Blacksite #5 - Break Maiden - Undisclosed Location, Kentucky - May 1, 1999
Raymond awoke the following day warm, comfortable, and completely surrounded by the scent of a woman. After tossing and turning for the past two weeks, having her with him allowed the man to truly sleep.
Red tightened his hold on the soft bundle, nuzzling into the fragrant nape of her neck and letting out a contented hum. He felt a deep sense of calm and relaxation as they lay curled up in the early morning light.
Rosalie woke at his touch, nestling deeper into his hold. A soft hand reached out to gently stroke the warm arms wrapped around her. She slept better last night than the entirety of the two weeks he had been gone.
Footsteps could be heard in the hall, alerting them Dembe was up and about.
The young woman let out an irritated sigh. "Not yet." She grumbled, tugging the blanket up to hide them from sight.
The blanket flopped to only partially obscure Raymond from view, garnering a low chuckle. "Ten minutes." He reminded, reaching to tug the blanket the rest of the way over them.
Hearing Dembe moving about in the hall meant Horace would soon be up and about as well. Both guards could be relied upon to wake up at the same times every day without fail.
Raymond and Rosalie had used this knowledge to hone the timing of their late night wanderings to an absolute science. The pair knew exactly how much time there would be each morning to get back to their respective rooms. Now Dembe was awake, they had precisely ten minutes before Horace would exit his room.
Rosalie turned grumpily and wrapped her arms around Raymond, nuzzling into his chest.
The man smiled at the action, stroking a hand along her ribcage.
"I slept terribly without you." she confessed, fiddling with the neckline of his shirt.
Red's fingertips continued caressing her torso as his mouth met her ear. "So I shouldn't feel guilty for already planning to sneak into your room tonight?"
The statement coaxed a giggle from Rosalie, lightening her mood considerably.
An hour later, the occupants of the house were all contentedly eating breakfast. In the light of day, they could finally appreciate the beauty of the home they were in.
The French farmhouse kitchen was enormous. Dark blue cabinets with shining brass hardware lined the walls, pairing beautifully with the warm butcher block counters. A large island took centre stage, made of dark cherry wood and paired with a startling white marble countertop. High above the island hung a massive cast iron rack, from which hung several gleaming pots and pans. In all, the effect was magnificent.
Rosalie was obviously thrilled to be in the big house. The men watched her with varying degrees of amusement as she flitted happily about the room getting breakfast ready.
Rosalie was like Raymond in that home was wherever she laid her head. However, as the man in question watched her intently, his curiosity was peaked. Where in other safehouses Rosalie might hesitate a millisecond before recalling where the utensil drawer was or which hidden compartment held the firearms, she moved throughout the farmhouse with absolute certainty. She carried on her usual conversations with Dembe and Horace without skipping a beat, and there were little movements she made which looked honed, practiced to the point of being nonchalant. The thought was intriguing, and brought forth a sea of questions in the man's mind.
Once the foursome finished the last vestiges of their meal, the young innkeeper smiled softly. "Well, shall we take a quick tour?"
There was a murmur of assent followed by the scraping of four chairs as they trooped out into the entryway.
Rosalie led them out into the front drive, hopping into the driver's seat of the large truck. Horace shook his head and snorted with laughter as the woman grinned triumphantly.
"We're at a blacksite. I get to drive!" She cheered, not even bothering to buckle her seatbelt. The large bodyguard relented to take the backseat with Dembe, leaving Reddington to the front with Rosalie.
In the glowing morning sun, the guests could see the drive was lined with white split-pole fencing which was further split into a series of paddocks. A few black and white cows meandered about in one, while another held an enormous pair of gleaming black horses. They had driven halfway down the drive before Rosalie pulled the truck to the side between two tall live oaks. She hopped out, opening a gate to one of the empty pastures and driving through. The truck trundled up a clearly worn path in the grass, pulling up to the crest of another hill, topped with a towering dogwood tree.
The group stepped out of the vehicle in the shade of the large tree and looked out over the expansive property.
There were seven large paddocks surrounding the house on the hill. Each were framed in white fencing and more than half held animals of some kind, most of them horses. Beyond the paddocks and the stable stretched acres and acres of forests and fields, creating a natural barrier of privacy and protection around the property. Far in the distance, they could just make out the little dirt landing strip they had touched down on the night before.
Raymond knew the woman had said the whole thing was 300 acres, but he was still taken aback by the sheer size of the property. "What is this place?"
Rosalie stood next to him with her hands in her jacket pockets, a warm smile lighting her features. "Blacksite number 5, though I call her Break Maiden."
The group watched half a dozen horses come galloping through one of the larger paddocks, the thunder of hooves completing the picturesque scene.
Dembe turned to look thoughtfully at Rosalie, "Break maiden is a racing term, is it not?"
She grinned at him, "Yes. A break maiden is when a horse or a jockey wins for the very first time."
Raymond's eyes searched her intently. Rosalie positively glowed as she gazed lovingly over the rolling pastures, the pride she felt radiating from her pores.
"This was your first safehouse." Red murmured in astonishment.
The slate eyes misted slightly as she nodded. "Yes, yes she was."
There was a long silence while the four took in the surroundings. A few minutes later Horace clapped his hands together. "Well, shall we?"
Dembe and Rosalie nodded, turning to follow the older guard back to the truck.
Raymond stood there a moment longer, staring at the beautiful surroundings. It was no wonder Rosalie was so attached to the place. It was idyllic, the very definition of comfort and safety.
The man found himself feeling a burst of pride for the woman. This had been her very first success. It explained his earlier observations on her behaviour easily. For her to keep the place all these years, turning it into such a haven, it would have taken a great deal of time and effort. She had obviously lived here for quite a while, getting it ready to be a safehouse.
There, on the hill, he could see the fruits of her labour as the property guarded both her and the three men safely within.
Rosalie looked over to the empty passenger's seat, realizing Raymond was still looking out over the property. She hopped back out of the truck and came to stand beside him.
"The house came into my possession nearly four years ago," she explained in a soft, warm voice, "Once I had enough capital, I bought the acreage around it and shifted it into a black site. I wanted it to remain as sacred as possible. A quiet haven."
She lifted mischievous brows, "You're actually the first person to stay here aside from myself."
"Well I'm flattered to be the one to pop the maiden's cherry." Red teased jauntily, tearing his eyes from the scenic view to grin roguishly at the little woman beside him.
She laughed at the rascally quip, a playful smile gracing her lips. It warmed her heart to see Raymond so interested in a place she so dearly loved. Were they alone, she would have stepped closer to him, would have nestled into his shoulder and traced her lips along his jaw, if she dared.
Raymond watched her features hungrily, enjoying the range of emotions that played out so openly there. His irreverent sense of humour tended to annoy women of Rosalie's level of wealth and power. They found the cavalier attitude impertinent.
Rosalie, thankfully, had more of a Wildean outlook on the human condition. She felt one's life was far too important a thing to be taken so seriously. Therefore, when Raymond's quick and often indecent wit came to the fore, Rosalie proved to be an active and eager audience. The thought had the man grinning rather devilishly.
In the confines of the truck, the two bodyguards looked on with knowing expressions.
"Do they think they're fooling anyone?" asked Horace, eyes narrowing through the tinted glass.
"We are all fools in love," quoted the younger man, a small smile playing at his lips.
"Yes," agreed Horace, "But all this bandying about is making me nauseous." He looked out the window at the couple making moon eyes at each other and mimed vomiting.
"Raymond and Rosalie think they are doing what is best for each other by denying their attraction." supplied Dembe with a shrug.
Horace quirked his eyebrows in disbelief, "And what's your take on that?"
"They won't be able to do so for long." The young bodyguard turned to meet his friend's gaze. "If the universe wants them together, no sense of duty will keep them apart."
The older man grinned deviously. "We could…help the universe along in its endeavour."
Dembe grinned and shook his head, "Rosalie's spirit speaks to Raymond's in a way I've not seen before. It is only a matter of time before he can't help but heed the call."
"You have the patience of Job, my friend. I would have just told him to get on with it by now."
Dembe's face lit with surprised amusement. "Have you told Rosalie such a thing?"
Horace scoffed, "Absolutely not. I value certain parts of my anatomy, thanks very much."
The pair worked to quickly stifle their chuckling as the other two loaded back into the truck.
Before they pulled away from the spot, Red turned to look at the trunk of the sweeping dogwood tree, noticing a neatly carved 'R' on its surface.
Rosalie took them back down the hill and around the property, pointing out various features of the land. There were several fields growing wheat, corn, and other crops, as well as a babbling creek traversing the wooded area. A short ride brought them back to the farmhouse, wherein she gave the men a tour of the rest of the home.
The farmhouse was large, but brimming with coziness. Spacious rooms dotted the floor plan, flowing openly into one another with a relaxed feel. The home was decorated in crisp white, stormy navy blue and the palest sage green. It felt crisp like an autumn morning, yet undeniably warm and comfortable with its brass hardware and wide plank oak floors. Though they shone like new, the boards were held down with old-fashioned handmade nails, the only thing hinting at the home's age.
Dembe and Horace found the home gym to their tastes, and there was an inviting office toward the back of the house, holding one massive partner's desk, a pair of tufted suede chairs and the ever-present bookcases Rosalie utilized for secret messages and contraband.
Once all were comfortable with the layout and where everything was, the group split off to pursue their plans for the day. Raymond needed to work on salvaging the botched deal in Havana, so he made for the office.
Rosalie was already camped out on one side of the partner's desk, an assortment of paperwork and burner phones stacked in front of her. She hadn't yet settled into her work, and Raymond had just recalled the promise she had made him the day before.
"We need to discuss these blacksite protocols of yours." He reminded, looking sternly at her.
"Oh?" She asked, wrinkling her nose behind her ledger. She had hoped he would forget.
Of course he hadn't.
Red eyed the ledger intently, "I was stuck on a plane with a pilot who wouldn't change course due to your directions."
Rosalie pursed her lips, the dark grey eyes just peeking over the large book. "I don't see the issue. Edward's job was to get you here safely and without distraction. I think he performed flawlessly."
Red placed a large hand on the middle of the desk and leaned forward. A finger appeared at the top of her ledger, gently pushing it down so he could see her face. "The issue is, when I hear a car slamming into yours over a spotty satellite connection ten thousand feet over the Gulf of Mexico, I need to be able to get to you."
Rosalie's mouth twitched, touched by the sentiment. "Raymond, that would go against the entire purpose of the blacksite protocols."
"I don't care," he insisted. "Rosalie, I would have pulled a gun on my own pilot if it meant he would have turned the plane toward D.C."
The young innkeeper looked up, aghast. "That would hardly have been necessary." She demanded, concerned for Edward.
"I wouldn't have pulled the trigger," Raymond assured her, "but I would have terrorized the man until he caved."
The conviction in his voice brought the truth crashing down on Rosalie. Raymond would have done exactly as he said, and she knew it.
Unbeknownst to the man in front of her, it was this attitude which kept Rosalie from pursuing him romantically.
They weren't even dating and yet there seemed to be nothing he wouldn't do to protect her. Rosalie didn't want to be such a liability.
The young woman fidgeted. She didn't want him to put himself in danger on her behalf. However, the man had just made it perfectly clear what actions he would take to protect those closest to him. It wasn't just for her either, she knew. What if it had been Dembe?
The thought altered her opinion of the matter, and she dropped her pen on the ledger in defeat.
Raymond nodded stiffly, recognizing he had gotten his point across. As he watched her bite her cheek irritably, he offered her an olive branch. "The protocols can stay in place for every other scenario, but where you, Dembe, or Kate are involved, I need to be able to alter the course.
Rosalie sighed tapping her finger distractedly against the ledger's cover. "Alright," she groused, "I'll rewrite the blacksite protocols."
The man smiled in his infuriatingly pleasant way, bouncing once on the balls of his feet before pulling up the chair opposite her.
"Despot."
Red caught the comment, his eyes glinting in open amusement.
This was Rosalie's way of saying she was irritated with him, but not terribly so.
Frankly, he adored getting her in such a state.
The circumstance played out like extended foreplay and usually produced a barrage of incredibly satisfying banter.
"Deviant." He countered, firing a shot over the bow. Red barely bit back the grin threatening to overcome him as the slate orbs burned with reluctant amusement.
He smirked in anticipation, settling in for a long, enjoyable day of winding her up.
By early evening, Rosalie wasn't sure if she was irritated or aroused. Being cooped up in the office all day with Raymond for company was enjoyable; however, she had learned months ago she couldn't be in a confined space with the man without eventually wanting to accost him. What was more frustrating was the knowledge he would take quite happily to her accosting.
It was that thought which made her practically leap out of her seat when Horace announced dinner was ready.
Red strolled casually after her, his hazel orbs merrily eyeing the mesmerizing swish of her backside.
The group chatted animatedly over dinner, enjoying the calm of knowing they wouldn't have to leave the blacksite for several days. Normally the dinner would be dotted with discussion of plans for transport and locations for the following day. Tonight, they could just relax and enjoy the evening.
Once the plates were cleared and the nightcaps finished, they happily started filtering upstairs for bed.
Raymond made his way to the other end of the hall shortly after the guards seemed asleep. Rosalie's door was propped open slightly, and he slid into the room without a sound.
The woman was curled up on her side, the blankets on his side of the bed already pulled back, waiting for him. Her right hand was outstretched, laying palm down on the empty space.
A smile tugged at Red's lips as he slid into the cool sheets, grasping the small hand and placing it against his cheek. The feminine form wiggled across the bed so he could pull her tightly to his chest, letting out a contented sigh as sleep quickly pulled them under.
Raymond woke early the following morning to a surprisingly empty bed. He listened intently to hear where Rosalie had wandered off to, but could not hear her usual movements. The man groaned as he shifted about, moving to stand and stretch. It was quite early, the sun was just unfurling over the horizon.
Looking out of the big picture window, Red noticed Rosalie walking toward an immaculate stable tucked diagonally behind the house. He decided to take a stroll about the property, and ultimately, see what the young woman was up to.
Fifteen minutes later, Red strode from the back door of the house, dressed in jeans, a baseball cap, and a dark button down. As he meandered up to the building, he could see Rosalie pacing back and forth in the isle, an enormous animal pawing the ground behind her. The woman was also dressed in jeans, with a sky blue button down covering her back. Her blonde hair was tied back in a loose French braid, a tendril or two falling to frame her face.
Red stood in the doorway, admiring the magnificent sooty buckskin she was caring for. The horse was a couple feet taller than Raymond, and looked positively gigantic in comparison to the little woman beside it. However, the creature was immensely gentle, reaching to nibble playfully at the woman's shirt as she gently brushed him down. Rosalie stepped to the horse's front, smooching his forehead loudly as she scratched behind his ears. The animal nickered happily, bumping its huge head against the woman's torso in affection, nearly knocking her over. As she laughed and reached for the animal's tack, she caught sight of Red standing in the door, watching her.
"Oh! Raymond..." she said in surprise, still holding the heavy tack, "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. Is everything alright?"
Red smiled softly, "Yes, my dear, everything is fine. I hope you don't mind; I was just terribly curious to see where you had scurried off to."
Rosalie swung the saddle onto the animal's back, letting out a huff of air before beaming back at her counterpart. "I'm sorry…I just couldn't resist going out for a ride. I don't get to come here often enough." she confided, patting the horse affectionately.
"A Lusitano?" he asked, recognizing the features of the breed.
The young woman was impressed, "You know your horses."
"I own a few myself," Red commented, stepping into the stable, "Mostly Akhal-Teke racehorses."
The man puffed up proudly at the surprised admiration in the woman's gaze. "You are very lucky, those are absolutely spectacular creatures."
"He's spectacular." Red nodded at the buckskin.
The woman smiled fondly at the horse. "Don't say that too loudly, he's already got a terrible ego."
The pair chuckled as the animal tossed its regal head.
There was an awkward silence before Raymond spoke again. "Well," he said, finding no available excuse to stay in the barn bothering the woman, "I should leave you to your ride."
He turned to head back to the house, but before he could place a foot over the threshold, Rosalie called out to him.
"Would you join me?"
Red turned back, carefully searching her face, finding her expression genuine.
"I meant… would you like to? I have quite a few horses, and plenty of equipment. I mean, if you're busy, obviously go do what you need to do. But…" She ceased her babbling as Raymond's face broke into a warm, genuine smile.
"I would like that." his deep voice rumbled softly, "Very much."
Rosalie's cheeks flushed pleasantly, making her look down at her boots, a soft smile lighting her visage as she nibbled her bottom lip.
Her reaction pleased Red immensely. The blush of her cheeks, the coy glance, it was painfully adorable, making him want to revisit the decision he wouldn't pursue the woman. At that moment, it seemed like a terribly stupid, outdated notion.
Rosalie swapped out the saddle before gently taking his arm and guiding him down the line of stalls. She told Raymond the history behind each of the horses, what types of riding they were trained for, and how she acquired each of them.
The man listened intently as her gentle voice wove stories of rescues and retirees from a variety of scenarios.
There was a retired thoroughbred from the 1997 Kentucky Derby, a chestnut Arabian mare Rosalie had won in a bet, and even a pair of jet black Percherons which had been rescued from a traveling circus. The gigantic animals were even larger than the woman's buckskin, standing like two black phantoms in their stalls.
In the last space stood another Lusitano, this one a beautiful snowy white and grey dapple.
Rosalie led him to the stall, unhooking the latch. "This is Orquedia, she came to me along with her big beau over there. She nodded in the direction of the sooty buckskin waiting patiently in the isle.
"What is the beau's name?" Red asked, reaching out so the mare could sniff his hand.
"Matador, they're both retired from Madrid's mounted police force."
Orquedia leaned into the man's hand, content to let him pet her.
"I think she likes me." quipped Raymond smugly.
Rosalie rolled her eyes good-naturedly, clipping a lead to the horse's harness. "Of course she likes you, you're a notorious ladies man. I'm sure she couldn't resist your charms." The woman was teasing, but not by much. She knew better than anyone the man was a flirtatious thing.
Red smirked, taking the lead and following Rosalie into the isle a few feet behind the other horse.
He stroked the mare's nose gently as Rosalie stepped into the tack room, coming out with a bridle and breast collar in black leather. She slipped the bridle on and connected the straps of the breast collar before leading Raymond into the tack room. The woman grabbed a deep green saddle pad while he hoisted the black saddle into strong arms.
Once both horses were ready, they unhitched the pair and Red swung up into the saddle. He looked ahead at Rosalie's horse, noting the tack was smaller and looked to be side saddle.
Rosalie saw him staring questioningly at the piece of tack, letting out a small laugh. "Matador is trained for side saddle. You'll see why in a moment." Red watched as Rosalie's lithe form swung up into the saddle effortlessly, her right leg swinging back over the pummel. She and Matador trotted out of the barn first, turning about in the open drive, the gelding waiting on tenterhooks for his lady friend.
Red clicked the snowy dapple forward, the horse trotting gracefully out into the courtyard. The mare turned of her own accord, pulling up along Rosalie's right side.
The horses stood ear to ear, however the young innkeeper was still shorter than Raymond, and turned to look slightly up at him. Without giving her horse a command, the large buckskin sidled closer to the mare, bumping his side with hers.
The horse's bulk bumped against Raymond's leg, making him look down and chuckle.
"And that's why I'm riding side saddle." Rosalie explained with a tinkling laugh. "Matador likes to cozy up to her, and if I were sitting astride, you and I would be knocking boots all day."
Raymond grinned, waiting for the double entendre to register.
"Knees." Rosalie grimaced putting a hand over her eyes, "We would be knocking knees all day."
She glared at Raymond who let out a bellowing roar of laughter.
"My God, if I knew an entire day of boot-knocking was on the table, I would have insisted you sit astride." He teased merrily, enjoying the radiant blush flooding her cheeks.
Once recovered from her faux pas, Rosalie led them through one of the nearby pastures onto a quiet dirt lane bordered by tall hornbeams and thick rose bushes.
Their mounts walked side by side, Matador occasionally bumping against Orquedia, and by extension, Raymond. The man smirked whenever it happened.
"So, what happened between you and Castro?" Rosalie asked. She had been curious about the events which had brought them to the blacksite, waiting until they were truly alone to discuss the matter.
Red sighed, "It was meant to be a simple exchange of weapons and information, a common transaction. I thought the information Castro had regarding some small trade movement near the Belarus border might shine a light on who hired Patrick's killer."
"Did it?" The woman asked eagerly. Rosalie could tell by the twitch in Raymond's eye, the culprit walking away unchecked had been bothering him deeply.
The man shook his head, "I never found out. When we pulled up to the safehouse and Castr was already there… It was enough to convince me there was something else going on. Once he opened up about his true intentions, calling you for a blacksite was the only option."
Rosalie was bothered by this information. "How did he find you?"
Red tilted his head back and forth. "We think we were followed one night. Dembe had mentioned something glinting in the rear-view mirror. I didn't think anything of it, but now I wonder if it wasn't a car tailing us with its lights off."
The young innkeeper pursed her lips, concerned at the ease with which the men were found. "That's unnerving. I'll need to locate a more discreet option for Havana. Perhaps a blacksite."
Raymond turned his head, seeing the woman's brow furrowed in concentration, mentally calculating all the weak points of the Havana safehouse.
He nudged his horse towards hers, keeping close as they continued their walk. "Your location was fine. As you said, the network is impregnable as long as it's accessed properly."
Her scowl lessened slightly, "Still, I'm concerned you were able to be found in the first place. Having a blacksite there couldn't hurt."
"No, it certainly wouldn't." He agreed, bowing to her logic.
"What were Castro's true intentions?"
Raymond's eyes narrowed into the distance. "He wanted me to help facilitate a deal which I found unpalatable."
Rosalie turned to look at him in shock. She and Raymond were both criminals, certainly, but this didn't mean they were completely without morals. In reality, they both operated under their own set of ethics so to speak. Rosalie was terribly curious what Castro had wanted which had so obviously clashed with Raymond's code.
"What was the purpose of the deal?"
Red's lip curled in distaste. "A nasty security measure to locate Cuban citizens who have been in exile and have them killed. He's been worried about another Bay of Pigs altercation. Obviously, he still holds a deep-seated grudge with the United States."
The young woman grimaced, "Why on earth would he think you'd be interested in such a thing? Murdering hundreds of thousands of civilians simply because they left a failing country on the brink of famine? Honestly, it would be more likely you'd be supplying the boats to get them off the island." Rosalie hit her stride, not noticing the soft grin lighting Raymond's features.
"It's always baffling how the lower sect of criminals, the 'warlords', dictators, and their ilk, have no concept of logic. We're criminals, not savages. There at least needs to be a grain of sense in our dealings, even if we operate beyond the lines of legality. Running at problems like bulls in a china shop, taking up boy soldiers as a substitute for garnering genuine loyalty, none of that garbage creates the stable empires they're so desperately trying to construct. What a bunch of imbeciles."
Red laughed aloud, thoroughly enjoying her disgruntled tirade. "Well I'm glad at least you see the truth of the matter."
"What do you mean?" She asked, nonplussed.
"All that will be said, should my meetings with Castro see the light of day, is 'Infamous Traitor Raymond Reddington Conspires with Cold War Dictator.'" His tone was nonchalant, but Rosalie could hear the irritation lying underneath.
She had wondered about Raymond's highly publicized treason since the beginning of their arrangement. Having been with him nearly every day for the past nine months, she could honestly say she found the whole matter rather fishy. Raymond just didn't seem the type.
Rosalie had dealt with many a traitor, it was simply unavoidable in her line of work. Covert intelligence peddlers, disavowed rebels, whistle-blowers and their comrades always seemed to find her doorstep. Some were loathsome creatures, buying into her network as a haven from rightful prosecution. They were often miraculously discovered before they reached the safehouse. Others were simply running from a corrupt system which destroyed their innocence, desolated their families, and burned their communities to the ground. And yet they were the ones who were called deserters, terrorists, or worse. Those were the ones for whom Rosalie provided safe harbour.
"Did you do it?" Her tone belied her speculation over the matter.
Raymond turned to placidly meet her eyes, "What do you think?"
"I think you don't strike me as a traitor." She stated honestly, her brow furrowing. "Yet you also don't strike me as an American. You seem to be about as American as I am."
Red's hazel eyes watched her intently, trying to discern her thoughts.
She quirked a brow knowingly at him, intimating she had guessed a few things about his past.
Rather than feeling the usual sense of fear and suspicion, Raymond found himself feeling a tiny flicker of relief. It was only speculation on her part, and oddly enough, even if she had miraculously guessed it all, the man knew she wouldn't say a word.
There was an underlying trust between them, almost as implicit as the trust he held in Dembe, which told him she would hold such a secret in utmost confidence. An unspoken understanding passed between them as they eyed each other cautiously.
Rosalie had her suspicions, but she wasn't going to pester him for the truth because it didn't matter. She simply wanted him to know, should the truth out, should he need help, she would be there. The thought made Red's chest thrum with an old familiar emotion. It squeezed at him, pressing him to see her in a new light.
He hadn't told anyone the truth about his life since the day he had taken in Dembe. The young boy, broken and afraid, had offered Raymond a unique kind of camaraderie in that moment.
Dembe shared with him an understanding of what it was like to have been someone else entirely before having the darkest pieces of humanity thrust upon you.
That discussion had been the beginning of their incredible friendship. Much to Red's surprise, Rosalie's eyes now held the same warmth, the same understanding as Dembe's had.
Raymond cleared his throat, answering her previous question. "Being on the run for years tends to give one certain qualities of ambiguity. It suits me well not to strike anyone as any particular nationality."
Rosalie smirked at the certainly reasonable explanation, noting how it effectively diverted the conversation toward safer waters.
"The story of my treachery was spread far and wide by an organization called The Cabal." Raymond explained, allowing her a small glimpse into the murky depths of his past.
"Do you think this Cabal is responsible for Patrick's death?" She asked, careful not to pry too far.
Red shook his head confidently. "No. They wouldn't risk retribution over someone like Patrick. I told them I have something which could expose them all, so they've left me alone these past nine years."
"Do you have something which could expose them?" she questioned in surprise.
"Not in my possession." His words were chosen carefully.
Rosalie wasn't fooled. "You have an idea of where it is, surely."
"Yes," agreed Raymond, "An idea, but extracting the information is not an option."
Keen grey eyes eyed him carefully. "You're protecting what holds the information."
"Yes."
The woman nodded, halting any further questions. Truthfully, she didn't need to know. Rosalie could empathize with Raymond's desire for secrecy. She held the truth of her own past most covetously, not wanting anyone to discover who she was.
"I would hope this goes without saying, but should you ever need my assistance in any of it, Raymond, my network and I are at your disposal. You need only ask."
A friendly smile passed her lips as she clicked the horse into a canter, allowing the gelding to stretch his long legs and giving Raymond a reprieve from the rather intense conversation.
Raymond let out a relieved sigh, looking thoughtfully at the woman before taking off after her.
After returning from their morning ride, Raymond and Rosalie set the two Lusitanos loose in the pasture near the house. The pair seemed quite content after their vigorous exercise, trotting alongside each other around the fence's perimeter.
Rosalie had challenged Red to a race up the drive to the main house. He had accepted with a competitive grin, and as they turned the last curve onto the drive, the pair had taken great joy in letting their steeds run with it. Matador and Orquedia seemed to know there were stakes involved, their long legs taking to the task with incredible speed.
Dembe and Horace had been standing stoically on the front porch, ready to chastise them for running off without security again. The pair were thoroughly showered in gravel as the two fugitives came hurtling past, laughing like mad.
Two Days Later
Life at the blacksite was actually quite enjoyable. It was almost as if they had all instantaneously retired.
Raymond and Rosalie ran their business from the massive partner's desk in the office, now littered with files and paperwork organized by a system only the two of them could comprehend. Though they were kept from physically attending to their respective dealings, quite a lot seemed to get done in a short amount of time.
Rosalie located a prospective blacksite in Havana and had signed the papers for the purchase of another somewhere in New England.
Raymond managed to secure the weapons which had been left at the house in Havana, and completely derailed a massive deal of Castro's with the same group of Bosnians who had sold Red the warehouse in Bulgaria.
The man had thoroughly enjoyed orchestrating the bit of skullduggery in the dead of night with a certain innkeeper cradled against his chest. The woman lay there giggling as she listened in on every word.
Rosalie had not taken kindly to Castro's treatment of him, and had been thrilled at hearing Raymond's plot for retribution.
She had also been all too willing to supply a devious addendum to add insult to injury.
While Red turned the Bosnians against the deal, his little hellcat secured safe passage for them out of Cuba with not only the weapons in tow, but several cases of cigars from Castro's own collection.
Her feminine figure was sprawled on the bed beside him, rotated so her slender legs crossed vertically against the headboard. She looked much like she had that night at The Cherry, sinfully relaxed as she twitched the strings of her dastardly plan.
Raymond watched her avidly in the dark, listening as she conversed in rapid Spanish with several disgruntled maids and a valet, all of whom took the woman up on her offer of transport from the country in exchange for pilfering the cigars.
She certainly was a wily thing.
Should Raymond ever somehow forget Rosalie was a bona fide criminal, he need only look back on that night. The woman had made a clear, calculating move. She didn't go for Castro's money, his homes, or his cars.
She went straight for the jugular and nicked the man's hand-rolled Cohibas.
A mischievous laugh warmed the room as Raymond ran a tickling hand up the smooth skin of her leg.
Rosalie pursed her lips as the man's fingertips started at her ankle and trickled down the elevated appendage to her thigh. She lost her train of thought seeing the clever eyes of Raymond Reddington looking at her like she was something to eat.
It seemed her criminal antics had unknowingly stoked the fire.
Rosalie pulled the phone away from her mouth as he reached to thumb her chin. A man could get himself into a lot of trouble teasing at her like that. She leaned forward and nipped the digit playfully, drawing him out of his haze.
Raymond pulled back his hand with a laugh and pinched her thigh in retaliation.
The young woman rolled her eyes, merrily swatting at his hand and carrying on her conversation as though nothing was amiss.
The following morning, the sound of Dembe making his way down the hall carried into the bedroom, waking Raymond who was pressed tightly against Rosalie.
They had turned in the night so Raymond was wrapped protectively around her. The position was comfortable and intimate, with the entirety of Rosalie's pert backside nestled against Red's pelvis. The man's fingers twitched against her soft skin, having snuck up the silk top to feel the gentle thrum of her heartbeat against her ribcage.
Red was loathe for either of them to leave the bed today. Having the warm woman cradled against him like this was a circumstance which he felt warranted his undivided attention.
Waves of honey blonde tresses shone in the early morning light beside him, grazing Raymond's cheek as the tip of his nose traced the woman's collarbone. He reached with the arm pinned beneath the pillows and tucked a few stray strands behind her ear, exposing more of her neck to his exploration.
The movement must have tickled, though, as Rosalie squirmed a bit before nestling back into his embrace.
Her wiggling caused the curve of her backside to accidentally nudge Red's hips.
The little minx wasn't wearing a damn thing beneath her shorts, and the man's breath hitched audibly when he felt his morning erection slide along the silk covered crevice between her cheeks.
A hungry growl rolled through Raymond's chest as Rosalie mewed and rocked her hips backward into the hard bulge again. Her brows knit together in concentration as she continued rubbing against him in her sleep.
The action made Red chuckle even as he hissed through gritted teeth. This was unexpected.
She was a determined little thing, dragging her peachy backside along his rigid flesh without mercy.
"Christ, woman." He grunted against her neck, his heavy cock straining at the stimulation. Frissons of pleasure compelled Raymond to buck his hips against her in search of more.
The thrust eased a breathy sigh from Rosalie's lips, a triumphant smile appearing as she bit her bottom lip.
The adorably mischievous expression was his undoing.
Raymond pulled his hand from her shirt and grasped the hips which had been tormenting him.
A pout replaced Rosalie's smile, and a whine of annoyance issued from her throat as she pushed back in search of him.
"As much as I would love for you to continue accosting my person," he placated in her ear, "We need to stop."
Rosalie grumbled, wiggling her backside into his lap, insolently indicating she would rather resume her previous pleasurable pursuits.
The renewed stimulation made Red's pelvis rock hard into hers, teasing a small moan from her lips. Raymond's large hand grasped her hips again as he scrambled to regain control.
"Dembe has been up for approximately nine minutes. Which means we have all of one minute to get you out of this bed and into a less compromising position."
"Hmm… let them find out." She mumbled sleepily, "Then we can do this every night."
Raymond relinquished his hold with a discontented sigh. "You are a terrible little tease." He groused, rolling to lay on his back, away from the tantalizing curve of her derrière.
Rosalie sat up, dozily stretching and letting out an impish giggle before her breath caught in her throat.
Raymond popped open a bleary eye, wondering what had halted her humour.
The little deviant was staring rather lasciviously at the bulge situated between his legs. The fabric of the bed's blankets covered Red from the waist down, tenting at the spot where her eyes were glued.
"Rosalie…" the man warned, the look in her eyes stoking the flame of lust her actions had already ignited.
Her head turned slowly toward him, a small 'o' of intrigue parting her pink lips. The expression was terribly endearing, but what it did to the man she was eyeing…he had difficulty putting into words.
"...Hmm?" Rosalie asked vacantly, blinking those pools of liquid metal at him. She was completely lost as to what she was supposed to be doing.
"Get out of my bed before I decide to tie you to it." Red growled darkly, looking to shock her out of her dazed state. Imagine his delighted agony when her entire body flushed scarlet and she lifted a lone eyebrow, not budging an inch. The expression looked an awful lot like a challenge, making the man's mind burn with intense curiosity.
Raymond and Rosalie had spoken at length about the merits and philosophies behind sex and all things taboo on their nights out. In truth, they enjoyed the topic immensely. Raymond remembered one night in Rome particularly vividly.
They had strolled about the bright, bustling piazzas until the wee hours of the morning discussing books like Histoire d'O and Delta of Venus. However, the man realized they hadn't stopped their philosophical discussion to expound upon their own experiences, a most grievous oversight on his part.
Most unfortunately, they didn't have time to discuss the topic right now. Raymond made a mental note to return to the conversation later. When they were quite alone. When he could listen to every vivid detail.
"Rosalie-"
"I'm thinking." She insisted, her eyes glinting with suppressed amusement.
He reiterated, "Horace is going to catch you sneaking out of this room in thirty seconds."
Rosalie's face dropped comically. "Damn" she hissed, leaping out of the bed and scurrying across the room amid Raymond's deep, throaty chuckle.
The man fell back into the sheets with a weary sigh, willing his throbbing erection to go down while he listened to the woman's small feet pattering down the hall.
A quickly stifled squeak of surprise and a deep, smooth laugh told him she had run into Dembe. The thought made Red laugh anew, picturing the knowing grin the young bodyguard was undoubtedly flashing her.
They had been cutting it fine, indeed, if she was encountering Dembe on her way back to her room. Red turned to his side, pulling one of the pillows to his torso. The delicate scent of the feminine creature previously occupying the pillow filled his mind with a warm haze. They really ought to sleep in their own beds. The thought flitted out of his mind just as quickly as it had entered.
Sleeping ensconced together after the Munich debacle seemed to have opened a door to temptation they weren't easily able to close. The continued proximity and affection naturally guided them toward acting on their desires, and it was getting harder and harder to resist.
It certainly didn't help the two seemed to be pseudo-masochists about it either. They developed a terrible habit of getting as close to breaking their self-imposed rules as they dared before reality reared its ugly head.
Though they couldn't cross that line, they were having a terribly good time toeing it.
The morning's activities were a stellar example of the pair momentarily and spectacularly losing their grip. If Horace hadn't been an immediate issue, Raymond knew without question he wouldn't have stopped Rosalie's pursuits. Truthfully, left unchecked, he would have enjoyed taking their explorations much further.
This thought did nothing to ease the ache in his groin, the appendage standing resolutely out in front of him as he got out of bed. Red huffed and headed for the master bath, intent on taking the matter in hand before he could accidentally encounter the little creature responsible for it.
Two days later
Their time at the safehouse was drawing all too quickly to an end. The issue with Castro was safely diffused, and their next location secured and waiting. Edward would be arriving the following day to take them back to reality.
Raymond and Rosalie were rather put out, truth told. Both had immensely enjoyed the freedom and quiet the home had offered.
The afternoon before their departure, the pair decided to take a long walk along the path where they had ridden that morning, as had become their custom over the weeklong furlough.
Raymond regaled story after story, weaving tales of the wild heists conducted in his early days as a criminal. Rosalie's tinkling laugh echoed along the lane as he told her a particularly enthralling story about getting gored in the backside by a wild pig in the Forest of Dean.
"There's going to be a storm," she sighed morosely, "We'll have to head inside soon."
Raymond grasped her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. "Just a little while longer, the clouds aren't moving too fast."
The young woman' eyes glanced at the dark clouds in the distance. "I predict there will be one clap of thunder followed by a torrential downpour."
Red chuckled, shaking his head. "Come now, my dear, where's your sense of adventure?"
"Oh I have no intention of squashing our fun." She tittered, patting his arm fondly. "I just hope you know we'll be getting soaked in about five minutes."
The pair continued their leisurely stroll, grossly unconcerned about the ominous clouds encroaching with each step.
As they turned onto the long driveway leading up to the house, Raymond's eyes squinted thoughtfully up at the live oak trees bordering the lane. "The world's oldest commissioned naval vessel still afloat is made of southern live oak. A three masted heavy frigate from the War of 1812. Her hull was so strong 18 pound cast iron cannon balls would bounce off like they were made of rubber."
Rosalie nodded, smiling. "'Old Ironsides' they called her."
Red let out an amused chuckle, "God, what a nickname."
A thundering boom echoed across the property shrouding the sky in dense, almost black clouds. The storm had descended upon them.
The pair looked up as raindrops began to fall, slowly at first, then building to a torrential downpour.
Rosalie laughed, impishly waggling her eyebrows in victory as her prediction came true.
Rather than hurry themselves along, the two continued their leisurely stroll up the drive, laughing as their clothes became drenched.
When they had made halfway up the drive, Rosalie turned, reaching up to swipe a few raindrops form the rim of Raymond's fedora. She was soaked to the skin but the sound of his voice as he relived the tall tale had left her burning. Her grey eyes danced with mischief as she tugged him beneath the branches of one of the live oaks. The trunk was more than wide enough to hide them from sight, and the massive branch above gave them shelter from the downpour.
Red watched with heated intrigue as her gaze darkened.
Rosalie turned, pinning him against the tree and pressing her mouth to his.
Her soft, sweet lips caressed him with the same burning electricity that they had in New York. This time, however, the woman leaned in, deepening the contact.
The move took Red by surprise, but he found himself readily acquiescing to her every whim. His lips moved to meet hers, wanting more of what she was offering.
Rosalie nipped him playfully, drawing a grunt of approval from her partner's throat. The sound fuelled the fire pooling in her belly as she pressed herself closer to his warmth.
Raymond responded in kind, snaking his arms around her and pulling her tightly to him. One hand penetrated her top, splaying across the small of her back while the other threaded a finger through the belt loop at her hip, allowing a broad thumb to tease the skin exposed by his wandering.
The light brushes of his thumb and the heavy weight of his hand on her back had Rosalie practically purring with contentment. Her own hands had wriggled the top buttons of his shirt open, glad he had forgone his usual tie. One hand was happily exploring the wealth of downy chest hair there while the other teased his neck and scalp with featherlight touches. The combination gave him goosebumps as her mouth continued devouring his hungrily.
Each was delightedly learning what pleased the other, using the noises issuing from them as a guide. Every whimper and moan lead them to new and exciting discoveries. Rosalie found little nips drove the man wild while Raymond discovered suckling her bottom lip just right made the woman's knees quake.
Raymond reached to cup her cheek, holding her to his pleasure as his arm tightened around the little waist pressed against him. His burning tongue swiped at her kiss-swollen lips, demanding to taste her.
Rosalie complied with a needy mew, her hands gripping his chest tightly as she opened to him.
Captivated by the woman's response, Red wasted no time in plundering her hot little mouth with fervour. The talented appendage explored her depths, stopping to tangle with the tiny tongue he had discovered within.
The relentless seduction had Rosalie quivering in Red's grasp, enticing him to tease her further.
Red felt the ache which had been building between them since New Year's ease ever so slightly.
They had needed this. The desire to touch and be touched had been permeating their every waking moment, making the past few months a special brand of delicious torture. Finally feeling her delectable curves pressed intimately against him, finally getting to taste that sweet little mouth, it calmed something in Raymond that had been burning since that night.
His tongue slid past her lips rhythmically, mimicking the slow, gentle thrusts of lovemaking. The sensual action pulled a tremulous whine from the woman that shot straight to Raymond's pelvis. A deep groan of arousal issued from him, sending a tickling vibration through their lips.
Though Rosalie's devious little tongue had happily taken his ravishing, the minute muscle soon became demanding, battling Raymond back so she could taste him too.
Red allowed it with a feverish moan of approval.
Rosalie explored his mouth languidly, taking her time in learning him. Her hot little tongue stroked and massaged every scorching corner of him until he shivered in delight.
Raymond had found most women preferred him to be the dominant one when engaging in intimacy, which was truthfully, quite enjoyable. However, it was always thrilling to encounter a woman that also enjoyed taking the reins. Such a woman was infinitely more attractive, infinitely more intriguing, and so damn arousing, it made the man's cock twitch.
A greedy whimper escaped Rosalie's throat as she felt the thick shaft flex against her hip. The sensation bringing the walls of her resolve crashing down.
Her responsiveness touched Raymond to his core. It told him what he had been feeling since that night in New York, she had been feeling too.
Rosalie had needed this, needed him, as much as he needed her.
The low, rumbling noises of arousal that vibrated from his torso made her body ache, a slick, wet heat pooling between her thighs.
The kiss bared her to Raymond. The little pink tongue whispered the truth to her would-be lover, telling him what kind of lover she could be.
Rosalie would submit and bend to his desires. Oh yes. She could be a sweet little darling when the mood struck, but she wasn't one-sided.
Raymond had learned by now how multi-faceted the woman was. She could give as well as take. Rosalie would defy him and demand what she wanted. The little minx would seduce him into submitting too, until he was readily bending to her desires in their quest for mutual pleasure. With Rosalie, Raymond would enjoy all the delights duality could offer.
The very thought had the man palming her backside, bringing her hips to press harder against his rigid length.
Another deafening boom of thunder shook the air around them, jostling the pair from their heated exploration.
Raymond took deep, steadying breaths as he looked down at the woman encased in his arms. Her pupils were blown wide and her breasts heaved against him as she shivered. It was an enticing picture that shook the man to his core.
A soft smile tugged at Rosalie's kiss-swollen lips, enjoying the disheveled state Raymond was in. She thought he looked terribly handsome, soaking wet and tousle-haired.
The storm continued through dinner, where Raymond and Rosalie couldn't help but be distracted. They were repeatedly caught looking at one another in something akin to surprise. Neither was certain where they stood after their mutual resolve had snapped so spectacularly earlier.
Once they had regained their composure, the pair had stridden into the house in search of a hot shower and dry clothes.
Horace and Dembe were more than a little suspicious at their sodden and unusually quiet state, but seemed to have opted for quiet observation rather than direct questioning.
Dinner passed quietly, and once the plates were cleared, the house's occupants separated to finish packing their belongings.
Not ready to face Raymond quite yet, Rosalie stepped out onto the sprawling porch, a glass of gin in hand.
The men in the house had no knowledge of the significance of the home.
The woman's slender fingers reached out to touch the white wooden porch swing. Her fingertips traced lovingly along its frame, remembering every notch and detail.
The swing had been there for as long as Rosalie could remember, back when she was a little girl; when she was someone else entirely.
Her parents had sat on this very swing with her as the summer storms would roll in, creating a warm, loving cocoon around their daughter.
Rosalie loved the storms for this very reason.
The roll of thunder, the pounding of rain and hail as the world was torn asunder outside, it felt like home.
Perhaps that was why she was so adept at being a criminal.
She could revel even in the darkest storms.
Red waited half an hour before going in search of Rosalie.
Rolling up the sleeves of his button down, he took the staircase two at a time.
She hadn't come to his room, and to his surprise, she wasn't in hers either, nor was she in the office. As the man walked through the first floor, he noticed the front doors of the house were still open wide.
Raymond stepped out onto the porch, seeing the small form curled up in the large swing.
Flashes of lightning lit the night periodically, casting a white and blue glow over the property before sending thunder through the air like cannon fire.
The young woman was asleep, a soft smile on her lips.
Red watched her for a moment as she slept soundly, the storm still raging on.
The deafening sounds didn't bother her in the slightest.
The man chuckled softly, thinking it the very manifestation of her true nature.
She was the calm in the storm. The peace below the winds.
Raymond bent down and gently scooped the feminine form into his strong arms.
He walked quietly into the house, nodding at Dembe, who moved to close the front doors. Without a word, the older man carried his counterpart up the large staircase to the second floor.
Rosalie stirred as he reached the landing, her eyes lifted to search his features.
His expression was calm, warm and affectionate as he looked down at her.
She reached a hand up to stroke the stubble on his cheek.
The man's mouth twitched at the corner as he sauntered down the hall, brushing his nose teasingly against hers.