The Mayfair Safehouse - London, UK
Red's brow furrowed at Dembe, "What happened?"
"You wanted to know when Patrick made contact. He has not. An associate went looking for him three hours ago."
"Did they find him?" He asked, feeling as though he already knew the answer.
Dembe handed him the burner phone, his expression sombre. "He was found on a side street of Munich Square. I'm sorry, Raymond."
Red looked down at the phone with a sigh. Patrick Bergmann had been his key contact in Munich, and a good friend. The man was supposed to be finalizing a weapons exchange for information coming out of the Munich underground, but something had obviously gone terribly wrong.
"How?"
Raymond could tell by Dembe's tone that Patrick was dead. Their only option now would be to find who killed the man and why.
"Shot," sighed Dembe, "four times in the chest."
Reddington grimaced. Several gunshot wounds would be difficult to explain to Patrick's wife. The woman had no idea who her husband's true employer was.
It was often easier for the families of associates to believe a lie than to believe their beloved family member was involved with the infamous traitor Raymond Reddington. Red's people would likely fabricate a story of a robbery gone awry during a simple business trip.
The lie always made the man's stomach roll in distaste.
"His family?"
"We are taking care of it. A trust will provide for them financially, however, they will still need to be notified."
Red thought for a moment, his eyes scanning the room. "I'll ask Kate if she would inform the family. She has a bit more tact with these things." He dialled the familiar number and waited for the woman to pick up. On the third ring, a crisp voice cut the air.
"Raymond."
"Kate, I hope I'm not interrupting anything important?" he drawled pleasantly.
"Not at all, dearie. What do you need?" She sounded completely unsurprised. Of course, she already knew about Patrick. She had been waiting on Reddington's call.
"I'm afraid Patrick Bergmann is no longer with us. I need you to contact the family. Feed them a story they'll be willing to swallow about his death."
"Consider it done. Is that all?"
"No." Raymond stared pensively at his suitcase, "I'm heading to Munich tonight. We'll need to get a jump on this if we are going to find the person responsible. I would like you to meet us there, and bring our newest acquisition."
"You think you're going to have trouble getting the intel you need?"
"Possibly, I'm also curious to see the man in action."
A dry chuckle left the phone, "We'll be en route to your location within the hour."
Reddington closed the phone with a snap, returning the object to Dembe. They would need to leave for Germany as soon as possible.
Heaving an exhausted sigh, the man stepped across the hall and knocked on Rosalie's door. He found himself smiling as a feminine giggle issued from within.
"One second!" called her tipsy voice, "I've got an arm where a leg's supposed to be…"
Raymond's mood lightened considerably. His head rested on the door frame as he heard the woman inside stumble and knock something over, swearing under her breath. Catching Horace out of the corner of his eye, Red beckoned the man to him.
"Dembe said you need to leave?" the guard questioned in his smooth Egyptian accent.
"Yes. One of my associates in Munich was found dead. Unfortunately we need to go deal with the matter, and quickly."
"My apologies. Losing a man is never convenient or easy. Rosalie will want to help, of course. What can we do?" The man's earnest eyes looked expectantly at Reddington, who actually chuckled.
"I need you to get this one a cup of coffee." He inclined his head at the door where another giggle could be heard.
Horace let out a barking laugh at this, a large hand coming up to run sheepishly over the back of his head. "She was good and embarrassed at getting called on stage… The gin might have snuck up on her. I'll be back in a moment."
As the bodyguard's hulking frame made its way down to the kitchen, Rosalie's door finally opened.
The woman was in a white long sleeve shirt and green silk shorts. Her hair was down, lying in pleasantly dishevelled waves that paired well with her flushed cheeks. She seemed to have gotten into a fight with her usual floral kimono, the article lay strewn haphazardly in the vicinity of the woman's suitcase.
"Sorry," she mumbled, "minor wardrobe malfunction." Her hand gestured irritably in the direction of the fallen garment.
"Well, thankfully you won't need the kimono where we're heading." He teased, trying to sound flippant.
Rosalie could hear the strain in his voice, however. "...What's wrong?"
"One of my associates has been killed, I need to leave for Munich. Tonight."
Rosalie's eyes widened in concern. "Come in," she said softly, some of the tipsiness leaving her voice. She grabbed Raymond's hand and tugged him to the bench at the foot of her bed.
"Tell me everything."
The woman's tone was so genuine, Red simply stared for a moment, taken aback. She still held his hand gently in hers, her thumb stroking back and forth across its surface.
Snapping out of his stupor, the man relayed Patrick's place in his organization and the purpose of the deal which had taken him to Munich in the first place. He then divulged that Patrick had gone dark that afternoon and Red's people had been scouring the city for him, only to discover the poor man's fate. Hence his need to head immediately for Munich.
"Oh Raymond, I'm terribly sorry. I'll have the safehouse in Munich opened immediately. Of course, Horace and I will be at your disposal."
As if on cue, Horace came in with a steaming mug of coffee, his obsidian eyes glancing surreptitiously at their joined hands.
Rosalie released Red in favour of taking the proffered cup. "Thank you, I'm going to need that." She patted Horace's face in thanks. Then her eyes narrowed as she remembered the man's shenanigans at the burlesque club, causing her to pinch his cheek irritably.
"Ow!" Horace chuckled, swatting the little hand away. "I'm going to go help Dembe get things packed up."
"You're damn right you'll go help Dembe." the woman groused, swatting his backside out the door. Raymond sat shaking his head and trying not to laugh.
Turning sedately, Rosalie reached into her bag and pulled out the infamous black folio before climbing onto the bed. She leaned back against the pillows with her legs crossed and plopped the book in front of her. With her cup carefully balanced on her knee, Rosalie reached over and patted the space next to her, fixing Raymond with a look that brooked no argument.
A smile twitched at the corner of the man's mouth. He did as he was bid, sitting on the bed next to Rosalie and swinging his legs up. The still slightly inebriated woman seemed appeased, going so far as to reach over and card her fingers through his hair. She kept her hand threaded through his short locks as she rifled through the folio. Red found himself tilting his head closer to her, luxuriating in the feel of her nails running along his scalp.
"Munich, Munich, Munich." The woman mumbled to herself, turning page after page of the folio.
Raymond realized this was the first time he had been able to see the item's contents. Rosalie was usually quite secretive with the thing. He was taken aback by the sheer number of homes contained in its pages. True to the woman's style, the book had an extensive color-coded system, seemingly organized by continent.
Finally, Rosalie found the home she was looking for. A glossy photo of a modern flat lay open on the page, its fellow holding a plethora of names and phone numbers for her associates in Munich. Taking one final sip of coffee, the woman set it aside and crawled across Red to grab her phone.
The close proximity brought Raymond hurtling back to their little incident in the telephone box earlier that evening, but Rosalie seemed oblivious to his plight. She let out an exasperated sigh as her arm wasn't quite long enough to grab the phone, her slender fingers wiggling frustratedly just millimetres from the object.
Red couldn't help but notice the woman's reaching had brought her across his lap in the age-old position usually reserved for delivering a swat to someone's backside. The decadent thought was too much for the man, who quickly reached out and snatched the phone, handing it to her with a darkly amused glance.
"Thank you," the woman tittered.
Then, realizing just how far she had invaded the man's personal space, she flung herself back into the pillows, mortified at her lack of decorum. "Oh my… I'm so sorry, I didn't realize-"
"Nothing to worry about." Red chuckled throatily, trying to think of anything but the way the little minx had felt draped across his lap.
Rosalie's face was crimson again as she nibbled her bottom lip. As far as Raymond was concerned, that expression wasn't helping his present situation. Thankfully, she shook her head a moment later and returned to the task at hand.
Settling into her work, Rosalie placed call after call in rapid German, ensuring a property manager was en route to Munich with maids and other associates in tow. She finished just in time for Horace and Dembe to arrive in the doorway.
"Transport is ready." said Dembe, "We will be wheels up in 30."
"That's my cue to pack." sighed Rosalie, sliding off the bed.
"You don't have to come." Raymond offered, noting the fatigue in the woman's voice. "Dembe and I can deal with the issue and meet up with you."
Rosalie turned, brows furrowed, all tipsiness gone.
"No." she stated simply, picking up her abandoned kimono and folding it.
"No?" Raymond smirked, a little surprised at her brevity.
"We," she pointed at herself and Horace, "are going with you. I told you we would help and that's what we'll do." Her tone told him there was no use in arguing. She added as an after-thought, "And when we get there you are taking Otto with you. If someone is out for your associates they might be out for you. Honestly, you could do with the extra security."
No argument was made by her counterpart, partly because Raymond was stunned silent. If he wasn't so jaded, he might have thought the woman genuinely cared about his well-being.
Rosalie, confident she had made her point, shooed the trio of chortling men out into the hall to complete their own packing.
Red's Jet – Farnborough Airport - London, UK
Half an hour later, the jet was taxiing for take-off.
Rosalie had already called Otto, who would be waiting with their transport upon arrival. She was set on sending the surly guard with Raymond and Dembe, if only for his ability to speak German. It also calmed her nerves to know another body would be there to lookout for Reddington.
Once they were in the air, the woman sat dozing in her usual seat. Red and Dembe sat across from her, discussing their situation in Munich.
Truthfully, Raymond hadn't the faintest idea who might have killed Patrick. Red had made enemies in his time as a criminal, certainly, but he couldn't see any of them coming into play on this. To the best of his considerable knowledge, none of them were even in Europe at the moment. The deal that was being finalized didn't step on any toes that he was aware of. There hadn't been any particularly loud voices of opposition from competitors, either.
Dembe wondered aloud if they might be playing into a trap set to bring Raymond to Munich.
Red tilted his head back and forth, considering the idea. It was possible, but that wasn't what the man's gut was telling him. If there was a subversive plot to get him to Munich, he would have heard whispers about it somewhere. He dismissed the idea, thinking it seemed counterintuitive to distrust his instincts after surviving on them this long.
What concerned Raymond was whether Patrick's death was a one-off issue or a symptom of a larger attack on his organization. The man knew there would come a day when the real threats to him and Lizzie would start rolling in. Red sincerely hoped this was not the beginning of it all. Though he doubted he would ever feel truly 'ready' for that day, he had hoped to have garnered a bit more weight behind his empire before needing to do battle with it.
Raymond's eyes fell to Horace and Rosalie, both sleeping deeply in their seats. He had been surprised at the young woman's insistence that they help in the search.
If this really was the first shot over the bow in an all-out war, the man hoped he could count them both as comrades in arms.
Munich
Upon landing, their group stepped out into the night, all were wide awake after their brief catnap on the plane. The decision had been made to head out while the trail for Patrick's killer was still warm.
Otto was waiting for them with a large black SUV, yawning and stretching the sleep from his limbs as they approached. Dembe took the keys, gesturing Otto to the passenger's seat, leaving Red, Rosalie, and Horace to the back.
They arrived in Munich Square shortly after, greeted by a contingent of Raymond's associates.
Rosalie smiled softly to herself, watching the man don his fedora like a battle helmet. His dark grey suit and swaggering posture gave off an air of power and cunning which made the horde of intimidating associates pale in comparison. Red was a formidable character at the best of times, but seeing the man in action was rather thrilling, truth told.
In fact, it all proved very distracting for Rosalie. The woman found herself eyeing the broad expanse of Raymond's shoulders interestedly. She abruptly stopped her perusal of his person when Dembe caught her looking. His eyebrow lifted coyly at her. Rosalie met his gaze with one of utmost innocence, making the man flash a deeply amused smile.
Reddington quickly doled out tasks, locations, and people for his associates to pursue. Anything that could possibly give them a lead was to be brought to him immediately. His associates took to their assignments with enthusiasm, scattering hurriedly out into the night in search of the culprit.
The young woman was admiring the conviction of Reddington's men when a shadowy figure cleared its throat beside her. She jumped slightly before recognizing Baz, Red's burly head of security. He smiled down at her in wry amusement. Thankfully, the man had forgiven her for chucking him into the elevator while on the run in São Paulo. Apparently he found the whole ordeal quite funny.
"Rosie" he inclined his head smugly, knowing he had made her jump. "Boss" he added stoically, reaching out to shake Reddington's hand.
Knowing Raymond wanted to deal with the matter as quickly as possible, Baz started walking them to one of the square's side streets. "We've already secured the crime scene from local police. I figured you'd want to examine it before the feds could contaminate it."
Red gave a curt nod of agreement. Baz held up the red and white police ribbon for them to step under, before walking his employer through the attack. Raymond's eyes were narrowed, carefully taking in every detail of the gruesome scene. Pinprick flecks of blood could be seen leading up to a heavy wooden door. The man recognized the signs of a body having been rested against its face.
The group stood solemnly gazing at the spot. The entire bottom half of the door and its frame were coated in dark red blood. They all understood, this was where Patrick had died. Red removed his hat, eyes never moving from the door. He would kill the man responsible, he promised himself. He would not stand for this.
Rosalie's heart swelled at the gesture. She had picked up on many of Raymond's habits and ticks over the past few months, but this one was new. She felt a rush of affection and empathy for the man.
In their world, loyalty was an elusive trait and a loyal friend was the rarest of gifts. Patrick had been both, Red's gesture intimated as much. Rosalie glanced at Horace with a look that commanded her organization help at all costs. The tall bodyguard gave a silent nod of agreement.
Unbeknownst to the pair, they were being watched carefully by Baz and Dembe, who exchanged looks of their own.
After scouring the crime scene for all available evidence and sending Baz to garner the surveillance footage from the museum across the street, the group headed for the safety and comfort of the safehouse.
Rosalie's team had just finished and were stepping off the elevator when the troop arrived. The property manager spoke at length with the young woman before handing over the keys with a jaunty wave to her cohorts.
The Munich flat was perched atop a classic brick building, but the flat itself was modern in design. The front walls and the staircase were made of glass and dark metal beams, giving the home a spacious, open feel.
Rosalie guided her guests to their rooms, gently nudging them to go to bed. She was just walking past the master suite when Red came to lean tiredly against the door frame. She stopped and leaned on the other side, giving him a soft smile.
"I need to bother you for another favour, my dear." He sighed, a little rueful.
"Anything, Raymond." she assured, looking up at him, her eyes kind and warm.
The statement brought a wry smile to Red's face, "Mr. Kaplan and Baz are going to need a place to stay, would you mind getting them set up?"
"My team is already opening the third Munich property." She said, glad to be a step ahead of the game.
"Third?" He asked, his tone impressed.
"Yeah, an old client is in the secondary house. This town is a hotbed, it's been essential to have a few properties. Munich 3 will be ready shortly, I'll give Baz a call before I go to bed."
"Thank you, Rosalie." he rumbled, pushing off the frame, "Dembe and I are going to hit the ground running first thing tomorrow."
She nodded and turned to head for the secondary master suite.
"Get some rest Raymond, we'll get your man."
Red smiled softly at her retreating form, warmth and affection flooding his system at her words.
Red and Dembe left early the following morning to view the surveillance footage Baz managed to acquire. Meanwhile, Horace and Rosalie headed out into Munich in search of other helpful intel. The young woman had a few contacts in the area whom she could lean on for information that might be useful.
Rosalie was worried about Raymond. She could imagine how much damage had been done due to losing Patrick. The man had a meeting that very morning to try and salvage a deal which Patrick had in play upon his death. Rosalie could empathize; if she lost a long-standing property manager just as a big client was coming in, she would be livid as well. The young innkeeper voiced her concerns to Horace as they left her property manager's apartment empty-handed.
"I'm sure you're very concerned, seeing as you're dating the man." Horace nodded sagely.
Rosalie stopped in her tracks. "What on earth are you talking about? Raymond and I aren't dating."
"Right, you just happen to go on romantic candle-lit dinners every two days. Definitely not dating." He replied, his tone dripped with sarcasm.
"Nonsense," she scoffed, "We have dinner every few days to talk business."
This wasn't entirely true, she and Raymond talked shop for all of one cocktail before steering their conversation to everything but business. However, Rosalie wasn't about to tell Horace that.
The man wasn't fooled, however, she was avoiding the point. He voiced his disbelief as they climbed back into the car. "You spend every evening and half of most days together. How much business could you possibly have left to discuss?"
Rosalie was about to launch her retort when Horace added, "And don't think I didn't notice your cosy little exchange in the telephone booth."
The woman visibly stiffened. "...Exchange?" she stammered nervously, "What exchange?"
"Rosalie," her guard sighed, looking at her in the rear-view mirror. "My job is to protect you. Which means I notice things. Do you know what I've noticed?"
The woman shook her head minutely, eyes glued to his reflection.
"I've noticed that you and Raymond Reddington are thick as thieves. No pun intended." His beetle black eyes danced merrily.
Rosalie smiled at this. She did feel close to Raymond, truth told, but that didn't mean that there was anything else between them. She told Horace as much.
"I'm glad you've found a friend in the man, just tread carefully there, yeah?" He asked, holding her eyes earnestly.
The woman turned to look out the window, her demeanour somewhat diminished.
"Of course, Horace." she murmured, "I always am."
The Glass Flat - Munich, Germany
It was late afternoon when Raymond and Rosalie met back at the safehouse.
Baz's surveillance footage turned out to be invaluable. Several associates were now on the trail of a man who chased Patrick into the alley. Once they located him, they would be able to get a lead on the shooter and finish this mess.
Rosalie's contacts had also delivered, providing an outline of Patrick's movements as noticed by a variety of maids, valets, and hotel staff. They now had a working timeline between Patrick's last contact and his estimated time of death.
The concierge and the innkeeper sat in the lounge after a late lunch, going through the intel they had gathered.
"Where have Dembe and Otto run off to?" Rosalie asked idly, noticing the pair's absence.
"They've gone to pick up Mr. Kaplan and guest."
"Guest?" her brows knit together in confusion.
Red tilted his head, meeting her gaze. "Kate is bringing a new associate. Someone skilled at extracting information from unwilling parties."
Kate Kaplan stepped into the room, eyebrow quirked imperiously. "You rang."
A portly, good-natured man came to stand next to her, smiling leisurely at Red and Rosalie, who stood to greet the new guests.
Mr. Kaplan gestured at the man with a small glove-covered hand, "Raymond, this is Ted Brimley, Ted, this is Raymond Reddington."
Raymond greeted the man genially, "Mr. Brimley, it's a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I wish it were under better circumstances."
Ted Brimley was a kindly man, but he had a voice like a foghorn. Rosalie bit back a giggle when Raymond's eyebrows hit his hairline as the man spoke.
"I'm sorry to hear about your guy, I'll be happy to help! I'll just need a bucket of dry ice, a pair of rubber gloves, and a trampoline!"
It was Rosalie's turn to raise her eyebrows in shock. She wondered what Brimley's role was as the man's grey-blue eyes swivelled to hers.
"And who might this lovely zeeskeit be?" Ted asked in his friendly but booming voice, taking Rosalie's soft hand in his bear-sized one. "You look like my last wife!" he bellowed.
Rosalie's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh really? Do I look like your next wife?" she quipped, completely deadpan.
The statement knocked the tension right out of the room, making the men roar with laughter and causing Kaplan to roll her eyes.
Rosalie patted Ted's hand as she let out a tinkling laugh, guiding the man through to the lounge so he and Raymond could talk.
Baz called in the dead of night to inform Red they had captured the man who chased Patrick into the alley.
Raymond had him taken to Kaplan and Brimley at the flat Rosalie secured for them down the street. He would let his new associate begin his work, and hopefully would have some answers in the next few days.
Later that morning, Raymond and Dembe stopped by to check Brimley's progress. They found the man stepping out of an alcove in the building's boiler room, rubber gloves up to his elbows and breathing heavily.
"He's ready for you, Mr. Reddington." He beamed at his employer, giving him a salute.
Red was impressed to say the least. He thought it would have taken a few days, surely. Ted Brimley had broken the man in a matter of hours. If Raymond was able to get the information he required, he would be employing Ted indefinitely.
"Thank you, Mr. Brimley," he turned to Dembe, "Well, let's see what he knows."
Both men removed their coats and headed for the door hidden in the alcove, Red stopped to thump Ted's shoulder in appreciation before they strode into the dark room.
Their captive sat on the floor, arms tied to iron pipes running the length of the wall.
His shirt hung open, revealing bright red welts from Brimley's diligent care. His head lolled to the side as he chuckled deliriously, showing crooked yellow teeth.
Dembe stood by the door as Raymond took the wooden chair across from their captive. He leaned forward, steely eyes narrowed at the young man.
"The gentleman you saw shot in the alley was an associate, and a friend of mine. You seem to know who is responsible. I don't need to explain what happens if you don't give me what I want. Do I?"
The man shook his head dazedly.
"Excellent." Red leaned back and crossed his legs, placing his fedora on his knee. "Talk."
The sharp command made the man on the floor jump slightly. "I was hired to chase a man down the alleyway. Not to shoot, just to pursue."
Red's eye twitched in irritation, "Who hired you?"
"...Altan" mumbled the man, looking up at Red, "He said his name was Altan."
Raymond glanced up at Dembe for a moment, seeing the young man give an almost imperceptible shrug. The name didn't sound familiar to Red either.
"How did you meet this Altan?"
"Came up to me in the bar, where your man was getting a drink. Asked if I wanted to earn some money. I said yes."
"How were you paid?" Red asked, eyes still boring into him.
The man looked miserably down at the floor, "Cash, tucked in a cocktail napkin. A couple hundred marks to chase him down, a couple hundred marks to keep my mouth shut."
"What denominations?"
"50's, all 50's."
Red's head tilted to the side, seemingly examining the man for any falsehoods. The look unnerved their captive, who offered up his last bargaining chip.
"The man you're looking for, he's in some special secret network. Invitation Only."
"How would you know that?" Red snapped, his tone cutting the air like a knife.
"Bragging about it, he was…" the man drawled through a hideous grin, thinking he had garnered Reddington's favour. "Houses that can't be found. Places that don't exist. He knows you're after him and he has taken to a very deep hidey-hole." The man snorted and spat a mixture of blood and phlegm on the floor.
Both Raymond and Dembe wrinkled their noses in disgust, the former rising out of his chair. He'd heard enough. The bastard thought he was safe, but his cackling laugh was cut short as Red pulled his weapon and fired two shots into the man's chest.
Mr. Kaplan immediately stepped into the room with a troop of cleaners in tow. She patted Raymond's shoulder gently before setting her team to work.
Red thanked Kate and stopped to speak with his newest associate on his way out.
"Thank you, Mr. Brimley. Your reputation is well-earned. If you are in agreement, I would like to keep your services on retainer. I could make excellent use of your talents."
Brimley smiled his lackadaisical smile and nodded, "I'd be delighted!" he boomed, shaking Red's hand jovially.
Raymond and Dembe slid into the confines of the sedan moments later, grateful to be out of the dark and dank boiler room.
"What now?" asked Dembe, uncertain what Raymond's next move would be.
Red sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I only know of one person with a network like the one the man described."
The man's hazel eyes met Dembe's dark brown ones in the rear-view mirror, "Rosalie."
Dembe came quickly to the woman's defence, knowing Red's thoughts on loyalty. "Rosalie would never knowingly harbour such a man."
"Perhaps," said Reddington, his mood rapidly souring, "There's only one way to find out."
The younger man ruefully started the car, not relishing the fact that he was bringing a nasty altercation to the young innkeeper's doorstep.
Late afternoon
Arriving back at the safehouse, Red went in search of his business partner. He strode into the lounge, finding her on the chaise, an assortment of paperwork laid out in front of her.
She smiled softly up at him, "How did things work out with Brimley?" she asked, her interest evident, "Have we got a lead?"
Raymond's wry smile caused her to take pause. Something was off.
"We did get a lead, a big one at that." He sighed, dropping his fedora on the coffee table.
Reddington idly flipped through some papers left for him by Baz before adding, "When you have a moment, I'll need to see your client list. One of them may have information we could use."
Red had decided to breach the subject of Altan indirectly. He wanted to gauge the woman's loyalty, and leading with an accusation that she was harbouring the man was guaranteed to get her hackles raised.
"No."
The man did a double take, hoping he had not heard correctly. "Sorry?" he asked, his tone showing his surprise.
"I said no, Raymond." Rosalie stated categorically, then clarified, "I told you when we first made our deal; my network is not to be used to settle scores. I won't give away a client's location."
Horace and Dembe had just stepped into the room. They halted and looked nervously at one another, neither sure how this could possibly end well.
"Let me rephrase my request," Red's voice was gravelly, all pretence gone, "The man who killed Patrick is rumoured to be hiding in your network. I need to know where he is."
Rosalie's mind was fraught with confusion and agitation. Who on earth was rumoured to be in her network, and where did all of this come from?
"Who am I supposedly hiding?" She asked, her tone defensive.
Raymond watched her expression carefully, "A contract killer named Altan."
'There you are.' He thought viciously as he watched the woman's cool and calculating criminal persona take the reins, her face becoming an impassive shield. Altan was definitely her client. The question was, had she known about his indiscretions before this moment?
"I'm sorry Raymond, I can't give you a client's location." Rosalie spoke, her voice aloof, belying a calm she did not feel.
"Rosalie you can't be serious, this man killed one of my people."
Her eyes softened, "And for that, you have my empathy. I will do everything I can to help you catch the man, just not at the expense of my network."
An anger Red knew was somewhat unreasonable reared its ugly head. He had been worried about this code of hers since that night in New York, and now the issue had come to pass.
"Your empathy?" Reddington's voice was dangerously soft. "I don't think you understand what it means, an attack like this, on an organization like mine."
It took quite a lot to push the man to the point where his anger showed, but Rosalie's seeming indifference had somehow taken him there in a matter of minutes. Months' worth of tension which had been building between the two came to a boiling point as the formidable opponents faced off, airing their grievances.
"I've been in this world long enough to know it's likely a shot over the bow, Raymond. One for which you will need allies to overcome." The woman's ire was roaring beneath the surface, "I can't provide you safe harbour if my business goes under for betraying the agreement I have with my clients."
"You're putting your own profit before justice for a man who was murdered in cold blood." He viciously accused.
"No," Rosalie insisted, her retort snapping like a mousetrap. "I am putting this network above your need for immediate and violent retribution. My network, which is utilized by you and hundreds of others. You're asking me to compromise my organization, to put my people in danger."
She couldn't believe he was being so unreasonable. Rosalie could state categorically and for a fact, Raymond wouldn't blow such a hole in his own organization. Why on earth would he ask her to do so?
The air in the room suddenly crackled with a terrible tension. Both parties stood stock still, staring at each other in anger and disbelief.
Red's deep drawl echoed in the room. "So, like every other criminal, your loyalty is to yourself. I must confess, Rosalie, I find myself disappointed." The comment cracked through the air like a whip.
Rosalie's expression was icy. The fact that Reddington was calling her loyalty into question was obviously causing the woman no small degree of pain.
Her usually gentle voice seared like acid as it rippled through the room. "Raymond what you don't realize is that in the past three months our worlds have become so entwined, I don't know where yours ends and mine begins. Yes, my loyalty is to my network. You, Dembe, your entire organization are all part of that now. You are my network!"
A deafening silence filled the room at Rosalie's statement. Both parties were quietly fuming, rallying their nerves for the next round.
Horace realized with a jolt that they made quite the pair, vicious snarling criminals that they were. Both held roaring tempers in perfect check, allowing their razor sharp minds to do the battling for them. It was interesting to see the two hurling barbs at each other that would cut grown men off at the knees, while neither combatant allowed so much as a twitch in response to their opponent's goading.
The young woman took a shuddering breath, stormy grey eyes locking with Reddington's. "Dammit Raymond, I'm not going to let you burn down your house for the sake of killing one rat."
Without another word, Rosalie turned on her heel and left the lounge, slamming the door behind her. Furious to the point of potentially saying something particularly nasty, she had opted instead to remove herself from the situation. The woman snatched a trench from the coat closet before stepping out into the night, intent on cooling her roaring temper.
Her guard remained, feeling the need to explain. "Just...give her a bit to cool off." he told Reddington, "You've stoked her temper to an inferno, and she's only walked away to make sure that acid tongue of hers doesn't ruin your friendship."
"Did she know about Altan?" Red asked pointedly, needing to know the depth of her betrayal.
"No." said Horace confidently, "Altan has been in the network longer than you have. He became a client sometime last spring. He's a regular in Munich, stays in the secondary safehouse at least once a month."
The information was met with a curt nod as Reddington moodily poured himself a glass of scotch.
"You should go," suggested Dembe, "Rosalie shouldn't be walking the streets alone."
The bodyguards shared a quick glance, both conveying they would do their best to salvage the separate parts of the whole. Horace then turned to follow his charge out into the darkened streets.
Dembe swivelled placidly to look at Raymond. The man's hazel eyes were cold and hard as they stared him down.
The guard understood, Raymond considered this issue a test of Rosalie's loyalty, which the man felt she was failing miserably. Dembe, however, knew this couldn't be further from the truth. The young innkeeper was infinitely loyal, she was merely struggling to trust Raymond with what was essentially the lifeblood of her empire. They hadn't yet reached the point in their partnership where they had to place such a blind trust in one another. Now, it would seem that outside influences had forced them to a crossroads.
It was obvious that Raymond and Rosalie cared for one another.
They had become accustomed to their new arrangement and found they enjoyed it immensely. Dembe knew Raymond was upset because this apparent disloyalty indicated he could not trust the woman he had grown so fond of.
Dembe didn't need to be clairvoyant to know the young innkeeper felt the same way. The woman sought his happiness and comfort above all else. Rosalie was naturally kind and affectionate, yes, but those traits took on a new meaning where Raymond was concerned. Dembe doubted there was anything she would deny Reddington.
The bodyguard held his smile in check as he realized the two were not fighting about the Patrick situation at all.
Raymond was concerned about loyalty.
Rosalie was concerned about trust.
If Dembe could get the man to see that her hesitation had nothing to do with disloyalty and everything to do with her feeling vulnerable, he knew Raymond would allow the disagreement to blow over.
He voiced his opinion. "I think you've mistaken Rosalie's hesitation for disloyalty.
"I think you're being naïve." snapped Red, his temper getting the better of him. It seemed he may have already lost Rosalie, he didn't need Dembe turning on him too.
The younger man quietly pulled up a seat next to Raymond, staring determinedly at him. When the man's legs were crossed and his scotch back in hand, Dembe spoke again.
"Horace and I, our job is to look out for you and Rosalie. This means we see a great deal of things that the two of you miss. Do you know what we've seen?"
"No" grumbled Reddington, "but I'm sure you'll enlighten me regardless."
Dembe's dark eyes held his, "We see how well you work together. How Rosalie's every move is meant to bring you comfort, how you make every effort to guide her toward safe business decisions. Your association has grown into a genuine friendship, which is an incredibly rare gift."
"I would argue her hesitation indicates the feeling is not mutual."
The younger man couldn't withhold a small smile at Red's sullen tone.
Finally, they had gotten down to the truth behind the man's anger. Raymond knew full well his attachment to Rosalie already ran deep, and the thought that she may not be of the same mind was painful for him.
Dembe's tone was soothing, "Rosalie is hesitating to give you her client list because it makes her incredibly vulnerable, Raymond; a state which you yourself do everything in your power to avoid. It has nothing to do with loyalty."
Reddington was about to argue his point when the young man cut him off.
"Imagine if she were to demand you give her the location of your document forger. How many of your clients would be put in danger by dispersing that knowledge? Can you say without question you would trust her with such sensitive information this early into your alliance?"
Another deafening silence met this question. Raymond's face was set in a scowl, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek irritably.
Dembe continued, "She is looking at you and seeing a man she has known for three months. A man she has been working with, that she's been building a business relationship with, but who is ultimately still new and intimidating."
"I haven't given her a single reason to distrust me." barked Red, the very notion of the young woman thinking him untrustworthy felt like a slap in the face.
"No, you haven't." Dembe agreed, "But the kind of trust you are asking her to show takes years to cultivate. You are asking her to confide in you the very foundations of her business, her life."
The man paused for a moment and considered Dembe's words. Would he have responded in the same fashion were he in her shoes? His inner criminal responded with an emphatic 'yes'.
The overwhelming realization hit him that he had crossed a line with his young business partner.
Dembe smiled as he saw understanding dawn on Raymond's face.
"I have no doubt that Rosalie would give you your man." the bodyguard's voice cut through his employer's musings. "In order to do so, she needs know she can trust you with that information. If any of her clients were to find out, her entire network would become useless. Her clientele would no longer be able to trust her. That would not only put them at risk, it would put Rosalie at risk, it would put her people at risk, and it would put your organization at risk."
The truth of the man's words seemed to click into place. In Red's frenzy to find and neutralize the threat outside of his organization, he had thoroughly rocked the boat within it. Rosalie's hesitation was about protecting Raymond just as much as herself.
"Well, now I have another problem," sighed Raymond, "What do I do about Rosalie?" He understood the mistake would need to be rectified as soon as possible.
"She will be back," Dembe reminded, "Horace assured us as much. She just needed a moment to cool down."
The man smiled softly, reaching for the scotch to refill Red's glass. "As it turns out, she has quite the temper. Like someone else I know."
Reddington chuckled dryly, "Ye, well, I can take a little constructive criticism."
Red thought back to his argument with Rosalie and found himself rather impressed with the woman's moxie. There were grown men that would back down from an argument with Raymond Reddington, yet the little spitfire had not shrank in the slightest. Instead, she insolently planted her little feet and shouted him down. It was a rare experience for the man, encountering someone truly capable of standing toe to toe with him.
Raymond looked around the room, suddenly feeling the loss of the young innkeeper. The house already somehow felt colder, less comfortable without her there.
"What do I say when she comes back?" he asked Dembe, his voice a gravelly rumble.
Dembe rose from his seat, intent on leaving the two to sort things out. "Be honest. She wants to trust you; give her a reason to do so." The young man added, "And you need to explain to her why her loyalty is so important to you."
The older man's eyes softened at the advice. "Sometimes, Dembe, I think you have a better grasp on this humanity thing than the rest of us."
"That's my job." said Dembe, smiling as he left the lounge.
Munich Square
Rosalie's heeled boots hit the cobbled streets at a steady clip. Her stomach was still roiling in anger as she shrugged into her trench. She focused on her breathing, willing her mind to quiet its incessant replay of her argument with Raymond. Rosalie was still shocked at the altercation and what it had revealed.
The man thought her disloyal, a cardinal sin in their world. She knew there was no truth to the accusation. Rosalie had known Altan was a contract killer, but she'd had no idea the man was responsible for the death of one of Raymond's associates. The woman would have given him up before he even reached the safehouse.
Why then, did it bother Rosalie so much when Red had asked her to divulge the man's location?
Her inner criminal found the answer to be quite obvious. She valued her empire as a symbol of the life she had built. The young woman had spent most of her early years hearing what everyone else thought she should and shouldn't be. Becoming a criminal had been like stepping into her true self, and becoming involved with Reddington had been like coming home. Their arrangement had brought everything full circle in an unbelievably short amount of time. Now, she couldn't imagine being a criminal without him. The man's attempt to push her for information that could capsize their boat had both angered and upset her.
Her hesitation had nothing to do with loyalty and everything to do with trust. She hadn't known Raymond long enough to divulge something capable of so much damage.
Yet, she thought, the man had never given her a reason to distrust him. Not one single reason. Rosalie suddenly felt sheepish for even thinking she could not rely on him with something so important.
Really, was all of this worth losing him? Rosalie hadn't stopped to fully consider the fact that Raymond Reddington, somewhere in their dealings, had become a very dear friend.
Regardless of what she had told Horace, Rosalie knew there were feelings flickering within her which extended beyond an innocent friendship with Raymond Reddington.
Was she willing to give up what they had built simply because she was afraid to trust someone so deeply? The very notion of allowing fear to control her business decisions was unlike Rosalie. Her scowl deepened as she considered the danger of allowing herself such a shortcoming.
In the distance, Horace smiled, having finally found his charge. He sidled up to her as she was standing at the edge of Munich Square, near the alley where Patrick died. The woman was huddled in on herself, mouth moving wordlessly as she mumbled her grievances to the night.
The gesture made the man chuckle; mumbling had always been a nervous tick of hers.
Horace could sympathize with the woman's nerves. She adored the Concierge of Crime, try though she did to hide it.
In truth, the bodyguard had never encountered someone who spoke to Rosalie's spirit the way Reddington did. He seemed to know her, inside and out, effortlessly. The woman could deny it all she wanted, but Horace knew Rosalie could see much more in Raymond Reddington, too.
That was why she had responded so viscerally to the man's accusations. To have felt such a connection, only for him to try and bully sensitive information from her, it had shaken the woman to her core.
"Go home, Horace." Rosalie's voice was cold and steady as she turned to look at him.
He gave her a wry smile, his dark eyes softening, "Not without you, I'm not. In case you've forgotten, there's a murderer on the loose."
The woman's jaw twitched, "Well it seems the murderer is in my home, or one of them anyway. Frankly, I feel there's little to fear on the streets of Munich tonight."
Her bodyguard's eyebrows rose imperiously, her retort still held a sharp bite to it.
"I know you're upset," he soothed, "But you and Reddington aren't going to fall out over this."
"I don't know, Horace. Did you see how angry he was?"
The guard laughed, his smooth voice bringing a calmness to the proceedings. "Yes, he certainly didn't flinch away from you, you little hell-cat. I think that's a first."
"What's a first?" she asked, turning to continue her walk.
Horace fell in line beside her, his voice teasing, "I think that's the first time you've had an opponent worthy of your prowess."
The woman let out a derisive laugh, "Yes, I guess so. That's me, the frigid criminal who's too much for anyone to contend with." Her tone was light, but Horace could sense the hurt behind it.
"I meant that you've finally found someone of your calibre. You and Reddington, you have much in common. You balance each other well."
Rosalie's brows rose irritably at this, her eyes turning to look at Horace with mild incredulity.
"Well, usually, you balance each other well." he amended with a laugh, "I think that's why the altercation bothered you so much."
His charge kept silent, walking diligently across the square.
"I know, it makes you nervous to trust the man," Horace conceded, reaching out to grab her shoulder, halting her progress. "But you know, you're going to have to trust someone at some point. Why not him?"
"Were you not the one who just this morning lectured me to be careful with him?" she snapped grumpily.
A knowing smile lit Horace's features. "Yeah, but that was before I saw him pick a fight with you. Honestly Rosalie, the two of you need to solidify your little alliance as soon as possible; because I don't think anyone else could contend with you two."
Rosalie realized with a jolt that Horace was right. She and Raymond needed to reach such a level of trust, for the sake of their business association at least.
She also realized that one of them would have to extend the gesture first.
…Why not her?
The dark grey eyes that usually held so much mirth and mischief were filled with fear and anxiety as they turned on Horace. Rosalie was afraid. Looking at where they had arrived, the guard could understand why.
Rosalie's feet had made the decision for her, carrying her to her destination without thought. She glared fixedly at the house on the end of the street, her stride purposeful as she came up to the gate and slammed the buzzer.
"Altan, it's Alder, we need to talk."
It was the wee hours of the morning before Rosalie returned to the safehouse.
Raymond was still in the lounge. His anger had abated, and hearing the little woman walk back into the house was a relief. Red considered going out and apologizing. After speaking with Dembe, he understood it was asking too much of her to potentially put a hole in her own business. They could wait until Patrick's killer was outside of Rosalie's network to get him.
The woman in question stepped into the doorway as Reddington stood. Her windswept blonde tresses fell wildly over the jet black trench coat she wore. Her nose and cheeks were a rosy pink from being out in the cold.
They stared at each other a moment, unsure who should speak first.
Finally, Rosalie's voice broke the silence. "We should wake Dembe." she suggested, not bothering to take a seat or remove her coat.
An icy feeling crawled into Red's stomach. Was he too late? Would their partnership be over already?
"Why would we do that?" he asked quietly, trying to read her features. The woman was all business though, wrapped in the armour of her criminal persona, and Red could garner very little from her face.
"Because we should have some kind of security with us, and I want as few people from my organization as possible to know that I've put our partnership before the sanctity of my network."
It was a bold statement, and the young woman was still concerned as to whether she had made the right decision. The self-preservation mechanism that only criminals truly appreciated seemed to thrum in Rosalie's gut, warning her not to divulge, not to trust the man before her.
Yet she found herself wanting to do so.
Criminals were forever doing business when they couldn't truly rely on one another. Rosalie wanted to believe she could trust Raymond, and how could she do that if he didn't feel he could hold her in the same confidence?
Reddington stood stock still, the shock written plainly on his face. Of all the scenarios he had thought of for when she returned, he did not fathom this one.
"Why?"
He couldn't help the question, he needed to know what had changed. What had brought her back and convinced her to trust him?
"It is difficult enough, doing business with criminals one can't possibly trust. I won't have one sleeping under my roof. If we are going to do this, we need to know we can rely on each other completely and without question. So, I'm giving you your man."
She pulled a small black book from her jacket pocket and strode to stand nose to nose with Raymond.
"I realized I hadn't given you a good reason to trust in my loyalty. So here it is." She held the book out to him, "I'm trusting you not to destroy me with this. Please don't make me regret it."
Flabbergasted. That was the appropriate word for Raymond at that moment. He was utterly flabbergasted at the woman's gesture of confidence.
Despite her insistence that she would not give away the names or locations of her clients, here they were. Rosalie stood before him determinedly holding an olive branch.
What Raymond did next would dictate where their partnership headed from here.
He took so long to respond, Rosalie moved to leave, thinking him too angry to bury the hatchet.
"Thank You."
Raymond's sincere tone was enough to make Rosalie stop in her tracks.
Reddington set the book on the desk as he stepped closer to her, taking her hand in his.
"I asked too much of you today." He stated without preamble, "I didn't just ask, I demanded. I demanded you do something which you said from the beginning you couldn't do."
The man hesitated, choosing his words carefully. He needed her to understand how important this was to him.
"I have been on the run for nearly nine years. I've dealt with betrayal seemingly all my life, long before I became the man you see in front of you. Yet when I became a criminal, the importance of loyalty gained a whole new meaning." His thumb brushed soothingly back and forth over the woman's hand, "We live in a world without law, rules, or any semblance of order. Loyalty is everything, Rosalie. It is the only commodity which can't be bartered, bought, or traded. Not true loyalty, anyway."
"Like Dembe." She said softly, knowing full well the man had likely snapped at the young bodyguard earlier.
"Yes," Raymond agreed readily, "Dembe is one of a great few. Dembe, Mr. Kaplan, and you."
Her grey eyes snapped up to meet his, surprise written clearly in their depths.
He continued, "You are, without question, unflinchingly loyal. It was wrong of me, to insinuate otherwise. You protected me, even from my own shortcomings. You, as you so eloquently put it, refused to allow me to burn my own house to the ground. And for that, you have my loyalty and my trust."
Raymond picked up the book and placed it gently back in Rosalie's hand, closing her fingers over its cover. "This thing that we've built, it is too important to lose. We can find Altan another way."
Rosalie stared at him in disbelief for a moment before putting the book back in her jacket pocket. It was hard to believe they'd had a spectacular argument over this topic just a few hours ago. It seemed they were both willing to set aside their issues for the sake of their partnership. The thought warmed the woman considerably, bringing a soft flush to her already rosy cheeks.
She looked sheepishly up at her business partner. "About Altan," she murmured, "We don't need to look for him."
Reddington's expression fell, concern etching his features. "What did you do?" he asked tentatively.
"That's why I said we should wake Dembe," she explained with a grimace, "I have him."
Red's hazel eyes widened at her. Out of every available option, that had been the last answer the man had expected.
"What do you mean, you have him?"
"I have him in a secure location outside of the network." She shrugged, gesturing the man out the door.
It was the first time since she had walked in that Red had taken a close look at the woman's right hand. The knuckles were red and one had a nasty scrape.
"You didn't." He groaned his disbelief.
"I did. He's cuffed to the pipes of an abandoned warehouse of Florian's." She picked up Raymond's scotch and took a sip, grimacing at the burn.
The man chastised her, "What were you thinking, going by yourself? You could have been killed."
Rosalie smiled softly at his concern before rolling her eyes. "Not likely." she scoffed, "Altan was an oblivious imbecile who thought every woman was crazy about him. It was painfully easy."
She added, "And besides that, Horace was with me."
"Where is he now?" Red asked incredulously.
"Keeping an eye on Altan. I wouldn't just leave him chained up unsupervised."
The two looked at each other with bemused amusement, trying to catch up to everything that had happened in the past few hours.
"Well, if you're ready," Red sighed, "I would like to finish this."
The young woman smiled softly, taking his hand and guiding them out of the lounge.
Florian's Warehouse - Munich, Germany
Dembe had been awake and waiting when Raymond and Rosalie knocked on his door. He smiled knowingly at the pair, seeing their differences resolved for the time being.
Baz was called to bring Brimley and Mr. Kaplan to the warehouse where Altan was being kept. Since the man was a contract killer, there was likely someone else behind him orchestrating the attack. Raymond needed to know who that was.
The group met at the warehouse half an hour later, following the young innkeeper into a side door of the building. Horace stood sentinel beside a figure on the floor, its head was covered with a black cloth, the arms spread eagle, cuffed to a set of pipes.
Reddington strode over and tore the cloth unceremoniously from its perch.
Rosalie watched the man at work, a shiver skirting down her spine as she heard the man's vicious rumble.
"Hello Altan, I'm Raymond Reddington."
The man's eyes widened as he realized the powerful man standing over him was the employer of his last target.
"I…I…" he stammered, at a loss for what he could possibly say to save himself. His eyes rounded on Rosalie, who stood quietly between Dembe and Horace.
"You!" he snarled, pulling at the pipes uselessly. "You wait until everyone hears what you've done, falling into bed with this snake!" he spat, "You'll never sign another client again!"
Red turned to look at his business partner, his eyes conveying that the man would never have the opportunity to make good on his threat.
Rosalie flashed a sweet little smile at Raymond before stepping out from the safety of their guards, her eyes narrowing darkly at her former client.
"Oh, Altan, I don't think you'll be saying much of anything to anyone. Knowing my friend here, I can trust you won't leave this warehouse alive."
The man gulped visibly, his nerves beginning to show as Reddington tilted his head and smiled at the innkeeper.
Rosalie swaggered across the room, coming level with Raymond's side and placing her arm on the man's shoulder. "You see, you didn't just attack Raymond Reddington, you attacked me by association. That's reason enough for me to terminate your contract."
Horace and Dembe smiled knowingly at the pair, seeing their prior disagreement dissolve before their eyes.
"And I didn't fall into bed with him," Rosalie added, her voice positively lethal as she turned to glare at Altan, "I made the bed and beckoned him to it."
Raymond wrapped a possessive arm around the woman's hips, allowing a confident smirk to grace his features as Altan's mouth hung open in shock.
The Glass Flat - Munich, Germany
Having left Brimley to work on Altan, Raymond and Rosalie headed back to the comfort of the safehouse with Dembe and Horace. Baz had remained as security for Kate and Brimley.
The two criminals were exhausted. The sun was just beginning to creep over the horizon as they filed into the safehouse, intent on getting some sleep.
Raymond had just settled into his room when a soft tap issued from the door.
Rosalie stood in her cashmere sweater and dark jeans, silently asking permission to enter.
Red's soft smile beckoned her into the room.
She padded up to his side of the bed, holding out the little black book from earlier.
"Rosalie, I told you, I don't need to see the list." he insisted, refusing to take the item.
"I want you to." she said softly, pushing it back towards him. "I don't want this to happen again. Would you please look at it so we know what other problems may be lurking in the network?"
Raymond's eyes softened considerably, a warm, genuine smile gracing his features. He took the small book, then reached over and patted the space next to him just as Rosalie had done a few nights prior.
A knowing smile crossed the woman's face as she climbed onto the bed with him. Instead of threading his fingers through her hair as she always did to him, Raymond reached over and wrapped his arm around the woman's shoulders.
Rosalie was pleased and surprised as he pulled her tight to him, his warm body enveloping her. Without hesitating, she nestled her head against the man's broad chest, a sigh of contentment escaping her lips. It was terribly comfortable, being curled up with him. Rosalie found her eyes getting heavy as she listened to Raymond's deep, soothing drawl.
He flipped through the list, commenting on the various clients, good, bad, or surprising, and made marks next to the ones that could be issues. He had found three when a throaty chuckle escaped his lips.
"Now, how on earth did you manage to get the head of the Sinaloa cartel into your shenanigans?"
Rosalie giggled tiredly, "Oh he's an old favourite, calls me his little flamingo."
"Hold on, that sounds like a story I need to hear." he purred playfully, setting the book on the nightstand, all but forgotten.
Rosalie's small hand came to rest on Red's chest, playing idly with a button on his crisp white shirt. "I'll tell you when I'm not half asleep." she yawned, "It's a good one, I want to do it justice."
Another deep rumble of amusement vibrated against her skin as Raymond settled deeper into the pillows, adjusting his grip on the young innkeeper.
"I'll hold you to that." he murmured, his thumb caressing her hip tenderly.
"As long as you hold me." the sleepy woman mumbled teasingly as she burrowed deeper into his side.
The statement and the woman's nuzzling stoked something primal in Raymond, the desire to shelter her little body with his became overwhelming as he cuddled her close.
Dembe walked past Raymond's room some time later to see the door ajar. He could hear the soft sounds of the man's breathing and was not surprised to see him sleeping slouched against the pillows. What was surprising was the presence of a certain young innkeeper. Red had his arm wrapped protectively around Rosalie's feminine frame, his large hand palming her hip possessively. The woman's head was nestled against his chest, her own arm wrapped tightly about the man's torso.
The sight brought a knowing smile to the bodyguard's face. His hunch had been correct. There was more to their friendship than the two realized. Dembe carefully and silently closed the door, giving them their privacy before tiptoeing to his room.
Within the confines of the cool, dark bedroom, Raymond and Rosalie continued to doze peacefully in the warmth of each other's arms.
