Deeks stood behind Callen, staring him down while they reviewed the new information they had thanks to Eric and Nell. He was glad for the excuse to avoid any extra pressure on his back. It was to the point that even the brush of his t-shirt added to the fire hot stabs of pain.

In front of him, Tom Nelson still sat resolutely silent, arms crossed, lips set in an uncompromising line.

"Tom, we know that Richard Bamboat owed someone a lot of money and Sergeant Wiles was trying to help him. We also know that you met with Wiles shortly before he died. So, either we arrest you for Wiles' murder, or you tell us who did it," Callen said.

"You don't have any proof," Nelson huffed.

"Accept we do. Your cell phone was in the same vicinity as Wiles' and there's the fact your fingerprints are all over his car. And, we know you told Richard Bamboat to meet you in the location Wiles was found," Deeks added.

"So, either you killed Wiles, or your partner did. Give us a reason not to arrest you for first degree murder." Callen leaned back, tone casual. "Believe me, we can make it stick if you don't."

"Especially for a former member of the military," Deeks said, crossing his legs at the ankle so he was supported by one elbow. "Kind of evokes people's patriotism and all, you know."

Nelson swore under his breath, sending Deeks a particularly nasty glare.

"Jefferson Whitley. That's who you're looking for. He gave Bamboat a $20,000 loan two months ago after he got drunk at a bar and spilled his guts about a bad business deal. Whitley likes desperate people. He gave Bamboat the money, then a couple weeks later, wanted it back. With interest of course.

"Of course," Deeks repeated dryly. Nelson just shrugged at his judgment. "He paid me to track down clients, threaten to rough 'em up if they didn't pay up."

"Is that what happened with Richard Bamboat?" Deeks asked. "You threatened him."

"Bamboat tried to stall, managed to scrape together a couple payments, but he was late on the last one. He was supposed to meet with Jefferson that night, but some other guy showed up. He said if Jefferson didn't leave his friend alone, he was gonna get the police involved. Said he knew people. Whitley panicked and pulled a gun, next thing I knew, Wiles is dead."

"And you had absolutely nothing to do with it," Deeks guessed sarcastically.

"Hey, I'm not a killer," Nelson said sharply, like he'd been offended.

"Do you know where Whitley is now?" Callen asked.

"I ain't heard from him since that night, but he keeps a second house in the garment district if he's not home."

Deeks rubbed a drop of sweat off his nose, leaning his forehead against the window as Kensi drove to the address Tom Nelson had provided. Callen was in the back seat while Rountree and Sam had paired up for a change.

With his vest on, it felt like he was trapped in a sauna, everything too tight and way too hot. If he said something, he was pretty sure no one would have a problem with him sitting this one out, but he didn't want to give Kilbride further ammunition.

Besides, he'd worked through worse. Running across a hospital, which ripped his very fresh stitches open, for instance. Though of course, he'd been running on pure adrenaline at that point.

"Hey you ok, partner?" Kensi asked, and he straightened up with some effort.

"I've been better, but I'll survive," he answered, offering a ghost of a smile. Frowning, Kensi swept her knuckles over his forehead, her lips drawing down even farther as she slid down to cup his cheek.

Deeks peeked out of the corner of his eye to the back, but Callen was studiously ignoring them.

"Oh baby, you've got a fever."

"God, I wish I had the energy to make a joke about you finding me hot."

"I'm a little concerned that you aren't."

He shrugged. "I'm ok. But when we're done here, maybe we can have a little date at the urgent care," he suggested, and Kensi rolled her eyes affectionately.

"I'll even spring for the good meds," she teased.

"Best wife ever."

They pulled up opposite a nondescript yellow house with a front porch that could have easily belonged to your average middle-class family. Two sets of curtained bay windows framed either side of the door.

Pulling on his reserves, Deeks followed Kensi and Callen up to the porch, while Sam and Rountree moved to the back. He waited for Kensi and Callen to move into position on either side of him, their weapons at the ready, then pounded on the door.

"NCIS, open the door!"

His announcement was met with silence and then a burst of gunfire. Deeks threw himself to the side to avoid the shower of bullets and wood shards, his back protesting the sudden movement. Kensi and Callen had both ducked beneath the windows.

Nodding to Kensi, Deeks leaned to the side and fired two shots through their window, before taking cover again when return fire shattered most of the glass panes. Callen took his place, firing through the other window, and then Kensi, wincing against the shards of glass flying everywhere.

There was a loud crash, and two more gunshots inside.

"Suspect apprehended," Sam called out over comms. "Repeat, suspect apprehended."

Grimacing, Callen and Kensi stood up, shaking off glass and wood chips. There was a small cut over her eye, but otherwise, she seemed unharmed. Deeks got up more slowly, his head spinning a little with the change in orientation. His back felt warm and damp.

Actually, his entire body was uncomfortably hot.

"Sounds like they got him," Callen said.

"Great. Cause, I feel like crap," Deeks croaked, and promptly collapsed.

A/N: I'm not sure this is my best, but I've been waiting to have Deeks collapse for several chapters. Before anyone should think that I'm making anyone look weak, remember, he has some infected burns brewing.