Brant very quickly had Carrie disarmed and on the ground. The toddler was full out screaming now. Kate was trying to keep her cool but was anxious. She picked up the toddler and carried him to the other room, which Brant was grateful for. He moved to grab a discarded towel and crammed it into his side, glaring at Carrie when he was done. That's when he pulled out his gun.

"Safe," he said, gesturing with his gun. "Now." She got up mutely and led the way. He took the money from her while she cried silent tears. He knew she'd only meant to scare him off. She hadn't hit anything pertinent that he could tell, the blood making it look worse than it was. It still pissed him off, though.

"Carrie," he said, making her look at him now. "For the love of God, get help. Do it for him, yea? Do it for your little guy down the hall. Don't make me come back here ever again." She nodded, her lips pressed together tightly to stop her sob coming out. Her hand covered her mouth a second later. Brant walked away, hearing her slide to the floor and start bawling. He found Kate in the toddler's room with the young boy clinging to her for dear life as she paced and rocked him.

"Let's go," he ordered. Kate nodded, moving to set the boy down into his crib. The boy began to cry again, and Kate looked as though she wanted to comfort him but knew she couldn't. She bit her lip and hurried out of the room while Brant led the way.

"We should call Child Services," she said.

"I sent a tip in."

"Clearly nothing happened. Do it again."

"I'll tell Nash." Brant wasn't sure why Child Services didn't follow up on his tip, but maybe he'd messed it up somehow. He didn't know.

"Let me see," she said once they were in the car and he groaned in pain. He pulled back the towel, and she sucked her teeth.

"Gonna need a stitch or two," she stated.

"I'll deal with it later."

"No, we're gonna deal with it now," she corrected.

"I can't be late for drop off," Brant told her.

"You can't bleed out either," she retorted. He ignored her, pushing the towel back into the wound and reaching for his duct tape. She gave him an incredulous look as he wrapped the tape around himself to hold the towel into place. He gave her a defiant look back before biting it off, tossing the roll of tape into the backseat, and starting the car. He shoved a cigarette into his mouth and lit it for good measure before putting the car in gear and leaving.

"Brant," she tried. He reached to crank the radio up to drown her out, and she crossed her arms and jutted out her jaw in displeasure. Then she reached into his jacket pocket for a cigarette, making him look at her.

"I'm stressed out too," she advised, taking his lighter next. He said nothing, and she lit up. He wondered if she was trying to forget that little boy's face too.

When he got to Norman's, he was feeling a bit woozy, but he was not going to admit that. He dropped the bag of cash onto the table in front of Norman, managing to stay upright.

"What the hell happened to you?" Norman asked, seeing the towel with blood peeking out from under Brant's t-shirt along with the big bloodstain on Brant's t-shirt.

"Last one decided to poke a hole in me first," Brant answered.

"Shit. Go deal with it," Norman ordered. "Everything you need is in the loo. Vodka is on the table."

Brant gave a nod and headed towards it, grabbing the alcohol on his way by. Kate stayed close to him, reaching to grab the bottom of his jacket for comfort.

"Feel free to tap that while you're in there," Norman sniggered, leering at her. Brant bit his tongue. Only Norman would have that on his mind regardless of a bleeding out wound. He said nothing, locked the door behind him, and pulled out his phone. Kate watched as he typed a message in and turned a bit, discreetly, so she could see it.

Don't talk probably bugged.

She didn't even act like she'd read it and instead opened the cupboards to find the supplies. Brant sat down on the edge of the tub with a groan. Kate pulled out everything and got to work, pulling his shirt off gently and then removing the tape and towel carefully. He took a swig of the vodka first before letting her use it to clean the wound. He barely grunted from the pain. Kate said nothing as she began to sew it up, which made him wonder if she'd done this before. Brant could see she was nervous just being in this place. He knew that Norman was testing him by saying that comment. The purpose of Kate was to be used, and if he didn't show that's what he was doing, then Norman would become suspicious. He was very sure of that.

Kate finished and cut the thread. Then she bandaged it up and went to wash her hands. Brant sat there watching her, then looked around for cameras. He wouldn't put it past Norman to have video in here since he was a disgusting human being.

"Brant?" Kate asked when he stood and started searching. It was a pretty plain washroom with not many places to hide a camera. After a thorough search, he found the audio bug but no video one. Kate saw it too and nodded her understanding. Brant hated what he had to do next.

...

Kate had heard Norman's comment, so when Brant came at her and put his hands on her hips, she knew what came next. He pushed her against the door and gave a nod. With the audio bug in there, he couldn't tell her what to do, but she got it.

He let go, and she rammed herself into the door hard, crying out at the same time. She kept hitting the door, timing it to sound like something was actually going on, and neither of them could look at each other for fear of bursting into laughter of the ridiculousness of this.

The seriousness of being caught lying was sobering, though.

A moment later, Brant caught her hips again and shoved them both against the door one last time. They both stood there, waiting about thirty seconds before Brant gave a nod, stepped back, and pulled the door open. She nudged him, making him look at her, and she pointed at her hair, which looked entirely undisturbed. His face showed understanding, and he reached to tousle it and make it look a little wild before giving a nod of approval and disappearing. Kate took his hand when she caught up to him, and she could feel his surprise, but he gripped it back tightly before letting it go so Norman wouldn't see.

"Very nice," Norman commented upon seeing them. Kate shivered at his stare. He creeped her out so much. "All fixed up, Brant?"

"Yea."

"She must like you...didn't even struggle by the sound of it."

Brant froze slightly. Of course it shouldn't have been amicable. They'd slipped up, but Norman didn't seem too hung up on it in this moment. Kate hoped he wouldn't think harder on it later.

"Well, when you put the fear of God into someone, they tend to go along with what you want," he stated dryly. Kate hung her head a little to show fear and submission.

"Good. Take the keys on the table. Address is next to them. You're delivering the next car for me. Two days from now."

"Alright."

"Tomorrow night, you're babysitting a friend of mine," Norman added. "I've texted you the address."

"Got it."

"You finally stopped fighting, huh?" Norman asked her when she finally looked up, and she felt frozen, unsure of what to say. "I guess Brant here really doesn't take any bullshit."

"Go wait in the car," Brant told her, and she moved to obey, yelping slightly when he unexpectedly smacked her behind on her way by. Kate averted her eyes as she walked out of there. She felt dirty, even though she hadn't done anything.

When Brant joined her in the car a moment later, she opened her mouth to say something about it, but he stopped her and pointed to his ear. She understood that he didn't trust someone hadn't bugged his car while he was in there. She kept quiet until they were back at his apartment. Brant gave his car a good search now that he was out of sight of Norman, coming up empty. Satisfied, they went inside where he did another search. Kate thought this must get so exhausting, constantly checking for listening devices.

"You okay?" he asked her when he finished and didn't find anything.

"Yea," she answered. "A bit of a disturbing day, but I'm okay."

"Good show back there," he advised, a slight smirk on his lips. She felt a flush in her stomach and on her face, making her clear her throat and give herself a bit of a shake. Now why would his gaze and comment make her feel like that? She couldn't pretend he wasn't good looking or that she hadn't wondered if he was single.

"I had a good teacher."

"Sally?" he asked, referring to the popular scene from a romcom.

"Of course. Was the smack on the ass really necessary?"

"If I'm not slightly rude, he'll figure it out. I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"We got lucky, you understand? If he'd probed further, we would have had trouble."

"I understand."

"We should be good for the night," he said. "You can get comfortable again."

Kate didn't need to be told twice. On her way by, though, she reached to smack him on the arse as payback, which startled him at first but then made him half scoff out a chuckle as he understood it was a butt for a butt in this scenario. Smirking to herself, she washed her face off and put on sweats, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. She wanted to get to work and find out how to take Norman down. She found Brant cooking when she came back out.

"I didn't realize you could cook," she teased.

"I've lived on my own long enough to fend for myself," he retorted.

"You never married?"

"No, never."

"I was." Why she was freely offering up that information, she had no idea.

"Oh yea?" He looked at her, brow lifted. She could tell he was surprised by this.

"Yea. He...it didn't work out," she corrected. He gave her a look as if to say he knew there was more to it, but he didn't pry.

"Sorry to hear that."

"It's okay. I egged his car after."

Brant laughed out loud at this, a genuine one this time, and Kate immediately loved it. She also loved the way his face looked when he laughed. She giggled herself and smiled when he looked at her a moment later.

"You're alright, Kate Macer," he advised.

"Ditto, Tom Brant."

Despite not knowing him very well, she suddenly just knew that she could trust him. It was a good feeling to have.

...

"Who's the friend?" Porter asked.

"Dunno. He just gave me the address to meet them."

"Well, that's a club address, so it's probably someone fancy."

"I'll be good," Brant retorted before he could be told.

"Where are you taking the car?" Porter asked next. Brant chewed in his bottom lip as he watched Kate sleep on the couch.

"Rome."

"That's a bit of a trek."

Brant agreed nonverbally. He was going to be driving a McLaren apparently. He was trying to plan how to investigate it without anyone catching him.

"You taking Kate?"

"Yea."

"Stokes has been keeping an eye out for your girl," Porter added. "He's collaborating and working a different case a bit out of our area in France, but there are some links to your guys."

"It's gotta be in the car," Brant said, half listening. He was still trying to solve the drug trafficking question. If he could just get one thing on Norman in that department, it would make him very happy.

"You've torn apart the last car and found nothing," Porter reminded him.

"Then what am I missing?"

"No idea."

Brant looked at Kate again, wondering how long she was going to sleep there. He looked longingly at his bedroom. Sleeping on that couch was aggravating him. He missed his mattress, lumps and all. Perhaps if she stayed out here, then he could sneak in there and get at least one decent night's sleep...

"Brant," Porter said loudly.

"Huh?" Apparently he'd missed a bunch of what Nash had just said.

"Kate's handler just emailed me to ask why we haven't sent her home yet. What do you want me to tell him?"

"How did you get the email if it's my case?" Brant asked.

"I have your emails forwarded to mine since you're undercover."

"Who said you could do that?"

"Our boss."

"Oh."

"What should I tell him?" Porter prompted again.

"I dunno. Leave him hanging or tell him I haven't found her yet. Whatever you want."

Porter sighed heavily, and Brant knew he hated to lie.

"I'll figure it out," he said after a moment.

"I knew you would," Brant said confidently. Porter scoffed. Then they ended the call, and Brant was about to cover Kate up with a blanket when she jerked awake.

"Sorry," he said, hovering above her as she looked up at him. "I was just gonna cover you up is all."

"It's okay," she replied, sitting up slowly. "I'm gonna go to bed I think."

"Alright."

She smiled at him tiredly on her way by, and Brant folded the blanket back up before setting it on the arm chair. He sank down onto the couch, feeling her warmth still radiating there. He'd never lived with anyone outside of his family before, so this was a new experience for him. So far, Kate was neat and tidy and respected his space. He was respectful in return.

He turned the TV on, trying to take his mind off of things for a bit. He found if he gave his brain some space, answers would suddenly appear.

And he really needed answers right now.

The Next Day

Kate was glad they could lay low for most of the day. They did some work together but didn't get very far, which frustrated both of them. When it was evening, she watched Brant walk around with his tie undone and collar up as he muttered to himself. Unable to help herself, she went over to him.

"What?" he asked when she reached for his collar.

"It's annoying me," she replied, doing his tie. He stood still, watching her.

"I was getting to it," he insisted. She ignored him, pushing the knot up in place and then fixing the collar around it.

"There," she said. "Much better." She smoothed her hand across his chest over the shirt, dusting it off. He was still watching her, the one corner of his mouth turned up slightly. She took a step back, not failing to notice how handsome he looked in this moment. "What?"

"Nothing," he replied. "I've just never had anyone do my tie before."

"Well," she said, feeling awkward now. "First time for everything."

"I don't really wear one much," he advised. "I wasn't going to, but Nash insisted, and if I don't listen to him, he gets pissed, and I really don't feel like managing him right now."

"I see."

"You're coming too, you know," Brant said. Ah, so that's why there had been a nice dress in the bag before. Kate went to go change, looking over her shoulder at him.

"I know."

...

Brant groaned inwardly when he saw he would be babysitting a woman tonight. Hair dyed blonde with too much make up and green eyes...she was dressed to the nines, although Brant wondered why she bothered to wear anything at all.

"She looks like if she farts, she'll explode right out of that dress," Kate commented, and he bit down his laugh, barely, and gave her a nudge and a warning look. Kate just smirked back. She hovered behind him, looking around. Brant wanted to tell her that she looked nice in her strapless silver dress, but he felt that might be a bit out of line. It stopped just above her knees and was clingy without being too tight, her makeup on a little less thick. She kept her hair down, which he discovered he really liked. If she had been a stranger at this place, he would have gravitated to her and wanted to get to know her.

"What?" Kate asked, catching him looking at her. He felt a slight heat to his cheeks.

"Nothing," he answered gruffly. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

"You must be Brant," the woman said as he approached. He did not like the way she was eyeing him up.

"That's correct," he confirmed.

"I'm Chantel," she answered, holding out a hand. He cringed inside, knowing what she wanted. He reluctantly took it, but he did not kiss it, just gave it a firm shake. She looked instantly disgruntled.

"Nice to meet you," he said.

"Who is this?" she asked, looking at Kate. "Your girlfriend?"

"No, she works for me...just wanted to have some fun tonight," Brant advised.

"She looks like your girlfriend..."

"She's not," Brant cut her off, daring her to say more. Chantel slightly narrowed her eyes.

"Come on then," she said finally. "Norman was right, you don't take any bullshit."

Brant didn't look at Kate as they followed Chantel. He could tell Kate was nervous, though. Hell, so was he. Was this some sort of test he was already failing? Chantel didn't look at them as she mingled and drank. Brant hung back, keeping an eye on her. He was uncomfortable here, and he couldn't wait to leave.

"I have to use the washroom," Kate said now, leaning into him so he could hear her. Whatever perfume she'd put on, it smelled really good and made him have to tuck away a thought about her he was surprised to have. He nodded, and she hurried off. It wasn't long before Chantel was there right in front of him.

"Come here, handsome," she said, grabbing his tie and holding him firm as she kissed him. He was quick to end it.

"I don't do that," he told her. She shook her head.

"I don't care." She tried to catch him again, and he moved away. "Ooh, hard to get. I like that."

"Come on," he said, aggravated. "I told you, I ain't interested." She managed to back him against the bar top and latched on again, and he couldn't quite get her off. He was slightly panicking. Was this how Norman was going to get a reason to kill him? Who was this woman to him?

"Oh! So sorry!" Kate exclaimed, knocking into Chantel and breaking them apart. Brant took a step to the left away from her instantly. This was why he hated ties...they were easy access handles.

"Watch it, bitch," Chantel snapped at her.

"It's these heels," Kate indicated, lifting a foot. "I'm not used to them."

"Don't you talk to me," Chantel ordered.

"I didn't realize I wasn't allowed to apologize," Kate started, but Chantel slapped her hard in the face, and it took all Brant had not to catch her by the hair and drag her outside for doing it. His fists clenched as he watched Kate fight to not show much pain as she straightened up and turned away to show submission.

"Keep her in line," Chantel demanded, "or else I'll tell Norman, and you'll never see her again."

"Yes, ma'am," Brant said, his jaw tight. Clearly this woman understood what Kate's "job" was, or so it seemed. Chantel stormed off, and he looked at Kate.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, but he didn't hear her over the noise, just read her lips. He didn't know what to say; he was grateful she helped him get Chantel off of him, but he was nervous about what Chantel would tell Norman about it. He saw a tear sliding down Kate's cheek, and he suddenly just wanted to gather her into his arms and get her the hell out of here and away from all of this. She caught him looking and reached to wipe it away quickly, giving a tight smile to prove she was fine. Since he couldn't do much to convey his caring, he simply reached to lightly hold her wrist briefly. She understood and smiled again, a little less tightly this time.

For the rest of the evening, he watched Chantel from a distance with Kate staying close to him. When the night was over, he got her into a cab, where she tried to maul him again but was too drunk to be successful. He sent her off, and he exhaled long and loud.

"I don't like this world," Kate said quietly next to him. Chantel's handprint was obvious on her face, and it made Brant's stomach hurt.

"Me either," he replied, tugging off his tie and shoving it into his pocket. He took them back to the apartment, and she quietly went to get changed. Brant did as well, sinking down onto the couch afterwards and pressing his hands into his face. His phone rang, and he cringed to see it was Norman.

"Yea?"

"My friend said you took care of her tonight," Norman said. "I knew you would."

"My pleasure," Brant lied. He felt confused, though. What did Chantel say to him? Or was this a trick?

"Have fun with the car. Don't get any tickets, though."

"I won't."

Norman laughed and hung up, and Brant was left wondering if he was going to get a consequence for tonight at a later date.

The Next Day

Kate was feeling tired as she sat in the passenger seat while Brant drove them to pick up the car. She had hated that club last night and hated Chantel even more, and not just for hitting her. Seeing that awful woman kissing Brant had just made her so angry, and she wasn't really sure why. She decided to just let it go and focus on what was happening now. She briefly wondered about the car and if he thought there was something in it. She was still trying to piece together how Norman was smuggling his goods too, especially in getting them to America to Elijah.

"How do we get back?" she asked.

"Private jet."

"Oh."

She shifted uncomfortably, wishing she could be in jeans and sweater. Brant didn't want to risk someone being there when they arrived, so she had to wait until they were on their own again before changing.

She thought about what her parents would think if they saw her right now. They'd be both appalled and worried. Her two older siblings would probably faint with fear. Her twin, Leon, would think she was very badass.

But he'd also be quite worried too.

She could feel his anxiety for Delia, even though she was so far away from him. They were connected on a different level, which drove their other brother and sister crazy. Kate had a lot of fond memories with her family growing up. Then Delia came along, and despite how it happened, she was their biggest joy.

"You're quiet," Brant commented.

"I figured you'd appreciate it," she retorted.

"I do, but I also know that silence isn't always a good sign."

"I'm just thinking about stuff," she insisted. "It's fine."

"Okay."

She turned her face to look out the window at the passing scenery. So many people went about living their lives. It was overwhelming to think about sometimes. She wondered how the hell anyone could ever keep track of them all.

Suddenly, Brant hit the brakes hard, and she let out a strangled gasp as she jerked against her seatbelt hard from the momentum. Heart pounding, she looked to see a boy scurrying off the road holding his cat. She caught her breath, trying to calm down her fight or flight response. She looked to see Brant gripping the wheel tightly in his hands with his eyes closed, nostrils slightly flaring from heavy breathing.

"Brant?" she prompted just before the person behind them honked their horn. Brant's eyes opened, and he gave a quick scan of his surroundings before driving forward again. As they passed, she looked to see the boy clutching his cat and looking freaked out. She didn't blame him.

"You okay?" she asked Brant, looking back at him.

"Fine," he muttered.

She didn't press, knowing he wouldn't want to talk about it.

...

It had scared the living shit out of him. When that boy darted out in front of his car, Brant had just about had a full on stroke before instinct kicked in and he slammed the brakes. He'd come way too close to hitting that child, and it left him rattled. He appreciated that Kate wasn't being more aggressive in asking if he was okay. He was not, but he'd be fine eventually.

And it had all been for a cat. Brant wondered if he'd ever loved (or ever would love) something that much he was willing to die saving it. He wasn't sure if he'd ever get to find out.

He pulled into the parking garage where the McLaren was, and he parked three down from it. They both got out and headed over to it. Out of habit, Brant checked it for bombs or bugs, finding nothing.

"Can I drive?" Kate asked, making him stare at her.

"No," he said curtly.

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Fun wrecker," she commented, making a face. Just for that, he didn't open her door for her, which he knew she noticed. It was the little things that worked as revenge for people's behaviors sometimes. He started to drive out when she began to search the interior.

"Can you at least wait until we're out of visual before doing that?" he asked. She gave a huff and fell back into her seat, arms crossed. He did his best to avoid looking at her full on, but when he did, he couldn't help but feel attracted to her. It wasn't the attire, either (well, slightly...he was a guy after all). It was her attitude and the way she held herself that did it for him the most. And her eyes. Damn, he loved her blue eyes...had loved them the second they'd looked into his.

His brain went to thinking about their fake show for Norman, and he got lost in his thoughts until:

"Can I search now?" she asked. He noticed they were on a more rural road now. He gave himself a mental shake.

"Go for it."

She unbuckled herself and went to search the backseat. He ducked her knees as she climbed past him, her heel catching his temple despite his efforts.

"Argh," he grunted, catching her flailing foot with his hand and shoving it behind him. She gave an irritated growl back at him before getting settled and starting to look. He did his best to focus on the road and not on what she might be finding back there.

"Short of me taking a knife to the seats, I'm not finding anything," she said after a bit. "But they don't really feel like they have anything in them anyway."

"It has to be something," Brant reasoned. "Why else move cars? There has to be something more to this."

Kate moved back to the front seat, her rear knocking into his head on the way by when she slightly lost her balance and making him slightly growl in annoyance. She got settled and adjusted herself.

"Can I please change now?" she asked.

"Next rest stop you can."

"Alright."

"Here." He reached to pull off his coat one arm at a time, handing it to her. She took it and draped it over herself, hiding her arms under it and resting her chin on the collar slightly.

"Thanks."

Brant gave a curt nod and kept his eyes on the road. Forty minutes later, he pulled into a gas bar. They went in together, and he meandered around the convenience store while Kate went to change. He saw her get some looks on her way by, and he growled inside at the leers. She came back out five minutes later with a ball cap pulled low and her bag around her shoulder. Her hands were stuffed in the pocket of her hoodie.

"You good?" he asked when she got to him.

"Yea."

He led the way out, looking over his shoulder at the men still staring. He glared at them, making all but one look away. He hoped none of them were spies of Norman's. If they were, he was very screwed.