... ... ... A TEST ... ... ...

Lounging in intimate half-light of the bar, her legs over his knees, and his ringed hand lightly holding them there. Her fingers, with a ringed one too, caressed the back of his neck and slid into his hair. The man, she saw the third time in her life and officially acquainted with only today to more properly behold and get to know him somehow for several hours, was pronounced... her husband. Well, fake husband for a cover.

But do wives behave like that? She looked more like a mistress, so leisured and enjoying, so into him... When she desperately swore she can't pretend - that was her main excuse. She cautioned the team she'd fail the operation. Not to say that she hated to be dressed up and, as was casually mentioned, in a dress Erin wore to the sex club, ha? That also meant heavier make-up than usual and damn heels. But fatefully her candidature was the last unexposed and seemed the best option.

Antonio had just returned from a deep undercover with another division for almost three weeks in a row and now straight back with his unit into another game - this one so far much more pleasant. But most notably, he'd never dreamt who would pair...

Of course, they had another hour to draw more qualified "fresh face" from the police to make him a company in this play to supplant a couple they recently had taken into custody. But nobody wanted to spend precious time, and she too... simply didn't want another and unknown woman around him. Jealous already or possessive, how can that be? Yet, after ten minutes of faltering debates on her behalf she eventually gave up and trusted her life and body to the man the only capable to pull a job and protect her from failing as well as from falling in her heels.

Since then not a second away, a constant sweet physical contact they set, mutually, while walking, looking around, mingling, dancing. Mindlessly, comfortable. As if there wasn't a spy microphone on him, as if there wasn't a spy camera in her purse to detect attendants, and no earpiece for mostly Adam to bug in her ear. And they almost lost the course and the reasons they're here with this tickling caress and eyes on each other... into each other.

She heard he was divorced, knew no details but could bet that wasn't his initiative or blame. No, she's not fooled, not misled by his charm. Attentive, understanding and supportive - that's what he is - Antonio Dawson. Period. No perky boldness, just as no insecure hesitation in him. Nonetheless, she assumed there could be some demons or skeletons - we all have - but no wolf underneath.

Plus, in fact, so strange, lovely and cosy fact, she felt... on an equal footing with him... on many levels, in some inner strength and consciousness. His life experience, even in this circumstances where she was a newer, didn't oppress at all. Is that his common influence on everyone or on her specifically... as if they belong? Anyway, she could be herself, open, blatantly open, not defending from the world under the mask of independence, but sharing how she feels... how he makes her feel.

So, on her out of the blue snerk and his questioned look she just said, "I'm lucky..." but had no chance to explain, because all vip-guests were finally invited to the secret auction their couple happened to have passes for too.

And what happened there none of these two expected. But with so rich perverted participants and some identified criminals - no surprise. Stolen exorbitant treasures mattered not much. But her heart sank at the view of a gorgeous wild cat to be sold not even like a pet but a toy... or "a culinary delight" as the show presenter joked. That's when for the first time ever she wanted to use the gun years ago she'd learned to shoot. If only Antonio had one with him, she'd snatch it from him.

Well, he as if sensed that anger of hers and gently stroked her back up and down. But his composure faltered not less when "the main dish was served" - a very young girl, around 13, totally naked for spectators and its buyer to do with "the slave" whatever fancied.

He felt her face pressed into his shoulder to hide her emotions from the others, while her hands clenched his jacket so hard as if to tear. He merely held her tighter for the good of both of them and quietly promised, "We'll take care of that."

Yet, once again she wished to have a gun or her glare to kill or at least to execrate, when one of the quests upbraided "her husband" for not gaining "his lovely spouse" any gifts. And all Antonio could was to lead her out of this hell as unsuspiciously and fast as possible to fulfill his promise.

In twenty minutes after they left, when she stayed in the street with Kim, and he with the team and SWAT went to revisit the damned event, that black suited stalwart knight of hers reappeared holding that child covered in white sheets - a scene to never forget.

A bit later from this brave little girl she confidentially found out that there were more of such "to be slaves" kept somewhere. It took her not long to trace the money transaction and then just waiting alone in the night office for the news.

"Hey! Why you still here?" he was shocked to find her sitting on the bench in the locker room, changed to her ordinary clothes but not ready to go.

They reported an hour ago that everyone was saved, while all involved into the scheme and at the auction arrested. Why she's not home? The darkness broke away - literally and not.

"I'll give you a lift," not asking but asserting, yet, getting no answer but a shrug of her shoulders, he started to strip.

She thought he was damn fine in that white t-shirt and sweating the day they'd met. She thought he was damn fine all geared like SWAT when he came to rescue her and at that time her colleagues, 911 operators, from the takers of their office, and then she briefly found out his name. She thought he was damn fine in whatever clinging to his upper body as second skin, and that brown leather shoulder holster as the cherry on top. Then she came to think he was so damn fine in that total black suit, though, she never liked that kind of official outfit on men, but holy cats, so ravishing looked her named husband. And now he unbuttoned all that and let the black shirt slip down his arms. Her frazzle's gone, and she shamelessly watched, feasting her eyes on his shaped bare flesh so tasty... until she realized he'd need to do the same with his pants, and that's when her decency at last made her give him private space...

He, though, pretended he didn't notice her interest... if not to say famishing. They drove in comfortable absent-minded silence - that was barely five minutes to her home three blocks away. But as he parked the car, not hurrying to get out, she asked him.

"How you do that? Seeing things like that with your own eyes everyday and not... breaking...?"

Antonio leaned onto the back of his seat and exhaled heavily.

"Crap like that always will be... But I just know, as long as I breathe I can do something to change it, at least try my best. All that's not vain. However, sometimes seems unbearable. But we, and your part is very essential, saved those girls tonight. Even that caracal, by the way, will return to savanna or where it lives. So... that was a good day. Concentrate on that to sleep."

Warmhearted to the point it incited. She wanted to do something too. Right now, right here... But kissing him - the man she hardly knew - that's on the one hand, on the other - as if she knew him forever, still would be beyond all her sanity... Yet, God, she already missed his touch and his closeness - when sitting next to him in the car is not enough. So, not to puzzle or rather not to trouble them with crazy personal feelings above everyday official chaos at work she just said goodbye and left.

But those lent wedding rings they both somehow forgot or confusingly didn't want to take off...