Ch. 13

Without missing a beat, Alma slid her arm around Steve's waist. "Like I said, a matched set."

Pavlov curled his lip up with disgust for a moment, then schooled his expression into one of practiced arrogance. "What a shame. Fine. Leave your contact information with my assistant," he nodded towards a balding man to his left, "and I'll look into your . . . resume. Let's see if you can impress me."

"Oh, I know we will," Alma said confidently.

"Enjoy yourselves," Pavlov said, motioning to the room in general before stalking off to find more prey.

00000

For the next hour, Alma played the perfect girlfriend. She laughed at all of Steve's jokes, never stopped smiling at him. She constantly touched him, brushing an eyelash off his cheek, leaning her head against his shoulder, holding his hand as they walked back out to the car at the end of the auction.

It was unnerving for Steve. He felt as though he had somehow slipped into some parallel universe where they had always been together, where they had never been at odds. Part of his mind screamed at him that it was all part of the undercover mission, that it meant nothing. But, another part was aching with the fact that this was the first time he had ever experienced this time of easy closeness, this type of familiar intimacy in a romantic relationship. His time with Peggy was far too short and he spent so much time mourning the loss of that relationship that he hardly allowed himself to think about starting on another one.

He didn't want to leave the auction, although he knew that they should, that every moment there was dangerous and could lead to them being caught. Alma made a few off-handed comments about it being late and he ignored them, wanting just a few more minutes to indulge himself in the fiction of their relationship. He also wasn't looking forward to Alma's reaction to his last minute change to their plans.

Finally, Alma tugged gently on his hand. "I'm sleepy, baby. Let's go back to the hotel."

Reluctantly, Steve nodded and let her lead him back to the car; his dread growing with each step.

As he sat down in the car next to her, he took a deep breath, getting ready to apologize. "Alma, I . . ."

Alma settled her hand on his knee and gave him a coquettish grin. "I can't wait to get you back to the hotel," she breathed, her voice slow and seductive.

Steve stared at her for a moment in confusion. Then, she squeezed his knee a bit harder and as he looked down, he saw that one of her fingers was pointing to something under the dash. He inclined his head a bit and saw what she was pointing to.

A bug.

Pavlov had bugged the car.

And Steve had almost given everything away.

"Me, either, baby," he said huskily, playing along.

Alma gave him a short nod, moving her hand away to start the car.

00000

Alma chatted some during the forty-five minute drive, alluding to their fake relationship, to the fact that she'd do anything to get a job with Pavlov. Steve kept his answers to a minimum, not wanting to cause any more problems. It disturbed him that he hadn't even thought that Pavlov would bug their car, but he just reminded himself that he wasn't an undercover agent, that he'd never been trained for all of this.

Once they got back to Steve's hotel room, Alma went to her adjoining room and got out a small device from her backpack. She waved it over herself and then Steve. She gave him a small smile. "No bugs. The only one must be the one in the car."

"Alma . . . ." Steve began, but she interrupted him.

"What the hell were you thinking, Rogers? We agreed to go in as associates only. Was that some sort of sick power play, trying to show me that you're the boss, you're the one paying the bills? You could have scrubbed the whole mission with that little stunt," she demanded coldly.

"I . . . I just hated the way Pavlov was treating the women at that party. It made me sick . . . and I hated the way he looked at you," Steve admitted.

Steve could see the fury melt away in Alma's eyes, replaced by something he couldn't quite identify. "That's sweet. It really is. But, once again, your best intentions nearly got me killed."

"Look . . . I'm sorry about what happened with Moreno's men, leading them back to your apartment," he apologized.

"That's not . . . just forget it. I'm tired. I'm going to bed," she said and she turned and walked back towards her room, locking her adjoining door behind her.

000000

Steve awoke at nearly three in the morning to the sound of Alma's screams.

"No! Please, stop!" he heard her yell in a strangled shout.

Pavlov. He's attacking her, Steve thought as he shot out of his bed and ran to the locked doors that separated their rooms, ripping them off their hinges in his haste.

Moonlight streamed into the room and he saw Alma alone in her bed, thrashing and screaming in agony while asleep.

"No! No! Please, no!"

He went to her, leaning down to restrain her from her frantic motions.

"It's okay, Alma. You're just having a nightmare. It's okay," Steve said in a calming voice.

Her eyes flew open and, for a second, it was clear that she didn't recognize him as she screeched and pulled away from him in stark terror.

"Hey, hey. You're okay. You're safe," he repeated over and over again, sitting awkwardly on the side of the bed.

She began to cry; her body wracked with sobs. She clung to him and he held her, murmuring words of comfort, stroking her long hair. Steve didn't know how long he had held her before there was an angry rap on Alma's hotel door.

Reluctantly, Steve let go of her and walked towards the door. When he looked through the peephole, he saw an older gentleman in a suit who was wearing an obvious toupee along with a younger bellhop who looked liked he'd rather be anywhere else in the world.

"Hello," Steve said curtly as he opened the door, upset at being interrupted. At the older man's widened eyes, Steve realized that he was only wearing an undershirt and boxers.

"I am the night manager of this hotel," the older man said fastidiously. "We've had several reports of a woman screaming in this room." He had a distrustful look on his face as he attempted to peer into the darkened room.

Steve gripped the door handle tightly. The last thing he needed was for them to barge in and see the busted adjoining doors.

"I am so very sorry," Alma said as she sidled up next to Steve, wrapping her arms around his waist lovingly. "I have a tendency to be rather . . . loud. I guess I was a bit too enthusiastic, wasn't I honey?" she asked, looking up and him with a seductive grin.

"Are you alright, miss?" the manager inquired, giving Steve a wary look.

"Oh, I am so much better than alright," Alma breathed, her tone low as she raked her nails lightly across Steve's chest, sending shivers down his spine. Steve saw both men swallow hard as she gave them a coy smile. "I am so sorry that we woke anyone up. I promise that we'll be quiet from now on," she said, pressing against Steve.

"Okay, miss," the manager said, licking his lips. "See that you do." He motioned to the bellhop and they both turned to go.

"Good night," she called after them as Steve shut the door.

The second the door was shut, she let go of him, taking a few steps back. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," she said quietly, almost woodenly.

Steve was shocked at the difference. In an instant, she had gone from a sex kitten back to Alma, standing there barefoot in ordinary flannel pajamas and looking vulnerable and lost.

"How do you do it? Turn it on and off like that. Go all Marilyn Monroe and then . . .?" Steve asked.

She gave him a wan smile. "Seduction training 101. Men respond well to a low, breathy voice. Good job on the Marilyn Monroe reference. I thought she was after your time."

"Natasha suggested I watch a couple of her movies. I could definitely see the appeal." He took a deep breath before changing the subject. "What was that all about?"

"Nightmare."

"Seemed pretty intense," Steve observed.

"They usually are," Alma said with a shudder.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Alma looked up at him for a moment, indecision flickering over her face. After a few seconds, though, she shook her head. "No, I don't."

Steve wanted to press the point, but in the end, he just sighed. "Fine. I'm here if you ever want to talk. I know . . . I know what it's like to go through some pretty rough stuff."

"Thanks. I appreciate it," Alma said quietly.

Steve turned to go back to his room, but Alma caught his hand, giving it the briefest of squeezes before letting go. "I mean it. I really appreciate it, Steve."

Steve nodded and left through the busted doors, awkwardly trying to set them back somewhat in their original positions. It wasn't until he was lying down once again in his own bed that he realized it was the first time she had called him Steve.