Ghosts That Haunt—34
Irritated, Casey rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Victoria had conditioned him to not only sleep lightly as he'd always done but to awaken often, and despite the fact that she was thousands of miles away, he still woke every few hours. It didn't help his mood that her mother wasn't where she belonged, either—especially since despite the fact he'd seen the sedan and the SUV a couple more times, no one seemed to be making any moves against Bartowski.
If he had to be stuck here alone, the least the bad guys could do was give him something to do. Instead, they were maddeningly dormant, like they decided to take the holiday season off this year.
Each day he talked to V. H., and each day he got a similar story out of the man. No one was making moves against his wife, either. He snorted, rolled over and punched his pillow into a different shape. Okay, he really didn't want anyone else making moves on his wife, especially not the ones he wanted to make, but it might make him less pissed off if there really was a valid reason to keep dragging this out.
As he had told her he would, he called Riah each night. Occasionally, he called her at other times, though he hated to admit that was because he missed her, wanted to at least hear her voice even if he couldn't see her or their daughter.
It didn't help that Ellie was obviously fishing, either. Casey knew she worried about Riah—about him and Riah—so he remained patient with her. After a week and a half, she began dropping broader hints that if he wanted to talk, she'd listen. It had taken him a few of those to realize she thought they had split up again. That realization only came after Bartowski had gone a unique shade of blush when he told Casey his sister wanted him to give him something. The pamphlets Chuck handed him had been for marriage counselors.
His phone lit and gave an alert that told him there was a perimeter breach. He didn't bother with lights—just grabbed the SIG and a vest before he shoved his feet in shoes and ran for the living room. Someone was finally making a move on Bartowski.
A lone idiot was trying to manipulate the lock on the kid's window. Casey was pissed that Walker apparently had her phone off since she apparently didn't get the alert, but he was glad she had either made Bartowski lock his window or had done it for him since it delayed the intruder. He didn't bother with threats, simply used the SIG as a club and put him down before he restrained and then disarmed him. He stripped the mask off the man, but he didn't recognize the weasel. He rapped on the closed window until a sleepy Bartowski answered.
"You could have called," the kid mumbled.
"Where's Walker?" Casey demanded.
Bartowski shrugged. "She got a call, told me to stay here."
Furious that she had left the asset alone and unprotected, Casey asked tightly, "Call from whom?"
Rubbing his eyes, Bartowski said, less than helpfully, "CIA."
That made no damn sense to Casey, but he let it go. If Walker didn't have the kid, he'd have to. "Get dressed," he told Chuck, and when it was obvious Bartowski was going to balk, he pointed at the ground with the SIG. Chuck's eyes shot wide. "Someone got rid of Walker to get to you," he said. "I'm gonna need a hand with this."
That crooked sunburst on Bartowski's face told him he should have made plain what he meant by that. He was too tired to burst the kid's bubble, though. He called Walker while he waited, and his anger ratcheted up when he got her voice mail. He left a pissed off message, and then tried her hotel room. He nudged the unconscious man at his feet with the toe of his shoe and realized he should have seen if Bartowski would flash. When he told the kid to grab the guy's feet, though, there was no flash, so Casey figured he wasn't in the Intersect.
Once they had the intruder confined in Castle, Casey put the call through to D. C. To his relief, Walker's call had been legitimate, but he still intended to tear a strip off her when he saw her next for leaving Bartowski unprotected and not giving him a heads up.
After forty-eight hours, it appeared the Ring had decided on a nuisance campaign. They sent their agents in one at a time at uneven intervals, but the only thing they got was an angry, cranky Casey who had to put them down since they managed to get past the team who was supposed to stop them. Walker was on her way to Tripoli to meet an informant with whom she'd worked before. He was even crankier about Walker's location. He'd love a crack at Gaddafi. Instead, he got to babysit a nerd.
Bartowski got one of the imbeciles they sent after him before Casey could get there, and then he had a whole new set of worries that the kid might get over-confident about his Intersect-driven abilities and get himself spectacularly killed.
He was working on more sleep deprivation than he had with a new baby in the house, and he began to worry that the next operative might get through, might get Bartowski because he wasn't as alert as he should be. Beckman sent help, but Casey didn't trust them to do it right, especially since the CIA team they'd had before hadn't. After all, Bartowski had a tendency to zig when he needed to zag.
As a result, he was genuinely glad to see Walker when she finally got back. It didn't stop him from cornering her and unleashing his seething resentment at her lack of notice that she was gone. "You left the asset unprotected," he ground out, and before she could say he was close by, he added, "and the next time you do that without telling your partner, I'll see you're not only reprimanded but reassigned permanently."
It was mostly bluster since the CIA rarely listened to him, but Walker's eyes shot wide, and she believed. That was the important part, he supposed, and now that he was certain she'd stick close to the kid, Casey left her to it.
He might have been less angry if it hadn't been for the fact that something similar appeared to be happening in Newfoundland. V. H. said there had been a few intruders, though he refused to quantify what few meant or even explain what kind of intruders, but since Riah didn't go out, the Ring's opportunities had been limited to trying for her at her home. His father-in-law finally admitted he hadn't told Riah about the attempts, said he didn't want to worry her, and Casey was torn when he spoke to her. It wasn't his operation, she was obviously on edge, and since he couldn't do anything from Los Angeles, he didn't share what her father told him. It irritated the hell out of him that he had to stay where he was, though, despite understanding why.
It didn't stop him from urging V. H. to tell her, warn her, so that she didn't get too comfortable, take any risks, especially when Finley's name surfaced again in a report Beckman forwarded to Casey.
Finley entered Canada through Vancouver, was spotted in Toronto, and then vanished. Casey figured he was working his way east for a reason, and Riah, he suspected, was that reason. Her father refused to discuss it when Casey raised the possibility, told Casey to worry about his own problems in Los Angeles and let him deal with those in Canada.
Casey repeatedly asked Beckman to let him go, but she soundly refused. When he realized she was one more request away from seeing he'd like his next assignment even less than the one he had, he stopped asking.
The next Ring minion he and Walker caught cracked, the first one who did, and she identified members of her local cell. Casey hoped that when the mop-up was finished Beckman would reconsider. It was three days until Christmas, and since Finley was still loose and still in Canada, he knew V. H. wasn't letting Riah budge, but he failed to see why he couldn't lend a hand. It would let him spend the holiday with his wife and daughter after all, but Beckman still refused. He began to suspect that might be V. H.'s doing.
As a result, he reluctantly accepted Ellie's invitation to Christmas dinner. It beat the hell out of sitting home alone, even if Bartowski's sister would probably find a way to corner and counsel him.
Riah was no happier than he, and he was pretty damn unhappy. He could hear something in her voice when he talked to her that he hadn't heard since she had gone into meltdown when Laurance turned up at the Buy More. That worried him more than Finley, to tell the truth, especially since he still had Dreyfus's diagnosis imprinted on his brain, complete with her admission to the shrink that she had had suicidal thoughts.
At least all was quiet on the Intersect front, and from the available intel, it seemed like it might stay that way a while.
On Christmas Eve, he had the closing shift at the Buy More. Big Mike figured with Riah gone Casey was at loose ends, so he drew the short straw along with the other lonely losers. He hadn't been on the floor long when he saw V. H. enter the store. He excused himself from the customer dithering over microwaves and crossed to where the man stood.
"You're about to get a call," V. H. said, and Casey couldn't help but wonder what in hell had gone wrong now. His eyes sought out Bartowski, who was safely on the phone behind the Nerd Herd desk. Sure enough, his phone vibrated in his pocket.
"Ma'am," he said, choosing the safest greeting given any number of Buy Morons might overhear him.
"Has Mr. Adderly arrived yet?" Beckman demanded.
"Yes, Ma'am," he said and looked over at the man who reached into his inside jacket pocket. There was a brief moment where he wondered if he'd be on the wrong end of a service weapon, but V. H. withdrew a set of folded papers.
"Since Mr. Bartowski appears safe for the moment, Colonel, I've decided to let you resume your leave."
V. H. extended the papers toward him. He took them and shook them open one-handed. They were orders for his leave and a form that said his fictitious Guard unit was being called to service to help with the winter storms savaging the Midwest.
"I'll inform Agent Walker," the General continued, "but you are free to leave immediately. I believe Adderly intends to take you to your wife and daughter for Christmas."
His eyes shot to his father-in-law. "Thank you, Ma'am." After he hung up, he told V. H., "Five minutes."
Bartowski followed him to the break room. As he opened his locker and grabbed his things, Chuck asked, "Did something happen to Mariah?"
Casey slammed the door closed and snapped the lock shut—even though he now knew it wouldn't keep his coworkers out.
Before he could respond to Bartowski's question, the kid added, "That is Mariah's dad out there, right?"
As often as Bartowski had spoken to the man, albeit through a monitor, Casey didn't feel he had to answer the obvious. "Riah's fine, you're fine, Walker and two teams have eyes on you, so I'm going to spend Christmas with my wife and daughter." He paused at the door. "Any other questions you'd like to delay my departure with?"
The supernova smile exploded on the kid's face. "No," he said, then—and Casey should have just walked since it was inevitable that the kid would change his mind, find something else to say because he was Bartowski—"Yes!" He waited to see what changed Chuck's mind. "Tell her . . . tell her Merry Christmas, and, and tell her we wish she was here."
Casey let the growl out. He felt certain Ellie had already called and said pretty much that.
He detoured to Big Mike's office, handed off the sheet that said he was being recalled to active duty with the Guard, and met V. H. where he talked to Bartowski at the Nerd Herd desk.
On the way to his apartment, he called Walker. They had a fast conversation about Bartowski's safety, and when she said, "Merry Christmas, Casey," he was startled into blurting the same sentiment to her.
V. H. laughed.
Casey ignored him.
He left his father-in-law in his living room while he went upstairs and changed into the gray suit Riah liked, though not as well as the black. He packed quickly, found his passport, and returned downstairs. In the car once more, he pulled his phone and started to call Riah.
"Don't," V. H. said.
Casey gave him a hard stare.
"There really are large, dangerous storms in the Midwest," he told Casey, "and a Northeaster grinding up the east coast towards Newfoundland. There's only a slim chance we'll even get there, so don't get her hopes up."
"Riah doesn't like surprises," Casey reminded him. His wife actually hated surprises. "If the odds are against getting there, then what the hell are we doing?"
V. H. simply cocked a brow and grinned. "Trying to give my daughter the only thing she wants for Christmas—you."
Their flight was rerouted several times. Casey, who could sleep in the worst weather on board any kind of aircraft, used the longer than normal flight to do exactly that, catch up on his sleep. When he roused, he saw V. H. quietly working. A time or two he was tempted to ask on what, but he knew Riah's father wouldn't tell him.
When he finally decided he'd slept enough, he looked across at V. H. and asked how much longer. "About an hour and a half."
He rubbed his face and said, "Tell me about the attempts."
V. H. plucked a file out of the pile he'd been working through and handed it across. These weren't the kind of nuisance attempts the ones against Bartowski had appeared to be. These were mostly small teams who had been damned serious given their firepower. He wondered how they had kept Riah from finding out, especially since a few of V. H.'s operatives had sustained serious injuries. When he finished reading, he looked at the other man, held his temper in check. Her father should have told him—if not her. "Have you told her?"
For once, V. H. was entirely serious. "She's showing signs of clinical depression again, and I didn't want to do anything that might make that worse."
Casey leaned forward. "She fights it better when she has something to keep her busy, something to focus on and to challenge her, and she's damned good at pulling herself together to get the job done." He was surprised her father didn't know that, but then he remembered something V. H. had told him long ago—Riah wouldn't talk to her father about the depression because he was the boss.
"She has Victoria to concentrate on."
"You know as well as I do that there's no distraction big enough when you're simply waiting for the enemy to make a play," Casey told him tightly.
V. H. held his hands up. "We're on the same side here, Casey." He dropped his hands and added, "If I told her, if she decided to be more proactive in her defense, she might inadvertently leave Victoria unprotected, and we can't afford that any more than we can afford losing Mariah." He chose another file and handed it across. Casey flipped it open and read the translated transcript of a series of coded e-mails. His eyes shot to V. H.'s. "This time around, they seem as interested in Victoria as they are Mariah."
He thought fast. There were several reasons to consider Victoria, he knew. Bartowski had finally admitted his father had done much of the early Intersect testing on himself, and that the man believed that one of the reasons Chuck was able to use that first version with relative ease was that biology probably played a role. If Riah was genuinely viable, then chances were Victoria was as well.
"Riah needs to know."
Her father nodded. "Assuming Ariel will play nicely—and I think she will this time—let Mariah have a good Christmas. Then we'll put the cards on the table."
For a brief moment, Casey nearly argued for telling her as soon as they arrived, but the other man was right. She was worried enough as it was, and there were enough operatives in addition to V. H. and Casey to keep them safe.
There was heavy snow when they landed in St. John's. One of ISI's operatives drove an SUV to the hangar where V. H.'s pilot taxied. They put their bags in the back, and after he buckled his seatbelt, Casey looked at his watch. It was eleven p.m., and he shook his head. Two years running now, he'd gone home to Riah in the early hours of Christmas. At least this time he didn't need a plan of attack to win her over.
It was relatively slow going. Visibility was shit, and the road wasn't completely cleared. Given the way the snow was coming down, Casey was surprised they'd managed to clear what they had. He'd taken the trouble to find out how to get to Riah's house, mainly because he'd hoped that if she couldn't come home he could go to her, so when V. H. drove past the road he knew led to her place, Casey asked, "Wasn't that the road?"
V. H. shot a quick look his way. "We're going to the church."
Given Riah's orders had been to stay in her house and not leave it, that puzzled him. "Why?"
"Mariah loves the midnight service, and it'll start soon." V. H. sent another look his way, this one amused. "She informed her security detail's chief early this morning that she was going regardless of what he thought, so he spent most of today figuring out how to make that safely happen."
Once they were parked in the church parking lot, Casey turned up the collar of his overcoat as they made their way through the snow and the cold wind to the church steps. Peter Whatley recognized them, smiled, shook V. H.'s hand when they reached the top of the steps, and welcomed him before turning to Casey and saying, "Colonel."
"Vicar," Casey returned easily, shook the hand of the man who had officiated at his wedding. "Is my wife here?"
Whatley shook his head. They talked a moment, and then the minister smiled. He gestured toward the street behind them and said, "I believe this is who you're looking for?"
Casey turned in time to watch Bennett MacKenzie hand Riah down from the back of an SUV. He presumed the bundle in her arms was Victoria, and he nearly started forward to meet them. Instead, he waited, watched her approach through the snow and wondered when she'd see him. At the moment, she concentrated on the slick, partially cleared pavement before her. Emma, though, said something that didn't carry but made his wife's head come up and her eyes find him. The smile that bloomed made him aware of how tense he'd been until he saw that. She moved a little more quickly toward him, and the tension was back as he worried she might slip.
He met her at the foot of the steps, and she laughed and clung to him. Casey pulled her closer and kissed the hell out of her. He felt Victoria wriggle, and he eased off the tightness with which he held them. "I'm so glad you're here," she breathed when he released her mouth, but he barely let her get it out before he kissed her again. This was a far different reception than the last Christmas they'd spent together, and Casey had ideas about the kinds of celebration they could enjoy.
She grinned at him when he lifted his head, and he grinned at her in return. He put a hand on Victoria's head and leaned down to kiss Riah once more. This time he put his mouth against her ear and whispered, "Let's go sin."
Her voice was a whispered promise in his ear. "Later, I'll sin all you want."
Obviously, she was determined to be pious and attend the service, so he kissed her again and turned her toward the church.
Inside, V. H. took Victoria while Casey helped Riah shed her coat before removing his own. Casey noticed his wife had that look on her face as she watched him, the one that usually meant she not only liked what she saw but wanted to see more. He was tempted to persuade her to go somewhere more private, but she had told him once, just as her father had on the trip there, that she loved this particular service. He supposed he could wait. She turned to take Victoria from V. H., and when she and Casey were seated, she unwrapped their daughter. Casey took Victoria from her, studied how much his daughter had grown and changed in the weeks she and her mother had been gone. When Riah looked like she would take Victoria back, he cradled his daughter closer and slipped an arm around his wife.
To be honest, very little of the service soaked in. He followed Riah's lead, did what was required, but mostly he planned for when they were alone. He felt no guilt for that. Casey figured God would understand, especially since He made man in his image, and then spent a moment or two wondering if God got lonely and wished there was a lady God to keep him company. Strangely, he felt an affinity to God he hadn't before. After all, the deity spent his time trying to keep up with his creations—to guard them and to punish them when needed.
Jesus, he was channeling the Nerd and his bearded life-partner.
He was happy when the service was finally over. All he wanted was to take his family home—or what was going to pass for home until he had them actually back with him permanently. Ariel, though, appeared to still have friends there, so for Riah's sake, he tried to hide his impatience to leave. When necessary, his wife introduced him, and Casey closely studied the people she let ogle their daughter.
Apparently, V. H. felt merciful or the holiday spirit or something, because he reshuffled everyone so that Casey and Riah rode home alone with their daughter while her father took everyone else. When they were underway, Riah finally asked, "How did you get leave?"
"Beckman relented," Casey told her. He shrugged. "I think your father had something to do with it." He went on to tell her how they had thought for a while they wouldn't make it, especially when the pilot rerouted for the fourth time.
Riah reached over the console between them and stroked a hand up his thigh. "I'm glad you made it," she said softly.
He shot her a smile and then focused on the road. When she started to retract her hand, he caught it and held it in place. He'd missed her touch as much as he'd missed her, and when he let her hand go so he could put his own back on the wheel, she left hers where it was, occasionally made a light stroking gesture that made him wish they could safely drive faster.
There was a guard who stopped them as they turned onto her drive. The man looked around Casey and saw Riah, nodded, and let them continue. Casey asked her if she knew who the man was, and when she gave him the name, he committed it to memory. V. H.'s men needed to be a bit more thorough, he thought. Just because Riah was with him didn't mean he wasn't one of the bad guys. As they drove up to the house, Riah directed him to the garage, and he drove into the bay another operative opened for them. Riah got Victoria while Casey retrieved his suitcase from the SUV her father had driven from the airport.
Riah let them inside the house and then locked the door and reset the alarm system. An operative waylaid V. H., and Casey nearly went back to listen to the man's report. Instead, he let Riah lead him into a large, open living room. Emma finally greeted him by wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. His sister-in-law was a hugger, so he endured it. He'd rather have her sister's arms around him, but he didn't say so.
V. H. rejoined them, and Riah said, "I'll just show John where to put his things."
Her father reached for Victoria. "I'll mind my granddaughter while Casey . . . unpacks."
As he followed his wife up the stairs and along a railed gallery looking down to the living room, he had a feeling V. H. knew exactly what was about to happen.
It turned out, though, that Casey didn't.
Once inside what was obviously the master suite, Casey set his case down and shrugged out of his overcoat while Riah closed the door. That should have been his first clue, he supposed, since she generally didn't close bedroom doors. The next thing he knew, she knocked him on his ass and was on top of him, her mouth on his hungrily as her fingers scrabbled at his tie.
She'd taken advantage of the element of surprise, and he let his injured pride go since she was simply getting down to business immediately instead of wasting time talking.
Not that Casey had intended to waste time talking, but he probably would have at least waited until the bed was in range.
She freed his collar button and one other before she just grabbed his open collar and yanked. He was going to need a new shirt, but that was a fair price to pay, he supposed, for the mileage he was going to get out of this if V. H. again claimed Casey molested his daughter.
Her hands seemed to be everywhere, mouth, too, and Casey belated decided to be helpful. Riah knocked his hands away when he searched for the zipper on the dress she wore. He dropped them to her knees on either side of his hips, and when she took his mouth again, he let his hands stroke up her thighs beneath the skirt of her dress.
Riah tore her mouth from his and knocked his hands back once more. About to complain, he realized his wife had his SIG, and it was now pointed a fraction of an inch from the bridge of his nose. The anger started to surge, but her finger was across the trigger guard and not on the trigger itself. Combined with her sultry, "Don't make me get your cuffs, John," that fact defused his temper.
Okay, this was her party. She could make the rules.
For a split second, though, he considered making her use the cuffs.
So that she didn't have the upper hand entirely, he pointed out helpfully, "You're either going to have to put that down, or you're going to need me to use my hands."
He liked the slightly hungry, thoughtful look on her face as she weighed her options. He lifted his hips, made sure he rolled against her in an attempt to sway her decision. She rested the muzzle of the SIG against his forehead and then leaned down and bit his earlobe before she licked along his jaw to his mouth. She had to move the gun to kiss him, and when she lifted her mouth, she told him, "You're taking this well."
"Not as well as I plan to take you," he promised.
She snorted and set the SIG on the rug. Her hand sought his belt. "You've got that wrong," she told him and took his mouth again. When she released it, she continued, "I'm the one who's going to take you."
"Well," he reminded her and leaned up to catch her mouth. She pulled back, though, and he got the message, lay back so she could carry on.
Her fingers worked his belt as she nibbled, sucked, and nipped her way down his body. He determinedly remained still despite the instinct to roll her onto the floor and get on with it. She had his trousers undone by the time she ran her tongue in his belly button, and to his great disappointment, she lifted and caught his mouth again. "You have a point," she conceded.
"You know what to do with it," he reminded her.
A slight smile curved her lips as she shook her head and sat up, pulled her dress over her head, and Casey stared avidly at her body. She appeared to have lost what baby weight she'd gained, but what he liked was the fact that she had worn what was probably his favorite set of her underwear beneath the deep, dark, red dress. Forget red, forget black, he was solidly sold on the eroticism of white as he stared at the first set of La Perla he'd seen her in. She'd worn this that night he undressed her after returning home from a mission to find her asleep on the couch. She redirected the hand he reached up to cup a breast to her hip, and he slid his fingertips inside those panties and curled them around the thin strap that connected the front to the back. She lifted, and he repeated the action with the other side.
Riah crawled off him and lost the panties and the boots and socks she'd worn before she took his pants down just enough to expose him and not stain his trousers when she finally got around to what she was after. Then she was back astride him. "Need any more help?" he asked hopefully. She shut him up with her mouth and got down to business.
His hands came up when she seated herself on him and began to move. Once more she batted them away. He groaned when she shifted, changed her movements so that she tightened around him in such a way he wasn't sure he could wait for her. She fucked words out of him he didn't know he had in him. Her only response was a dirty little laugh that sent him right over the edge.
It took a while before he could think again. She kissed along his jaw to his chin as he asked with a lazy faintness, "Do you know the number for the Royal Newfoundland Constabulary?"
Her face wore a confused frown when she pushed up so she could see him.
"I think I've just been raped," he explained.
She grinned, gave him a smoldering kiss and murmured, "I didn't hear you complaining—nor did you resist."
"You had me at gunpoint," he reminded her. "I was too afraid to resist."
"You were the only one with a gun when push came to shove," she said with a wicked note. "Do you hear me complaining?"
He put a hand on her knee ran it up her thigh. "Okay, I wasn't exactly unwilling."
One of his grunts came out of her before she claimed his mouth, this time far more gently than she'd done before. Casey rolled her to her back and propped himself on his elbows. "On the other hand," he added as he nibbled along her neck, "pull my gun and put it to my head again, and you'll have to pay penalties."
"I just did," she told him and raised her brows.
About to ask her what she meant, he figured it out. She'd gotten him off, but the reverse wasn't true. "Mind if we take care of that fully naked and in the bed?"
"I believe you mentioned sin?" she prompted softly.
"Well," he drawled and took a brief kiss, "since we're married, Mrs. Casey, that's a little harder to achieve."
She gave a dramatic sigh. "Promises, promises, Colonel." She kissed him thoroughly.
"You made a good start with taking me by force," he assured her, "perhaps you should be in charge of instigating sin."
"Take me to bed, and let's see what you can tempt me into."
As it turned out, he could tempt her into quite a few things. Casey was on the edge of sleep when she slipped out of his arms. She pulled a robe from her closet, and he realized she wasn't coming right back to bed. He asked where she was going, and she told him, "To get Victoria," as she bent to kiss him quickly. She didn't stop to brush her hair or find her slippers. He rolled out of bed and looked for his clothes so he could follow her.
He retrieved his bag and pulled out a t-shirt since the deep blue shirt he'd worn with his suit now only had two buttons on it. He picked up the SIG and put it on the nightstand and then pulled his pants back on. He hung his suit jacket and overcoat up and tossed his socks in Riah's laundry basket before he set his shoes on the closet floor. Then he followed his wife downstairs.
Riah smiled at him as he stepped off the stairs and crossed to the end of the sofa where she sat, a receiving blanket covering their daughter's head while she nursed. V. H. gave him a frown, and Casey braced for the inevitable comment. He sat beside Riah and ran an arm over her shoulders before he leaned in to kiss her. She settled back against him.
"I assume you've finished molesting my daughter for the night?" her father asked.
Ariel hissed his name, and Emma tried hard not to laugh. MacKenzie was absent, he noticed. Casey gave V. H. a mock glare and growled, "For the last time, your daughter molests me."
Riah shot him an amused glance. "Throw me under the bus, will you?" she said just loud enough for her father to hear, which earned her a snort from V. H.
Casey looked across at his father-in-law. "I'm considering calling the Royal Newfoundland Constabulary and asking them to lay rape charges against her."
From the corner of his eye he watched Riah lose the battle not to grin, watched her finally bite her lip to keep from laughing at his aggrieved tone. He heard Ariel groan, and considered suitable retorts to what he predicted might be her father's next salvo, but it was Riah who spoke next. She looked up at him, and said in that sultry voice of hers, "You know you liked it."
Oh, he had, and a slow, smile of appreciation spread across his face, but before he could retaliate, could point out she'd used his own gun to control him, her father said, "Clearly you've brainwashed Mariah into doing depraved things to you."
If that had been meant to get him to back down, her father had obviously miscalculated. Casey's smile turned salacious. "And a very apt pupil she is, too."
"Emma, bed," Ariel said abruptly. Riah bit back a grin when her sister whined that she missed all the entertainment, but Emma dutifully marched off to bed. Casey wasn't sorry when Ariel followed, pausing only to say good night and tell Riah she'd see her in the morning.
Riah moved Victoria to her other breast, and Casey dropped a kiss on her neck. He wished she'd simply brought their daughter back upstairs where they had privacy, especially when V. H. cracked, "I really don't need to see you molest Mariah."
"Lay off, Dad,"' she said before Casey could escalate. "I'm a grown up, and we're married." She turned her head and eyed Casey. "That goes for you, too." Her father laughed, obviously enjoying the fact that she reprimanded him as well. She turned her attention back to her father. "John doesn't molest me, Dad, and you really should stop saying that, especially in front of other people."
"Tell your husband to keep his hands and his mouth to himself."
"I'll do no such thing," she told him tartly, and Casey watched her give her father a mirror image of the look V. H. used when he was pissed off—cocked brow and cold, hard stare. "I enjoy the fact that John can't keep his hands and his mouth to himself."
"Hey!" Casey protested gruffly. It was true, but he put on the show regardless.
"On the other hand," she said, turning the same look on him, "the two of you are acting like a couple of twelve year olds."
"Let a woman procreate," her father said with a melodramatic sigh, "and she suddenly becomes bossy as hell."
Given the look on Riah's face, Casey carefully weighed whether or not to join her father's rebellion. Riah's eyes narrowed on him, but he still chose male solidarity. "Since she had Victoria, she's decided she's in charge" he lamented, and he watched Riah's expression slide to suspicion. He decided not to use the gunpoint gambit, chose instead to say, "That's why I had to submit to her demands upstairs."
"Keep it up, Colonel, and the only demands you'll hear from me are ones to leave me alone." V. H. laughed, and Casey grinned at her. She'd taken the bait, and he wondered if he wouldn't have to pay that particular penalty after all. Riah regrouped and apparently decided on a pre-emptive strike. "As for you," she told her father, "while I'm glad you brought my husband here so I could assault him, I think in the interests of family harmony, you should just leave us to it."
After her father left them, Casey let his fingers glide over the side of her neck. When Victoria finished nursing, Riah started to lift her to her shoulder and burp her, but Casey took the receiving blanket and their daughter. Riah watched him gently rub Victoria's back while she adjusted her robe. "So," Casey said with an unrepentant grin, "interested in assaulting me again when Victoria's asleep?"
Riah gave him a stern look. "Only if you protest loudly enough to keep my father awake."
He leaned in and kissed her. "We'll wake our daughter if I do."
"Damn," she murmured against his mouth. "Then I guess the answer's no."
Casey gave a disappointed whine before he tried to persuade her with a hungry kiss.
"Maybe," she amended.
He redoubled his efforts.
"Yes," she whispered.
Once they were upstairs again, Casey changed Victoria and put her in her crib. He pulled Mariah to him and said, "Merry Christmas, Riah."
"Happy Christmas, John," Mariah told him in return.
He came awake slowly, certain he'd only had a nap and not at all certain what had woken him. His hand searched for Riah, but her side of the bed was empty. He could hear the murmur of her voice, though, so he rolled onto his back, sprawled across the bed and found her in a rocker across the room nursing Victoria. Dawn was obviously beginning to break, and he dozed a little. He'd need to call his mother later, and he tried to remember how far off Newfoundland time was from Eastern. Why the island had to have its own time zone and one that was forty-five minutes off he wasn't sure. As a result, he tried to remember if that forty-five minutes was constant or if it was thirty or fifteen or an hour and half at others.
Neither of them had slept much the night before, but he, at least, didn't mind why. She, though, would have to prepare dinner. He'd give her a hand with that, mainly to keep her mother from making her crazy.
When Riah said, "Your daddy is a bed hog," to their daughter, he smiled sleepily.
"I heard that," he growled softly. "Tell her you usually push me out of the way when you sleep."
"No," she corrected gently, "I usually just sleep on top of you."
He grunted his concession. "Come back to bed." He rolled so that he could see them where they sat. "Bring Victoria if you like."
"You'll have to clarify your intentions before I decide whether or not it's appropriate to bring our daughter to bed." He lifted his head to frown at her, but she just gave him a serene smile. He wondered if he could persuade her to put Victoria in her crib and rejoin him, take off the nightgown she now wore and consider assaulting him once more.
Just as he was about to suggest it, she told him, "I'll bring you Victoria, but I've got things to do."
Disappointed, he nodded. "I'd rather have you."
"You've had me—several times," she told him with a broad smile. "I'll be lucky if I can stay awake long enough to get dinner together."
Casey sat up. "I'll give you a hand."
Riah gave him a long look. She moved Victoria to her other breast, and he got out of bed, headed toward the bathroom. When he had finished his shower and shaved, he came out wearing nothing but a towel, which earned him an appreciative appraisal from his wife. He found his case and pulled out a pair of pajama bottoms and put them on. He walked over and kissed her good morning, and then took the baby from her. Riah washed her hands, and then they went downstairs.
While she made bread dough and set it to rise, Casey entertained Victoria. He'd missed his daughter as much as he'd missed his wife, and now that Riah had turned her attention to pies, he decided to needle her a bit. He knew Victoria had no idea what he said, so he switched from simply talking to her about Bartowski, Ellie and Los Angeles to fail-proof methods of seduction boys would try to use on her when she grew up. He had no doubts his daughter would be beautiful, and it was never too soon to warn her.
That didn't stop Riah from turning around and giving him a disapproving look.
"Your mother is upset," he told Victoria, "but then she's a sucker for my seduction skills."
"Your father," Riah returned evenly with a mocking little smile, "was trained in those skills by that idiot Roan Montgomery—and he failed the class twice."
"Don't listen to her," Casey told his daughter as he looked up at Riah. "Your mother apparently didn't take the class at all."
That certainly pushed a button since her brow shot up, and she tilted her head. He watched as she changed her posture and then walked toward him with a seductive sway that had him lifting Victoria protectively against his chest. Riah leaned down and kissed him, long, slow, deep, and when she lifted her head, she looked at their daughter and said softly, "Your father has no idea what he's talking about." She remained leaning toward him, moved a hand so that his eyes were drawn to the neckline of the long, black nightgown she wore. He had a very good view down that gown, and he was about to lean in and press a kiss against the exposed bit of breast above that neckline when she added, "I passed with flying colors—first time."
Casey's eyes widened. Somehow, he'd never considered that she might have taken ISI's version of seduction school. The facts that she'd been a virgin and that her father was overprotective had made him reject the possibility. Suspicious, he asked, "Who taught it?"
Riah smiled a slow, seductive smile at his question. "Jean-Luc Reynard."
Oh, he had her. His wife lied, and while that would normally piss him off, this particularly blatant lie made him grin. He admired the absolute sincerity with which she told it, too. Normally he could spot when she was about to tell an untruth, but this one had rung true and none of her usual tells had made an appearance. "Your mother lies, kiddo," he said. "She was a virgin, and everyone knows no woman gets out of Reynard's class a virgin."
"Two words, Hotshot," Riah returned with a mocking smile, "boss's daughter."
That certainly wiped the grin off his face.
He was still chasing shock as she took their daughter from him and put her in the bassinette near the table. She walked back to him, and he stared at her speculatively. She slid onto his lap, wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Of course, that also meant my curriculum was tweaked to keep the Director General happy, and Jean-Luc really prefers pretty boys to women." His hands went to her hips as she slid her hands forward and cradled his face. "Women do get out of the class virgins—assuming they entered that way and choose to leave that way—but it has nothing to do with Jean-Luc."
She kissed him, put into it a few things she might have learned from such a course, and he tightened his arms around her. "Want to show me what you learned?"
Riah smiled. "I learned far more from you than I did in that class, John."
"Want to show me what I taught you?" he growled.
"Later," she promised and kissed him briefly. She got out of his lap, moved away from him and started coffee.
He followed her, turned her to him when she had switched the coffeemaker on and pulled her against him before he plundered her mouth. Riah wrapped her arms around him and returned the kiss. He lifted her onto the counter, slid her long hem up her legs before he stepped closer and pulled her tightly to him. She wound her arms even tighter around his neck and shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist, used them to pull him closer. She moaned as he ran a hand up her thigh, and Casey contemplated the possibilities.
Just as he was about unbutton the short row of buttons between her breasts, her father growled, "Stop molesting my daughter, Casey," as he reached down a cup.
Casey hadn't heard him come in, nor had he heard the coffeemaker signal it was finished brewing.
"I'm not molesting your daughter," Casey growled back, and watched Riah blush. He smiled at her and stroked her thigh, his thumb running lightly up the inside. "I'm showing my wife how much I love her." Her eyes went hot, and Casey considered telling V. H. to go away, come back later. Instead, he dropped another kiss on her mouth as she unwound her legs from his waist. He looked over his shoulder at her father and said, "Knock next time if you don't want to see it."
Her father raised his cup of coffee and then raised his brows. "Whoever heard of knocking on a kitchen door?"
Casey slid his hands to Riah's waist and lifted her off the counter. Her hands shook as she reached another cup down and poured coffee for him. She handed it to him, and he murmured, "Thanks," before he hooked a chair out with his foot. Concerned, he watched her, noted she was more than a little embarrassed they were caught by her father. Her cheeks were crimson, and she refused to look at either him or V. H. She busied herself at the counter, began rolling some of the dough out and mixed ground cinnamon and sugar as she melted butter. Cinnamon rolls, he realized as V. H. struck up a conversation with Casey. Thankfully, the other man did not talk about their sex life.
On the other hand, as Riah began to form bread rolls from the remainder of the dough, Casey deliberately turned the subject to the incidents her security detail had reported. He met her eyes as she shot a disbelieving look over her shoulder, and he was glad she turned her anger on her father. Casey didn't feel at all guilty for putting V. H. on the spot this way, and he certainly didn't blame Riah when she tore into her father because no one told her attempts had been made. He did blame V. H., though, when he told Riah Casey had been kept apprised.
"I told him to tell you," he bit out as he directed a hard, angry glare at the other man.
That neatly deflected her back at her father. "You didn't need the worry," V. H. finally said defensively.
"No, Dad," she said between gritted teeth, "I needed to worry."
"Mariah, you were upset enough about being here," the man tried, but his daughter cut him off, viciously, too.
"Remember I'm crazy, Dad, not stupid. I have a daughter to protect, and if someone got through your operatives, I'm the last line of defense. I needed to know."
"This is why you should have gone somewhere else," V. H. tried.
"No, this is why I should have stayed with John," she snapped. "At least I'd know what's going on." Her shoulders slumped then, and she threw her hands up with an exasperated growl before she stalked out of the room, presumably to get her shower.
V. H. eyed him. "I notice she took that out on me, not you."
Casey shrugged, lifted his coffee cup. "I told you to tell her."
"You could have done it for me."
He grinned at the other man. "You made it crystal clear what you'd do if I did."
"Fine time to start listening to me," V. H. grumbled.
Casey snorted, shook his head, and lifted his coffee cup. "Take your punishment like a man, Adderly. You just got off considerably lighter than I would have." He set his coffee back down. "Have you found Finley yet?"
The other man shook his head. "No, and that worries me. With any luck, the weather will keep him away." He eyed Casey seriously. "If I can talk Diane into it, I think my daughter has a point. You ought to take them home when we leave. Mariah's isolated here, which has emboldened them. An old friend has an apartment for rent in St. John's. I considered moving her there, but it can't be easily secured. At least in Los Angeles there are enough potential witnesses to make them think more than twice. Additionally, Mona tells me your apartment's a damned fortress. I figure she and Victoria are safer there, especially if Diane really does extend your leave."
He considered it, thought it through. "We're still back to Riah and Bartowski in the same place, not to mention the fact that Chuck Bartowski has to remain my priority."
Before V. H. could respond, Emma walked in, exclaimed, "Coffee!" and filled a cup before she plopped down next to Victoria's bassinette and picked up her niece. Only then did she ask, "Am I interrupting something?"
This time Ariel sailed in before they could answer.
When Riah returned to the kitchen, she was dressed and her mother had breakfast underway. Casey wondered when he might find time to finish that conversation with V. H. and when he might next get a few moments alone with his wife.