24 - Whistle, I'll Be There

The phone was ringing, causing his watch to vibrate on his wrist and drag him from the sweet dreams he'd been having of how his life might have been if he'd taken a chance instead of running away. Without shifting in the bed, he lifted his arm over his head and blinked twice at the read out before he managed to bring it into focus.

Unknown Caller.

A stream of curse words flowed through his mind as he obediently reached for the phone, answering it with his usual succinct, "Yo." No sense in giving the caller more information than they needed by identifying himself. If they had the right number they'd know what to expect from him.

"Carlos? Is that you?"

Shock and fear had him bolt upright, his spine stiff as he threw off the covers and practically leapt off the bed, already reaching for the cargos he'd removed only a few short hours ago when he caught the time on the digital readout of the clock he kept on the bedside table. Carlos didn't know why Steph would be calling him at two in the morning, but between the slight tremble of her voice and the fact that she was calling him at all when she'd spent all week pushing him away, he knew it probably wasn't good.

"Steph? Are you okay?'

"I need your help."

While her words only confirmed what he had already assumed, they did nothing to calm his racing heart as he hit the speaker button on the phone so he had two hands to continue throwing on clothes. "I'm on my way," he assured her.

He was attaching his utility belt and sliding his gun into the holster when her next words emitted from the phone. "Just like that?" Her tone made it clear that she hadn't expected his response to be so immediate or affirmative. "But it's the middle of the night."

Carlos cut his eyes to the phone as he laced his first boot with quick, efficient, practiced motions. "What? Did you expect me to tell you to call back in the morning?" Shaking his head, he moved to the second boot. "You need help now. I'm coming now." He would have walked out of a meeting with the president if Steph had called and asked for help out of the blue like that. He could have been on the moon and he would have found a way to get back to earth to help her. Mission timelines be damned.

She still sounded disbelieving as he scooped up the phone and took it off speaker, pressing it to his ear once more as he practically dashed from the apartment. "You don't know where I am."

"Do you know where you are?" he countered. His pounding footsteps echoed off the concrete walls of the stairwell as he hurried down.

"Of course!" Steph said exasperatedly. "I'm in my apartment."

He burst through the door to the underground garage and made a beeline for the Mercedes parked nearby, wasting no time in tearing out of the park and onto the quiet street. "There you go, then," he said. "Now I know where you are, too. I'll be there in fifteen minutes." He'd dropped her at her new apartment the previous day after the visit to Bobby at the clinic and fitting her out with a gun and several other defense items. It was usually a twenty minute drive , but given the hour and his skills, Carlos thought he could easily shave five minutes off the trip. Not even the rain that pelted his windscreen was so bad that it could keep him from Steph when she needed him. He brought up the mental map of Trenton in his brain and he let his instincts take over to get him there as fast as humanly possible while he tried to gain more insight into the situation at hand.

Lucky for him, Steph was already moving the conversation in that direction for him. "You don't even know what I need help with."

"So tell me."

Her hesitation was palpable even over the phone, which did nothing to assuage the apprehension curling in Carlos's gut. His eyes cut to the phone in the holder on the dash like he could gauge what she'd gotten herself into by looking at the conduit for their connection.

"Steph?"

A sigh crackled down the line. "Morelli broke into my apartment and handcuffed me to my shower curtain rod," she explained in a rush, like she couldn't get the words out of her mouth fast enough. Like she was ripping off a bandaid. "He left me my phone so I could call for help, but the key to the cuffs is…"

Embarrassment, he realised as she trailed off. That was what had caused her hesitation. He pictured her trying to hide the reddening of her cheeks as he careened around a corner. There was a lot about the situation that Steph had left out - like why Morelli would have felt the need to break in and detain her or why she'd called him when she'd made it abundantly clear all week that she didn't want his help - but that wasn't important right now. What was important was getting to her side so he could be sure she was okay, and then tracking down the bastard so he could squeeze his hands around his neck until-

"Are you still there?" Steph asked tentatively.

"Yes," he confirmed, absently noting that his pitch had dropped with the anger surging inside him. He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. Hopefully, Steph wouldn't notice the shift in his tone.

"Are you still coming to help me?"

He mentally cursed his errant thoughts, because of course she'd noticed. There was a time she'd known him better than anyone else in the world. And although they'd been apart for years, he still sensed that understanding and familiarity in the moments when she'd let her guard drop. But now she was afraid he'd turn around and leave her there? Fuck. Allowing himself a quick, cleansing breath, he fought back the swirling confusion of emotions in an effort to return his tone to normal. "I'm still coming to help you," he assured her.

"Why'd you go silent?"

"No one plots murder out loud, Babe." The not-quite joke tumbled from his lips before he could stop it and he took a moment to mentally berate himself for it. Not only was it too close to the truth to be safe to say out loud, but he'd already witnessed the flash of fear in her eyes when Steph watched him disable the men at the gym the previous day. She wasn't accustomed to the hardened soldier he'd become, and he didn't think she was comfortable with it either.

"I'm not-" Her tone surprised him by coming out indignant when she immediately replied, though he had a feeling it was in part due to the fact that he'd once again slipped and called her Babe. Shovelling more dirt out of the hole he was digging for himself. "Who's murder are you plotting?" she asked instead.

In for a penny, in for a pound, Carlos thought to himself. He'd already admitted his murderous thoughts, he might as well let her know who they were about. Maybe it would help his cause; help to prove how much he cared about her. "Morelli's"

"Carlos, you can't murder Morelli," Steph lectured, sounding more like her old self as a hint of amusement coloured the still genuine concern that he was, in fact, capable of such things. She'd talked him out of fighting Morelli more times than he cared to count during high school.

"I still haven't forgiven him for writing about you on the bathroom wall," Carlos confessed. Or for the fact that he'd had his way with her and not ensured she'd finished before leaving her lying there on the floor of the Tasty Pastry, he added silently. "Tonight is only adding to his rap sheet."

"Carlos…" Her exasperation and concern was nothing new, but he let it temper his reactions just the same as he had when they were young. When he'd found out about her and Morelli at the Fair and his fists had itched to cave his skull in, but he'd held off because Steph didn't want him to do anything that could get him in trouble.

"Ten minutes, Steph," he approximated, rather than try to rationalise his desire for Morelli to be dead.

Another silence stretched between them as Carlos continued to navigate the rain slicked streets, keeping an eye out for cop cars and traffic cameras so as not to be delayed or detained. The last thing Steph needed was for Carlos to be arrested on his way to rescuing her. He had a feeling he had been her last resort. It wasn't a warm fuzzy feeling to know that the woman he loved - whom he was sure loved him back just as much deep down inside - only called him for help because she had no other option. But the fact that she'd reached out at all added to the well of hope he'd been guarding with his life ever since he realised what he'd been blind to in college. She could have called the police, but she'd chosen him instead.

"Carlos?" her voice was small, barely carrying over the sounds of the engine and the rain.

"Steph?"

A buzzing static sound filled the car a second before she uttered two words he never thought he'd receive from this hurt, angry, grown-up Steph. "Thank you."

He blinked at the red traffic light of the intersection he was approaching and allowed a smile to stretch his lips as he checked for cars in every direction before pressing the accelerator a little closer to the floor. "Anytime," he assured her. Because it was true. He would do anything for her, anytime. Whatever was necessary to keep her alive. "Want me to stay on the line?"

Her voice was even smaller than before. "Please."

They were both quiet for another moment, but this time, bolstered by the hope her thanks had added to his collection, Carlos found himself bridging the gap. "Want me to tell you about Lester's latest dating mishap?" he asked, reaching for a familiar go-to topic from their past lives.

"Oh god," she laughed, and Carlos noted the relief in her tone as the sound of her mirth washed over him like a salve. "Is he still going through women at an alarming rate? Surely there's no more women out there that he hasn't tried to hit on?"

How long had it been since he'd heard her laugh? Actually laugh? Had she laughed in his presence this week, he wondered. He couldn't recall, which meant the answer was probably no. But Dios, hearing it now was like giving a fix to an addict. He never wanted to stop listening to the sound of her happiness.

"Well, he's never tried flirting with you," Carlos pointed out. He would have beat Leater's ass into the ground if he had.

Steph's snort punctuated his thought so precisely that he wondered if he'd accidentally said it outloud. The statement she followed it up with simultaneously eased his mind while stressing him out more. "Carlos, it was the first thing he did! Don't you remember? You asked me to Shorty's to hang out with your siblings and cousins and as soon as you introduced me he was right there calling me beautiful."

Carlos's fists clenched on the steering wheel so hard it was a wonder it didn't crumble into his lap. He had forgotten about that. It was probably the only instance of someone flirting with Steph in front of him that he didn't remember. Possibly because it happened before he really fell in love with her. He'd only been looking for a friend when they first met.

Ridiculously, the urge to beat his cousin to a pulp over the years-old transgression washed over Carlos as he slowed for yet another corner. Instead, he pushed the compulsion down and focused on keeping Steph in a good frame of mind. "Well, in that case, I guess he did run out of women at some point, because he came out as bisexual a few years ago."

"No!"

"I'd never lie to you, Babe," he vowed, not for the first time, and likely not the last either.

"Wannabe Ladies Man Lester? Bisexual?"

Her disbelief, combined with the moniker they'd given him caused him to smile. "Mmhmm."

"I never would have guessed," she declared with a finality more suited to someone who had been in Lester's orbit constantly and hadn't seen it coming, rather than the situational acquaintances they'd been in their youths with a ten year interaction gap between them as well.

"There were signs," he assured her. "I definitely wasn't as surprised as he probably expected me to be when he told me. But then again, I had just caught him making out with a guy at the club."

A noise reached Carlos's ears that he wasn't sure how to categorise. He didn't get a chance to ask about it either, which was probably a good thing considering the question that Steph posed a moment later. "Was it hot?"

"Babe."

"What?" Steph defended, a mischievous grin in her voice that he wished he could have seen as well. It was worlds away from every expression she'd passed his way in the days since their paths had crossed once again. "I've seen grown-up Lester. He's objectively handsome. And I can only assume, based on his preferences in women back in high school, that he'd be attracted to hot guys. Hot multiplied by hot equals super hot. It's simple math."

"Babe." This time it came out on a groan, which only seemed to confuse and amuse her more.

"What?" she cried.

"I'm straight."

"And? Just because you're straight you can't appreciate when another man is conventionally attractive?"

He couldn't believe he had to spell it out to her like this. "And he's my cousin, Babe."

Another sigh escaped her, taking with it a good portion of her humour, just in time for him to turn into the parking lot out the back of her apartment building and break hard so he came to a stop directly in front of the entrance. "Yeah, all right, I'll give you that," she conceded. "I don't exactly want to picture Val in amorous situations."

"I've just parked," he announced, grabbing up the phone and slamming the door shut behind him as he leapt out of the car and immediately shifted into a jog.

"Close your eyes when you get to the bathroom," Steph instructed, a bit of panic creeping back into her voice as he reached her floor and skidded to a stop in front of her door.

He pulled a tool from the pouch on his belt. "How am I supposed to unlock your cuffs if I can't see?"

"I'm naked!"

He hissed in a breath and the tool slipped from his hands, tinkling to the floor as a vision from his many fantasies flashed through his mind's eye. Dios, this woman! Of all the things to tell him when he's about to break into her apartment to release her from a set of cuffs. The mental image was too much for him to handle, and in a few short moments he would have to be standing in front of the real thing. Standing in the same room as a naked and restrained Stephanie Plum. The universe really was out for blood.

Shaking his head, he took a deep breath, picked up the tool and set to work picking the lock. Forcing his mind to the cache of horrific scenes from his memories that he kept on hand for this exact situation. The last thing he needed in his battle to restore their friendship, was an erection. He could only imagine how much it would reverse the admittedly small amount of progress they'd made if he walked into her bathroom with a hard on.

"My question still stands," he said through gritted teeth as he felt the lock give way. He doubled down on his mental box of horrors as he opened the door and deftly released the security chain to gain entrance.

"The front door just opened," Steph announced, her voice dropping to a whisper as fear laced her tone once more.

"It's me," he assured her, pulling out his gun and checking the rooms he passed along the way, noting that it appeared the apartment had been tossed.

"How did you-?"

He entered the bedroom, following the sound of her voice and tucking the gun back away. Morelli was long gone. "Picked the lock."

"Close your eyes when you-" Steph started to repeat her earlier instruction, but cut off when Carlos stepped into the open doorway with a hand over his eyes. "I swear to god, Carlos, if you peek through those fingers!" she cried indignantly.

Rather than respond, Carlos inched forward, careful to maintain contact between his boots and the tiled floor to avoid tripping on any debris, his free hand sweeping side to side in front of him as an early warning system for taller obstacles.

"What are you doing?!" she shrieked, and he paused his slow progress.

"Looking for the towel rack."

His words did nothing to calm her anxieties, apparently, because her voice was just as high when she questioned, "Looking?"

"Searching," he corrected with a tiny shake of the head. "My eyes are closed, Babe."

"So, you're using echolocation?" The pitch remained, but now she sounded more skeptical than panicked.

"No, I'm hoping you'll start giving me directions."

She did so, and when Carlos laid hands on the soft material, he shifted, turning toward her voice and held it out for her, waiting silently and listening to the quiet shush of fabric against skin, accompanied by the jingle of the cuff against the metal rod overhead. When the noises stopped with a little sigh he thought sounded a little resigned, he warned, "I'm gonna open my eyes now, okay?"

"Okay." Yep, definitely resigned.

Lowering his hand, he opened his eyes, keeping his gaze lowered toward the floor for all of a millisecond before he caught sight of her bare legs in his peripheral vision and his gaze locked onto them like they were the programmed target for the ballistic missile of his attention. Slowly, he dragged his eyes upwards, skimming over the towel she held awkwardly over front to cover up the immediately visible parts of her anatomy. It did, however, leave the swell of her hip open to his gaze, and he almost got stuck there, imagining his hand on the creamy expanse of skin; caressing, squeezing, urging.

Reluctantly, he continued scanning upwards, captivated by her bare shoulders, the way a soft pink flush was spreading down her neck from her face. Her bottom lip was between her teeth, a furrow forming in her brow as their eyes met and held for several seconds. The deep blue colour of her eyes consumed him, silencing the thoughts that had been racing through his head constantly for as long as he could remember.

Shallow breaths echoed off the walls and Carlos fought every fiber of his being to keep his hands to himself as he continued to stare. It was one thing to keep his hands at his side, and entirely another to keep his feet planted in the middle of the small bathroom. And before he knew it, he was directly in front of her, his breath causing goosebumps to erupt along the arm that clutched the towel over her chest.

She shivered and Carlos blinked, taking an abrupt step backwards. "The cuffs," he reminded himself, cutting his gaze upward to the hand secured to the bar over Steph's head. "Where's the key?"