Setting: ATF AU
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fanfiction based on the CBS television series, The Magnificent Seven. It is in no way intended to infringe on the copyrights of CBS, MGM, The Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp., or anyone else who may have legal rights to the characters, settings or song references. I don't own the characters. This story is strictly for entertainment. No monetary gain will be made from anything contained in this story.
NOTE: Big thanks, no HUGE thanks to Julie, for her invaluable, generous and wonderful medical assistance.
Cait came back into the house, having walked Grace to the school bus. She heard low voices from Brie's office, where the pretty doctor was examining her patient. She went to the kitchen to have some more coffee and was surprised to find it occupied. Chris Larabee was troubled, she saw that clearly in the brooding face that was staring out the window. The green eyes flicked to the phone, almost willing it to ring.
"More coffee?" She winced when his shoulders jumped. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."
"That's okay, you'd think I'd be used to it," he nodded as she grabbed two mugs, "it comes with Vin Territory."
She smiled, filled their cups and sat next to him. "He's made quite an impression on Grace. She was quite upset that she couldn't keep him."
Chris chuckled softly into his coffee, green eyes keen, "He's good with kids, he completely understands them. He talks to them honestly, not over their heads and never 'down' to them. There's a kid inside Vin that I lost a long time ago... I envy that in him."
For some reason, the wistful sound in his voice made her sad. "Can you tell me about Lily?"
"If I could find the right words," he said not hiding his admiration. "She is... one spectacular lady, with a capital 'L'. Wild, beautiful, intelligent, graceful, tough, willful, proud... amazing." He paused and smiled, "...and she can kick ass with the best of them."
"Wow," she grinned, hearing the pride in his tone, "You care for her very deeply."
"She saved me life," he answered honestly. At first it had been hard to look at Cait McKenna, especially the eyes. They were Sara's, so too the smile, the hair... but it wasn't Sara and he had to get used to that. "You look like her... I mean... Sara... did too. She's a gifted artist, moved to Paris at eighteen and sculpted nude males."
"Good for her!" Cait crowed, "I like her already... God that had to be radical in the... what... 1920's?"
"Radical!" he smiled, sipping the cinnamon-tinted brew. "That's Lily... this is good coffee."
"Thank you, it's Ryan's secret blend."
He was about to say something, when he caught the catch in her voice. It matched the look in her eyes when she'd seen the handsome, ex-NFL'er the night before. How could she not know? How could she marry that creep, when she was clearly in love with Ryan McKenna? "He seems like a good man."
"There's none better," she blurted, then flushed, "I mean... it's been hard for him. He's never forgiven himself for Max's death. If it wasn't for Seamus, I think we'd have lost him too. But that Old Man is a tough SOB."
"McKenna," Chris pursed his lips and thought "Seamus... the boxer?"
"The very same," she nodded. "For a year after Max died, Ryan drifted around the world, homeless and lost, his heart and soul gone. Then Seamus got sick, very sick. We almost lost him. I wired Ryan and he came home. Seamus raised the boys after their folks died. He loves that Old Man... would do anything for him. So Seamus decided to open a saloon, with Ryan's help. It's a wonderful place, Ryan has the golden touch. Good food, Guiness and Harp on tap, lots of dark wood, just like Dublin from Seamus's youth." She paused again, seeing the photo on the refrigerator of Ryan and Grace on her first day of kindergarten. "He idolizes Grace, he's a wonderful uncle... sees her every day."
Chris listened to her words and saw the light in the amethyst eyes. Such beautiful eyes... wasted on the likes of Geoff Trent, blind to Ryan McKenna. It was a terrible tragic injustice.
His eyes shifted to the clock again. Twenty minutes, it seemed like five hours. He kept swallowing, hoping for moisture. His mouth was dry, eyes wide and heart hammering so hard it hurt. Taking off his shirt had been hard enough. But when she leaned in to flick a penlight in his eyes, he moved back so fast, he almost fell off the table. The combination of the delicate almost Oriental musk and the magnificent face had overwhelmed him.
"Aw, hell..." he rasped, flushed and eased himself back upright.
"Are you dizzy?"
"No... yeah... m'cold..." he protested with a shiver, furrowing his brows. He flinched and hissed when she lifted his wrist. "What?" he inquired, seeing the pretty almost aqua eyes open fuller.
"Interesting..." she teased, turning away. She hid her smile, ashamed that she was enjoying his discomfort. Also, there was the fact that she was very attracted to him. He was very handsome, but it was more than that. It was the child in him that appealed to her, the one that Grace was so taken with. The fact he as an ATF agent and what she'd learned of him from his partner spoke volumes as well. Then there was the soft drawl and gentle smile, hinting of something very strong and deep inside.
"Ma'am?" Vin croaked, "I'm drier than a buzzard's butt... ya got anythin' left in that cooler?"
"Sorry," she replied, bringing the glucose monitor, "Just as soon as I take some blood, I want to check your sugar level."
"Ya shouldda done that afore I drank that hot chocolate and ate s'much..." He didn't even feel the pinprick. His whole body was numb. He couldn't take his eyes off of her.
"It's fine..." she replied, reading the digital marks, "Here," she handed him a bottle of cranberry juice.
"Thanks," he popped the top and drank half in one fluid motion. "...m'fine, really, can I have m'shirt?"
"No," she smiled, revealing a perfect set of white teeth. She placed the stethescope on his chest and her left hand on his neck. She bit her lip, when heard the sharp intake of air. "Your heart is racing..." she noted, moving the disc around the fine chest.
"It wouldn't be gallopin' s'bad iffen ya weren't standin' s'close..." he blurted and then rolled his eyes, "Aw, hell. I must be makin' a great impression. I reckon ya had better conversations with a corpse."
She laughed and moved the instrument around to his back, listening intently. "Take a deep breath and hold it. Okay, now breath for me, in and out..." she moved it around, "again... again..." She laid her right hand on his waist as she moved the stethescope up, this caused him to jump and yelp.
"Don't be doin' that!" his voice rose in a near panic tone.
"I'm sorry," she grinned, wiggling her fingers into the firm flesh and hearing him laugh. "Is that your tickle spot?"
"That ain't part o' the exam," he protested and squirmed. "Where's my shirt?"
"I heard some crackles."
"What?" he scrunched his face up.
"Have you been sick recently?"
"Yeah," he nodded, breathing hard as she reappeared in front of him, leaning in to move the disc around. "I caught that creepin' crud that was roamin' around. We all got it, 'cept Ezra and Buck. Reckon they got too much amorosity and that killed off all the germs. I was still coughin' and such when we got here, but I took m'medicine and Chris was harpin' on me like a old hen with a wicked itch..." he stopped and watched her try to cover up her mouth. Her shoulders were quaking in mirth and he realized how badly he was prattling.
"I'm glad you're not a talker," she smiled, handing him his shirt.
"I ain't usually s'much of a jackass," he fumbled, misbuttoning the shirt. His hands fell away as she moved in to button the shirt. "Really... I'm a normal guy... don't usually work up a blister beatin' m'gums together. Can we do this over?"
"I like you just fine, Mister Vin Tanner," she smiled, got to the collar and slid her hand along his collarbone and neck. "You're real... and that's rare and I like that... a lot... your pulse is racing again."
"I... uh... think... uh... I... need... air..." he gasped, feeling pressure in his jeans.
"That door," she nodded to the exit on the side of the room. "leads to the entry to the garden. Here," she handed him a bottle of water. She cupped the square jaw and turned those deep eyes around, "You remember what I told you when you we started this exam. That episode last night was serious. You need to rest today. I want your word, that you'll go back to the hotel and crawl in that bed."
"I can't..." he shook his head, took a long draw and slid off the table. "I don't wanna sleep... them dreams is t'rough."
"Why don't I show you my garden?" she held our her hand, "and we'll talk, okay?"
"I'm s'sorry fer all this trouble," he rasped, unsure of whether to accept the slim hand. He took a deep breath and bit his lower lip. "It was supposed t'be fun. Me and Chris in Sin City. The class was good, I learned a lot, and Chris... we had us a great time... till them things started happenin'..." He felt pressure and let her take his hand and lead him towards the door. On the wall of the hallway that led to the outside, was an oval painting. The woman in the impression was breathtakingly beautiful, dressed in a long rose gown with ivory lace trim over a low neckline. Her dark hair was gathered up in curls, her skin was a creamy light brown. "Damn!" his eyes widened in appreciation. "She yer kin? Ya look somethin' like her. She just about took all m'air away."
"Thank you," she smiled, squeezing the strong hand. He was so refreshing and unaccompanied by the usual baggage males wore. "Vin Tanner, meet Miss Olivia Josephine LaFleur. She was my great-grandmother. That was painted at the turn of the century, she was about eighteen years old. This is her home... mine now, but I feel her here."
The sun was shining, the air was sweet, as it usally is after a storm. The flowers were beautiful and they walked quietly, settling on a glider. He used his long legs to push them to and fro. He didn't even mind that she still held his hand.
Gabrielle looked at the tired profile, seeing pain lingering in the blue eyes. "You have a headache?" He nodded once and continued to stare at the flowers.
"I think... my Ma, she musta liked flowers," Vin said quietly, in a voice from long ago. "I can't remember nuthin' 'bout 'er. But whenever I see flowers, 'specially like this all set out pretty, I can almost feel her. I think maybe, when I was little feller, like Grace, I helped her with flowers in a garden like this." He stopped then, took a deep breath and smiled softly, peeking shyly at the pretty doctor. "Guess that's silly, huh?"
"No," she said in a thick voice, feeling moved by his simple words. There was that little boy again, the one that made him so very appealing. A man so strong, his gentle soul was still haunted by a mother lost too soon. She kissed his cheek and felt his skin warm under her touch. She tipped his chin and studied those lost blue eyes. "I think that's a beautiful memory, Vin Tanner and your mother, she's up in heaven, so very proud. Thank you for sharing that with me."
Vin started to say something, but could find no words. His mouth opened twice and closed again. He looked away, flushed, then nodded and squeezed her hand. Then he lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed her hand. "Thank you..." he croaked.
"You need to rest."
"If I go t'sleep... that fella'll come back... spittin' up a French alphabet at Chris. The first time it happened, I damn near choked him out... what if..." He paused, finished his water and eyed the pretty spill of blossoms.
"I don't fully understand this problem, but the link is there. You, Chris and Caitlin are connected to Isabella and Philippe. That man, the one who you travel to, needs your help. I don't know why, but denial isn't the answer. You aren't alone, Vin, you have us. Caitlin, Ryan and I will do all we can. You're close to something... maybe it's in that garden that Chris said you're so taken with. You need to find the key, then the mystery will be solved. Then those pretty eyes of yours won't house such pain."
He turned to her then, seeing a compassion in those wonderful eyes. She'd taken a couple of strangers in her home. He was unconscious, ill and lost. She'd stayed by him, nursed him and guided him through the storm. "Yer quite a woman, Ma'am... I'm real grateful fer..."
Her free hand came up to cover his lips. "If you call me Ma'am again, Mister Tanner, I'll be forced to take drastic measures."
"Sorry," he smiled, thinking on the names she'd mentioned at breakfast. "Doctor Gab... uh..." he paused, looking at her eyes, "Brielle..." then she moved a bit, as if startled and her eyes filled up. "Aw, hell, I fu... uh... screwed up again. Can't do nuthin' right..."
"No," She caught his chin and cheek, "My mother called me that, she'd been dead so long, I'd forgotten how much I liked it..."
"S'okay then?, it sure suits ya, it's awful pretty." He felt his nerves calming down and as the swing moved back and forth, he felt an ease take hold inside. He could stay here forever. "Chris has m'wallet... I can..." the hand came up again in an attempt to silence him, but he snagged it. "Okay, at least let m'take ya t'dinner, t'thank ya proper."
"I'd like that, Vin,"
"Good," he saw Chris motioning from the inside, in the kitchen. "Looks like Larabee's gotta an itch he can't scratch. I better go... six o'clock tonight okay?"
"I'm on duty at the hospital until seven, how about seven thirty?," she suggested, "there's a nice cafe with tables in a garden out back, I think you'd like it. It's got good food, it's private and very casual."
"Sounds good," Vin shrugged, as she gave him the address. They walked to the kitchen and she entered first, nodding to Chris as she went upstairs. Vin proceeded through the room into the foyer, putting his damp jacket on. "J.D. call back?"
"No, not yet," Larabee replied, "I moved the car this morning, it's out front. I left him a voicemail to email me. They're on duty today, so it won't be for awhile."
During the ride back, Chris updated Vin on the details of the night before, involving Geoff Trent. He didn't hide his disguest, as he told his partner of his suspicions. It was during a quiet moment afterwards, when Vin saw Chris turn to him with a devilish grin. The green eyes were shining with unLarabee-like mischief.
"What's wrong with yer eyes? Ya look like ya ate a fuckin' canary," he growled.
"Well?"
"Well, what?" Vin scowled.
"She a good kisser?"
"I didn't kiss her!" Vin shouted, face flushing up, "What the hell kinda question is that? Ya got balls, Larbee, ya know that! She's a real lady, a fine woman..."
"Can't blame a guy," the other replied dryly, enjoying his little revenge on Vin, "Hell, you're all moony-eyed. I bet your blood pressure shot out the top of the gage."
"I ain't not no moony-eyed." Vin shot back, unclipping his belt as they pulled up.
"...ain't not no..." the blond shook his head. "You're a real Rhodes scholar, Tanner." He followed his grumbling friend up the stairs. "So what time are you picking her up?"
"I'm meetin' her at a café near..." Vin turned around and shoved Chris's arm. "Don't be pullin' no more Pearl Harbors!" he warned of the sneak attack, "I ain't well. Brielle says I'm supposed t'rest... stay quiet like and no stress. So ya can't be shoutin' at me or fussin' and such."
"Brielle is it?" Chris goaded, shoving the squirming body through the door and towards his room. "Getting mighty personal with the good doctor." He hoped his plan worked, to get Vin's mind off the required sleep and the fearing lurking of the dark dreams. Maybe if he distracted him enough, he'd be able to forget for awhile. "She's a beautiful woman, I know a nice Cajun Grille outside town, I might ask her..."
"Ya stay away from her!" Vin shouted, popping his cranky, shaggy head out of the bathroom. "She ain't yer type."
"Really?" Chris quipped, grinning evilly. "What's not to like?" He thumped his chest. " I'm good looking, smart and know how to dress like a 'grown-up'." He paused, dropping his voice to a low, sultry, almost Barry Whitesque tone, "and I know what a lady likes...." he drolled, watching the Texan's blue eyes narrowing. "Whose type is she?"
"She's takin' a shine t'me," he boasted, shoving his bare chest out proudly. "...them scary rags ya wear wouldn't suit her. She likes me, said 'I'm real'..." With a toss of his indignant curls, he turned away, his voice trailing off towards his bedroom. He didn't see the broad, warm smile the blond now wore. He yawned and pulled the quilt back. The curtains were drawn, making the room dark and quiet. He eyed the empty glass and trotted to the ice bucket. Once his glass was full of water and ice, he returned to his bed, only to find Chris there. "How'd ya do that?"
"You're the tracker, figure it out!" Larabee grinned, handing Vin two Tylenols PM's. "They'll help you sleep." The sharpshooter's Adam's apple bobbed several times, the eyes were a large and tinged with fear. He knew where the those were headed, as they flicked to his own and back. "Yellow isn't your color, Cowboy," he reflected quietly. Vin's head jerked up, he swallowed hard and looked at the pills in the palm in front of him. He took them, set them on the table and curled up Larabee's fingers into a fist.
"If that French feller comes back," he rasped, lifting he face slowly to Chris's, "ya use this, okay?"
"Oh, Vin," Chris slumped, placing his free hand over the one Vin held over his fist. "No sorry-assed Texan or his dead French kin is gonna take down a Larabee, okay?" He waited, gripped the hand hard, but still doubt clouded the sky eyes. "I'll take care of him... you... I promise." Finally the head nodded and the hand was released. Chris gave the bare shoulder a tug and lifted a glass of water.
"I'm supposed t'keep m'fluids runnin' good," the Texan announced, sitting on the bed, "She said to push drinkin'." He paused, popping the pills and draining the glass. He rose to fill it, only to be shoved back down. The glass was taken from him and the blond disappeared into the bathroom. "...ya know, water, herbal tea, juice, Dew and such."
"You're full of shit, Tanner. She never said Dew!" Chris smirked, returning to the room. Vin was still prattling.
"...course they got new Dew... red stuff. It ain't bad, but me, I prefer the original. Can't face the day without a Dew." he yawned and blinked, eyeing the full glass of water. "I reckon it was some doctor that thunk it up...like it says 'Mountain Dew... it's gooood fer ya..."
"No doctor in their right mind would approve that shit."
"That's cause yer a snob!"
"Us grown-ups usually are," he teased, "Am I gonna lose my world class sniper to Miss Emily?"
Vin laughed then, pulled the blanket up and sank into the pillow. "She's a spunky little thing. I like t'have a little gal o'my own like that one day." he yawned, thinking of the precious five-year old. "M'okay, Chris, go make yer calls..." he sighed, already half asleep. He felt a single tug on his shoulder and heard the change in the tone. This sarcasm was gone, replaced by the deeper voice, the one he knew in his sleep. It was the one he always found when he was lost.
"I'm right here," Chris said, "Whatever happens Vin, we do it together."
Vin waited until he heard the door shut and popped his head up. Smiling, he reached into the bedside cabinet and drew out his precious green fluid. He muffled the sound of the top popping and poured the sweet soft drink into his cup. The first glassful went down easy, leaving him to moan. He refilled it, left it to chill near him and settled back down.
"Nectar of the Gods..." he murmured, belching a brief burst of Dewness out, before letting Larabee's words and the pretty face of the doctor lull him to sleep.
While Chris used the afternoon to catch up on a weeks worth of emails, work and other job related matters, Nigel Bates was busy. He watched two enter and went to the garden. Using high-intensity binoculars, he studied the room above. If the pattern from their previous nights held true, they'd be leaving for dinner after six sometime. He'd follow them and be waiting.
The Whiz Kid went to work, making himself to home in Chris's study. The leader had the very best computer equipment and a lightning fast server. J.D. Dunne crackled his knuckles in anticipation, as the screen lit up.
"You scare me, J.D." Buck Wilmington shook his head. "How long before you have anything?"
"Depends, but it won't be for a few hours."
"I'm gonna head over to Lily's, make her some dinner. You sure you don't want to come?"
"Nah, too much to do, Chris's got frozen pizza, I'll eat later."
Buck watched amazed for a moment as the youth's fingers flew across the keyboard. They had a brief meeting at Ezra's, after work. Buck and Josiah each told them what they knew, based on their conversation with Chris Larabee. They decided to keep it to themselves. Buck was still surprised that Chris trusted him with telling Lily. He didn't know exactly what he'd say, but he knew that his oldest friend wouldn't have asked, had it not been vital. He'd never risk Lily's life. What information he did speak of, was a possible link connecting Lily's journal and the murderer of the Larabee family. He picked up a photo taken on Adam's first birthday. It was on the desk and showed Chris sound asleep. The cherubic toddler, with a face covered in vanilla icing, was kissing his father's face.
"I can come with you."
Buck smiled, put the photo down and turned to face the young man who had become such a part of his life. He saw so much promise in those hazel eyes, fueled with enthusiasm. He pulled his coat on and picked up his car keys.
"Thanks, Kid," he ruffled the unruly black locks and pointed to the monitor. "You work your magic here, Chris only hires the best."
"That's why you were first on his list," Dunne countered, with a sly grin.
"Hell, Son, I'm first on most of the lists in town, just ask any single female between eighteen and eighty with a pulse."
"Oh brother!" the youth rolled his eyes and went back to work.
Chris moved through the darkened room, letting the light from the bathroom guide him. Vin slept soundly, without incident for most of the day. He gently shook the blanketed shoulder several times, until a face appeared. Sometimes, the leader thought his best friend was part mole. Vin 'burrowed' when he slept, exposing little of himself.
"Hey, you alive?"
"Wh...a...t..." Vin croaked, blinking through slits at a body. "Chris? ...time is it?"
"Six-thirty, you need to shower and change."
"Yeah, okay, thanks..." he sat up and licked his dry mouth. Clothes? He frowned, wondering what he had clean. He popped the light on, them hissed in pain as the harsh illumination cut into his eyes. After adjusting, he made his way to the closet.
"What the hell?" He eyed the neatly pressed, clean pair of faded jeans, white cotton shirt and his lucky bolo tie. They were laid out over two chairs. He chucked his sweat pants off and headed to the bathroom. He popped his head into Larabee's room, watching the blond typing on this laptop.
"Ya tell that maid, she does right fine work," he called out.
"You don't pay her enough, she might walk."
"...'s'that right?" Vin grinned, "She'd miss me t'much! Don't know if m'jeans will recover. They ain't never been laid by hot metal 'fore."
"I'd never have guessed that," Larabee quipped, eyeing his relaxed friend. Vin looked much better, the rest had been the right prescription.
"Ya didn't have t'fuss, I'dda found somethin' clean," Vin paused, "thanks."
"Speaking of clean, what's the deal with your socks?"
"...s'wrong with m'socks?" Vin's brows crossed.
"None of them match!"
"So?"
Chris laughed then, not at the blank stare but the total innocence in the reply. No, to Vin it didn't matter, that was part of the beauty of the man.
"Get hosed off, Prince Charming... you'll miss the carriage!"
Thirty minutes later, the two departed, unaware they were being followed.
"Here it is," Chris pointed to the sign adorned with a shamrock and a harp reading 'Seamus's Saloon'. "You and Brie come here after dinner, I'm sure by then J.D. will have something."
"Okay," Vin nodded, mentally making a map in his head, tracing the streets of the French Quarter. "It's crowded Chris, just let me out here." There was no reply and Vin's mouth formed a grim line. "I'm a big boy, Larabee, I'll be fine." Still no reply, then the century old restaurant came into view.
"There she is," Chris nodded to the window, through which the beautiful doctor could be seen. He glanced sideways and saw Vin's hands balled into fists. He hid his grin, enjoying the nervous younger man's anxiety. "Maybe I should come in, she sure looks nice."
"Maybe ya outta take yer interferin' ass elsewheres..." Vin chastised, unbuckling his belt. He paused a moment, eyeing the attire of the woman he was meeting. She was almost as tall as he was. The pale aqua mid-calf length dress she wore set off her complexion and eyes. He ran a hand over his plain shirt and pants and frowned.
"You look fine," Chris offered quietly, "You're real, remember?" He waited but Vin made no move to leave. "For the right price, you could have borrowed some of my... what was that charming phrase you used... oh... scary rags."
"Hah!" Vin chuckled nervously, "Me wearin' yer rags, now that's scary. Guess I better make tracks." He eased his lean body from the car, shutting the door.
"Hey," Chris called through Vin's open window, watching the younger man turn, "Have a good time, okay?"
"Chris, over here," Ryan McKenna called out, watching the lean man enter the bar. He smiled as every pair of females eyes followed the form fitting black-denim pants through the crowded room. He stuck his hand out, gripping the other's firmly. "Guiness?" he asked.
"Yeah," Chris nodded, eyeing the handsomly appointed room. "Nice place."
"Thanks," Ryan's height carried his head above the crowd, "Mac, another round. You eat?" he asked and the blond head shook. "We make a pretty mean roast beef sandwich."
"Sounds good," Chris sat down at the middle chair of the table, which would seat six. He tucked his sunglasses in the pocket of his black leather jacket, which he hung on the back of the chair.
"That tongue of yers is telling long tales again, Boyo," a deep, gruff voice bellowed. "There's no 'we', it's me own secret recipe. Move... move... yer in me way." he swung the cane at his handsome grandson.
"Christ, would you watch where you swing that thing, Old Man?" Ryan growled, moving so the elderly man could take the nearest chair. "Chris Larabee, this is my grandfather, Seamus McKenna. Chris and his friend Vin Tanner are the ATF agents I told you about."
"It's a pleasure, Sir, I'm a big boxing fan and you were one of the best. I've got three of your fights on tape... the one against Barry Caulfield in London in '53 is a classic."
"Why didn't ye tell me this young man had such good taste." He joked, shaking the man's hand. "Ye've a good solid hand, Lad, I like that. Ryan, where's me supper? Me belly thinks me throat's been cut..." He frowned as a tall glass of ice tea appeared in front of him. "I'll not be drinkin' this horse piss. Where's me stout?"
"In the tap where is belongs," Ryan countered, "Don't start! You're not mixing that heart medicine with any more beer. Everybody is under orders."
"Yer all out of me will!" He growled at the chuckling employees. "It's a sad day when the breadwinner can't wet his whistle."
"Breadwinner!" Ryan choked, moving as a waiter appeared with a large tray. "You've been retired for twenty years." Two mugs of stout appeared, with two hefty platters. Long, crusty French bread dusted with garlic butter was piled high with rare roast beer, melted sharp cheese. A pile of cajun fries and some hot pickles completed the entrees.
"Where's me supper!" He demanded, eyeing the empty spot where a meal should be.
"Oh," Chris said, one half of the large sandwich in his hands. "Here, Sir, take this one."
"No, Chris, that yours," Ryan denied, waving his hand."Mike, is it ready?"
"Coming up, Ryan!" the waiter disappeared.
"Ye listen to me Boyo," the white-haired man spoke irately, "If ye make me eat another fuckin' fish, I'll be spoutin' gills."
Chris had taken a large bite of the delicious sandwich, which was outstanding. He tossed some horseradish on it for good measure. He sat back and enjoyed the bantering between the two men, whose affection was obvious to all present. He imagined that Seamus must have been one tough customer in his day. He still was in good shape and undoutedly Ryan helped.
"Did you hear anything?" Ryan asked, chomping on a pickle.
"Not yet, but J.D.'s gonna call me as soon as he gets something. How much do you know about Geoff Trent?" Before the other man could answer, an clearly disgusted reply came from their eldery counterpart.
"Harmmpphh!" Seamus shoved his grilled chicken away, "The day won't dawn soon enough fer the likes of the snake to be playing poker with the devil."
"Ouch!" Chris sat back, watching the twin looks of rage on both faces. "You don't like him either?"
"I don't and that's a fact. I have me reasons." Seamus touted, patting his chest. "Right here... never failed me yet. I'll not have him marryin' me granddaughter. I'll slit him from his neck to his balls first."
Chris jumped as the heavy black thorn walking stick rapped hard on the wood floor. "I'm glad he's on our side," he deadpanned. "Ryan?" He broke the trace of the other man, whose face was darkened with rage.
"He's well connected, the brass in the department like him. He gets good ink on the biggest busts," he noted of the numerous times the detective's face appeared in the paper. "Lots of citations and awards."
"You think he's dirty?"
"I checked around, I've got some regulars who know the talk on the street. There's been some questionable deaths of suspects he's caught. Most of them tied to the drug market. They die off mysteriously before they can reveal too much."
"Translation, he's up to his balls in graft." Chris took a large swig, "He's dirty... I wish to hell I knew how he knew me."
"Maybe he has a partner... someone keeping tabs on you and Tanner." Ryan suggested.
"Or maybe that devil's fangs are deeper then we thought," Seamus stated, "Did ye not tell me he transferred from out of state?"
"Yeah... he's been around. He was dirt poor, raised by an aunt. His mother was a junkie. Put himself though college. Everytime he transfers, he leaves behind a string of 'questionable' actions."
"Denver?" Chris wonderd aloud, thinking maybe somehow, he'd interferred with Trent's drug business.
"No, sorry Chris," Ryan flipped out a notebook. "But I did find out he was linked to the panel that investigated the Moreau estate."
"Bingo!" Chris drew a dollar sign on the table. "That's his angle. I bet he was the bankroll behind your brother's investigation. Somehow, he wanted to know about the missing heir."
"Heiress..." Ryan corrected, "That fuckin' animal! He wants proof that Cait is the rightful heir, that's why he's been pressuring her to marry him quick. I'm gonna beat the truth out of him!"
"Ye'll stop talkin' nonsense!" Seamus hissed, locking one large hand on the tense blue shirt of his pride and joy. "Ye've no proof and he's a powerful man. He's got the whole police department to cover his back."
"Your grandfather's right, Ryan," Chris agreed, swallowing another bite of the sandwich. "As long as he doesn't know we're on to him, we have the advantage. I want to nail this bastard too."
Reluctantly, Ryan nodded, releasing a pent up breath. He took several more, before covering the gnarled strong hand with his own. "Thanks, Old Man."
"Now that ye've yer wits about ye again, can I have some real food? This poor bird is dyin' all over again in me gut."
Chris chuckled as the two began to barb again. He flicked an eye on his watch wondering how both J.D. and Vin were faring.
To Vin, it seemed like no one else was in the quaint courtyard. The magnolias were teasing his nose, the tantilizing food was tickling his belly and the sound of Gabrielle Marquette's laugh was the sweetest music he'd ever heard. The spicy soup was followed by fried catfish, a first for him. He normally didn't eat fish, but she said it was heavenly here and she was right! It was tender and melted in his mouth. They killed a bottle of white sangria and then had New Orleans coffee with dessert. She had melon sorbet. Of course, he had chocolate. Triple chocolate mousse to be exact. White, dark and milk, layered in a pie with a dark chocolate crunchy crust, drizzled in chocolate and sprinked with shavings.
The conversation was light and easy. He told her of the hard years before he joined the team and the redemption he found since. She spoke of her parent's deaths and how Cait and her family were like her own. She talked about her job, how the hectic pace of the hospital, complimented the slower pace of her practice. Before they knew it, the bill was paid and they were walking back towards the Saloon. They strolled hand in hand, the light breeze welcoming their every step. Vin couldn't believe it was ten thirty! He studied her face and saw the weariness there. He'd been in enough hospitals to know that the pace is exhausting.
"Ya look tired," he commented, then noticed her shivering. "Here..." he slipped his time worn leather jacket off and put it around her shoulders. "Better?" he asked and saw her smile.
"You have something right there," she moved in front on him, leaning close.
"Where?" Vin rasped hoarsely, feeling her body melting against his.
"Right here..." she ran her champagne coated fingernail across his sensual lip. "I can fix it..."
"Yer the Doc..." he whispered, pulling her close and kissing her. His hands resting above the curve of her back. He felt her delicate touch at the nape of his neck. Hefelt an explosion of color and fire inside, as their tongues clashed. He groaned in pleasure, before releasing her.
"That's another hidden talent you neglected to tell me about," she smiled, watching him blush.
"Ya got a real trio o'trouble there," he noted, kissing her softly again. God she tasted good. "Them lips, teeth and tongue outta be registered with the Feds... they're more lethal than the piece I pack." He felt his face flame again as she glanced below his belt. "...the gun... I meant m'gun. Yer bad!" He challenged, "Ya done that on purpose!"
"Guilty as charged," she laughed, raised her hand as if under oath. "You sure do blush pretty!" She snuggled closer, forcing him back against a pole at the street corner. "What's my punishment, Officer?"
"Depends," Vin murmured, carressing the skin on her neck and shoulders. "I need t'do a thorough investigation..." He kissed her again, deep and powerful, giving them both chills. He pulled her close then, the top of the feathered dark hair resting under his chin. "It's gettin' late. I'll check in with Chris and get ya home."
"No, Chris wants to talk to you," she burrowed closer, enjoying the warmth of his skin against her cheek. "My car is right over there," she pointed to a dusty blue Rav parked nearby.
"Chic car," he commented, earning him a nip on his neck.
"Don't be doin' that!" Vin hissed, pushing her away. "Ya best get goin' or I won't be able to let ya go."
"Okay," She let him walk he to the car, they kissed again and she cupped his face. "Thank you, Vin Tanner for a wonderful night. Tomorrow, I get off early. How about you let me cook you a slow dinner."
"I like slow," he managed, wondering how much higher his temperature could rise. He shut the door behind her and watched her drive away.
"Vin!" Chris called out, as his friend arrived. It took him a minute to figure out the new look he wore. The flustered face and large blue eyes were accented by a high color on his cheeks. Then he got closer and the blond hid a smile. He handed Vin a napkin on the sly, whispering in his ear."You got lipstick on your neck, Romeo." He heard the tsk on the lip as the evidence was wiped away. He led the quiet man to the table, pausing to eye the back of his pants.
"What's wrong?" Vin asked, trying to look behind.
"Yup," the blond nodded, patting the firm backside of his friend. "That arrow hit your sorry, Tanner ass dead on."
"Arrow?" Vin's face puzzled.
"Cupid!" Chris whispered, wagged a single eyebrow and walked to the table. He made the introductions. Vin sat next to Chris on the other side of the two McKenna's across.
"The Kid call?" he asked Chris, before taking large gulp of soda.
"Yeah," the other replied, "he's emailing me what he found. We can check it when we get back." He said no more, the information the youth relayed was still reeling in his head. He wanted to tell Vin in private. "We came up with some stuff on Trent."
For another half hour, they discussed theories, plausible and not. It was late and they decided to meet again the following afternoon. Ryan stood and gripped Chris's hand, locking his deep blue eyes onto the other man's green ones.
"What you're doing, it's above and beyond, Chris, I want you know how grateful I am."
"I gotta feeling, Ryan," Chris leveled, "that before this mess is over, I'm going to be the grateful one. That bastard knows me from somewhere, and I have to find out the 'whys' and 'hows'. It's good to know you're on my team."
With that, they left, walking in silence past several streets, as their brisk pace quickly made the walk shorter.
"Where ya parked?" Vin asked, eyeing the narrow, dark street.
"At the corner," Chris replied, starting to walk away. His arm was snagged and he turned back. "What?" He inquired of the intense blue stare.
"Ya tell me now, what'd J.D. find out!"
"Okay, Vin," he sighed, ran a hand through his short blond hair and pulled the mental notes out of his head. "Your mother's maiden name was Dubonnet. Her father, Peter, was killed in sixty-three in Viet Nam. He was born in 1925 in Lafayette, Louisanna." He paused then, not quite sure of what the reaction would be.
"Spill it!" Vin demanded, grabbing Chris's arm.
"Peter's father was Pierre Dubonnet. He was born in 1886. He has a twin brother, Vin, named Philippe." But before he could finish, he found himself sitting in the gutter. "Vin! Vin wait!"
"Aw, shit!" Vin hollered, shoving Chris hard and running away. It didn't matter where, he just needed to escape. The images slammed into him again, hard and cutting a painful trek in his brain. He cried out, stumbling as the woods, river and laughing faces appeared again. Then the other face, whose features were now all too familiar. Philippe Dubonnet's face seemed real because it was so like the one in the mirror he saw each day. What did this all mean? Why was he being sought out?
"Now!" Trent hissed, shoving Bates into action.
Chris rose just in time to see a car speeding up the street. A small dark car with no plates. The only thing in it's path was...
"Vin!" He screamed, "Look out!" He watched in horror as the dazed Texan seemed unaware of his words. The nimble body disappeard down an alley, the car in pursuit. "Shit!" He took off, racing quickly to the alley.
One minute he was fine, the next he was thrown into a wall. He grunted and crumpled on the ground, all his wind taken from him. He choked and gasped, dizzy and nearly blacking out. He smelled fuel, burning rubber and heard a car door slam. Then he heard a loud growl and saw Chris fly by. He wanted to call out, to warn his friend, but his lungs hadn't recovered yet.
It was nearly pitch black and Chris saw only a hint of shadowed flesh. A body was on the ground on it's side. There was no movement, but he heard coughing and choking. Vin was hurt! He ran to pull his friend from harm's way. He realized his mistake too late, just as the pain exploded in his skull and the scream left his lips.
It seemed to be in slow motion, the club the blond never saw rose high above him and slammed into his head. Blood... blood gushed over Larabee's features as he fell hard on the ground, not moving.
"Welcome to hell, Mister Tanner," a voice whispered in his ear. He felt two hands roughly shove him on his stomach and pull his hands painfully together. There were voices, but he was struggling to stay awake and they sounded like insects buzzing in his ear. Chris... Chris... he tried to see, but the inky blackness of the dark alley made it impossible.
Buck paused in the doorway of the studio, bearing an expensive Oriental wood tray with inlaid colorful tiles. Lily's home was full of such tasteful treasures. Thanks to her worldwide travels, she was an avid collector of antiques and antiquities. He ducked his tall frame through the doorway and set the pretty tray on a table. It held a pot of tea, two delicate blue and white China mugs from Holland and a plate of shortbread cookies. Lily still loved to cook and bake. He moved behind her silently, admiring the steady stroke of her hand. It was a charcoal sketch of Adam at about four years of age. His hands were folded in prayer and his eyes gazing heavenward. He waited until she put the stick down and then gently hugged her shoulders, kissing her cheek.
"Marry me?"
The fine lines of age only seemed to add to her beauty. She smiled and felt her whole chest fill with warmth. She stood up and fell into the strong embrace, her love for this special young man was genuine. For a moment, she relaxed against him, then her hand playfully slipped lower, patting his butt.
"Sorry Stud, I like my men young and firm!"
"Hey!" Buck yelped, chuckling and escorting the timeless beauty to the table. "Don't be bruisin' the merchandise unless you're buyin' some."
"HAH!" she laughed, "I'll pass. I like my 'merchandise' young and fresh."
"Here you are, Darlin'... hot and sweet," he winked and felt his hand gripped. The smile faded and her eyes filled with concern.
"Now are you going to tell me what's been bothering you all evening?" She inquired.
"It's that obvious?"
"I know you, Buck Wilmington," she sipped her tea and watched his large hands caress the delicate cup within them with grace and agility. She heard his deep sigh and saw the cup tremble a bit, before he set it back down.
Buck studied the pattern of the colorful tiles on the tray. Sometimes, Chris Larabee trusted him too much. How could he possibly find the words? How could he tell her what Chris told him? It had taken her so long to recover from losing Sara and Adam. Now, that would be dug up again. Then you add the missing sister and the family legacy. He sighed again, gripped the edges of the antique Oriental chair and dropped his head down.
The only thing that she could think of, that would bring such pain to the handsome young man, was one thing. Her heart clenched and her breath caught. Chris and Vin were out of town.
"Oh no," she gasped, "It's Chris? Something's happened? Oh my..."
"No, Lily," Buck's head shot up and he rose, seeing her trembling. The tea forgotten, he gathered her up and walked to the bench nearby. He sat down, keeping her close and holding on to her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. Chris is fine, I talked to him last night."
"Vin?" she drew her head up, she cared deeply for the quiet, young Texan. He brought a healing peace to her grandson that she rejoiced in. She worried, in these last few years, as her age crept higher. She worried what would happen to him, should she die. Now, he had a brother to care for him.
"Vin's okay..." he reassured, "Chris asked me for a favor, Lily, a big one. He needs information from your journal."
"What kind of information?" She pulled back, a little angry. "What for?"
"Uh... Chris met some people in New Orleans. It turns out, he thinks that," he sighed again, raking a hand through his dark hair, "...they're related to you. That's why he needs the book. To see if there is something in there that would confirm it."
She remained silent, then stood up, walking to an old picture. It was taken when she graduated from high school. Not long after, Sara showed her the book. The beginning of it was written in a stranger's hand... a stranger who had her eyes. An unknown brave woman with mother love that still stroked her, even today. Sara's hand continued the passages, telling of a murder on a river. It told of a chuch and a baby taken away. She thought of the lone sketch in the beginning of the book. It covered two pages, of a handsome young man with long, curling black hair holding two babies on his lap. Each one bearing a heart shaped locket.
"I've thought about her often," she whispered, eyeing her beloved older sister Sara in the photo. "My missing sister... the baby that God took."
"God?" Buck puzzled, "You knew about her?"
"I knew I had a twin," she held out her hand and he stood and took it, letting her lead him back into the main part of the house. "Bring up that fire, Sweetheart," she asked, pointing the hearth. She left for a moment, going into her bedroom to the safe in the corner. When she returned, the golden and orange flames were dancing and the tall man was settled on the couch. She sat next to him, resting the leather bound book on both their legs. "My mother, Isabella, began this journal on the night she wed Phillippe Dubonnet. She added to it, writing her love for him and later of their babies. I cannot show your that part, it's private."
"Of course it is, Lily," Buck's voice caught, "You don't have to show me any of it, I don't want to pry..." His words were cut off when a small hand covered his lips.
"Nonense," she snapped, "you may not be so young and ripe anymore, but you're family and I love you."
"Darlin'" Buck gasped, kissing the strong, tiny hand, "Sometimes, you take my breath away."
"This," she opened to the book to the old sketch, "is my father holding us. Sara said he drew it the night before he was murdered."
"Murdered?" Buck cringed, "by who?"
"You have to understand, Sara was only ten when she witnessed this. It scarred her for life, she was always in fear that he'd find her... us... and kill us too. Money will do that... he was a very powerful man who was ruthless and cruel."
"You knew him?"
"Of him... Raoul Moreau..." she paused, "Not at first, that took many years. Sara would never tell me. I found later, after she died."
"Buy why?" Buck shook his head, "If you knew you were her child...her heir..."
"I promised Sara, when I was eighteen, to leave it alone. She was terrified of him, had nightmares for years. That is what fueled me to succeed. I didn't need or want that money. I didn't know she was alive," her finger went to the other baby. "...or I would have fought for her. Sara said that God chose to give her to the other couple. The a light came through the Blessed Virgin's image in window that day and shone on the other baby. That light guided the other couple to the baby. She was a child, Buck, only ten and had just seen a friend brutally murdered. She had no one... she was alone in the world. She took me on a train, alone to find a man she'd never met. Our father... she gave me my life, Buck, in the woods that night and every day after. I cannot imagine being that brave, can you?"
"No," Buck admitted, staring at the picture.
"I gave her my word, Buck," Lily stated simply, touching the heart that dangled from her neck. "She was everything to me, saved my life many times. Gave me a family, everything came from her. I gave her my word..."
"I wish I knew her," Buck replied, wondering about the woman who drew such admiration from Lily Gavin. Perhaps if J.D. had not called with the information he found out, he wouldn't have seen it. But now, looking at the old, black lead strokes on tinged paper, the image of the murdered victim was eerily familiar. Some of the features were different, but still, he could see Vin there. "There something else you need to know..." He began, and told her the rest of the story.
Geoff Trent's hand twisted the long locks of Tanner's hair painfully. Silver cuffs bound the victim's hands behind his back. He knelt on the younger man's lower back hard, driving his knee into the tender area with force. This action brought silent pain and took the other's air away. Like a air-drowned guppy, his mouth worked and the eyes were wide and dazed. Then the whole body lost air, the eyes fluttered shut and the muscles sagged beneath his weight. A shrill scream brought his head up. Behind the car, on the other side, where Larabee was lying, was a cluster of tourists. He cursed under his breath, unlocked the cuffs and peeked up cautiously.
"Somebody call 911, there's been an accident..."
"This guy's alive... where's the driver?"
"I can't see anything... wait... there's somebody behind the car..."
The voices were getting too close. Cursing Bate's stupidity, he ground Tanner's face hard into the dirt, silently vowing a return match. Then he slipped around the large dumpster behind the car and silently walked quickly to the end of the alley. He turned fast, found his own vehicle and went ahead to the hospital. No one in the Emergency Room would question a police dectective investigating a crime. After all, Vin Tanner was the lone witness and a thorough questioning was required. He smiled, planned out his night and turned onto the highway.
He was cold, that was his first conscious thought. He way lying on his back and someone was talking. It was a strange accent, thick and syrupy. He furrowed his brows, moaned and moved his head.
"Hey, Chèr, yuh wake up fuh me?"
"Wh...at..." Vin muttered, peeling his eyes open. A heavy dark woman's face, loomed above. Her teeth were extremly white.
"That's bettah..." the policewoman kept one strong hand on his shoulder, forcing him to remain on the ground. "Don't move... yuh could be hurt. Yuh remember what happened?"
"Uh..." Vin's eyes widened as the rest of the world came into focus. He was on his back in an alley. A large car was parked a few yards away. The rancid odor of feces, urine, vomit and garbage filled his nose. Large, metal bins of garbage were nearby. An image formed, Chris's face and blood.
"Chris!" he whispered, trying to move. Again, the strong hands held him down.
"Now yuh lie still and don't get Louise mad, Chèr," she turned as the ambulance left. "That blond man we found, is he 'Chris'?"
"Yeah, I'm Vin Tanner. He's Larabee, we're Denver ATF. Someone attacked us. I heard him holler and jumped, hit the wall hard. Somebody used a... a... club r'somethin' hit him hard." Vin nodded, taking a deep breath. "Is is dead?"
"No, he's on his way to the ER, yuh just lie still, there's another wagon comin' fuh yuh." She soothed, studying the worried face. "Yuh see who did this?"
"No, it was t'dark... sorry. I remember hittin' the wall, seein' Chris g'down and then lookin' at yer face." Vin raised both arms and tested his legs, "Nothin' broke... I'm fine. Can ya take me there?"
"Hold on," she said, watching the Emergency Medical Team pull up. "He seems okay," she moved away. "He hit the wall tryin' to dodge the car. Yuh got this? I gotta call in..."
"Yeah, Sarge," Tillis answered Sgt. Louise Hinton, "Go ahead. How you doing, Sir?"
"I'm fine," Vin replied surly, he was angry now. All he wanted was a ride to see Chris. "Let me up!"
"If you cooperate, we'll get done faster," Tillis warned, his veteran training come in handy. For five minutes the squirming irate visitor endured the exam. Finally, he helped the young man stand. "You're lucky, it's just minor cuts and bruises. You're going to be very stiff and sore."
"Thanks," Vin shoved away, walking to the police car. "I need a ride..."
"Get in," she answered, watching him clip the seatbelt. "I need tuh finish muh report anyway. Let's see how yuh friend is doin', Chèr."
The pounding between his temples only increased as the hours passed by. The simple actions became numbing with routineness. He paced the length of the very crowded ER. He passed the same moaning sick people, the young man with a bloody hand wrapped ina towel, a couple with a sick baby and other assorted drunks and injured people. There were no free chairs and his whole body throbbed. He paced, went to the admittance window and got the same nasty woman.
"No, I've told you I don't have any information," she intercepted the question before it went airborne. "If you don't stop pestering me, I'll be forced to call security!"
"Look!" Vin hissed through clenched teeth, amazed that he could still stand. Every inch of flesh was throbbing and his skull was about to explode. He was worried about Chris and tired of getting a brick wall for a reply. "I ain't askin' fer much. I gotta friend bad hurt. Can't ya jes' call back there and find out if he's alive?"
"Sit down, take a number and wait your turn!" She drilled, picked up the clipboard and raised her voice. "Fisher!"
"Look Lady, I've been waitin' ferever!" Vin gripped the edges of the oval cut in the glass separating them. "...long 'afore them..."
"Don't touch that glass!" She cried out, "You were warned." She moved past the desk, out a side entrance and waited until the couple with the sick baby came through the door. She watched the long-haired stranger curse and punch the wall. She was tired and hot and underpaid. Twelve hours was about four too long for this shift. She didn't need him harping on her every five minutes. She had protocol to follow and too many sick people that needed help. After seating the couple in a cubicle, she spotted a tall man with dark hair and mustache. He'd been lingering around the ER, asking the nurses questions about that blond man brought in earlier. He was the one the cursing creep was asking about. Seeing the gold shield clipped to his belt, she approached him and told him about the pest.
"I'll take care of it," he smiled, seeing the blue-eyed fly land in his web. "I want to question anyway about the attack."
"Is he a suspect?" She put her hand to her throat, recalling his anger.
"He might be, we're not sure."
"I'm not surprised," she huffed, "Those long-haired types are always high or something. He threatened me and punched the partition!"
"Where is he now?" Trent asked.
"Just outside, in the waiting area."
"Thanks!"
Vin went to the bathroom just off the Emergency Room and took his jacket off. He unbuttoned his shirt, eyeing the colorful bruises on his chest. He knew by the pain in his hip, they extended down there. He washed his face good and sighed. He eyed the hour of five a.m. approaching. He didn't want to bother Brielle during the night. She'd lost sleep the night before taking care of him and was exhausted. She'd be up now, he'd try to phone Buck again, then call her.
He dried his face on a clump of paper towels and reasoned with himself again. Chris was okay, or he'd have heard. No news is good news, right? Grabbing his jacket, he left the bathroom and saw a small area on the other side. It had three pay phones, some plastic chairs and vending machines. His stomach rumbled and he knew some of the dizziness he felt was his sugar level dropping. He dropped some coins in the box, punched out A5 and a chocolate bar fell down. It went down easy and he tossed the paper away, pulled out some change and headed to the phone.
He'd left messages at J.D.'s and Buck's, but nobody paged him back. He'd given the hospital's name, figuring they would call back and page him. He closed his eyes, the tension headache was rising in red rebellion. What was Buck's cellphone? Think... think... the numbers swam together. Fumbling with his change, he dialed the number.
Buck peered through the foggy night, carefully manuevering the strange road. His phone rang and he pulled the car over and put it into park. He didn't want to tangle with the phone on a curvy road in the dark.
"Hello?"
"Buck!" Vin's voice rose in elation, then fell into anger.
"Vin? What's wrong?"
"Where the hell have ya been? I've been callin' ya all night! Chris is hurt bad nobody'll tell me nuthin' m'nerves's fried he had blood over his head that tightassed ER bitch better not show her fuckin' ass on the other side o'the winda iffen she knows what's good fer 'er..."
"Slow down!" Buck hollered of the long string of high, pitched words that tumbled from the phone in a drawling rush. He put a few key ones together and frowned. Vin was undoubtedly calling from a hospital. Chris was hurt and nobody was telling him anything. "What happened to Chris? Are you hurt? Where are you?"
"We wuz jumped late... round midnight? Hell, I can't recall," Vin pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes, unaware he was being watched. "I don't know what happened. We wuz walkin' t'the car, Chris hollered at me, I jumped and hit a wall, a car damn near hit me. Then somebody hit Chris on the head. I seen blood, then nuthin' 'til the cops woke me up. This fuckin' ER is 'bout fried m'last nerve. They won't tell me shit! I don't even know if he's alive..."
Buck winced at the pain in the voice and eyed the road again. "Where are you, Vin?" He listened carefully and pulled out the map in the glove compartment of the rental car. "You hold on, Slick, the calvary is coming. My flight landed an hour ago and I'm headed your way."
"Yer here!" Vin's eyes snapped open. "In New Orleans? Shit!" he sighed in relief, "Aw, hell..." letting it ooze through the phone. He took several steadying breaths and opened his eyes.
"You okay Vin?" Buck worried, knowing the Texan all too well.
"'m now," he replied in a hushed whisper, needing desperately to feel Buck's strong hands now. "Hurry Bucklin, okay?"
"Yeah," the older man replied, wanting to reach through the phone and take the fear out of the blue eyes he knew were wide and troubled. "You hold on, Vin, I'm not far."
Vin was about to reply, when he saw a familiar face reflecting in the mirrored silver atop the vending machine. He placed the phone on the ledge and turned around, his chest exploding in rage.
"I'm gonna fuckin' kill ya!" he whispered, as a fog settled over the room. The smell of the river returned, as the feel of blood on his face came back. The young man with reddish hair in the silver car exploded again... Sara and Adam being murdered all danced before him. The words came to him again. "...remember his face... know the eye of the deceiver... protect yer bloodline..." he hissed.
"Vin!" Buck hollered in the phone, "What's going on? Vin... Vin..." It wasn't just the sharpshooter's words that troubled him, it was the trancelike tone in his voice. The next sentences uttered by his lost friend, send a knife into his heart.
"Ya murdered Sara and Adam Larabee and the feller in the silver car. Yer gonna pay fer that. I'm gonna hurt ya fer that. Ye'll never touch Cait... I won't let ya... I'll kill ya first."
"Vin!" Buck screamed, hearing signs of a scuffle, then dialtone. "Shit!" He returned to the road and headed for the hospital, hoping he wasn't too late.
The scuffle was brief. He was caught off guard by Tanner's comments. How did he know about McKenna and Larabee's murders? Had Fowler talked? He'd find out soon enough, the well paid hit man was meeting them deep in the bayou. Trent allowed the slim man to get the first two punches in, before overpowering him. He shoved the struggling prisoner-to-be onto his belly and cuffed him. They were between the vending machines and trash dumpster, totally out of view. He withdrew the syringe and held it in his teeth, while ripping the thin fabric of the other's man's white shirt. He stabbed the arm easily, letting the dosage of Valium overtake him. Within minutes, the struggling protestor went limp. He slid the syringe in his pocket and hauled the dazed, stuperous man upright.
"Everything okay over here?" A security guard who had been alerted by a passerby stood in the entryway. "Oh, it's you , Sir," he nodded, recognizing the police detective. They'd crossed paths several times over the past few years, during the night shift in the hectic innercity ER.
"Yeah, Doug," Trent answered the other man who trusted him. "Hophead, I'm taking him in for questioning."
"Okay," the guard backed away, watching the tall, strong dectective easily manuever the starry-eyed prisoner through the doors.
"Listen up, Tanner!" Trent hissed, shoving the staggering man hard into the back of a paneled van. "You're gonna have a nice rest while we take a ride way out into the country. I've got a place your friend will never find. I've got some nice tools to help me loosen that tongue of yours. I want that book and you're gonna tell me where it is!" He twisted the limp body around, gripping him by the front of his shirt, now flecked with blood from the cut lip. One hand was keeping the young man upright, the other cupped the dazed man's cheeks. "That face of yours won't be so pretty when I'm done with you." He laughed, tapped the drooling victim's jaw and shoved him inside on his back. "Looks like you're gonna get to see some alligators after all, real close up."
Everything was slow and fuzzy. He couldn't focus and he could heart heart slowly thumping in his ears. It was hard to breath and his tongue felt like it was crowding his mouth. He heard the killer's words, the voice was long, deep and garbled. The features on the other mans' face were thick and distorted. He felt his boots and socks pulled off and his naked feet tied together. The metallic taste of blood pooled in his mouth, as he rolled on his side. A door slammed, he was thrust into darkness. He couldn't remember anything...no thoughts at all. The gentle motion of the van and the sound of the motor lulled him to sleep. He slept blissfully, unaware he was being driven to a torture chamber.
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