Ghosts that Haunt—3
Riah stood in front of the open closet door in her old room. Casey had just finished talking to Beckman. The restaurant had balked at allowing them to install surveillance, so they were going to have to put someone inside. Walker was nominated, so Casey was back to van duty. He'd told the General what Riah had done, felt he had to, and the General, after chewing on him for several minutes for not being able to control and contain Riah, had finally agreed that it was good to know a bit more about what they were walking into.
Casey had spoken to Riah's friend at the RCMP, Rob Renegar. He knew the name, knew Renegar had once been involved with Riah's mother. He vouched for Donnelly, though Casey admitted he was a little reluctant to take the word of a man who apparently found Ariel Taylor attractive.
He walked up behind Riah, looked over her shoulder. She hadn't moved all her clothes into their room yet. He wrapped his arms around her and told her, "Wear the flames."
She turned her head and looked up at him. He'd only seen her in it once, but he liked it. It felt like silk, and had two layers. The bottom one clung to her body, and the top one was looser, kind of floaty. The hem was uneven, and there was a faint pattern in oranges and yellows that bled into one another over the solid red beneath so it looked little like Riah was covered in flames. "I don't think so."
He shrugged. "It looks good on you." He dropped a kiss on her bare shoulder. "It'll get you noticed." He kissed her shoulder again. "You can move easily in it if you have to." He kissed a little closer to her neck. "It's long enough to hide your holster." He kissed the join of her neck and shoulder and added what he thought might be most persuasive. "It'll make Carina mad as hell to see you looking sexy."
She snorted. "When did you start moonlighting at Spy Vogue?"
This time, Casey snorted.
"No, I don't think so," she said with a smile, "despite the many merits you've just detailed."
When he asked her why, she reminded him of the deep vee in the back. "Leave your hair down and no one will notice," he whispered.
Casey turned her around and took her mouth. As she wrapped her arms around him, he undid the corner of the towel she wore and let the terry cloth slide off her. He molded her to him, his mouth on hers. He ran his hands down her back and over her backside. Her hands slid under his untucked shirt, and he lifted her, walked to the bed and followed her down on the bedspread.
He drove her wild, his mouth and hands on the places he had learned sent her over the edge. Her hands and mouth did their work as well, and when they lay spent, hands idly stroking over each other as they came down, Casey took Riah's mouth again. "I like you like this," he told her, "but you need to look good tonight."
"Remember the gay part?" she asked sleepily.
"I remember," he told her, hoped it was true, though he had no real reason to doubt her, "but this is as much about how others see you as how Donnelly sees you."
He kissed her again, then told her, "But you can't go out smelling like sex, so back in the shower."
She stretched against him. "Come with me."
"Doesn't matter if I smell like sex," he teased, and then he remembered Bartowski would be along for the ride.
Riah wore the dress, he was pleased to note, with a pair of sexy as hell red high heels. He stroked a hand down the hair she left down to hide the reminder of Edmonton. She also wore a wire and an earpiece. As they left the apartment, he gave her last-minute instructions. Bartowski waited by the fountain in the courtyard, and Casey tossed him the keys to the van parked down the street before he walked Riah to her car. "Be careful," he told her, dropped a kiss on her mouth, and reminded her to let them get in position before she went in. Beckman had arranged to have a spot marked off for them by the utility company.
"How can you be okay with this?" Bartowski asked as Casey got in the driver's seat.
He started to snap out that the kid seemed fine with Walker and what she got up to, but he bit it back. The kid wasn't okay with it, and Casey really wasn't interested in hearing it.
"Did you see that dress?" Bartowski sailed on, and Casey shot him a hard glare.
"I see you did," Casey said silkily. He knew the kid wasn't interested in Riah, but sometimes he liked to mess with him. Bartowski was often an easy mark.
The kid should have broken something given how quickly he backpedaled. Then, the kid changed gear. "Come on, Casey," Bartowski said. "I realize you've had your emotions surgically removed, but you can't seriously be alright with your girlfriend enticing her former boyfriend."
He really didn't want to think about it. Riah claimed Donnelly wouldn't be interested in her, but that didn't mean someone else wouldn't. "I picked the dress."
Interesting how that little piece of information shut Bartowski up for a good minute.
"You did?"
"It looks good on her," Casey responded. Then he dropped his voice to menace. "It got your attention."
"In a completely platonic kind of way—like appreciating good art."
And the babble is back, Casey thought as the kid ran on, tried to deflect what he thought was Casey being pissed off. He tuned it out, let Bartowski run off at the mouth while he considered the ways in which this might go wrong.
By the time they were in place and Riah arrived, though, he had begun to wonder whether or not he could find enough duct tape to do what the bar code labels at the Buy More had failed to do when the kid wanted him to talk about Ilsa. Structural failure, he decided. If he'd wrapped it around the kid's head a couple of times and gone for a few overlapping layers, it might have worked. Would have been painful as hell when the kid removed it and a section of hair afterward, too.
Riah said softly, "He's here," and Casey told Bartowski to can the chatter so he could listen. Then he heard Riah give a soft groan followed shortly by another woman's voice slurring, "Mariah, darling!"
Walker was in his ear. "Someone just joined Mariah."
That meant Walker didn't know who it was, and that meant this could go south quickly. Then he heard the newcomer ask, "Are you meeting Ariel?"
The woman's voice sounded familiar, and her use of Ariel's first name raised caution signals for Casey. "Riah?"
She answered him by saying, "Hello, Theresa. No, I'm here alone tonight."
Itty bitty dress and all hands, Casey remembered. The woman from the Baines job, Ariel's friend, who confirmed her identity by asking Riah, "What happened to that gorgeous, tall hunk of man you were at the gallery with?"
Bartowski gave him a look that seemed a cross between constipation and ah-hah! Riah told her she'd left him home.
"Darling," Theresa drawled, "I wouldn't leave a man like that alone. Who knows who might snatch him away?"
Bartowski bit his lip; Casey appreciated that he didn't say whatever it was he was thinking because Casey was pretty sure it would be at his expense. Bartowski, though, couldn't keep it in. "Who might snatch you away, Casey?"
The pitbull growl wiped the amusement off the kid's face, especially coupled with Casey's I-will-dismember-you-before-death glare.
Theresa had moved on, though, asked, "Did you hear about Gregory Baines?"
Casey's ears sharpened. He knew exactly what happened to Baines, so did Riah. The man was in solitary, and he was going to stay there. He wondered what story had gone out to cover his disappearance. He heard Riah's cool, "No, what?"
The woman's voice was so faint he almost didn't hear her say with relish, "He tried to sell a fake Rembrandt to one of the Van der Meers."
To no one's great surprise, Baines turned out to have dealt in stolen as well as legitimate art. Casey had no sympathy for the man's former clients who probably now wondered whether they had actually gotten what they paid for. It wasn't like they could have them evaluated without having to answer questions—or possibly charges for receiving stolen property. "Stupid," he heard Riah reply, and thankfully, Theresa didn't linger much longer, told Riah to call her so they could do lunch.
He headed off Bartowski by saying, "Word of advice, Bartowski. If a middle-aged woman, obviously drunk in a tiny dress and a voice that could peel paint ever approaches when you're with Riah, run."
"Duly noted," Bartowski said, and Casey was surprised the kid said nothing more on the subject. Instead, he chattered away about what they were there to do. Casey tuned it out, listened to Walker tell Riah that Carina's signal would be kissing Donnelly. Then Walker took Riah's order.
Bartowski got bored, especially since there were no eyes inside. Casey was as well, but not enough to start a conversation with the kid that could go any of a thousand different directions from the starting point. Finally, he heard Riah say, "On the move."
A moment later, she asked, "Edmund?"
Casey heard an odd accent when the man replied, "Mariah?"
"It's been a very long time."
"That it has. I last saw you in Montreal, five, six years ago?"
"Five," he heard her confirm.
"You left me for the tall American," he said. Casey had to admit that probably worked in their favor. Riah was right. If Donnelly fumbled, didn't know why she was there, it could raise doubts neither of them needed. "You still with him?"
She told Donnelly what they had agreed she would: "We split a year or so ago."
He heard Carina, then, and it occurred to him that not only had they failed to ask what alias she was using but that she had failed to provide it. "Who is this, Edmund?"
"A childhood friend, Carla. Mariah, I'd like to introduce Carla Casey. Carla, Mariah Taylor."
Casey's disgruntled growl was the lesser of the things he'd like to let loose at the moment, and it was harder to contain what he really wanted to say when Riah said with a seductive lilt in her voice, "Perhaps we could find an opportunity to catch up on old times."
Eddie-boy sounded like he liked that idea—a lot—when he responded: "Anytime."
Riah asked if he had something to write on, and Casey's teeth gritted. She told the other man to call her, and Donnelly promised to do so. She must have gone back to her table since the next thing he heard was a quick conversation between her and Walker, who apparently brought Riah's check. "Heading out," Riah said softly.
He watched for her as she left the restaurant and walked toward the van. He told Bartowski to get the door, and she stepped up and inside. "That's done," Casey told her as she dropped into the chair next to his and slipped off her shoes.
"Mmm," she said, lifting a foot to rub her arch.
Casey watched her fingers a moment and then reached for her foot. From the corner of his eye, he watched Bartowski's face redden. "That feels good," Riah said softly, and she put her other foot in his lap. He switched feet. "Why didn't you tell me Carina was using your name?" she asked as she fished out the earpiece and then the mic.
It was Casey's turn to blush. "I didn't know."
She nodded. They waited for Walker, and Riah gave him a verbal report of what he had not been able to see, including the fact that she suspected one of the men with him was his current lover. Casey raised his brows, and she gave him a list of Donnelly's nonverbal tells.
Bartowski's brows shot up. "I thought he was your boyfriend," he said at last.
Riah, after a glance at Casey for permission, told Chuck that she had been cover for Donnelly.
"Get their names when you see Donnelly," Casey told her when she looked back at him. He suspected that if Donnelly was on the up and up, they'd find they were either RCMP or CSIS. If they had been ISI, Riah should have known them. Since Carina wasn't wired or wasn't letting the feed come through—and Casey knew it could be either—they waited. After a while, Riah stifled a yawn and rubbed her eyes. Casey took her hand and tugged her over and into his lap. He linked his hands over her hip, and she rested her head against his shoulder. "Tired?" She nodded and slipped a hand up around his neck.
He dropped a kiss on her forehead, and she lifted her face. He gave her a soft kiss. "Won't be much longer," he promised. She was nearly asleep when the door was wrenched open and Carina climbed in. Riah started to move out of his lap, but Casey's hands tightened on her, held her in place.
"Well, that was a bust," the other woman said, dropping into the seat Riah had previously occupied. She eyed the two of them and then said, "You certainly weren't trying very hard."
"I know Edmund," she said. "If I'd pushed, he would have been suspicious. He'll call."
Carina scoffed, but before she could say anything, Riah's phone rang. She picked up her bag, dug it out, and answered it. Because she was so close, Casey couldn't help but hear Donnelly when he said, "Have lunch with me tomorrow."
Riah met his eyes, and when he gave a slight nod, she answered, "I would love to. When?"
"I've got some business to take care of in the morning," Casey heard the other man say. "One?" He nodded again. That gave them plenty of time to get set up.
"One would be great," she told him. "Where should I meet you?"
"How about I pick you up?"
She looked at Casey, and he shook his head. He needed her in a spot they could control, a place where, with any luck, they could either have full surveillance or put their own people inside—preferably both. Riah said, "How about I just meet you?"
There was a pause. "Something I should know, Mariah?"
She watched Casey's face, and he wondered what she was about to say that he would be unlikely to approve. "I lied. I still live with the tall American." Casey was about to protest, but he closed his mouth. In truth, if Riah was right, if the man was what she claimed, it would probably be best if he knew Casey was around. If he wasn't what she purported, then it was equally useful for Donnelly to know Casey would keep an eye on her.
"Bad girl," Donnelly laughed. "You know I want to hear this story, especially since you and I both know there was no tall American in Montreal."
"How about you meet me?" she asked, and named her favorite bistro. Casey nodded at her choice. They'd found the management cooperative before. He began plotting what would need to be done while she and the other man said goodnight. "We'll see if we can get some audio in there, maybe video," he told her. "If not, we'll wire you."
Carina was not happy, and it showed. "This is supposed to be my case," she grumbled.
Riah shrugged and spoke before Casey could. "You asked for help."
That seemed to shut Carina up, and Casey dropped a kiss just below Riah's ear then whispered, "Play nicely."
She gave him a look that said she would do no such thing. He cranked a brow up and gave her a look to reinforce his instruction. He needed her to behave, but he was also aware that he needed her if Donnelly really wasn't what Carina claimed. Riah turned her gaze to Carina, "Interesting choice of cover name."
Pissed about that himself, he waited to hear what had possessed her to choose his name. Carina gave a slow smile. "I didn't think Johnny would mind."
Casey sure as hell did mind, but he didn't say so.
Bartowski, finally cluing in to the tension decided to get involved. "I'm sure Casey doesn't mind. After all, it isn't like he's going to meet Donnelly until the end of this, right?"
Carina turned her attention to him. Before she could put the kid down, Riah simply said, "Enjoy it while you can."
A sort of purring sound came from Carina. "I could say the same to you."
He felt Riah tense, but she decided, wisely as far as Casey was concerned, to disengage. Carina also decided to play nice, and that had Casey wondering when the next clash would start. At this point, the two women had managed if not to be polite to one another to at least not engage in bloodshed. Carina played for keeps, but Riah was still untested when it came to this.
Then it occurred to him to wonder if she was jealous.
She didn't act like it, though, at least not in the way he would have expected. She'd sniped about Celia and about Val, but that had been directed at Casey. This wasn't. This was more like trying to mix oil and vinegar: they simply didn't, at least not for long.
He'd had tense assignments before, assignments where there were more issues between his team than there were with the enemy, but this was the first time he suspected the animosity was about him. He was well aware how conceited that sounded, but there was no other explanation, other than Donnelly, and Riah didn't seem the least interested in the other man on a personal level.
Walker joined them, and Casey couldn't say he was sorry. Riah slipped off his lap and slid her shoes back on her feet. Her car was in the parking lot a block away, and she picked up her bag and fished for her keys. Casey, ready to escape, told Walker to take the van back, and he took Riah's hand and left with her. When they were clear of the van, she asked, "Shouldn't you stay with Chuck?"
He shrugged. "Walker can take care of him."
Casey took her keys and put her in the passenger seat before driving them home. Once they were inside, Riah headed for the stairs, but he stopped her. "We need to check in with Beckman," he said. She followed him, and they reported to the General. Beckman was pleased Riah had arranged a meeting so quickly.
When they were in bed, he told her, "I need to know what you told the RCMP."
Riah told him, explained that she had simply been checking to see if they knew what Donnelly was up to because she had doubts. She told him her contact at the RCMP had confirmed that her old friend was running an op and what it was. Then she told him she had sent her friend at the RCMP information to give Donnelly about their cover story—but only the part that said she and Casey had met in Montreal. "Though I suppose," she finished, "that he knows the cover is in use since I told him I still live with you." She thought a few minutes, and then she asked, "Are you sure Carina is really after what she says she is?"
He looked at her. "What do you mean?" Even as he said it, his mind began running various possibilities. It was true the DEA agent sometimes ran more than one game, sometimes played multiple agencies off one another, so he should probably have considered the idea sooner.
"Don't you think it odd that she hasn't done anything to move in yet? She's had to have seen enough to know Edmund's doing what she claims, but the DEA hasn't acted."
Her question was a valid one, and he considered it carefully. Riah had been in the business long enough to know, though, that sometimes letting a target run to gather more information was more valuable than an arrest. It was possible, he supposed, that Carina was after Donnelly's contacts and had delayed action to get them. He shrugged. "Maybe they're hoping to get one of the cartels."
Mariah thought it through. "I suppose, but then why interfere with an ongoing RCMP investigation, especially since the alleged drug ring is Canadian? Unless there's something she's not telling us, they apparently don't know he's a Mountie."
Casey grunted. Again, it was a valid point. The DEA normally wouldn't intrude into a friendly country without an invitation, but Carina had admitted they had gone into Canada on this. He doubted the RCMP had jurisdiction in the States, and he especially doubted that they would run an operation without the DEA's participation and cooperation. He decided there were questions he needed to ask, and he considered which of his contacts were most likely to know. Carina had left a lot of gaps, but that was par for her particular course. He slid a hand over Riah's stomach to her hip and turned her toward him. Riah ran her arms around his shoulders and lifted her face. Before his mouth found hers, she said, "I expected yelling."
"For what?" he asked.
"Calling Rob and tipping him off that the DEA might interfere with Eddie's operation."
Casey ran a hand down her spine. "Eddie?" He put a hint of menace in the name.
"We met when he was six, John, so, yeah, Eddie." She grinned. "Emotionally, he's probably only about twelve."
He snorted. "He's really gay?"
She laughed, and then she gave him a knowing grin. "You're just his type. Want an introduction?"
"He's not mine," he growled and caught her mouth in a kiss. When he broke the kiss, he murmured, "He'd better not be yours."
Riah moved closer to him. "Eddie and I have the same tastes in men," she told him softly, and she ran her hand onto his cheek. Her thumb stroked gently over his mouth, and then she kissed him, long and slow, with her entire body.
"For the record," he told her, rolling her onto her back, "I don't share, so don't get ideas about his boyfriend."
Riah pulled him down to her, and she put her lips against his, ran the tip of her tongue along his and then said, "I don't share, either." She kissed him. "And I only have ideas about you."
It wasn't hard to arrange for Riah to have the day off. Casey was already scheduled for a day off from the Buy More, and he enjoyed hacking into Milbarge's computer in the early hours and changing the schedule. He knew it would make the assistant manager nuts, and around mid-morning, Casey abused a few privileges and pulled up the feeds from the Buy More and watched the idiot check and recheck his computer. Milbarge was furious. Casey owned that he derived petty satisfaction from the other man's confused anger.
Unfortunately, as the morning wore on, Riah got weirdly nervous. Casey wondered if she had failed to tell him something—it wouldn't be the first time—but he suspected there was something else at play. He finally cornered her. "Spill," he ordered when he found her
She appeared to be staring at his chest. "This could go wrong in so many ways," she said. She lifted her head, met his gaze. "I could be recognized, depending on whether or not he brings people with him. Eddie's running a huge risk using his real name, and I can't believe his superiors let him." He understood those concerns, had had a moment or two himself where he wondered why Donnelly hadn't used a cover name given what he was doing. It would be all-too-easy to find out he was a Mountie if anyone checked, and there would always be someone careless enough to confirm he still was if asked with the right incentive.
"It'll have to play out as is," he told her. "You won't be alone in there. The staff other than the cooks will be our people."
She dressed in a pair of jeans and a light, v-necked sweater over a t-shirt. When asked, she told him she had an ankle holster and wore a vest. She blushed and admitted to a second handgun in her shoulder bag.
In an attempt to settle Riah, Casey suggested she head out a little early. He had van duty yet again, and she let him get in place before she entered the restaurant. Casey was grimly amused that Donnelly, already seated, must have had the same idea.
Casey watched as Donnelly stood and put his arms around her when she arrived at their table. The other man kissed her and then held her chair. Casey's lip curled. Donnelly lifted a bottle of wine from the table, and Riah smiled when he poured her a glass. Casey's eyes narrowed when he saw her mouth move, form a silent word, as she picked up her glass. She did not, he thought angrily, just tell the man she was wearing a wire. "Riah," he growled and then shut up. She'd made smart calls so far, and she knew their conversation would be recorded. He'd just have to trust that she knew what she was doing, despite his doubts.
It was mind-numbing to sit there and listen to them talk about their childhood in Newfoundland, though Casey did get a different picture of her. Donnelly had apparently known her before her abduction, and the little girl the man described sounded very different than the woman Casey knew. Donnelly mentioned someone from their past, and he watched Riah's head tilt the way it did when she wasn't sure of something. He shifted cameras so he could see her face. She frowned, looked puzzled, and remained quiet while Donnelly talked. After a moment, Casey caught a strange pattern in the man's words.
Fucking code, he thought in disgust. Before he could say anything, a waiter who was really a CIA officer took their orders. When they were alone again, Casey noticed Riah's words were hesitant, though the apparent subject wasn't something that should have made her so. "You realize you're translating this for me later," he told her silkily.
Then, to Casey's amusement, Donnelly began asking her about him. The man gave no indication that he knew Casey was NSA, though he was certain Donnelly had to know. "So you're still with your tall American?"
Riah confirmed it.
The man grinned. "You always did go for tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed men," he said on a sigh. "I was no competition, was I?"
For a moment, Casey felt the anger rise above simmer, but then he remembered what she had told him. The man was obviously playing for the audience. It mollified Casey to hear Riah say, "Much as I hate to crush your ego, none whatsoever." She sipped her wine and then said, "But I don't think you and I would ever have worked out, Eddie. We knew way too much about one another."
"True," he agreed, and Casey wondered what the man knew about her that he didn't.
"Want to tell me about the redhead?"
Donnelly gave her a wide smile. "Oh, how I wish you were jealous," he said, and then added, "but, truthfully, Carla's only an associate with aspirations, my dear."
Riah laughed at that, and Casey caught the edge of mean. "What kind of business are you in, Eddie?"
He shrugged. "Import-export. I have a home base in Vancouver."
"Really?" she asked. "What to do you import and export?"
They paused as their orders were set in front of them. "Believe it or not, I decided to put my art history degree to use. Remember how I wrote my thesis on folk art of the Dene?" Casey wondered who or what the Dene were, but Riah nodded. "I started by helping them establish a co-op for their work, and from there they introduced other nations to me. I send their work out of Canada and across Canada, and I bring in work from southeast Asia. I'm moving into South and Central America, now, and I've had a few feelers from Alaska and the Pacific Northwest here in the States."
"I'm impressed," she said, and so was Casey. If Donnelly was truly in the drug trade, was truly doing as he said, he had regular shipping routes he could use and artifacts that would make concealing the product relatively easy. "I assume those two gentlemen with you last night were business associates?"
His smile was sly, and Casey recognized the expression. Riah was right, he realized, and one of the men was something more than an associate. Donnelly's answer was clearly coded, and Casey wondered if the name he dropped was real or part of that code. The other man then told her the other associate was Paulo Figueiro, and mentioned that he was Brazilian. Drugs weren't Casey's usual gig, but he suspected that meant the supposed Brazilian was undercover as well, especially since Casey knew Brazil exported most of its illegal drugs to Europe.
As lunch wound down, Donnelly said, "I'm throwing a party tomorrow night. Why don't you come? Bring your American, if you like."
Riah demurred, and Edmund cajoled her. Casey told her to accept. It would get them on the inside and get them a closer look at who Donnelly was playing with. Casey still didn't trust Carina, still wasn't sure what she'd dragged them into, but he wouldn't mind a first-hand look. Riah let the man suggest one more time that she come before she agreed. Casey watched as the man took a pen and a piece of paper out of his breast pocket and wrote as he told her what time he'd expect her. She accepted the piece of paper and told him she'd be there.
Once more, the agent posing as their waiter arrived at the table. They declined dessert, and when the check came, Donnelly insisted on paying.
They left the restaurant together, and Donnelly offered to drive her home or to work. Riah was smart enough to tell him she was staying at her mother's Malibu house and didn't want to take him so far out of his way. It neatly kept him from their home and Bartowski's as well as Castle and the Buy More. Casey watched as the man hailed a cab for her, and Casey told her to meet him at Castle. She gave the driver Large Mart's address. Casey followed once Donnelly was out of sight. The cab deposited her at the store, and he watched her go inside.
He met her in the yogurt shop a few minutes later. Walker had called Bartowski, that or the kid was on break and had just turned up. Casey was simply glad Carina was not with them. It was a short-lived happiness since the woman joined them quickly. She eyed Riah and said, "Now that the two of you have caught up on old times, maybe you'd like to get down to business next time."
So she had been listening in, Casey thought. Riah fixed an innocent look on her face and said, "Remember, your lot only cut me in because you were clearly not up to the job."
To his surprise, Carina didn't engage. He couldn't help wondering why not. It was the kind of challenge she normally confronted head-on.
They reported to Beckman, who agreed he and Riah should attend Donnelly's party. Riah didn't look happy, and Casey was curious. Riah told General Beckman quietly that Donnelly would know Casey, and it was entirely possible other attendees might as well. She also said that since Carina was using Casey as a cover name, it might prove awkward and more than coincidental. Beckman then suggested Carina could say Casey was her brother. Casey struggled to hide the cringe, though presenting him as a relative might cover any of Carina's verbal digs. Bartowski was the one who pointed out that it might be too much of a coincidence for Carina's brother to turn up with Donnelly's ex-girlfriend.
They talked further and finally decided that coincidence happened and would happen in this case. Carina was asked for a probable guest list so they could determine if anyone present might recognize Casey. She began listing names, and they decided it was unlikely anyone would know him. He was, nonetheless, cautioned to take care. After Beckman disconnected, they discussed a few plans, and then Casey told Riah he would take her to get her car which was still at the restaurant.
When they were in the Vic, he asked, "So what were you two really talking about?"
Riah didn't dissemble. She told him that one of the men from the night before was CSIS and that Donnelly was on to Carina. Her phone buzzed, and she looked at the screen. "It's Edmund."
Casey told her to answer it.
She did so, and then shot Casey a look. "Yes."
Riah moved the phone from her ear, held it between them, and pushed a couple of buttons. Donnelly's voice said, "Major Casey? I asked Mariah to do this so we're all clear here. Your DEA agent is dangerously close to ruining two and a half years' worth of work. I need someone to put a leash if not an actual muzzle on her. Tomorrow night's party is the final play of this little game. I trust Mariah, and she trusts you. As a result, I'm willing to do so as well. I need the lovely Carina occupied and out of the way."
Donnelly went on to explain he had several cartel leaders coming to the party—a fact Carina did not know. He told them he had reason to suspect the redhead was playing a game of her own with the Colombian representative and that her game involved a particular set of emeralds. Riah groaned when the other man said that, and Casey shot her a look. Donnelly went on. "Mariah can explain that to you, and I'm going to have to ask you a really huge favor here, Mariah."
She sighed, and said, "There's absolutely no way she's going to let me have them, Eddie."
"Who says you have to ask?" Riah's face said she was afraid Donnelly was about to ask her to steal them. "One of my native artisans has made a damned good fake. If you'll tell me where to send them, I'll get them to you, Mariah. All I ask is that you wear them to the party."
"I might as well wear my bullet-proof vest with the big ISI letters on it," she groused, and Casey shot her a grin.
"Actually," Donnelly told her, his voice a little tinny through the speaker, "you're the perfect distraction. Only the Colombians will recognize what you're wearing. We have the goods on them, and not only will they be too busy trying to reclaim their national heritage, but Carina will be focused on you as well, especially if, as I suspect, she's made a deal for the emeralds. That lets me and my team finish what we need to without her interference."
Suddenly, Casey had a clear picture of why he had been included in the other man's invitation, and it pissed him off. It was one thing for Riah to choose to endanger herself; it was quite another for Donnelly to knowingly put her smack in front of the crosshairs, especially to provide a distraction. For an uncomfortable moment, Casey realized he'd done the exact same thing a time or two, and he didn't like that any better. "I assume that's where I come in," Casey said quietly.
"I can't protect Mariah and do my job at the same time," Donnelly conceded, "and there's no way I'm going to face V. H. and tell him what I put his daughter up to if something happens to her. From what I hear, you're more than capable of seeing she stays safe. Bring a friend or two with you. I understand you work with the beautiful and deadly Sarah Walker these days."
"Walker and Carina go way back," Casey bit out, though he was certain Donnelly knew that. "She'll be torn between loyalties. I don't think she's a good choice."
"Bring someone else, then, or have Mariah call on ISI for some resources."
"I'd have to tell Dad everything to get ISI operatives," she warned him. Casey doubted V. H. would approve the request if she gave him all the details. He had finally placed what emeralds they spoke of, and that necklace had caused a lot of trouble over the years, had nearly gotten Ariel killed more than once, so there was no way V. H. would let Riah walk into a room with Colombian thugs wearing it—regardless of how well guarded she might be.
"That, I can't let you do," Donnelly returned. "ISI is riddled with Fulcrum, and I can't afford to have someone leak to them what I'm doing. This is a lot more complicated than a simple drug deal, Mariah. Admittedly, since Laurance started singing, they're getting a handle on the various cells, but I can't risk it."
Casey's attention was suddenly intensely focused. "Fulcrum's mixed up with this?"
"Tangentially," Donnelly confirmed, "but, yes. They've discovered drugs make a good funding stream for their activities, but they've also found the drug smuggling networks are good for smuggling other things, like information and weapons."
Casey agreed to bring a couple of agents along, was already sorting through and selecting and rejecting possibilities as Riah finished the call. Casey drove in silence a moment, and then he said, "Get me up to speed, Riah."
Riah told him the story he only partially knew from V. H. She explained that her mother and father had met over a set of emeralds her mother had acquired in a shady deal when she played Bogota early in her career. The Colombian government had wanted them returned since they had historical significance, but Ariel had refused, had even defiantly worn them to an embassy event in Ottawa later where the Colombian ambassador had made very explicit threats to her. She was about to embark on a Canadian tour, and V. H., who was in trouble with Clack, was punished by being head of her security detail. "Mum still has them, and the Colombians still want them."
Casey flashed a grin and hoped it didn't show that for a brief moment he considered the possibilities. "Let me guess. They're willing to kill for them."
She nodded.
He snorted then decided, why not? "I might be able to make them a deal."
There was a slight smile, though Riah chose to ignore his comment other than that brief lifting of her lips.
When they got home, he got back in touch with Beckman. He and Riah told her about the call from Donnelly, and Beckman quickly decided they would carry through—and take Bartowski to see if he could identify any Fulcrum agents who might be in attendance. They would send a couple of other agents in as well. She asked Riah to arrange for them to be on the guest list. The General told Riah to have Donnelly deliver the package to a public place. When Beckman had disconnected, Riah and Casey talked over potential locations to collect the emeralds, and Riah finally chose the local library, reference section. She pointed out any of the usual haunts, while under surveillance and controllable, might lead others to Bartowski.
Riah made a fast phone call, and then drove straight there. Casey tailed her, and he didn't even try to hide that he was doing so. He followed her inside, lurked among the shelves where he could see her. He watched her take a seat at a reading table opposite a guy who looked like he'd spent more time in a gym than with a book. Riah set her bag in the middle of the table and opened a thick tome. They both sat and read for several minutes, and then the bulk of muscle reached for her bag and slid a flat, wooden box inside. Not subtly done, Casey noted, but done nonetheless. Riah continued to read for a good fifteen minutes after the man left before leaving herself.
Home again, she pulled the flat, square, wooden box out and popped it open. Casey looked over her shoulder. It was a stunning piece, he noticed. Polished emeralds set in primitive gold. "Got a loupe?" she asked. He rummaged in a drawer and handed her one, took a look when she finished. They might even fool an expert, he realized.
Casey gave an approving grunt. "I saw these on your mother once," he said. Then he corrected himself. "Well, not these, I guess."
He saw to the details, called the agent he'd chosen. He'd really rather have Walker, but he wasn't sure after what had happened the year before that it wouldn't just embolden Carina to have her along. That evening, he called Bartowski over when the female agent arrived, and he and Riah walked the two of them through the following evening. Donnelly, apparently willing to assist, had e-mailed Riah house plans.
The following evening, Riah chose a long, white dress. It had only one shoulder, but was cut in such a way it would hide her scars. It was also slit up the sides to mid-thigh, and Casey eyed those slits and nearly suggested she change as he tied his bow tie before putting on the tuxedo jacket that had been carefully tailored to hide his holstered SIG. She wouldn't be able to wear a holster with that much of her legs exposed, though he had to admit the emeralds would stand out with the heavy, white silk as a background. She added a wide gold band bracelet and slipped on a pair of gold sandals as he watched. He realized her legs were bare. He dropped a kiss on her exposed shoulder and picked up the necklace and fastened it into place. It was heavier than he had expected.
Bartowski was already downstairs, dressed in a tux, too, and Alice Wozniak, the female agent he'd chosen sat on the sofa. Wozniak wasn't as pretty as Walker, but she was, if anything, meaner. Wozniak had been told to lend a hand if needed but that her primary job was to keep Carmichael, as he'd introduced Bartowski to her, alive and out of trouble.
There was an uncomfortable moment for Casey when Donnelly gave him an appreciative look and held onto his hand a little longer than necessary when Riah introduced him and Donnelly shook his hand. The other man kissed Riah's cheek, and Casey heard her say softly to Donnelly, "Down, boy."
Donnelly grinned and said softly, "They look good on you. Want to keep them?"
"Assuming I stay alive?" and she quirked a brow at him.
Casey noticed Donnelly gave her an unrepentant grin.
They mingled. Casey caught three men staring at Riah as though they had seen a ghost. He looked closer, recognized one as part of Pablo Molina's organization.
That put a whole new level of urgency to this little party. If Molina was connected to this, there was more to it than just drugs and Fulcrum. Molina wasn't a drug dealer except out of expediency. He was a terrorist intent on bringing a Castro-style coup to his country, and drugs provided some easy money when he ran short of funds. Casey looked closer, realized that one of them had to be related to Molina. The family resemblance was strong, and Casey, who had trained Colombian troops years earlier, had been close enough to Molina more than once to know.
The Colombians were practically on point. Casey leaned in on the pretext of kissing Riah and whispered that she was to stay close to him or Wozniak. She gave him a brilliant smile with a faint nod.
Carina sidled up, and her eyes goggled when she saw what Riah was wearing.
"Like living dangerously?" she asked softly.
Riah shrugged. Casey's eyes narrowed, knew Donnelly had been dead on when he suggested the DEA agent had a side game running.
"Johnny," the redhead said with a catty grin, "where's Sarah?"
"Couldn't make it," he lied. He nodded at Bartowski and Wozniak.
Carina made a face. "Wozniak? Really? And I see you brought the analyst. I would have thought you'd bring more seasoned people, Johnny."
Donnelly approached then, dropped a kiss on Carina's cheek and said, "Carla, I didn't see you arrive."
She ran a hand up his chest and smiled. Casey felt a little slimy to think he'd let her do much the same to him once. He tried not to think of the more he had allowed. "You were busy, and I thought I'd just join the crowd."
There came a point where Casey had to go deal with Bartowski. He and Riah both recognized his flash face, and Casey left her side to see what had happened. When they had earmarked four Fulcrum agents and Bartowski finished looking like he was about to be violently ill from the flashes, Casey noticed Riah, the three Colombians, and Carina were all missing. He should have put a wire on her, he realized, but he hadn't expected to get separated from her. He paled when he realized what could happen to her—not to mention what her father would do to him when he had to tell the man.
For the next twenty minutes or so, he kept an eye on Bartowski and watched for Riah. She was resourceful, he reminded himself, and if Donnelly had half the brains she thought he did, he'd have someone watching out for her. He was relieved when he finally saw her slip inside through French doors that opened out to the pool. Her necklace was missing, which meant she had been with the Colombians, but she didn't look any the worse for wear. She was pale, and he caught something in her eyes.
He took her by the hand and took her upstairs to an empty bedroom. "The Colombians—one of them is one of Pablo Molina's lieutenants, probably a family member. He asked about Chuck. He knows about me. He knows Carina is DEA."
Ignoring the information about Molina's relative since he had already figured that out, he focused instead on the rest of what she had to say. From her face, the man knew she was more than simply an ISI operative, and coupled with Riah's assertion that the man knew about Bartowski, Casey could draw only one conclusion. At a guess, since Molina would have no personal use for the Intersect, he figured he could either sell Bartowski—or Riah—to someone who did or he could sell the information a piece at a time to the highest bidder.
As for Carina, she was a big girl and could take care of herself. It wouldn't hurt Casey's feelings if she couldn't.
"Stay here." He'd send Bartowski up to her, maybe Wozniak. Riah had played her part for Donnelly, so Casey could safely take her out of play. He went to find Bartowski.
He quickly told the kid where Riah was, told him to join her and stay with her. Bartowski looked like he was about to argue, but from the corner of his eye, he saw Donnelly signal another man. "Now, Bartowski," Casey said. "It's either that or be in the crossfire." Thankfully, the kid went, and then it all went to hell. Donnelly's men moved in. Casey was caught in the clean-up. He was so in his element, he forgot, for a moment, about Riah and Bartowski as they rounded up the bad guys with the help of CSIS and the DEA. It wasn't until they had them sorted and subdued that Casey realized Carina wasn't there.
"You'd better find Mariah," Donnelly told him.
Wozniak stayed and helped the DEA while Casey climbed the stairs. As he opened the door, he heard Bartowski say, "You're about to tell me the house equivalent of stay in the car." His eyes found the kid who stood nose to nose with Riah. "Casey and Sarah always tell me to stay in the car."
Riah looked like she had been in a fight, and a nasty one at that. The dress was spattered with blood, most of which appeared to have come from a split lip and her nose. Half her hair had fallen down, and she wasn't wearing her shoes. "What happened?" he demanded as he caught her elbows.
He followed Riah's gaze to where the bed stood in an alcove.
His first instinct was to swear. His second was to laugh. He chose to simply grunt.
"Amusement," Bartowski deadpanned. "That's good, Casey."
Casey couldn't even muster annoyed for the kid. He looked back at Riah, tipped her face and considered whether or not he could afford to say what he really wanted with Bartowski as witness. He'd tell Walker, after all, and Casey would rather not add to Walker's arsenal.
Riah had, apparently, not only bested Carina, but the DEA agent was currently out cold, cuffed to an iron headboard, gagged with her own stocking, and naked as the day she was born.
He would not smile.
He would not say a word.
He was damned well taking a picture the minute he got a chance.
Turning his attention back to Riah, he saw the cut wasn't that bad, though Riah would have a fat lip. Her nose wasn't broken, he noted, and the bleeding had stopped. "Clean up's starting. Donnelly is asking for you." He palmed his phone, considered how to do this, but his phone vibrated in his hand.
Bartowski had done the job for him, he noted as he pulled it from his pocket. Riah's brows rose as she saw the satisfied smirk on his face.
"Your girlfriend's a badass, Casey," the kid told him.
Riah apparently decided to throw Bartowski under the bus. "He's the one who told me to gag her and reminded me that photographic evidence was required."
A shadow crossed Riah's face then. "John," she said softly, "she—."
He bent and stopped her with a soft kiss, gave her a look that told her to save it, and led her and Bartowski back downstairs.
There were several DEA agents leading people out, and Donnelly and his CSIS partner stood talking near the pool doors. "Molina's goon do that?" Donnelly asked, gesturing at Riah's face as they joined him. She shook her head. All business now, he continued, "We got the ones we were after, and they'll take the Colombians soon." He leaned in and kissed Riah's cheek. "Thanks for the distraction."
They stayed long enough to answer the DEA's questions, but Riah refused to let a medic look at her face. Casey suspected she wanted to go before someone found Carina. He told Donnelly he thought he'd get Riah home unless they needed them further. The other man shook his hand, thanked him for his assistance, and told him he was a lucky bastard.
Casey dropped Wozniak at the field office as she asked, and then he drove home. They checked in with Beckman, and then Casey sent Bartowski home. He took Riah's hand and led her in the kitchen. He got a clean dish towel and ice from the fridge before he took a first aid kit out of one of the cabinets. He cupped her chin and gently cleaned her split lip. "What was the fight about?" he asked.
She winced when her grin pulled the torn skin. "Not you," she said and he raised his brows. "She told Molina's men who I was and suggested they kill me."
Anger spiked, but he could well imagine she'd done exactly what Riah had said. Carina played dangerous odds, usually the very long shots. He released Riah and started putting ice in a plastic bag. "You said they knew what you were."
She wasn't fooled by his casual tone. "He knew about me, and he knew what you did for me." Casey's eyes shot to hers. Her eyes and her face went hard. She repeated what the man had said to her, that Casey and her father had sold their integrity for her after the mess with Laurance, and she told Casey she thought the man was the only one who knew. She explained that the others with him apparently didn't speak English, so she couldn't be sure. She then told him about the man's interest in Bartowski and how she convinced him Chuck was of no value.
Casey closed the bag of ice and wrapped the dish towel around it before handing it to her. He'd known Laurance would cost him, but he could live with that. He'd done what was right, and if he'd had a personal investment in the outcome he'd tried to achieve, well, it was one of the few times he'd acted on personal interests. Bartowski was apparently rubbing off on him, he supposed, but that idea didn't sting as much as it usually did.
Riah gently put the wrapped ice bag against her face.
"So how did he know?"
She shrugged then watched as he tidied things away. "Carina was there, listening. She accused us of being dirty."
He snorted dismissively, but the comment hit a raw nerve. In part, it was that accusation coupled with the implication that Casey lacked integrity, but in part it was the urge to use words like pot, kettle, and black. In addition, he was going to have to find a way to report what Riah had said without it looking like payback. Carina might have finally skated too far over the line, and, if so, then it was time to take her skates away. Thankfully, that would be someone else's job.
It was entirely possible, though, that the woman was needling Riah, and it was equally possible that she really had gone too far this time, sold information or made deals that were on the wrong side of the law. It happened to agents, and Carina was ripe for that. Her ideas of right and wrong were looser than most, and because of her drive to win at any cost, he had long wondered when she would finally lose sight of the line between the two. That would be a shame. She did her job, but thankfully Casey rarely had to be there when she did.
He went about his nightly routine, checked the locks on the windows and door, set the alarm, and wrapped an arm around Riah before leading her upstairs. In their bedroom, he settled in next to her, pulled her close and said, "The next time an old friend of yours runs a game, let's just be spectators."
She snorted. "Next time that skinny bitch wants to play, let's not."
The better part of valor was not to answer, he knew, and he decided that was his best recourse.
Over the next week or so, Casey grew uneasy, but he couldn't quite figure out why. He and Riah got along, he did his job, and she did hers. Bartowski flashed, and he and Walker dealt with the kid's intel and several threats.
One afternoon, though, Casey found himself on a beach with Riah, Walker, Bartowski, Ellie and her fiancé, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out what he was doing there. To all outward appearances, he was there with his girlfriend and friends. He could argue Riah was a kind of girlfriend, but he wasn't sure he could legitimately claim the others as friends, wasn't even sure he wanted to. He watched Riah, who, conscious of the questions exposing her back would raise, refused to swim, claimed she couldn't, and Casey was surprised no one remembered that first time he took her to the Bartowskis' apartment where she told Woodcomb she enjoyed swimming.
As he walked her a little away from the others, it dawned on him: he was not only getting soft, he was being domesticated—and he didn't like that at all. It was partly the situation, and it was partly her.
For the next several days, he considered that, chewed on it. Casey was happy to get the chance to shoot things and indulge in an explosion or two the following week, but it didn't change the fact that he increasingly wanted out. This wasn't his life, not his real life, anyway, and he wasn't sure he wanted it to ever be his life.
But it was an easy one. Chuck-watch, as Riah called it, was rarely taxing for him, and living with Riah provided a number of comforts. He was surprised she seemed content with a fairly traditional female role, but he didn't mind that someone was cooking for him and cleaning up after him. He was capable of doing that, didn't mind it much after several decades doing it, but he admitted it was nice to not have to. The sex was comfortable as well, and they got along with relatively few hiccups.
But he kept circling back to the fact that it wasn't his life, and it was getting harder to remember that.
Casey moaned when the alarm went off. He slapped a hand at the clock, missed, and then tried again, smacked the snooze button. He fumbled around and found the button that actually turned the alarm off and made sure it wouldn't wake him again. Riah stretched, and he felt her body move against him, her skin slide along his.
When Riah's arm began to move from him, he stopped it, took her wrist. "Got work," she mumbled.
"Call in sick." He put his mouth to her forehead.
She lifted her face, and he kissed her. She kissed him back, but there was no passion there. She wasn't quite awake yet, and he applied himself to getting her so, smiled when she moved against him, returned his kiss with fire. He started to roll her beneath him, but she beat him to it, pulled herself on top of him and straddled his hips. She broke their kiss, sat up, and he ran his hands up her flat stomach to her breasts as she positioned herself over him. He didn't mind the lack of foreplay, didn't mind her taking the lead, especially not when she lowered herself on him and began to move. He pulled her down for a hungry kiss and then began helping her. When she came, hard, he followed her.
Riah collapsed on top of him, and he smiled against her hair. He traced her spine lightly with his fingertips, and she breathed in deeply and made that purring sound she frequently made after sex. He liked that sound, liked it a lot. He felt her mouth against his chest, against his neck, and he lifted his head so that he could meet her mouth when she reached for it. One of his hands reached up and cradled her cheek while the other slid down her back. When she lifted her head, she smiled at him. "I have to get up."
He grunted, but he let her go. He watched her pad naked out of the room to the bathroom. He had the day off, and he didn't intend to get up for a while. He rolled over and dropped off again. He woke when Riah dropped a kiss on his mouth when she was ready to leave. He mumbled something about seeing her later and returned to sleep.
At midday he finally got out of bed. There had been a late night mission the night before, and even though it hadn't panned out, it had still drained him, especially mentally since he had had to listen to Bartowski ramble on about some television show that just got cancelled and how the writer/director had been robbed once again. Casey had tuned him out by contemplating assassination methods best suited to an urban environment.
He wrote his report while he drank his coffee and sent it off to the General. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised when she called not long afterward. "Major," she said gravely. "I've decided to grant your request."