Alex POV

"Are you sure about this?"

"I don't see where I have a choice."

"You always have a choice. Say the word and we're on a plane to Bermuda."

I smiled as Bobby wrapped his arms around me.

"Make it somewhere a little warmer and you might have a deal."

"Yeah, you're right. I think the average temperature in February is sixty-eight. Better than New York, but not as good as…"

"Key West?"

"Seventy-six," he replied quickly.

"How do you know this stuff?" I asked as I pulled back from him and straightened his tie.

"I may have checked it out," he admitted.

"You looked up median temperatures? For how many places?"

"I don't know," he said. "A few. I mean, I'm kind of hoping we'll have a honeymoon pretty soon."

God, the man says the sweetest things.

We weren't even sure yet if we'd actually be able to get married and yet he was already researching the best place to go for a honeymoon.

I grabbed onto the tie that I was still piddling with and used it to pull him down to me.

"Let's take the honeymoon either way," I said as I brought my lips to his.

I kissed him lightly, planning to keep it brief, but then he moved his hands up to my face and our intensity level immediately went from innocent to scorching and for some reason it reminded me of that first kiss we shared outside of the restaurant on our first night of living together undercover.

With that kiss, I'd been about ready to explode and it had taken every ounce of my professionalism to act casual about it afterwards.

"Are you ready?" I'd asked him. "I'm starving."

And I was actually starving for him because he stood there and looked at me with those incredible eyes of his and I could still taste his lips on mine…

If only I'd known then what I know now.

That he wanted me just as much as I wanted him.

And thankfully our desire for each other hasn't changed in the time since.

Because as we stood in the kitchen and kissed each other as though we were about to part for days instead of only hours, I still got that same tingling feeling in the pit of my stomach, just like I'd gotten that night.

"Either way?" he questioned in a husky voice when we finally broke off the kiss.

"If Moran won't sign, or if Zaring overrides him…let's still take a vacation together."

"We just got back," he pointed out. "It's only been five weeks."

"After working non-stop undercover for nine months. I'm not going to feel bad about asking for a week. Are you?"

"No," he said with a grin. "And my boss likes me, so I think I'll get it approved."

"Uh huh. Let's just hope I'm still your boss after Friday."

His face went serious as he stroked his thumb over my cheek.

"Things are falling into place. Mike and I are making headway, and the Enzo thing is mostly cleared up. If you can get Theresa on your side so that you have an ally at your press conferences this week…it's going to work, Alex. Holt will do the right thing."

Which is why I was meeting with Theresa this morning.

That's the thing Bobby was a little worried about.

And I don't blame him.

I do have a tendency to spout off sarcasm when I'm annoyed.

And when I'm not.

And if I somehow say the wrong thing, or manage to alienate Theresa, then the press conferences will be tough this week.

I can't afford that.

I need to get rid of any cloud of doubt that might be hanging over my head so that Holt will focus more on the fact that he'll lose a lot of good employees if he goes forward with the switch.

But if the mafia thing is still looming, or if there's a hint of some kind of sex scandal, then that makes Holt look bad.

And he'd rather hire a whole new department than deal with that.

So basically I have to use the one aspect of my job that I hate most in order to keep the job I love.

"I hope so," I replied. I stepped away from him and moved over to the table to grab my gun and badge. "Mike's coming to pick you up?"

"He said he would," he said as he checked his watch. "It'll probably be another twenty minutes or so."

"Okay," I said as I reached for the car keys. "I'll text you when I'm done."

I kissed him one more time and then left the apartment, heading for the diner where I planned to meet with Theresa.

I'd called her an hour ago, anxious to get it over with.

"I didn't think the deputy chief would actually pass on my message," she'd admitted on the phone. "And certainly not so quickly."

"He's a man of his word."

"Good to know."

So we'd agreed to a time and place, and I'd informed her that we wouldn't be discussing the FBK, other than what the press already knew.

"My boss promised an exclusive on that particular case," I told her. "So no questions about that, okay? But we can talk about other cases."

"What about personal information?"

"You can ask. And we can be on the record until I tell you're we're off. Deal?"

"Deal."

I got to the diner ten minutes ahead of schedule, so I found a booth and ordered a cup of coffee and then settled in for the wait.

While I sipped on the strong brew, I thought about last night.

We'd stayed at Pete's for a while after Stanley left, all of us getting slightly drunk.

And okay, so I was more than slightly drunk.

I couldn't stop thinking about how close Bobby had come to dying. It was hard to reconcile the fact that he was barely hurt and yet if any one thing had been different…

"You're going to regret this tomorrow," he'd said to me as we left the bar. He was chuckling lightly as he spoke and he kept an arm firmly around me to keep me from stumbling. It was only a short walk to the subway station, and I was glad I'd parked the car at the apartment and ridden the subway to Pete's earlier so that we didn't have to worry about having a car stranded.

Because Bobby wasn't as bad off as me, but he'd still had quite a bit.

"I don't have regrets," I'd replied boldly.

"None?" he asked, glancing down at me and raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"Okay, so I have one," I stated, and then I stopped walking and instead reached up to kiss him. It was slow and lingering, and when I pulled back fractionally, I said, "I regret not doing this with you sooner."

"We're doing it now," he'd countered, and then he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me and I got so caught up in the moment that I completely forgot that we were standing on a public street, in clear view of anyone who might be looking…anyone who might want scoop on the NYPD's newest face.

Of course, it was also pretty late at night, and there weren't many people out and about on that particular stretch of sidewalk, but still…it had been risky and ill-advised and yet I just couldn't bring myself to care.

He could've died.

I'd wasted nearly ten years…ten years of wanting him and never saying a word, and to think that I could've lost him after such a short time together…

Those thoughts were on a permanent loop in my brain and by the time we got onto the subway, I threw the last little bit of restraint to the wind. We made out – and I mean seriously made out – on the nearly-deserted train.

We were both so lost in our own world that we missed our stop and didn't even realize it until three stops later.

"Captain Eames."

I looked up and saw that Theresa had approached the table while I was strolling down memory lane.

It's a good thing she's not a mind reader.

"Theresa," I greeted cordially. "Have a seat."

"I appreciate you agreeing to meet with me," she said as she slid into the booth across from me. The waitress promptly came over to pour her a cup of coffee, so our conversation lagged for just a moment. Once we were alone again, she said, "And I want to apologize for last night."

"Last night?"

"I'm sure the deputy chief told you that I followed Dr. Rodgers," she stated, and I have to admit that I like her straight-forwardness. I guess it's only a bad thing when she's asking questions I don't like.

"He did, but I'd say the apology should go to her rather than to me."

"Oh, it did. It was unprofessional of me. Sometimes when I'm trying to break a story I tend to get a little…"

"Ruthless?" I offered.

"Single-minded," she amended, but then she smiled and took a sip of coffee. "You know, I like you, Captain. Detective Logan accused me of trying to derail you because I don't like women who are more successful than me, but that's just not true."

"Logan is just protective of me," I said, and then when I realized how that might sound, I added, "All of my detectives are."

"I'm starting to see that," she said with a nod. "And I know there's no merit to the idea of you and Detective Logan. Not only did he mention that he's in a relationship with the ME, but I honestly never believed it anyway. My source seemed a little bitter and her information was unreliable."

"Christy Alonzo," I said. At her surprised look, I explained, "She told me. But my question to you is why you used her information even when you doubted it's accuracy."

"Because I'm a reporter. A lawyer will tell you to never ask a question to which you don't know the answer, but that's not how it works with reporters. We like to throw things out there and see what sticks."

"You mean like the idea that I'm bought and paid for by Alfredo Toscano?"

"You have to admit that it looks a little fishy."

"You want the whole story on that?"

"Are we still on the record?" she asked as she gestured toward the digital recorder that she'd started up as soon as she arrived at the table.

"I don't have anything to hide," I answered.

Not about this anyway.

So through our first cup of coffee, I told her how Enzo had helped us out of a difficult situation, and that Bobby had given him his business card.

"It's not always about guilt or innocence," I reminded her as I finished my story. "Sometimes a guy can get a bum rap and if the detective assigned has preconceived notions…"

"You mean like because the lover of a mobster's girlfriend turns up dead so that mobster must have killed him?"

"Just like that. But things are rarely what they seem at first glance."

"Oh, I don't know about that. You seem to be a tough as nails police captain who's currently fighting for her job in front of the cameras because the mayor had the brilliant idea of using your affability as a way of getting votes."

"You think I'm affable?" I retorted.

She laughed and waved the waitress over for a refill.

"I think you're a woman who knows how to get the job done, and you've got just enough smartass in you to make people like you while you do it," she stated. Then she sat back in the seat and met my gaze and added, "So tell me what's going on with the struggle over the captain's job."

"There's no struggle. It's mine."

"Yesterday, it was going to go to Danny Ross," she replied. "So tell me how, when that was the plan, the change didn't happen even after the implication was made about you and Toscano. Your press conference yesterday should've just solidified Holt's decision in his mind and instead no decision was made at all."

"He postponed until Friday."

"I know that. But there was still a meeting."

"Yes."

"And yet nothing happened."

I smiled at her and shrugged and took a sip of my coffee.

"I'm wondering if you have some kind of leverage over the mayor," she continued.

"Leverage?"

"A reason why he wouldn't make the switch."

"Because I'm the better man for the job. He got carried away with the prospect of me taking over as media liaison, but he's backing up and re-evaluating."

"Because…"

"Because he's a smart man."

"Uh huh," she said dubiously. "Why do I think there's more to it than that?"

"I don't know. Why do you?"

"Okay, so…tell me this. What will you do if Ross takes your job? Will you accept the position in the media department?"

"No."

"You don't like us very much, do you?" she asked on a laugh.

"It's not that. I'm a detective first. It's what I love to do."

"So you'd go back to being a detective. And work under Ross? Won't that be awkward?"

"It would be. But it's not going to happen."

"It's a possibility."

"No, it's not," I said pointedly.

I wasn't going to come out and say that I'd quit if Ross got the job, but I let the implication hang.

She stared at me for a moment, and I picked up a menu and then looked around for the waitress. If we were going to keep sitting here, I was going to eat. I was starting to feel a little nauseous from the hangover Bobby had warned me about, and so I needed to get something on my stomach.

My slight nausea turned to a near instantaneous gastric revolt when I saw the man who was bussing the table across the aisle.

It was Ray Delgado.

Talk about a guy getting a bum rap.

He was the man who spent nine years in prison for killing Joe, when in actuality the guilty man was Manny Beltran.

My breathing rate increased along with my heart beat and I could feel the beads of sweat popping up along my forehead.

And I can't explain my reaction other than that I spent so many years hating Delgado, and then I spent a few more years feeling guilty over the fact that he'd been wrongfully imprisoned.

And now here he was, a fifty-year-old bus boy.

He must have felt my eyes on him because he suddenly stopped and looked up at me. He got that deer-in-the-headlights look, like he had that day in the visiting room at Dannemora, and then his eyes shifted quickly, scouring the surroundings as though he was afraid that I was going to cause a scene in front of a co-worker or boss.

"Captain?" Theresa questioned, although her voice sounded hollow and far away.

Instead of replying, I got to my feet and crossed the aisle.

We were at the back of the diner, which was clearing out now that it was after nine o'clock, so I said quietly, "I see you still remember me."

"You honestly think I'd ever forget your face?"

"No," I admitted. "And I…I want to say…I'm sorry. For what happened to you. And to your family. You didn't deserve it."

"No, you were right what you said to me that day. My lifestyle's what put me in prison. I shouldn't have expected anyone to believe a lowlife like me."

"The cops should've worked harder to find the truth the first time around. And now your son…"

"My son should've known better than to take that kind of revenge. And I could lie and say that it's because I was in prison that I wasn't able to teach him better, but the truth is that if I hadn't gone upstate, I would've still been on the streets dealing."

"And now?"

"Victor will be up for parole in ten more years. And me…I've been clean since I got out. I have you to thank for that, I guess. I know you didn't want to believe that it wasn't me, but you looked anyway."

"My partner is the one responsible. He can be pretty persistent."

"Then thank him for me, okay? And I hope…I hope that you're doing okay. I don't blame you for thinking I did it. Too many people were telling the same story. Hell, I almost believed it myself."

"Hey, Ray! Yo, you ain't on no break! You want, I can arrange a permanent one!"

I looked over and saw a large, sweaty guy in a white t-shirt standing behind the counter. He was glaring at Ray, and I wasn't sure what the big deal was because there weren't very many customers, so I could only guess that this type of verbal abuse was typical.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'll let you get back to work. I just wanted to say…that I'm sorry for how things worked out."

"You got nothing to be sorry for, Mrs. Dutton."

The name sounded foreign to me, but the mistake was understandable.

He knew me as Joe's widow.

"It's Eames," I corrected, and then I reached into my pocket and pulled out a business card. "Captain Eames."

I handed him the card and then added, "Let me know if…well, if…if you get into trouble."

"You want to help me if I get into trouble?"

"I want to help you if you find yourself in trouble for something you didn't do," I corrected.

He nodded at me with a solemn expression on his face and then he tucked the card into his pocket and went back to work, so I moved back to the table and sat down.

Theresa was staring with blatant interest.

"Can I ask what all that was about?"

"No."

"But…"

"And if you got any of it on tape, that part's off the record."

"Captain…"

"It's non-negotiable."

I wasn't going to have her exploiting anything about Ray Delgado.

Honestly, I didn't even want to be sitting here with her anymore. Not because she wasn't nice, because she actually was, but because I felt off-kilter, emotionally speaking, and I was having trouble categorizing my feelings about Ray and Joe and everything that had happened, both thirteen years ago when Joe was killed, and four years ago when his case was re-opened.

I wanted to be by myself so that I could think.

Scratch that.

I wanted to be with Bobby.

"Are we done?" I asked her after another moment. "I really need to get to the office."

"I think we touched on some key issues, but I didn't get around to asking you about your personal life."

"You're assuming I have a personal life."

"You're single, attractive, smart…I'm sure you don't have any trouble finding companionship."

"It's more about finding the time," I deflected.

And that was true.

I don't have nearly enough time with Bobby.

"Are you saying that you're not in a relationship right now?"

"I didn't say that."

"So you are."

"I didn't say that either."

"Why the secrecy? What's the big deal?"

"Maybe I don't want his face on the morning news. Maybe I don't want him being tailed by single-minded reporters. And maybe I think that who I may or may not be sleeping with is completely irrelevant as to whether or not I can do my job. And even more than that, it's irrelevant to the cases that my detectives are working on. That should be the public's interest in Major Case, who's solving what as opposed to who's doing who."

"Very eloquently said, Captain. Can I quote you on that?"

I didn't answer, but instead got up from the table and pulled out a five-dollar bill and then reconsidered and tucked it back into my wallet, exchanging it for a twenty instead.

"Thanks for meeting me, Theresa. I'll see you in a couple of hours at today's press conference."

I put the twenty down on the table to cover our coffee, and she glanced at it and then looked at me in confusion.

"Twenty dollars for coffee? That's nearly a seven hundred percent tip."

I shrugged and said, "The waitress and the bus boy have to split it. And we took up a table for more than an hour without eating anything, so…"

"Okay," she said with an understanding nod. I started to leave but then she said, "Oh, Captain! So this man you're seeing…"

"What man?"

"The one whose face you don't want on the morning news," she responded with a smile.

"I was speaking hypothetically."

She sighed and said, "You're really not going to give me anything on your personal life? Some interesting little tidbit that I can use to out-scoop the other reporters?"

"How about this…if I'm still around on Monday, you can ask me again."

And then I turned and headed for the door.

TBC...