Author Note:
I meant to attach this to the last chapter.
I just wanted to take a moment to give a big THANK YOU to all the readers for leaving reviews and kudos. Also, thank you for following and subscribing to my story.
And to the ladies who mentioned my story on the Lizzington page. You not only made my day, it shocked me to see a thread for my fic. I thought Beta was lying to me when she told me about it. I was so sure you were talking about another 'Focal Point' fanfic. So you can imagine how amazing it felt when I finally got to see the comments.
Thank you all for making this a hell of an experience.
Liz had vacated the bedroom heading for the living area.
She sat now, staring sightlessly at the book in her hand, her thoughts ruminating on her previous actions. She did not know what had possessed her, but ever since she had dreamed that damned dream... more specifically, of how it had felt when Red had gone down on her, she felt confused and disoriented.
In that dream, Red's hands had felt phenomenal but how they felt in real life... paled in comparison.
His lightly callused hand was so hot, and much larger than she had expected. The touch against her leg was electrifying.
She had felt his fingers instinctively curve against her inner thigh. His touch was feather light and gentle but she had felt the power in his hand.
He had dragged his fingers slowly across her heightened, sensitive skin. She had heated to her very core.
She knew she had a crush on the man, but the emotional onslaught had staggered her.
The chiming of the doorbell interrupted her train of thought.
Odd? It was very rare that anyone made it to the door without being sidelined by Security. Even UPS and the occasional pizza delivery boy was stopped in their tracks.
Picking up her walkie, she keyed it, "Silas?"
"It's only Mr. Holbrook." you could hear the boredom in the man's voice.
"Only." 'Mr. Holbrook' questioned haughtily.
"Oh, well, show him in." she relaxed mentally, smiling for the exchange. "I'm in the living room."
Minutes later, Silas and Francis walked through the door. Liz beamed a sincere smile, "Francis. I'm sorry I couldn't come greet you properly." she motioned to a seat nearby. "Won't you sit down?"
"I hope I'm not disturbing you?" the young man enquired, doing her bidding.
"No, not at all. Just waiting for Red to get finished." She asked, raising from her seat. "Would you like a drink?"
"Oh, yeah, sure." He waved her back down, "No, no. I can get it." He walked to the bar, pointing at her. "Would you like something?"
She sighed softly, smiling. "No, thank you. I'm fine."
Francis nodded, grabbing his drink, bringing it back, sitting down beside her.
"Aren't I the best hostess ever." she quipped.
"I'm just so put out by the stress of it all." Francis shook his head woefully, taking a drink from his tumbler. "You must know I'll spread this vicious gossip in our entire circle, you'll never be able to show your face in public again." He forewarned, straightening his tie arrogantly.
"Hell, I would have thought there was enough ammunition against me all ready, for falling asleep at a dinner." She said.
"Yes, well... true enough." he allowed amiably. "Don't feel too badly, given that I did the same thing about forty minutes after you left."
"You didn't!"
"It was either that or drown myself in the gravy boat."
"That bad, huh?" She laughed.
"It was terrible. With Red there, they tend to stay on their best behavior, or at the very least, civil." he shrugged. "Well, as civil as our type will ever be... after you guys left, it was nothing but bitching and moaning, and worse yet, groveling." he whined. "Keeping in mind, I was the one doing the most of that... but what the hell, it's my damn house." he reminded himself.
"You should have come over here." she reminded the invitation had been extended by Reddington himself.
"I know what Red said, but he's such a liar." the man teased. "Besides, I didn't want to intrude."
"You would most certainly not be intruding!" the woman insisted. "You are welcome here, anytime." And she meant it. This man was the first one to make her feel welcome and comfortable, she'd be a complete bitch to not return the favor. "If he didn't mean it, he wouldn't have offered. You know that."
She honestly believed that.
Red didn't seem the type to just offer his home to anyone, so for him to have extended an open invitation to Francis had to mean something.
The man in question merely shrugged, then smiled. "Are you feeling better?"
"I am, thank you. I'm down to a lower dose of pain pill today, so I'm a bit more lucid." she was pleased to report. "Which Silas assures me, is a novelty in itself."
The conversation was interrupted with Reddington's arrival on the scene. He extended his hand, "Francis? What are you doing here?"
"That matter we were discussing at dinner..." Red nodded, understanding to what the young man alluded. "Well, it happened. Anne didn't listen and lost the entire shipment."
"And how many men?" Red asked, pulling down a clean glass, pouring himself a drink. He automatically refilled his guest's tumbler.
"Six." Francis reported gravely.
"I told her..." Red shook his head in open consternation, sitting next to Liz. "She never fucking listens! Why don't people listen to me?" he snapped.
"What do you want to do?"
"I'm going to do what I should have done in the first place." Red sat his tumbler aside, pulling out his phone. "I'm going to block all business coming to her for a while until she pulls her damn head out of her ass."
"Won't that upset the status quo?" Francis scratched his head aimlessly.
"Francis, this is the fourth time she's put her men at risk, and by my total, that puts her death toll up around twenty one men." he punched the send button on his phone, putting it to his ear, waiting. "I'm tired of this shit."
He directed his attention to the voice on the phone, "Yes, it's Reddington. I'm sure you heard about the dust up... yes. That one." Red snarled. He listened momentarily, his face masking over.
"What do I want to do?" he lifted noble brows. "I want you to give me all the shipments she has lined up within the next hour." he consulted his watch.
"No, I'm going to fill every order and deliver them myself before hers has a chance to arrive. Which shouldn't be too difficult, seeing she doesn't have a fucking team anymore." the man fell silent, listening politely then replied curtly.
"No, I'm quite serious and perfectly aware how many toes I'll be stepping on." he cut the reply off. "Just do it, I'll call back shortly."
Francis sat back having watched the Master work. Red had turned the table on someone half a world away with a simple phone call. Very impressive indeed.
"I would say, I'm warning you that this is going to get dirty," Francis made mention, sipping his drink casually, "but I've always thought you appreciated a challenge."
"Those were good men, Francis." Red's hand held his drink tightly, his knuckles white from the exertion. "What's worse, I'm betting they told her of the dangers, and she didn't listen to them either. They didn't deserve that shit, and you know it."
"Oh, I completely agree. And I'm totally on your side..." Francis shifted comfortably. "But that doesn't mean it still won't stir things up a bit."
"Maybe that's what we need. Besides her killing perfectly good teams off right and left, she's cutting into the supply, and demand is rising." the man made a cutting slice with his hand in the air. "Enough is enough. Maybe with a few less dollars going to her tacky shoe supply, she might damn well get the point."
"Whispering on the wind is that Conte isn't happy with her lack of delivery, again."
"Any other time, I might bail her out, but not this time. Let her be the hunted for a while. See how she likes it." he lifted a cold stare. "And don't even think of going in and fixing it for her, Francis."
Francis held up his hands in the universal sign of peace. "I think she needs to be taken down a notch. She thinks she's too pretty, too..." he cast a quick glance at the woman sitting beside Red.
"Desirable?" Liz aided.
"Yes, that, exactly." Francis pointed excitedly. Liz had hit upon it. "She relies on her charms and the men fall for it. I've had enough of it, personally." He crossed his legs at the ankles, his arm draping the back of the chair. "Either you can do the job, or you can't. And so far, I'm not impressed."
Liz looked at Francis with a little more respect than she had a few minutes ago. Granted, they were both speaking about the possible death of a woman they associated with, but they had a point.
If this woman was going to play with the big boys, she had to step up to the plate. It was that way for any woman, regardless of her occupation.
Red was annoyed with the woman true, but Liz didn't think he'd let anything happen to this Anne person. He may let the woman fall on her face for the next couple of weeks, but if she knew Red, when the crap hit the fan, he would smooth the situation over.
The discussion would have to wait for another time. The new cook had discreetly entered searching for the correct moment...
"Miss Elizabeth?" Nora smiled, speaking directly to the other woman. "I'm sorry to interrupt..." her eyes had fallen on the new guest. "I didn't realize you had company."
"It's all right, Nora." Liz held her smile, waving him off, as though "the guest" wasn't really all that important. "It's just Francis."
"Hey..." Francis instantly protested. "They don't get more "important" than me."
"Uh huh." Elizabeth mollified. "Is it ready Nora?"
"Whenever you are." the older woman's smiled returned.
"You're welcome to stay, Francis." Red offered.
"Shall I fix an extra setting?" Nora asked.
"Nah, he can get it himself." Liz teased. Francis feigned injury. "We want him to feel at home after all."
Nora smiled, "Well, then, it is ready and waiting."
Francis arose hastily, practically pushing Red out of the way, making a beeline for the new employee. He caught up to the older woman easily, hooking his arm around her's, his hand patting Nora's arm with open affection.
"Where have you been all my life?" the young man charmed. "Are they paying you enough here?"
Red chuckled as he watched the other man work his magic.
"If you're as good as I think you are..." Francis's eyes roamed the still attractive figure unobtrusively, "you would be much happier working for me."
"You want to wait until I get out of earshot?" Red asked pleasantly, helping Liz arise.
"No..." Francis called back over his shoulder. "Let me take you away from all of this."
"I'm so glad you made him feel at home." Red teased Elizabeth.
"He's trying to steal our cook." she pointed out. "Blatantly."
"It's just his way." he assisted the woman to the dining room.
"Well, you better put a stop to that." Liz frowned superficially.
Francis had stopped in the kitchen to assist Nora and was even now, unashamedly flirting with the woman.
"Tell him to stop that!" Liz demanded. "Red, you do something..."
The man only chuckled sensually, continuing on their way.
After an amazing lunch, Red and Francis adjourned to another room.
At dusk the men re-entered the sitting room Liz had found to be very comforting and quiet. She found herself in a very contemplative mood today.
"Invite me to dinner." Francis approached the woman gingerly.
Liz cut her eyes up and under, her expression totally annoyed. "Why? So you can continue your efforts to steal our cook?" she accused.
"Where ever did you find her?" the young man took no offense. "I think I'm in love."
"What, again?" Red stood by patiently as Elizabeth arose on her own as she apt to do these days. "Remember that agency I recommended for your dinner."
"All I got was a bunch of new wave, vegan freaks." Francis complained, as they headed for the dining room.
"Let me guess," Liz asked, laughing, "one was named Mindy?"
"How did you know that?" Francis was puzzled, watching Red seat the woman.
"She's the one Red got rid of for force feeding me eggplant. He got Nora for me instead."
"I hate eggplant." Francis shivered voluntarily, finding his own seat across from Liz.
"Dinner was perfectly fine, Francis." the older man's hand rested comfortably along Liz's chair, his fingers stroking her shoulder. "Why are you complaining?"
"I'm not complaining per say." Francis complained. "Dinner only turned out as well as it did because I threatened to take their tofu and shove it up their ass. I ordered them, specifically, to make what we had. And it was like pulling teeth."
"I've never had a problem with them." Red shrugged.
"Well, no shit." Francis was mystified. "Are you going to argue with Red Reddington when he says he wants a steak?"
Liz was amused by how put out Francis seemed to be. No one it seemed, would ever be on par with Red.
After dinner a relaxed atmosphere infused the room. Both men seemed totally at ease, immersed in their brandies.
"Who do I have to hit before I get access to this little black book of yours?" Francis grinned. "Because, consider it done."
"Commit an act of treason, throw in a couple of felonies and get me an invite to Papa Guido's pizzeria in Jersey... and you'll get your wish." Red mumbled around his cigar. "But only do it if you're serious. I do have a reputation to uphold. If I start letting every little two bit hustler on my list, my street cred will be shit." He rolled the cherry off his cigar.
"Well, we wouldn't want that!" Francis was mockingly appalled, before beginning to clear the dinnerware.
"Francis, I can do that." Liz protested, even as Red started gathering theirs.
"You told me to make myself at home." Francis smiled, picking up the stack, following Red into the kitchen.
Liz made her way slowly to the door facing. She was fascinated at the domestic scene which unfolded before her very eyes.
Francis rolled up his sleeves, rinsing the plates before handing them off to Red, who put them in the dishwasher.
"Now, aren't you two efficient." Liz shook her head, totally impressed by the men's performance.
"You should see me iron." Francis preened.
"You don't iron." Red countered. "You send it out to Manny just like I do." he rolled his eyes.
"Regardless, I can iron a pleat that could slit a throat wide open."
"It's the Italian in him." Red explained helpfully. "Always going for the throat. Much like someone else I know." the man smiled, stroking Liz's neck in the approximate location where she had stabbed him.
She ducked her head, blushing. That moment had certainly not been one of her finest, although he seemed to remember it fondly, which just confused the hell out of her.
For heaven's sake... she had jabbed a pen into his carotid.
Most normal people would have filed a restraining order. Red saw it as a shared moment of fond remembrance.
Oddly, she would have to accept that they had grown closer since then. They had become a team.
How the hell had something like that happened?
The clock in the hall chimed, drawing their attention. "Damn, is that the time?" Francis glanced at his watch. "I better get the show on the road." he said. "What is our plan of action?"
Red stood as well, "We need to stay on top of this and fill the cracks. Anne will try to wrangle something up, and I intend to block her every which way I can."
"So when the shit hits the fan, somebody has pulled their head out of their ass." Francis put it in a nutshell.
Red's brow furrowed slightly, "My God... that actually makes a perverse kind of sense."
"Well of course it does." Francis was understandably confused. "Thank you both for a wonderful time. I really enjoyed it, especially the company." he smiled at them both then frowned hard at Red for some unknown reason of which the man was aware.
"You're welcome," Liz smiled, sincerely, "come back soon Francis."
"I'll walk you out." Always the consummate host, Reddington motioned his guest to the outer sanction of his domain. "I'll be back shortly, sweetheart."
The man sauntered back a few minutes later, loosening his tie. "I have a feeling sleep will be transitory tonight... do you mind if I try to get in a few hours before it all starts?"
Liz got up out of her seat. "I'm coming."
"You don't have to go to bed on my account, it's still a little early for you."
"I can help." she offered. "There must be something I can do?"
"Or... I can sleep in another room tonight, so you're not disturbed." the man iterated. "You need to rest."
"Or... you can shut up," she suggested sweetly, "and sleep in our own bed tonight where you will be most comfortable. And I want to help."
Red had stopped listening after the statement, our bed.
He had never heard her refer to it as such before. It threw him completely. Not that he objected to the phrase, as a matter of record, he liked the sound of it.
"You okay?" the woman's voice brought him from his reverie.
"Just thinking." he smiled down at her, then took her arm, helping her along. "Well, my little secretary, would you like to use my Dictaphone?"
"What the hell is a Dictaphone?"
Red suddenly felt his age, but smiled, chuckling sensually.
"Was that a metaphor, Red Reddington?" she chided.
It wasn't long afterwards, the woman came waltzing, well, hopping out of the closet, just finishing buttoning the last button on the shirt she wore.
Red noted with some interest, that the garment just happened to be the same shirt he had discarded minutes before. His brow furrowed slightly, but she looked so damn cute in the oversize fabric.
Red stared at his shirt, hanging to her thighs, hiding what she may or may not be wearing underneath it, which captivated the man.
He had never enjoyed the sight of a woman wearing his shirt as much as he did, right now. He stared at her shapely legs and that one little foot not wearing the cast, smiling softly. She looked damned sexy.
"What?" she asked, hesitating herself. She looked down, then bit her lip, "Do you mind?"
"No... no, I don't mind." he shook his head, "Would you rather have a fresh one?"
"No..." she answered simply, then grabbed her lotion, smoothing it over her hands. "So, how do we proceed?"
"Uhm." Red cleared his throat, watching her gingerly hop on one leg, before seeking his assistance which was instantly given. "I'm sorry?"
Liz giggled having looked up, finding the cat sitting prominently and proudly on Red's pillow, staring back at him defiantly.
Red grunted in annoyance. "I hate fucking cats..."
"You do not." she corrected.
After settling in the bed, Elizabeth tapped her left side and the cat ambled it's way to her, staring at Red the whole time. The man shook his head, his jaw clenching and unclenching. He flipped his pillow, grumbling something about the smell of, cat ass, much to her amusement.
The woman settled back, notepad in hand, "Where do we start?" she asked, pen ready.
"First, are you sure you want to do this?" he checked. "Technically, this is contraband we're dealing with."
"Is it drugs?"
"No. Not tonight, anyway."
"Why not?"
"I don't particularly enjoy working with dealers, they're too high strung. Their paranoia is annoying." his features showed as much. "Most dealers, unless it's a specific order, normally deal with it themselves because of the bad vibes."
"What does that mean? Specific orders?" she questioned.
"Well, if a client asked if I could get him cocaine, opium or pot for a private party. I could send it with what ever else he ordered." it was elucidated. "But, a lot of my counterparts, myself included, have a max volume sent."
"Which means?"
"Only a certain amount of kilos are supplied. You want more than that, get it yourself."
"And you've supplied for private parties?"
"I've not only supplied, I've attended."
"You've really done drugs?"
"Yes."
"L-like what?" She stuttered.
"Opium, cocaine, marijuana..."
"What are they like?" she was more than curious suddenly.
"It depends on the drug." he shrugged nonchalantly. "Pot, is a relaxant. Opium, a pain killer. And cocaine, a stimulant."
"That's very clinical."
"You asked what they were like, not what I felt."
"What did you feel?"
"On pot, I felt very relaxed. Contemplative. Hungry. But still able to function." he ruminated. "It didn't impair me, just relaxed me. I could protect myself while high."
"And the others?"
"In the early days, when I was so exhausted, I thought I'd drop where I stood," he remembered back, his brow deeply furrowed, "a couple bumps of coke kept me going but the downside of course, was I couldn't stop."
"Instant caffeine?"
"Instant adrenaline, more like it." he rubbed jaw thoughtfully. "I can honestly say, if it wasn't for the safe havens I hit along the way, where I could actually rest, that one would have killed me."
"And the opium?"
"The best and worst of them all." he sighed heavily. "Total pain relief in body and mind, but the most incapacitating. You have to have an extreme trust in who cares for your well being while under such a spell."
"Then why did you take it?"
"I was in pain."
"Who cared for you?"
"It depended on where I was."
"How many times have you taken it?"
"Enough that it became a problem at one point." he confessed. "It's the drug of choice for those wanting to be pain free."
"What happened to–"
"Lizzy..."
She closed her mouth, frowning. It really was none of her business. But she couldn't help but be intrigued. The most she had ever done was smoke one of Sam's cigarettes, until he caught her red handed.
She would have never pegged Red for having used drugs. But she wasn't sure why, exactly. Since he never seemed to be opposed to doing much of anything at all.
Elizabeth remembered one woman in particular. Lawrence Dechambou.
Red had mentioned to Ressler one time, and she quoted in her mind... "bend over any available piece of furniture and let her slap you on the ass."
There had been such reverence in his voice, such genuine fondness.
Who was this woman to Red? Had he been messing with Ress?
Had Red really allowed her to do... that? And if so... had he enjoyed it? And what was that like?
He was like a puzzle within a puzzle that she knew she could never solve.
Shaking away the thoughts, she got back in the game. "Weapons."
"Yes." he answered quietly.
"Who receives them?"
"Oddly, most of all weapon orders end up in the Constabularies' hands."
"Because of a bust?"
"No, because ordering new weapons underground is cheaper then factory direct." Her face must have shown her confusion. "To arm a police department is expensive, especially if it's in a small township." he supplied. "To order say, three guns, from the factory. It would cost, two thousand dollars. To buy from us, would cost maybe fifteen hundred, if not less."
"Why so cheap?"
"Because they're stolen property. And I don't mean off the back of a truck, per say. Let me see if I can make this simplistic?" he shifted more comfortably into the pillow. "Say I took down a group of my enemies, I would clean out their cache, taking all their arms and other goods." to the man, it wasn't brain surgery. "I take those weapons and sell them off, most usually, to cops. Gaining profit from something I received for free."
"You steal guns from bad guys, then sell them to cops?"
"Yes, I do."
"Do they know they're buying from you?"
"Yes, they know."
Liz blinked, trying to wrap her mind around that logic. It was weird how it almost made sense.
Where the cops couldn't touch these bad guys, because of lack of inside intelligence or man power... Red could, and did. Ridding some underworld terrorists of the arms they needed for the war they were waging, on the surface seemed almost good and decent.
It was brilliant idea in fact, she had to admit begrudgingly.
She nodded that she understood, jotting notes quickly. She made columns of his requirements then set the pad aside.
"Now what?" She asked.
"Now, we rest before the calls start coming in."
It was two hours later when the phone began to ring. Information on each shipment was detailed, precise and complicated. How the man managed to do all this alone, boggled Elizabeth's mind.
She was struggling to keep abreast of the man's rapid speech patterns. The shipments moved across the globe and boundaries with such simplicity... one headed for Hong Kong, one Brisbane.
"Good girl." Red had noticed the woman's efforts, complimenting her for her diligence.
She reddened a bit at the pat on the head, but was pleased in spite of herself, a little proud truth told.
Out of the forty some shipments going out, they filled twenty five of the double or triple loads quickly.
As the single shipments were handled with such speed, it flabbergasted Elizabeth. But she kept up, not stumbling once in repeating the info she had been given.
He finally shut the phone, laying back into the pillow.
"Now what do we do?" she was wired.
"We get a little more rest and wait for the receiving end to get their shit in order."
"You have product coming in as well?" she was a little winded to say the least while the man seemed perfectly at ease.
"Yes, I do."
"Then what happens?"
"I'm hoping that there will be another break before what I've done to Anne starts taking effect." he put his hands behind his head, linking his fingers. "There's going to be a lot of angry people out there, looking for her and quite possibly, me."
"What does that mean!" she was alarmed.
"It means, I've just stolen a lot of business from competitors," he rubbed his eyes absently, "and then the game begins to see who the receivers want to do their business with in the end. Me or her."
"Do you really want to take her business away?"
"Right now, yes. Francis was telling the truth that she's become sloppy."
"What is it about these men's death that troubles you so?" she realized how that sounded, trying again. "I mean, of course any death is..."
"They're like Silas. Retired soldiers making a living." he took no offence. "I've worked with a lot of these guys in the past and while she's sipping champagne on a yacht, these guys are doing as she ordered and dying for it."
Liz had grown quite fond of Silas and Joe and a lot of the other men walking the property. To think that their counterparts were facing such a difficult situation without someone like Red backing them, pissed her off too.
"Let's nail the bitch."
"That's my girl." Red said, relaxing into the pillow, turning out the light.
The shipments started coming in around three in the morning.
Francis kept Red apprised of each and every delivery that was accepted.
Lines were moving faster trying to beat Red's cargo but with his head start, they were all going to fail miserably.
Red seemed pleased by the end results. And as the totals of payment received started coming in, he brightened considerably in the waning night.
Especially after Francis called, informing Red that he had just hung up with a very pissed off Anne. The woman had been seething, trying to figure out who was cutting into her business.
"She knows it's me." Red laughed quietly, laying relaxed in his bed. "She's going to use her feminine wiles, which have always worked in the past granted... and there still might be some idiots out there who will fall for such shit." he conceded. "But she made one mistake all ready." he smiled briefly. "She called you."
"But Red," the younger man's tone was sincere enough, "everyone knows, I am the very sole of discretion."
Red chuckled appreciatively, "Get some rest while you can. The next wave should hit in a couple of hours... and Francis," the man had no trouble with the next words, "thank you." He hung up the phone then turned to Elizabeth. "You all right?"
"Yes, why do you ask?"
"Because I care."
"I'm okay." she smiled warmly up at him. "This was actually a lot more fun then I thought it would be. And oddly, fulfilling."
Red turned his head, looking at her oddly. His eyes asking for an explanation.
"I'm just happy to do my part in remembering the guys who lost their lives in this farce." She shrugged. "And I'm glad that you treat your guys, so well and with respect."
"They damn well deserve it more than anybody."
"What did that mean?" she thought back. "What you said to Francis? About Anne making a mistake in calling him?"
"We go back a long way." the man stifled a yawn. "Lizzy, I will tell you more, but right now, you need to rest."
She slowly nodded, then laid back down, snuggling into the covers. Smiling. She had learned a lot about Red tonight, and while she didn't know him as well as she would like, she felt the playing fields somewhat evened up this evening.