Alex POV

"You don't take orders very well."

"Try me."

"I did. I told you to go home an hour ago."

"And instead I waited for the love of my life."

"Sucking up isn't going to get you out of trouble."

"Am I in trouble?"

"Uh huh. So lose the pants."

Bobby smiled as he reached for his belt and slowly undid the buckle.

We just got home about ten minutes ago.

Earlier, I spent half an hour listening while Wyatt and Yuille took Martha Schuler's confession, and then I'd left the observation room and found Bobby sitting at his desk.

"What are you still doing here?"

"I'm comparing friend lists," he'd answered.

"Detective," I said firmly. "I sent you home. It wasn't a request."

"We must have gotten our signals crossed," he replied, barely containing a smile.

Because he and I had both known the moment he left the observation room that he wasn't leaving 1PP without me.

"Uh huh. See if you can read my lips this time," I said, putting my hands on his desk and leaning as close as I dared. "Move your ass, Goren."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and then he'd glanced around the room briefly before pinning me with a smoldering gaze and saying in a low tone, "You move your ass, too. I'll meet you at the corner."

The corner was actually about four blocks away and the closest spot that we'd decided was acceptable for me to stop and pick him up. It was just too risky to meet in the parking garage any more.

"Any other directives you want me to follow, Captain?" Bobby asked me teasingly once his pants were history.

I took in the sight of him, rumpled and tired-looking and yet still so enticing, and it suddenly hit me really hard that he could be my husband.

One day very soon.

I remembered the feeling I had, back at the beginning of our undercover together…that night we prepped for the Marcovic case and Bobby slipped the wedding band on my finger.

"Perfect fit," he'd said as he smiled at me.

"Well, now you just committed yourself to me. Love, honor, cherish…"

"The ring doesn't make me do that. I do that anyway."

At the time, I'd been on an emotional roller coaster because we still hadn't admitted our feelings for each other, and as much as I'd loved hearing the words, it also hurt because I thought they were just for show.

But they weren't.

He really did love me that much.

He really does love me that much.

"Maybe I should let Ross have his job back," I said suddenly.

"What? Why would you say that?"

"Because," I replied as I moved closer to him, sliding my arms around his waist and settling my cheek against the softness of his t-shirt. "If I'm the media liaison, then we can be together, with or without the new regs."

"No," he said firmly, squeezing me tightly against him. "You'd hate that job, and you know it. We're together anyway, Alex. You're not giving up your position just so that we can go public. I'd rather be in the closet with you for the rest of our lives, and have you happy and fulfilled at work as much as you are at home, than have you hate your job just so that we can put an official label on our relationship."

I guess deep down, I knew he'd feel that way, but I also didn't want him to think that my career is worth more to me than him.

I mean, I can always get another job.

"I'd give it all up for you. You know that."

"Of course I do. You already did, remember?"

"Funny…I was just thinking about that."

"The night I put the ring on your finger," he said knowingly as he began to move his hands over my back. "You don't know how badly I wanted for that to be real."

"I think I do, yes," I argued lightly.

I stepped back from him and grabbed onto the hem of his shirt, encouraging him to pull it off.

"And what I said," he continued once he stood in front of me wearing nothing at all. "I meant it. I still do. Love, honor and cherish…I've been doing it for ten years and I don't plan on stopping any time soon. So get that crazy idea about quitting out of your head, okay?"

"Okay."

"I mean, unless you want to. Would you rather work in the media department?" he asked as he started undoing the buttons on my blouse.

"Are you kidding me? And have to be on camera every day? No way," I said firmly. "But I'd do it for you."

"And I'd walk away from the NYPD for you, if that'll make our lives easier," he offered. "You know that. Hot dog vendor, remember? Bootleg DVDs…"

"How about if you keep on being the best detective in Major Case," I suggested, closing my eyes as he turned the simple process of getting me undressed into a sensual experience.

"And you?"

"I'll keep being the best captain the NYPD has ever seen. And pretty soon, they'll need us so much, they won't care what we're doing in our off-time."

"And what is that…exactly?" he asked, his voice now only a whisper as his fingers moved over my skin.

"That's up to you. You be the boss tonight," I told him as I opened my eyes and met his gaze. "Tell me what you want."

For quite some time, I lost myself in the moment, not thinking about our jobs or the cases…not thinking about much of anything at all except for how much I love him.

Afterwards, as I drifted off to sleep, wrapped in Bobby's arms, I idly wondered if I'd remembered to set the alarm, but then I decided that it didn't matter.

I don't need one with Bobby around because he's usually up well before it ever goes off.

Although even knowing that, I still wasn't expecting the four-thirty wake-up.

"I have to go look over the printouts," he said quietly and then he pressed a kiss against my cheek and eased out of the bed.

"At four-thirty?" I questioned, watching him as he pulled on a pair of boxers.

"You said I should tell you the next time a case wakes me up, so…"

"Okay, let's go."

"You can stay. I just…it's on my mind and…"

"Come on," I said, forcing the sleep from my brain as I got out from under the covers.

I grabbed Bobby's t-shirt from where he'd tossed it on the chair only a few hours ago, and I slipped it over my head.

And then we went into the kitchen and I put on a pot of coffee.

"So what's bugging you?" I asked as I joined him at the table. "Something specific or just an overall feeling?"

"I was thinking about that stolen car. It has to be near one of the friends of Samantha, don't you think?"

"You think it was stolen out of proximity? The killer lives near Madeline Reese?"

"And out of convenience," he said with a nod. "I mean, Jared's not a pro. I don't think any of these guys are. They're just following a pattern, one that was given to them."

"No one else stole a car," I pointed out.

"That's true. But Jared has a car. Maybe the others do, too."

"So the MO is to get the girl in the car, kill her somewhere, dump her body somewhere else and then go home and blog about it, only Samantha's killer doesn't have a car, so he stole one and then just left it behind instead of moving the body out of the car."

"That's what I'm thinking," he agreed. "This guy…the one who killed Samantha…I bet he snagged a car from his own neighborhood."

"Which means all we have to do is go through her friend list, and if your theory is right, one of them will live in Brighton Beach."

He shrugged and gave me a tired, apologetic smile.

"Okay, then," I continued. "Let's find him."

For more than an hour, we sat side by side at the kitchen table and trolled through the twelve hundred and thirty-two friends on the Facebook page of Samantha Wright.

And at two minutes after six, I found him.

"Bobby. Phillip Downey. He lists Brighton Beach as his hometown."

"Samantha was killed on Monday. What do his posts look like leading up to that time?"

I clicked on Phillip's wall and saw that the last post was from Monday morning.

"Step aside," I read aloud.

"That's it?"

"That's enough, isn't it? It fits with the competition theme."

"Unless we're forcing it," he suggested.

"I don't think so."

"Does he have a sheet?" he asked as I pulled up Phillip's name in the NYPD database.

"Yeah, check it out," I said when the information popped up. "Juvie record. And guess what's his crime of choice?"

"Boosting cars," Bobby answered with a grin as he read over my shoulder. "You think that's enough to get us a search warrant? He knew the girl, and the car was stolen from his neighborhood, and he's got a history of stealing cars…"

"I think so, but it's borderline. We'll have to wait until the sun comes up. If we get an ADA and a judge out of bed for this, it'll just piss them off."

"So…two hours," he said as he looked at the clock on the wall. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep."

"It's such a hardship being with you," I teased. "What can we possibly do for two hours?"

"Not that," he said on a laugh. "I'm good, but I'm not Logan."

"You're not just good," I corrected, running my hand over his heavily stubbled cheek. "Besides, Logan was fueled by jealousy. That'll do wonders for a man's stamina."

"Yeah, well, I don't blame him for feeling the need to defy the laws of nature," he said. He got up from the chair and took me by the hand, pulling me up to my feet, and then together we went into the living room. "You know Ross kissed her, right?"

"What? No, I didn't know that. When?"

"Uh huh. Thursday, right there in the morgue. I almost wish Logan would've walked in on it. Then we wouldn't have to think about Ross trying to take your job, because he'd be dead for real."

He sat down in the recliner and pulled me onto his lap. He settled one hand across my legs and his other hand immediately began stroking over my hair.

This was about the most comfortable place in the world.

"I'm surprised Liz didn't kill him," I said, still thinking about the whole Logan-Ross-Liz mess.

I was having a hard time imagining what must have been going through Ross' head, to do such a thing.

Did he really think he only had to show up and Liz would come running back to him?

When did he get so…arrogant?

Okay, so he's always been arrogant, but now…now it was so much worse.

And maybe it was just because he was uncomfortable being back.

Maybe he was trying to reclaim his life quickly and efficiently in an effort to make people forget that he was ever gone…maybe even to help him forget about everything that happened.

And now I sound like Bobby, trying to empathize with him.

The fact is that no matter what Ross' motivation, it's not okay for him to walk all over people, especially people who've done nothing except try to help him and honor his name.

"It's probably still a possibility," Bobby said, commenting on Liz's potential for murder. "I think he caught her off guard. I would imagine if he tries it again, he'll be losing an appendage of some sort."

I chuckled lightly and let my eyes fall closed as I relaxed fully against him.

"I don't think you should go public about Jared's arrest," he said after a few minutes. "Or Phillip's, if it turns out that we're right."

"Why not?"

"If the others don't realize anyone's getting caught, they won't take more evasive measures. We'll be able to track them eventually."

"But will it draw in more participants because it looks like the killers are getting away with it?"

He was quiet as he thought about my words, and then he said, "I guess it's your call, Captain."

"So my choices are do I make it harder to find four killers or do I make it tempting for more people to kill…"

"Or you can be the media liaison and let someone else make that decision," he added, and without even looking at him, I could tell he was smiling.

"Ross? No way. I'm going to decide by doing something he never would."

"What's that?"

"I'm going to trust my detectives working the case."

TBC...