Part 47

Maria glanced at Novak, furious that he had dared to put his hands on her. "Get your hand off of my ass," she gritted out through clenched teeth. "I don't know what else I need to say for you to - " Her rant was just getting started when a large hand wrapped around the man's throat and jerked him away from her.

Her eyes widened in shock when she realized it was Michael who had grabbed the other man. As she watched, he practically lifted Novak off of his feet and slammed him down on the surface of the pool table. His hand was still wrapped around Novak's throat and he didn't seem the slightest bit worried about the man's inability to breathe.

She hurried over to face Michael, wrapping both hands around his wrist as she tried to get him to release the other man. She didn't understand why no one had moved to stop what was happening. "Michael, you need to let him go."

His dark gaze lifted from Novak's terrified eyes to look at Maria. "You're okay?"

Maria nodded, transfixed by the intensity in his expression. "Let him go," she repeated softly. She was relieved when his hand loosened and Novak rolled over, fighting to pull air into his oxygen-starved lungs.

"Gabriel took my beer."

Maria smiled. "That's good. There's no telling where you would've stuck that bottle. I'll get it for you." She paused to glance at him. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, but…"

She nodded in understanding. "I'll fix you something when we get home. Let me get your beer and then finish my shift, okay?"

As soon as her back was turned and she was on her way to the bar, Michael's hand tightened on Novak's throat and he slammed his head back down against the pool table. His eyes were black with anger as he leaned over the prone man who was clawing at the back of his hand. "You ever put your hands on that woman again and I will tear your fuckin' throat out." He searched Novak's gaze for several seconds before letting him go and stepping back. He reached for the eight ball and rolled it into the corner pocket. "Looks like you just lost, Novak; I think if I were you I'd call it a night." He pulled his hand back and was turning when he came face to face with Maria. He plucked his beer from her fingers and grinned at her. "Novak was just sayin' how he's not gonna bother you anymore."

"Uh-huh. I have my doubts that he said much of anything."

Michael shrugged and took a drink from the bottle in his right hand. "It wasn't so much a verbal statement."

"Uh-huh."

He motioned to something behind her. "I'm just gonna go talk to Sanchez until you get off."

"I think that's a good idea." Maria watched him as he made his way over to the table where Sanchez had been sitting all evening. Maybe he would talk to Michael, she thought. It was unusual for the man to hang around the bar until closing and he had been even quieter than usual.

She glanced at Novak once more before going to check on her section one last time before closing. She hadn't wanted Michael to hurt the man, but she didn't have a problem with him using brute force to get Novak to understand that she wasn't interested.

She couldn't deny that there was a part of her that responded to Michael's actions, some elemental thing inside of her that reacted to his primitive display of jealousy. It was that type of behavior that made her want to silence that little voice in her head, throw him on the nearest flat surface, and rip his clothes off. She hurriedly shook those thoughts off and grabbed one of the gray tubs so she could start clearing tables.

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Michael dropped down in the chair across from Sanchez, greeting the man in his native tongue. The Hispanic man raised his shot glass in greeting and nodded once. "You straighten him out?"

"I think he understands my position a little better now." Michael placed his bottle on the table between them. "What're you doin' here so late? You're usually home with the wife an' kids by this time."

"Some days it's hard to go home." He sighed as he leaned forward over his glass. "I think maybe it's time to find another line of work." He shook his head and reached up to rub his eyes with both hands. "I was interrogatin' a young man with ties to a terrorist organization earlier today…" He shook his head. "He was just a kid; 19, in over his head, scared to death… pissed himself when I got in his face and told him what we'd do to him if he didn't give up his contact's name."

Michael had seen Sanchez in action and no one who hadn't seen that side of his personality would ever suspect that he was capable of such cold, calculated, viciousness. "Kid or not, you know what they turn into once those organizations get their claws into 'em, Sanchez." He paused. "You break him?"

"We got the information, threw him in a cell, and while I was signin' off on the paperwork he dug a spring out of the mattress and slit his wrists." He slumped back in his chair and tossed the shot of tequila back.

Michael's first instinct was to simply say, 'Good, one less terrorist to deal with', but he could see that the other man wasn't seeing it that way. More of Maria's damn influence, he thought. "Fuck, you didn't make him do that, Sanchez."

"I pushed him to it though and now he'll have to live the rest of his life knowin' that he tried to kill himself." A small smile slid over his face as he shook his head. "I know you don't understand why this bothers me, but goin' home to be with my wife and kids after a day like this is difficult."

Michael shrugged. There was no point in denying the man's statement.

"I've been where you are," the older agent said with a humorless chuckle. "And back then I wouldn't have understood these feelings anymore than you do now. It was a lot easier when things were black and white, and there weren't so many shades of grey. 17 years of marriage and six kids changes things, though… makes you look at things in a different way."

Michael slouched down in his chair and stretched his legs out under the table. "What would you do if you left the Company?"

"Make wine. I promised Ana years ago that when I retired from this job we'd buy land in the valley and we'd have our own vineyard." He smiled as he stared into his glass. "She'd like that."

Maybe he didn't understand what Sanchez was talking about, but he could see that the man was losing his focus and that was dangerous to him and everyone he worked with. "Then get out, Sanchez." Michael shook his head. "You start sympathizin' with a suspect you become a liability. Once you start to humanize them you lose that edge that allows you to do this job; that's how you get yourself or one of us killed. All it takes is one mistake, one slip up, and your wife's a widow and your kids are fatherless, so get out before that happens."

Sanchez chuckled, surprised by the man's advice. He wondered if Michael had any idea how much he had changed over the past few months. "Looks like that woman of yours is just about ready to go," he commented, interested in the other man's reaction.

"Have any of the others gotten outta hand with her?" Michael asked, glancing back to watch Maria as she gathered her things together and talked to a couple of the waitresses.

"There've been a few comments that she quickly put a stop to and she's dodged Novak's wandering hands on more than one occasion. He's never gotten as bold as he got tonight though, puttin' his hands on her like that."

Michael's blood started to boil at the memory of Novak's hand sliding down over her ass. "Why didn't Gabriel step in?"

Sanchez finished his drink and shrugged one shoulder. "She told him she could handle Novak. If it had looked like she had lost control of the situation he would've stepped in, you know that."

"Motherfucker had his hands on her," he grated out. "It was already outta control."

"Okay, boys, it's time to go," Maria said as she came up to their table. "Sanchez, your cab's waiting out front, and no arguments. You have a family waiting for you at home and you've had more to drink than usual, so you're taking the cab."

He had opened his mouth to protest but changed his mind and nodded instead. "Right." He stood and glanced at the other man as he reached for his jacket and slid it on. "Some things are more important than the job."

Maria frowned at his choice of words. What'd his job have to do with him drinking too much to drive home? She looked at Michael as he tipped his bottle in Sanchez's direction before taking a long drink. She had no idea what their exchange was about and she probably didn't want to know, so she decided to just leave it alone.

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Michael headed straight for the shower when they got home and Maria busied herself with looking for something quick to fix for him. She finally settled on reheating the chicken parmesan she had made the day before, throwing a salad together, and then warming up some garlic rolls in the oven.

She was putting everything on the table when he came into the kitchen a while later, dressed in a pair of low-hanging cargo pants and a sleeveless tee shirt.

"You're not eatin'?" Michael asked, disappointed when he only saw one plate on the table.

No, she hadn't intended to eat; she really just wanted a hot shower and then eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Her plan had been to talk to him while he ate and then head for the shower. Instead, she found herself going to the cupboard to get another plate.

"How was your assignment?" she asked once she was seated with a plate of food.

Michael had dug into his meal like a starving man, but he slowed down to talk to her. "Boring. I didn't do anything but stand around in a monkey suit the whole time. I'm surprised I made it out with my sanity intact."

"You don't find functions like that interesting?" Why did she even ask questions like that? She already knew the answer; Michael would always be Michael, and official parties like that would only bore him to death.

He groaned, not even wanting to remember the assignment. Or, non-assignment. "No. It's all a bunch of political bullshit. People getting what they want because they're willin' to kiss some politician's ass." He chewed on a mouthful of chicken and pasta. "Most of 'em completely compromise their own belief system just to get what they want." He tore one of his rolls in half and mopped up the marinara sauce left on the plate. "I've gotta give Covington credit in that respect though; the man doesn't compromise his integrity. He told more than one stuffy politician to go fuck themselves." He chuckled as he popped the roll in his mouth. "That right there made it worth spendin' four days in D.C."

"So, are you home for a while now?"

"Not really sure."

"You haven't really had much downtime between assignments lately."

"Well, I've got one that's pending; Xavier's waitin' on some Intel from an undercover agent in Brazil." He shrugged and leaned over to spear the remaining chicken on her plate. "He wants to send me an' Stone in to recover some American doctor that was kidnapped by the rebels down there."

Maria felt as if someone had just dumped a bucket of ice down her back as soon as Stone's name was mentioned. He was gonna be with STONE, of all people, on a mission?! "Well, if he has an agent already there, why does he need to send you in?" She couldn't help asking why his presence was necessary. Wasn't Stone capable of gathering the Intel by herself?

Michael smirked when she didn't even mention Stone. "Because the agent is undercover and if he were to be involved in the doctor's rescue he'd compromise his entire mission."

"Why can't they send someone else?" She just couldn't let it go; she felt like Stone was a threat to her. The woman had already slept with Michael, so what was to stop them from doing it again?

"They could, but Stone's already got contacts established there since she's done a lot of her work in that region."

"Okay, that explains why they're sending Stone, but I didn't ask about her."

"She trusts me to watch her back." Michael wasn't stupid; he could see that the upcoming mission was bothering her a lot. Good. She had to admit that she wanted him eventually, and if she was alone at home while he was out of the country with Stone, Maria would have plenty of time to think about them engaging in sexual relations while out of her sight. If everything went according to plan they'd be together when he got back; she'd be so ready for him that she wouldn't be able to deny it any longer. This mission would be a revelation for Maria, Michael mused, nodding to himself. The time would finally come for her to make her decision.

"Uh-huh." Maria finished off the last of her beer before getting up to get another one. She viciously twisted the cap off and threw it in the trash can, taking a long drink before turning to look at him. "She probably just needs to get laid."

Michael laughed at that. "Hell, Stone's not waitin' around to fuck me anymore than I'm waitin' around to fuck her." He really liked it when Maria got jealous and he didn't know why. Jealousy was something that insinuated ownership or possession and he had always avoided that where women were concerned.

"Whatever." She set her beer on the table and reached for their dishes. Her gaze shot to Michael when his hand wrapped around her wrist.

"I got this. Go on and go take your shower."

"Really?" It wasn't the first time he had offered to load the dishwasher, but she was always wary of any offer he made to do things he didn't like to do.

"Sure." He shrugged and released her to snag her beer and take a drink. He leaned back and slouched down before lifting his legs and propping his feet up on her chair. He ran his tongue around the mouth of the bottle and he saw her hands tighten on the back of the chair across from him. He had backed off in his pursuit of her; he wasn't pushing as hard as he had been before their visit with Dupree, but he still liked to push her buttons when she was least expecting it.

Her gaze was locked on his mouth and he forced down the grin that wanted to surface in response, knowing it would tip her off and she'd realize what she was doing. He took another drink before running his tongue around the rim again and then dipping his tongue into the opening. He couldn't stop the grin this time and he didn't even try to when he heard her sharp intake of breath. Her gaze flew to his and her expression said she knew she'd been caught. He tipped the bottle towards her and winked as he moved to stand up. "Think about me while you're in the shower," he whispered huskily as he leaned in close to her.

He laughed at the muttered "fuck" that escaped her lips as she snatched the bottle from his hand and glared at him as she hurried from the room. He still wanted her and he knew she wanted him, but they were still dancing around each other. If she honestly wasn't interested he would've dropped his pursuit long ago, but he could see it simmering in her eyes when she thought he wasn't paying any attention. He started to stack the dirty dishes as he let his thoughts wander to his upcoming mission.

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Maria cursed a blue streak as she stepped under the ice cold spray, using every single filthy curse word she'd learned in the past six months. She had long since passed the point where touching herself brought any satisfaction; it was nothing more than a way to achieve temporary relief now. There was only one thing that was going to ease the ache between her legs but she refused to be a slave to her sexual desires. She would not trade her Michael's memory for a briefly satisfying sexual encounter with his double.

Briefly satisfying? her mind taunted, laughing at her. Satisfying, yes, but there would be nothing brief about it. The man was built for sex and there was no way he was the type to leave a woman unsatisfied; his ego wouldn't allow it.

"Hey, Maria?"

She winced when she heard him moving things around on the counter next to the sink. "What?"

"I'm gonna brush my teeth, so think twice before you step outta the shower."

"Fine," she grated out. It wasn't a fight worth having. The last time he had come in to brush his teeth while she was in the shower she had insisted he leave and brush his teeth when she was finished. Well, he had left, and after her shower was finished she had found him brushing his teeth and spitting in the kitchen sink. God, they had gotten into a huge fight over that!

"You need any help in there?"

Maria rolled her eyes when her body responded to his rough voice in spite of the freezing water pelting her. "Aren't you done yet?" she snapped. "How long does it take to brush your damn teeth?"

"Well, I'm done with that, so I was thinkin' 'bout shavin'," he mused. "Y'know, since cold showers don't make the mirror fog up an' all."

She could hear the smirk in his voice and it was as sexy as it was infuriating. She glanced down at the soapy bath sponge in her hand and without pausing to think she pulled the curtain back just enough to take aim at him.

Michael jumped back when something cold and wet landed against his neck and his left hand shot out to catch it. "Wow, I didn't realize the water got quite that cold." He chuckled and tossed the sponge over the shower rod and grabbed a towel to dry himself off. "Payback's a bitch, Maria," he called over his shoulder. "Don't forget that."