A/N: You all seemed to enjoy this so much, here's another chapter.
"What the hell just happened?" Callen demanded once Kensi once several yards away from the building. She waited another thirty seconds before she replied.
"I tell you in the car," she muttered. If it what Max Gentry, or whoever he was, said was true, she didn't want any prying ears to hear. Once she was safely ensconced in the car, she drove a couple miles, and stopped in a random parking lot.
"Ok, so you wanna explain why you left a drug dealer kiss you?" Callen asked casually.
"He's not a drug dealer," Kensi sighed, rubbing her temples. "He's a cop. Or at least that's what he said. I'm supposed to meet him tomorrow."
"I don't believe it," Sam said. "Did he say anything else?"
"Nope. He just said he's undercover cop and that I was going to screw it up."
"Huh, like he isn't screwing up ours."
"I kind of think he's been there for a while," she said without thinking. "He seemed very comfortable with his roll."
"It sounds like you believe him," Callen commented.
"Maybe." She felt a headache coming on as she tried to process what had just occurred. Gentry had certainly switched demeanor quickly from charming, yet crude drug lord to no nonsense in a second.
"Eric, can you find out if LAPD has anyone undercover who matches Gentry's description?"
"I'll look into it," he said. "Give me a couple hours. You know LAPD doesn't always appreciate our involvement."
"Sounds good. Kensi, come back to the Mission like we planned and we'll figure out the next step."
The next morning, Kensi drove to the address Frankie had given her. Their contact at LAPD had returned Eric's call with turn instruction to stay out of it. That had been more than enough for Callen to give Kensi the go ahead.
She felt slightly anxious as she parked in front of the mansion-like building. If he was a cop, Gentry must be using some of his illegally gained money to fund this type of lifestyle. LAPD certainly wasn't paying for it.
Kensi composed herself before she opened the car door, wanting to appear as in control as possible. She was still infuriated by how easily Gentry had commanded the room as soon as she walked into the warehouse.
This time Kensi had gone a little bolder with her outfit, choosing a dress that just toed the line between professional and risqué. The skirt stopped a few inches above her knees, clinging to her hips provocatively, the neckline cut low enough to reveal a hint of lace.
Taking a final deep breath, Kensi walked along the winding path until she reached the door and rang the doorbell with a shiny red nail. It was only a moment before the door swung open to reveal Max Gentry himself.
His eyes widened slightly when he saw her and he nodded appreciatively, extending one arm in welcome.
"Nice to see you again, Ms. Mendez," he greeted her.
As she she walked in, Kensi let her gaze sweep over him quickly. Unlike her, he'd gone more casual with a simple blue button-down shirt, the collar open to reveal a patch of golden skin, and cream colored pants. She looked away under the guise of examining the many paintings and ornate furnishing visible just from the entryway.
"I'm glad our first encounter didn't scare you off," he continued, watching Kensi with a slight smile.
"Believe me, it would take a lot more than you to scare me off," Kensi said scathingly. "I'm actually surprised you opened the door yourself. I expected a fleet of servants, not to mention your bodyguards."
"All gone for the day, I'm afraid." He winked and gestured for her to follow him. Kensi did so warily, still not sure she trusted him at all. He led her to an airy sitting room that was filled with even more collectibles, furniture, and a random surfboard in the corner. Before she could remark on it, he gestured to an upholstered chair, but Kensi remained standing.
"Staff and bodyguards tend to listen in on private conversations." He gave her a pointed look. "And I think both of us would like to avoid that, right Ms. Mendez? Or whoever you are."
"What tipped you off?" Kensi asked, giving up on the pretense. Gentry looked her over again, nodding when he made his way back to her face again.
"Well for one, I've seen a picture of Bella Mendez and you're definitely not her," he replied. "For another, none of the criminals I've worked with, and I've worked with a lot, has ever been so stiff and formal. I knew you had to be law enforcement of some kind."
Kensi flushed at the implication that her undercover skills were lacking.
"Agent Kensi Blye, NCIS," she said formally, extending her hand. Nodding in apparent appreciate, he took her hand squeezing it firmly, and for a few seconds longer than necessary.
"Military police. Nice."
"We're a federal agency." Again, he nodded, not at all bothered by her short tone.
"I know. I'm Detective Marty Deeks, LAPD, by the way," he added with a grin that made Kensi feel warmer. "Most people just call me Deeks, but you should probably stick to Max for now."
"You seem pretty sure of yourself, Mr. Deeks," Kensi commented.
"Well, that's part of my charm, or so I'm told." He smiled more genuinely now, hefting himself onto a table that looked for too expensive for sitting. "The question is, how are the two of us going to work this case together?