their own spyware. She waved, and shocking as it was, one driver gave her thumbs up with a smile, from 800 yards away on the ground.

"Okay, that's just freaky," she laughed as he took the goggles from her.

"That's my crew. They're the only ones who've known I existed for the last seven years. Good guys."

She nodded, glad at least to know he had some people surrounding him in this world.

"What do they do?"

"Well," Tom walked her back towards the other side of the room, "As soon as you take care of Tuzla's smaller rats--"

"Rod and Nicky."

"Right. As soon as they're finished, and as soon as I find out what room Jimmy's making his trade in, I'll let you know and you'll come find me there. When I see you're safe with me and I see that Shane is ready to make her bust, that's when I'll make the call to my guys at the station. They'll be kicking down doors in this place faster than you can say Intelligence."

Lily breathed deep with a nod.

"And Lil?"

Her gaze turned up to Tom's again, "Yeah?"

"Don't forget. He's not Jimmy around here. He's Freddy Braxton. You won't get anywhere at this little rendezvous with the name Tuzla. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good girl."

He took her face in his hands and kissed her quick on the forehead. She grabbed her purse from the bed, stepped into her 'strappy silver stilettos', and made headway for the door of the suite.

"You go ahead out, mingle, don't worry about being recognized, Tuzla's guys still don't know what you look like since you killed the henchmen he sent after you."

"What about the guys at the gas station?"

Tom shook his head defiantly, "Trust me. It was too dark and I covered you before they could see. All on purpose, for this reason."

There was a fearful sigh that came from Lily as she stepped to the door, Tom's hand firm on her back, leading her into the Hell he'd warned of. She wanted so badly to apologize for being so demanding of coming back like this, but when she tried, he stopped her.

"Tom, I know you didn't want me to--"

"Hey, hey, don't start that now. Didn't Jeff tell you anything about going into a sting operation with a clear head?"

"He did, but--"

"Lily, no. It's a waste of energy, I already know what you want to say."

"You do?"

He nodded, placed one hand on the doorknob and the second on her cheek, in that same brotherly way he always used to.

"I knew you weren't going to let me take you San Francisco. I knew it the whole time."

"What?"

"Yeah, I know you Lily. Come on, don't you remember that much at least? I know everything about how your mind and heart operates. I've seen it survive a hell's beating, whether you knew I was watching it or not. You were never going to let me make it beyond Barstow, I knew that. I was just testing you, throwing a little salt in your game."

She laughed, sucking back the need to cry and covered his hand on her cheek with hers.

"Next door is a guy who loves you, I know that. Shit, I was the first person he ever told."

Her eyes widened with a quivering lip.

"Jeff adores you and you know it. But he can't be two places at once, especially now, with his 'condition'....He can't fight for you out there tonight, and protect you at the same time. It would be impossible. I knew that the minute I saw you both get blown away in that motel back in Vegas. I couldn't stand by anymore and watch you kill yourself for me, especially when I'm not even dead."

Her hand trembled where it was trapped with his fingers, squeezing and brushing her hair from her eyes.

"I snatched you from him to protect you, so that in the end, Shane could go out there tonight with the other guys and fight like hell for you, without worrying about losing you." Tom brought Lily into his chest, consuming her with one last hug, holding her like life depended on nothing more. "You're with me tonight, just us Hanson's. And we know all about love and battlefields. Don't we?"

Lily giggled with loose tears on his tux, squeezing him tight with a whispered nod.

"We do."