"You're so damn beautiful." When he was finally able to break contact with her mouth, the husky words slipped out past Derek's lips in a tone born of part reverence, and part awe. He pulled back far enough to gaze into her eyes and she could see the sexual want still radiating within the deep brown depths. His thumb began swiping softly back and forth across her kiss-swollen lips of its own accord and he dropped his eyes to watch the subtle movement with rapt interest, looking very much like a man with his last meal set before him.
Though meant as a heartfelt compliment, his words were a douse of ice water, effectively putting out the flame of Angel's arousal in less than a heartbeat. She sprung back away from him and out of his arms like she'd been burned, the immediate lost of his body heat causing a shiver to run along her body and she rubbed her arms in automatic response.
"Penelope..." Derek began soothingly, automatically reaching out for her. She looked like a frightened animal ready to bolt and he instinctively felt the need to pull her back into the protective fold of his embrace, not even noticing the damning verbal slip.
"Don't... don't you touch me." Angel hissed at him and she raised her hands in front of her to ward of his advances. She wasn't sure if she was more angry or hurt hearing him call her by that name. She felt equal amounts of shame and betrayal flood her body when she bitterly realized it wasn't her that he kissed. No he kissed the woman she looked like and she was nothing more than a poor man's substitute for the real thing.
Derek was stunned at the obvious venom in her words, given what they just shared. No doubt it was a mistake that would haunt him deeply after she was gone, but it didn't deserve the amount of animosity she was currently throwing his way. He stepped forward only to have her equally retreat like he was a disease and she was immune deficient.
"In case you need for me to spell it out," she started when she could see the obvious confusion on his face, "My name is Angel, not Penelope and no matter how much I may look like her, I'm NOT her so you can just stay the hell away from me from now on and keep your damn hands to yourself. And let me tell you another thing Derek Morgan, you suck!" She whipped around and fled the break room faster then if the Devil himself were on her heels.
Her words were like a verbal slap of painful remembrance from when Penelope was shot. Then recognition dawned making him realize exactly what he just inadvertently done. When he was kissing her, he was kissing Angel not Penelope, but when she stood there looking so frightened, she reminded him of his Baby Girl so much, his mouth verbally filled in where his eyes left off without conscious thought. He closed his eyes in self-disgust and simply let her go. At a much more sedate pace, he made his way back up to the Conference room. He just screwed up royally and he had no idea how he was going to fix it.
By the time Derek entered the room, she was sitting in front of her computer typing away furiously. It only took a moment for him to realize she was now flanked on either side by both Hotch and Rossi, so he wordlessly took a seat in between Emily and J.J., studiously ignoring their questioning glances and covertly watching Angel from beneath hooded lids.
Angel could feel his eyes on her and she cursed this sudden ability to do so. Redoubling her efforts, she blocked him and all that happened downstairs from her mind and in a few minutes she was rewarded with her efforts. "YES!"
"You got something Gar... Angel?" Hotch's slip didn't go unnoticed by anyone, least of all Angel, but she let it go as if it had.
"Oh yes I do, Sir, yes I sure do. It seems that just before his death, one U.S. Marshal Sam Kassmeyer racked up an inordinate amount of frequent flyer points to Florida. Daytona Beach to be exact."
"And that means exactly what to us?" Rossi asked unsure where she was headed with this information.
"Well Sir, normally that wouldn't mean anything except I was able to track both his incoming and outgoing calls. Every time he was there, he either received or made several calls to the same number. The number belonging to one Candi Lansky," she finished triumphantly.
"Do I even want to know how you just managed to bypass every safety precaution ever devised by the US Marshall's Office to prevent that very thing from happening?" Hotch quietly inquired, but Angel was saved from answering when Rossi spoke.
"Lansky...Lansky, I know that name. Where have I heard that name before?" he pondered aloud.
"You should, Meyer Lansky was Jewish Mafia and along with his partner Charles 'Lucky' Luciano, he was Florida's most elusive Crime Lord right up until his death in 1983. He was also accredited with being instrumental in the creation of the National Crime Syndicate. The FBI was never able to convict him of any crime and though on paper he died a penniless man, he was believed to be worth over $300 million. However, no money was ever found," Reid declared.
"But how is that connected to our case?" Emily asked in confusion. She looked around the table, but it was clear that every one else was just as much in the dark and just as clueless.
"Please allow me to enlighten you. If you would please be so kind as to look at the screen in front of you." With a look of utter glee on her face, and a few clicks of her fingers, a slightly younger picture of Christina Marx appeared on the screen. "Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you, Candi Lansky."