CHAPTER 1 - THURSDAY
Deeks makes his way up the stairs in the mostly quiet house too quickly and has to stop three quarters of the way up to let the mug of hot lemon tea settle so it doesn't spill. When he has it back under control, he takes the last few steps and enters his bedroom, where he finds his wife doing the opposite of what she's supposed to be doing.
"Whoa whoa whoa," he says like a dad who caught a kid in the act. He puts down the mug and puts a hand on each of her shoulders. "What exactly do you think you're doing?"
"I want to be in Ops tonight," Kensi answers, but it's only familiarity that enables him to make out those words. She's all nasally and congested and even that one sentence makes her cough. He takes the jeans she was about to put on and leaves them at the foot of the bed, keeping her in the comfy PJs she put on a few hours ago.
"Nope. Back in bed, missy," he tells her, physically turning her around and walking her back to her side of the bed with a playful slap on the butt. "We'll be fine for one night without you," he assures her, kissing the top of her head and pulling up the blankets just right. He grabs the tea from where he set it and brings it to her, her cold hands immediately going around the hot mug - a satisfied, 'mmm' emanating from her tired form.
He looks at her – her nose red from all the tissue friction, her lips chapped from all the mouth-breathing, her eyes glassy. He puts a cheek to her forehead but doesn't feel a fever.
"I don't like you going undercover without me," she tells him.
"You can't be there. There are literally no women allowed. At all. And you can pass as many things, my love, but a man ain't one of them."
"But I could be at Ops in case you need something."
"No comms either, they block them, so nothing to watch and nothing to listen to. Callen, Sam and I will be fine. And I distinctly heard Kilbride say that he's going to transfer you a thousand miles away if he has to listen to you blow your nose one more time."
"It's not that bad."
"You sound like an elephant calling the herd back for dinner."
"Do they do that?"
"I have no idea. It was just an image."
She sighs. She knows he's right and has never liked it when confronted with her own, even temporary, limitations. "Promise me you'll be careful."
"I will. There's nothing to this. I'm going to play poker all night and then I'll be home to check on you. Are you up to date on your medicine?"
She shakes her head as she takes a sip of the tea and smiles at him when she tastes it.
He feels a little pride that he brought the smile to her face, and he boasts about his tea making prowess. "Deeks special recipe. The right tea leaves, lemon, honey…"
"A drop of whisky," she adds.
"Well, I'm always a little frisky for you, but you don't seem up for it."
"No, whiskey," she says, almost annoyed until she figures out he's playing with her.
"I heard you," he laughs. "Whiskey. It's the adult version."
"I thought frisky was the adult version."
"Touché."
He goes downstairs and gets her some water, then grabs two doses of decongestant, a pen and a piece of paper. He gives her the first dose and watches her take them. Then he leaves the next dose on the nightstand on a note telling her what time she'll be due. "Stay ahead of the medication if you can. If you miss a dose the congestion is hard to fight back from. You have it bad."
"Thank you, Dr. Deeks."
"Ooh, Dr. Deeks. That's a game we can play another night when you feel better and I'm not due back at ops."
She shakes her head at how his mind works. He could turn any conversation back to sex if he tried hard enough. He knows what she's thinking though.
"Don't shake your head. You love that about me."
"I do," she admits.
"Woo? You don't need to woo me. I'm all yours."
"Do," she says exasperatedly. "I DO," but she stops when she notices his chuckle, realizing her got her again.
Deeks ducks into the bathroom and takes a minute to trim up his beard. By the time he gets back to her, the tea is nearly gone and she is out cold, half propped up on the bed. He drops his personal cell and his wedding ring on his nightstand and gives her one more kiss on the head before he heads out.
"Sleep tight, baby," he whispers. He looks at his watch. 8:35PM.
"So Kensi didn't come to see you get all dressed up?" Sam jokes.
Deeks rolls his eyes. "She wanted to. Trust me. Getting her to stay in bed was no easy feat."
"How is she doing?" Callen asked.
"As sick as I've ever seen her, but I think she'll be fine. I gave her a classic tea remedy and left her out cold in bed. Hoping she turns the corner tomorrow."
"Whiskey?" Callen wonders out loud.
"Oh yeah," Deeks confirms. He stands in the full-length mirror and fixes the knot in his tie. "It's a shame, too, because she would find me irresistible in this outfit." He pulls out his phone to take a selfie to send her, but remembers the phone is at home.
"Yeah, it's nice what a five-thousand-dollar suit can do for your overall appeal," Sam adds.
They laugh and go over the plan one more time. Sam, Callen and Deeks are going in as wealthy players at a private poker club. The place has a strict no women policy – not waitresses or dealers, no women at all. Also, a jammer in the building to stop all cell phone and other comm usage in or out. They create an isolated atmosphere where men can drink and smoke and play cards without distraction. A true gentleman's club for gentlemen only.
They are looking for a man who they believe is in possession of a shipment of stolen weapons that the Navy would like back. The shipment included a prototype no one wants in the hands of the enemy or out on the open market. Intel tells them he will be there tonight to play. Rountree is outside matching faces to cars. When Sanford arrives and they confirm it's him they'll tag his car and follow him until they find the prototype.
Fatima hands each of them a lot of money. "Buy in is cash. Twenty-five thousand dollars each."
Kilbride's angry glare appears over her shoulder. "I don't think I need to tell you that we'd like that money back in the morning. Play smart."
"I mean, of course, but there's always a chance that one of us loses," Deeks points out. "What happens if we come home empty handed?" His charming smile quickly disappears as Kilbride comes closer.
"Imagine that I am Hetty, and answer that question for yourself. Whenever she gets back from wherever she is I will personally review the expense ledger with her and you can explain it. I hear she has creative ways of extracting reparations."
"Got it."
Callen and Sam laugh at the exchange. They wondered the same thing but knew better than to ask.
They drive over together and park around the corner. They stagger their entrances and all find places hoping to meet their mark.
Sam, Callen and Deeks couldn't have more diametrically opposed approaches to this particular undercover scenario. They aren't meant to be together, aren't even at the same table to play, but they are aware of each other's situations and it would be impossible to miss the contrasting styles.
Sam is all about the swagger. He's in an Italian suit and a gold chain. He is quiet. Intimidating. He says very little except to declare his bet. He makes people uncomfortable, but isn't truly scary. The cards have been fickle with him tonight, and he's gone down and up and down again. They've been playing for hours and he's fighting back to even.
Callen disappears at the table. Even the guys to his left and his right will be unable to describe him by morning. He's likeable, but forgettable. The ultimate gray man. He can tell you everything there is to know about the men at his table, and the table on either side, but he himself remains a mystery.
Then there's Deeks. He's like the Mayor of table five. He has them all laughing. They are ordering more drinks. Deeks has tipped the butler for his table very well to bring him soda water that looks like gin and tonic. Even when he wins the others are happy for him. His personality is big and affable and everyone feels like a winner when he's around, which is good for them, because his run with the cards has been great tonight and he is up. A lot. If Sam and Callen lost everything he could cover them with Hetty and then some.
FRIDAY
Hours have passed and there's no sign of their suspect. They are taking pictures on button cameras to be reviewed later because they can't transmit. Every once in a while they will sit out a hand to stretch their legs and cover the tables they aren't sitting it. It's Callen that has the best view of the door and sees Rountree enter sometime after 3AM. His assignment was outside. They got him an invitation in case of an emergency, but he's been tracking people to cars in the parking lot all night.
Callen folds and closes out with the table boss as soon as he sees him, knowing whatever brought him isn't good and wanting to stagger their exits as best he can. Sam waits for the hand to end before he asks the dealer to cash him out, making his way over to the bar to see what's about the happen. Roundtree hovers at Deeks' table. When the moment is right, he gives him the code phrase.
"Long way from the dives I learned to play in."
"Where's that?" Deeks asks waiting for the preplanned response. It's Vegas if they have what they need, Atlanta for a change in plans, and Atlantic City if something's wrong.
"Compton."
Deeks hears the improvisation, and knowing the reputation for that part of LA, he understands immediately that it's time to go. He's not sure why, but he got the message.
"Well, gentlemen, I thank you for a great night," he says gallantly stacking his chips.
"You aren't going to give us a chance to win it back?" one of the players jokes, but Deeks laughs and deflects.
"I would like very much to not spend the weekend on the couch trying to get back into my lady's good graces."
He hands his chip tray to the dealer who hands it to a pit boss. Deeks is presented with an envelope. He doesn't verify the amount, it would be uncouth to this group. He simply takes the envelope and puts it in the inside breast pocket of his suit, and heads for the door. Sam has rolled out while Deeks finished his business, and Rountree brings up the rear, meeting the men around the corner a block away.
They all look to Rountree, Callen asking him what happened. Devin speaks to the group, stealing one look at his mentor, Sam, before he focuses all his attention on Deeks.
"We just got a call from LAPD, Deeks. Kensi's been shot."