"Hell if I know."

"Jay's still out in Texas. I can get a hold of him and send him your way." ?

"I got business in Boston. Something I gotta take care of."

"Business, eh? You tellin' me it ain't none o' mine?"

"It's my problem. I can handle it.?

"Sounds like yer doing a bang up job, so far."

"I was doing just fine til Guido called his goons in."

"Guido?" Stone chuckled.

?Yeah, do you believe it?"

?How much, Dris? Don't fuck with me."

"Fifty, but the bastard wants seventy-five."

A sigh on the other end of the of the line. "How late are you?"

"I don't know. A few weeks, I guess."

"Few weeks, my ass."

"I needed the money."

"You wouldn'ta had to shoot 'em if it was a few weeks. Chris...you should'a come to me."

"Why? So you can bail me out again?"

"Gettin' snippy as you get older?"

"Guido isn't getting a dime. Jerkoff just signed his own death warrant."

?Okay, listen to me. Jay will be there soon. Do we need to just pay this guy off, or are you gonna go around shootin' sons'a bitches all over the U.S. of A.?

"I don't know. I can't risk him putting my family in danger. It wasn't supposed to happen like this.?

?In a round about way, you put 'em in danger. You need us to help you out."

"Would you rather I'd hacked into the Federal Reserve?"

"Ain't that how we met?"

"Thanks, Matt. I owe you. Lots."

He chuckled. "I hope to see you soon, and watch the killin'."

"Matt?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell Rocky about Ma, okay?"

"Ain't my place, Dris.?

"Okay, thanks."

"No problem. Catch ya on the flip."

"Yeah." The line went dead, and Chris hung up. He peeled his glasses off and tossed the phone aside, exhaustion taking over, surrendering himself finally to sleep.

Boston, Mass
2008

The plane touched down in Boston a lot sooner than she?d expected. There were two stops but she never changed planes, she just kept her headset on, listening to her mp3 player.

People would try to talk to her and all she would do is either stare at them, or she would act asleep. Talking wasn?t on her mind, right now, she had to find the bar, pay his debt, maybe a little sight-seeing, and then possibly go by his house.

The Panty Pantry was the name of the bar Guido ran. She had to get her intell the old-fashioned way since Chris was more than likely in a hospital somewhere around Vegas and they weren't on speaking terms. She remembered her mother talking her into going to see her father at the hospital two days after they found him in a back alley with a shattered kneecap on the left side, and a broken femur on the right. Rocky closed her eyes tightly, hoping that Chris was just roughed up enough to learn his lesson, and not be permanently injured like her father. She clenched her jaw and stepped from the back of the cab and handed the driver his payment and watched as he drove off, before turning around to look at the club, and it was the usual crowd of thugs, bikers, and losers. Why her Chris would come here, she wouldn?t know, in fact she didn?t want to know.

?Hold up, Chica,? A big bouncer stopped her at the door, looking her over. ?Club isn?t open yet.?

She patted his arm, wanting nothing more than to just twist it up behind him and to hear the snap of his bone. ?It?s okay; I?m here to see Mister Shambro. I?m here for the job.? She smiled sweetly at the man, even gave him a wink.

?I think the spot was filled.?

?Come on, let me check?? Again her smile was bright and she watched his lips curl upward.

?Okay, he?s in the back, at the office.? He pulled the door open and she stepped into the place, it was dark and smelled of cheap perfume, liquor, smoke, and sex. Her eyes quickly adjusted and she hurried to the back, wanting this over as quickly as possible.

The man she assumed was Guido was leaning back in his overstuffed, leather office chair with his eyes closed. She thought about just shooting him through the skull, but that would mean another would come in, acquire his debt list, and come for Chris again, and this time not care if he lived or died. She cleared her throat, to make herself known, and watched his eyes snap open.

?Who the hell are you?? He asked as he sat up board straight.

?I wanted to know about the job, and see if we could talk a bit,? Rocky said as she cocked her head to the side and twirled her long, dark hair with her finger, and it worked. He smiled and snapped his fingers as he rolled the chair back a bit, allowing a red-head not unlike the one from Vegas from beneath his desk. She wiped her mouth as she passed, and Rock felt a chill run up her spine. The guy was a total sleaze.

?So are you a dancer?? He asked as he stood and zipped his fly, and then walked over to close the door to his office, it was obvious he was hoping for a private showing, and Rock only nodded.

?Show me some moves, girl,? he said next to her ear as his hands came to rest on her hips. She fought the urge again to break something so she just pulled slowly away from him.

?First, I also need to take care of something.? She smiled, watching his disappointment as she pulled away.

?Anything for you, baby.?

?Chris Driscoll,? she said his name and Guido?s face went dark, and expressionless.

?What about him??

?Fifty thousand he owes you??

?Seventy-five.? He narrowed his eyes at her. "The son of a bitch killed two of my men." His eyes narrowed, and she tried to keep her emotions hidden, but inside she was glad to know he was alive, and that he got mad enough to actually stop them from beating his ass.

?You don't know his mother," Rock growled knowing how important his mother was to him. "You?ll take fifty, and be thankful to walk out of here with your life.?

?You bitch! You come into my place and boss me around?? He was reaching into his jacket as he felt her foot connect to his groin, and dropped him to his knees. His eyes were wide as she stepped forward with her combat knife leveled at his eye.

?Not nice to call people names," Rocky said as the blade waved back and forth in front of his eye. ?You think I?m nice enough to leave you one??

Sweat began to bead on his face, and sweat meant anxiety. Anxiety was good.

?Now, he owes you fifty, I?ve got that much in my bag. You will take what he owes you, or I take your eyes, and start working my way down.?

?Fine, fine,? he sighed, and quietly whispered. ?Fifty, because he will be back, borrowing from me.? His smile spread across his lips, until that steel blade was resting on his eye lid.

?If you loan him any more cash, I will definitely be back. Get the word out, Shambro. No one loans money to Driscoll.? She reached into her bag with the other hand and dropped a rubber banded stack of cash in front of him. ?You want to count it, or do you trust me??

?I trust no one,? he spat at her.

?Now you do,? she said as she pulled the blade away from his eye, and used the hilt to strike him as hard as she could in the back of the head.
She left the money, and left the office. Her point was made, Chris was free. Now it was time to see a few things she was supposed to see with him, but it was a time she made for herself to think, from every possible angle.

She'd been in Boston for a couple of days, doing the tourist thing like seeing Old Ironsides and throwing the tea into the bay. She was trying to relax, and trying not to think about what had happened, but she was hurt and angry. The same way she'd been as she worked jobs and her dad would always take her money to keep him from the beating she was seeing Chris take when she left.

She had ridden in cabs past his house numerous times, and had not seen any sign of him there. So she would go back to her flop, and wait. At night she'd walk through the neighborhood, checking for lights, and even thought about letting herself in, just to set something as a reminder, like the pictures of them together being turned over, or shattered.

Nothing had been the same since Chris had returned from Vegas. He'd gone through the motions, doing what he needed to do, licking his wounds in private while trying to keep a stiff upper lip in public. Especially for his family. He couldn't let them know anything about what had happened, so he'd stayed away. At least until some of the cuts and bruises had healed, so he didn't have to explain.

Time after time, he'd picked up the phone to call her, even going so far as to dial her number once, hanging up before the call connected, somehow knowing he was the last person she wanted to talk to.

She had done the same. She wanted to tell him that Guido wouldn't bother him, but she had bailed him out now and that even made her all the more mad. She bailed him out, just like her dad, and she hated the fact that she was going to live that kind of life again, then and there she made the decision not to.

She had to dial one number and one of the things that he loved was a twisted hunk of burning steel. Or the other number and they'd work things out, if they could. Instead, she called Stone, telling him that Guido had his money.

He wasn't sure what he was feeling exactly. Angry and hurt. Angry that she didn't believe him, didn't even give him time to explain. Hurt at what he saw as her betrayal. Did she really not care if they killed him after all they'd been through together? In the end, it came down to that. It wasn't so much that she hadn't believed him and had walked out on him. It was that she didn't seem to care less what happened to him, whether he was alive or dead.

Jay had stayed in Boston, choosing to remain there until things got worked out with Guido. The team was like family, and you didn't abandon family. He didn't know what was going on with Rocky. He'd never understood that crazy puta. He'd let Stone handle Rocky. He was more concerned about Chris.

One ride past the house saw that familiar old Pinto, and she scowled. Sure, get Jay in there and not worry about calling her to say he was home and fine.

Stone was all but demanding to know where she was, and all she said was that she had paid the debt and left Boston, which he knew was a lie. He could tell in her tone.

The damned car was still in the garage. The garage would catch fire and so would the house it was attached to and possibly the neighbors. She wanted to send a message, not kill him or anyone else. So she laid low, waiting. Even going so far as setting up camp in a home for sale on his street, watching, and waiting. She leaned back, eating tuna out of the can with a plastic fork, then ice cream. She was sure that Jay was down there agreeing with everything Chris was saying. They were agreeing she was a bitch, and they hated her. She waited patiently, nothing but time. She'd gotten Guido to accept the original deal for fifty k, with a little persuasion, and now she wanted him to learn another lesson.

Two pounds of c-4 was enough to destroy a car made of aluminum and light steels and leather, and do little more than scar the street it sat on. Might crater a driveway, but she was willing to take that chance. Finally it was too much to bear, so she dialed his number. She caved first. Speed dial and she waited, holding her breath.

"I got back to Boston as fast as I could. I told you we could go meet them and you didn't want to."

"The timing wasn't right."

"You told me fifty, Chris. Not seventy-five, and I wasn't the girl with you when you went to his office at the back of that fucking tit joint."

"What girl? There was no girl! Have you ever stopped to think that maybe they were lying and not me? Has that ever even occurred to you?"

"The guy in the room said there was...and still, it was a fucking titty bar. That what you want? Hang out in those places, leaving me home raising two point five kids with the white picket fence shit?"

"No, because everyone's out to get you, aren't they, Rock? I couldn't possibly love you and want to spend my life with you. That couldn't possibly be true, could it?"

"You know what?" She waited, in silence.

"Yeah, I know what. You're scared of commitment, that's what. You're so scared I'll be just like your father, you aren't even willing to give me a chance."

"Tell Jay to call the fire department and get out of the kitchen." She'd had enough.

"What?!"

"You don't have time for what."

He straightened, but he wasn't moving from the kitchen. He looked over at the window with panic in his eyes. What the hell had she done? Was she trying to kill him now?

"Move your ass out of the kitchen, now!"

"Jay?" he called, the phone still against his ear, starting for the living room. What the hell was going on?

Jay was sitting at Chris's computer, trying to get a bead on Rocky's location. "She's in Boston," he said, looking up at Chris.

He shook his head in confusion. "Rock?" He was standing in the doorway now between the kitchen and living room, one hand pressed against the archway.

"In fact, you may want to get out of the house," she said.

"Oh, my god. What did you do?" he whispered into the phone.

"Tired of competition, Chris. I don't hear him calling the fire department."

Adrenaline suddenly kicked in, and he felt his heart racing. "Oh, my god. You're a lunatic!" It wasn't the first time he'd accused her of being bat-shit crazy. He started toward the door, yanking Jay along with him.

"Lunatic? You calling me fucking crazy? Let me tell you what's crazy, Chris. Fucking waxing a car with a cloth diaper. Loving the latest greatest fucking processor."

He finally realized what she was going to do with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Rocky, not the Jag!"

"My baby. The other lady..."

It started as a low rumbling, something akin to a vacuum, then the sound of a rushing wind, concussion, and his kitchen wall caving down as the car went up. Flames shooting into the rafters and across. " I love you...always have," would be the last words he heard on the phone. Then the door of the garage was shot off the front of the house. Brick work crumbling down, but aside from the car and a little wood damage, the house was salvageable.

As it happened, he didn't hear her last words. He was too busy diving out the front door and trying not to get hit by flying debris.

She leaned against the walls, watching the flames. "Damn I'm good."

He didn't get up right away, though Jay did, ducking his head and picking his way through the debris toward Chris.

She watched them both. She saw Jay up and was now worried Chris may have gotten a stray brick. "Come on Chris, get up," she said to herself, watching.

He hadn't gotten hit with a brick, but he was sprawled face down on the ground, stunned from the blast, head spinning dizzily. Somehow he'd lost his glasses in the fall, along with the phone.

She heard the sirens in the distance, slowly getting closer, trying to decide to rabbit now, or just wait til the flames were gone.

Chris groaned as Jay helped him to his feet, clutching the other man's arm and stumbling a little, ears roaring from the blast.

"I told you she's loco, amigo, but would you listen?"

Jay's mouth was moving, but all Chris could hear was a loud ringing in his ears. It was then that he passed out, and everything went black.

She watched him stumble, then fall over onto Jay. She assumed he passed out, and she knew Jay would get him to a hospital.

"Right now, my head feels like it's about two sizes too big. Where's the nurse with my meds? Nurse!"

"She was just here, you tool. Stop your yappin' and listen up. Number one rule, remember that?"

"Huh?" He blinked over at Stone.

"You ain't out til I say you are." He narrowed his eyes, and his jaw tightened up. "Boy, you better grow a set and open your fuckin' mouth to that girl, if she's what you think you want to spend the rest of your life with. Son of a bitch, you probly ain't eatin' a damned thing either cause yer all twisted up inside. You love her, you hate her..."

He sighed at the lecture, frowning. "Matt, I tried. I swear. She kept bringing shit up about her father and..."

"It's like the Damned Daytime TV Shit. She told you about her dad?" That caught his attention.

"I love her," he corrected.

"Answer the other question."

"She told me a little."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"A little." He shook his head. "And what did you do? Make more excuses or throw shit back in her face? Call her a fuckin' whack-job?"

"No, I..." He sighed again. "I'm not him. It's not fair."

He took another drink from the water cup, waiting for his answers. "You what? For fuck's sake, do I need to go to the morgue and get those damn pliers that crack your jaws open to make you talk? You made excuses.... You had a chance to tell her about the money...your Mother... and you come up with that? Damn it Son, dumbest smart kid I know."

"What was I supposed to say? Oh, by the way, my mom is dying of cancer. Would you like to meet her now?"

"It would'a been a good fuckin' way to get her to walk down the street to your house and talk to you, instead of blowing up your clown car."

He narrowed his eyes again. He could take being insulted, but his car had never hurt anyone. "The Jag has nothing to do with this."

"You really don't get women, do ya?" He ran a hand over his bald head.

"I was getting ready to sell the Jag. I can't do that now, can I? Probably won't get any insurance money for it either once they find out it was arson."

"Yeah, I know what." He said as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Woman don't wanna hear you love this or that before you love her. She don't wanna hear you open the door to the garage and say hello beautiful, after tellin' her that she looked like hell."

"I was gonna buy her a ring. A real one," he explained quietly, closing his eyes, looking about as miserable as anyone could without being dead. As if Rocky's accusations hadn't been enough, now he had to listen to Stone's.

"You left her wearing that fake stone?" Matt sighed. "Boy, I should kick your ass for her." He looked at Chris straight on. "You are cleared with Guido."

"Matt, everything I have is going to pay medical bills. The Jag was all I had left. What do you want me to do?" He blinked as what the man said registered in his aching brain. "What do you mean, I'm cleared?"

"Next time you need money, don't be stealin' it, or goin' to sharks. You come to us." He looked him over again, "Your hearin' fucked up?"

"You gave that bastard his money? After he almost had me killed?"

"Wasn't me, son." He drained that cup then.

"Who, then?" He furrowed his brows, thinking, and then realized it would have been Rocky who'd bailed him out. "Oh. I never asked for her help."

"Funny thing about Racquel. When it came to you and something you needed... you didn't have to ask."

"Really? Because I seem to recall her standing me up a few times."

"You thick-skulled nim-witted sombitch."

"Probably leave me high and dry at the altar because some jackass in Honduras needs some nukes."

"She told you about that christening, even after you saw the news of her rescue... Then the dinner, she really was caught in the traffic caused by that fucked up blizzard."

"Yeah, I know."

The Safe House
Undisclosed Location

Jay awoke in the dark to the sound of laughter. Not just any laughter, almost maniacal laughter. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and glanced at the clock. Four a.m. Not even daylight yet. What was the kid up to now? Laughing like a hyena in the middle of the night when most sane people were still sleeping.

He sighed in annoyance knowing he wasn't going to be able to fall back asleep until he knew what was going on, and climbed out of bed, following the laughter toward the kitchen where he found the kid sitting at the table, his head resting against his arms, shoulders shaking with what Jay assumed was laughter, the laptop open in front of him.

"What the hell's going on? It's four a.m."

Chris lifted his head, tears pouring down his face, giggling uncontrollably, and pointing at the computer screen.

Jay narrowed his eyes. He wasn't interested in any of the kid's stupid games. He just wanted him to stop laughing so he could go back to sleep. "Are you loco?"

Chris wiped the tears from his face and shook his head, gasping for breath, desperately trying to stop himself from giggling.

"What is so fucking funny? You making prank phone calls again? You know what the boss said about that."

"No..." Chris dabbed at his eyes, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "Even better."

"What could be better than prank phone calls to the White House in the middle of the..."

"Guido just made a very generous donation to the Girl Scouts."

Jay blinked, jaw dropping. "What?" He paused a moment to let that sink in. "How generous?"

Chris was still grinning like an idiot. "Seventy-five."

"Seventy... You only owed him fifty."

"Screw that. He wanted to take me for seventy-five, so it's seventy-five. I could have made it a hundred."

"Rocky paid him his money."

"Yeah? Well, her money just went to the Girl Scouts, along with a generous bonus because, seriously, the guy is a dick. He tried to kill me and so did she."

"She didn't try to kill you, amigo. If she wanted you dead, you'd be dead."

"She didn't try to stop them, either."

"Jesus, you're as loco as she is. You two deserve each other."

"Right, this coming from a guy who sleeps with a machine gun by his bed."

"When Guido finds out, he will kill you."

"He's not gonna find out."

"No?" Jay scowled at his young friend, who seemed to just get himself into one mess after another. "You think it's gonna be hard to put two and two together and come up with you?"

"You know what? I don't care. Maybe I'll just kill him first."

"You're not a killer, Killer."

"Guess it was someone else who killed those guys in Vegas then," Chris muttered.

"You didn't have any choice." Jay knew no matter what the kid told him, he didn't have the killer instinct. Not unless his back was up against the wall or one of the team was in danger, but that was good enough for Jay.

"Do me a favor?" Chris asked, turning serious.

"Huh?"

"Don't tell Matt."

Jay sighed. "He's gonna find out sooner or later."

"Make it later."

"You're digging yourself a hole again, chico. Be careful this time it isn't your own grave."

"You worry about me more than my mother does."

"Your mother doesn't know you like I do."

Stone travelled the city, looking for Rocky. He checked local leads, friends and contacts as well as the people he knew she?d go to for the ordinance to pull off that kind of job.

The girl was good, sometimes good enough that she scared Matt, and that wasn?t easy to do. He looked at the scene and listened as the Boston Dicks talked about a sloppy hit, against a man with an ill mother.

?Same old Racquel,? Stone said with a smile. ?She makes it look sloppy, but if those jerks only knew, she?s pure professional.?

The air was hot, and the cab ride was nothing short of nauseating. The smells of the roadside taco stands, mixed with the sweat of too many bodies in too little of a space made Stone wish he would have stayed back in Boston. He knew the girl was pissed, and he knew she had the right to be, so why he was looking for her he really had to wonder, other than he told Chris he would.

Matt felt he would find her at the villa located just outside of Progreso, Mexico, and once the cab got through the tight areas of the town itself, away from tourists and locals, the air seemed to cool, and he knew that even if she wasn?t there he was going to spend at least two days relaxing in the sun, sand and surf.

He paid the driver and stood in front of the light pink stucco exterior of the house she frequented when she and Chris were fighting. He had to wonder if Chris even knew the place existed. The camera followed the cab as it moved up the long driveway toward the house, and zoomed in on Matt?s face when he stepped out.

?Stone, Matthew William,? The computerized voice said. ?Should I unlock the door??

?See what he wants, Pedro.? Rocky said from her spot by the pool. She was working on her tan, and attempting to drown out the memory of Chris.

?Ms. Smith wonders, is this a business trip, or here for pleasure?? Pedro asked in a thick, heavy Mexican accent.

?You go and tell Ms. Smith that I want to see her, now.? Stone growled as he looked up at the taller, toned Mexican.

?Si,? Was his only reply.

Pedro walked through the house with Matt, taking him toward the pool, only after Rocky?s okay. The house was done in tile floors and light colors, and surprised even Stone, the way she?d chosen to decorate. If anyone else had just met her, they would assume her style to run darker, but the house was light, airy, and tastefully decorated. Not too little, far from too much.

?What do you want, Matt?? She said without lifting the hat from her face.

?I want to talk to you.?

?Well, you came a long way to do so,? She said as she finally looked at him from the shade of the brim. ?If you are here to talk about Chris, I?ve got no desire to do so. I mixed my personal life with my professional life, and for nothing but lies.? She sat up and applied more of the coconut-scented oil to her legs then.

?He loves you, Rock.? Matt sat on the chaise beside where she laid. ?I know that boy, and even though you really redone his house, he still loves you,? Stone said as he shook a smoke from the package of Marlboros.

?He lied to me, Stone!? Her temper was starting to flare.

?You blew up his car?hell part of his damned house!?

?So what, I didn?t kill him, or anyone else.?

?Two of your team members were in there, Rocky. That place could have come down around them.?

She looked at her boss a long time and didn?t say anything, then finally smiled. ?If I wanted that house down, they would still be picking up the pieces.?

?Ain?t a damned thing funny about this, Rocky,? Stone narrowed his gaze at her then. ?You want off the team??

She thought about that for a while, she knew she had enough contacts that she could still sell weapons and low grade munitions to keep her from ever going back to the life she had before. She still made enough money to send her mother some cash every month, with the promise that none of it went toward the care of her father. There were three houses, three vehicles, all paid for from jobs with Matt and the company, but she knew the money would be a little tougher without him, and the trouble not as easily passed.

?No, I don?t want out.?

?Then you fix this, Ricky Tick.? Stone got up then, heading for the door and waiting cab. ?I?ll show myself out.?

Rocky woke the next morning, still laying in the chaise lounge, to a light sprinkling rain. The clouds had gathered over the bay and were offering what was likely to be the coolest part of the day. Jim was still singing in the background of her mind, only now it was about strange people, and it fit her when she first came to Progreso.

She sat up slowly; feeling the effects of the night prior?s drinking, and decided it was a good thing the second bottle was still sealed. Pedro was already back, and had breakfast waiting for her and was walking her way with a towel.

?Mistress slept under the stars? Was a beautiful night, si?? He knew she was thinking about the man she spoke little of. ?Chris?? He asked quietly, and she only nodded. She had spoken of Chris a few times with the young man, and he knew that she cared deeply for him. ?So, why is Mistress not bringing him here? Pedro would like to meet this man, machismo to tame a wild flower such as you.?

?Pedro, it is early, I?m hung over, and you ask way too many questions.? She said as she picked up the juice and drained the glass. She looked at the man, not much younger than her, remembering how she met him, and how he?d taken to her that night. Offering to do errands, and whatever she needed, just because she?d stepped in to stop three men from beating his head in. He was living in the street, since he could not provide for himself. His sister?s husband would not let him stay in their home, and when Rocky offered him employment, he jumped at the chance.

She had taken him to the villa shortly after it was built and showed him around. She explained she needed someone to take care of it while she was away on business, and could even drive her car, that was a gift from her Uncle Charlie. His eyes were wide at the house, then especially at the offered use of her car, a 911 Turbo S Cabriolet.

?Mistress Rocky deals the drugs?? He had asked her and she laughed outright.

She knew the dealings of locals, and she knew how it had to look to him. ?No, I?m not a dealer of drugs. I?m just in Oil.? She lied, and almost felt bad about it. ?I don?t like drugs, and won't put up with them but I need someone to take care of the place, while I am away.?

He thought a long while, looking at the artwork and walking through the house. ?I charge four hundred pesos, a day.? He thought it was an exuberant amount and to her it sounded like forty dollars.

?Look, I trust you to take care of my place. For that I?ll pay you U.S. Dollars, the catch is simple, whatever happens here, stays here.? She had held out a wrap of hundreds toward him and his eyes went wide.

?What do I do with this??

?Spend it.?

He?d become her ally in Progresso. He had eyes all over, and informants let him know of any possible threats to Rocky while she was in town, and even if anyone was snooping around when she was gone. He was her friend, and nothing more would ever happen between them. She blinked from her thoughts, and started eating the meal he had prepared. Normally she wouldn?t eat after drinking most of the night, but there were other things on her mind, and she wondered how she would be able to get him to talk to her again.

?Pedro, I am going to have to leave soon.?

?Mistress only just arrived.?

?Yeah, but I have to make an apology.?

An hour came and went and the kid still hadn't returned. Jay heaved a sigh as he climbed out of the Pinto. He'd seen the writing on the wall the very first day Chris and Rocky had met. The two of them were like oil and water. He'd told Stone as much, but Stone hadn't listened. He'd insisted everything would be fine. Well, everything wasn't fine, and Jay was afraid things were only going to get worse.

Adding a girl to the team had been a mistake, no matter how good Rocky was, and now they were paying the price. The team would never be the same. Someone would have to go, and Jay was afraid it was going to be Chris. He'd already told Stone what he thought. The girl had been a powder keg just waiting to go off. No matter how much she might insist she had things under control, she'd put both his and the kid's lives in danger, and that just didn't sit well with Jay.

Broken glass crunched beneath Jay's boots as he made his way inside what remained of Chris' house. Rocky's explosives had taken out one wall, along with Chris' Jag, and the house had been condemned due to structural damage. It was dangerous for them to be there. He'd told Chris as much, but the kid wouldn't listen. He'd insisted on one last visit, though Jay couldn't understand why.

Jay looked around as he picked his way through what remained of the house. Besides the obvious fire and water damage, everything had been broken and smashed. Jay followed the path of destruction through the living room and into the kitchen, finding more of the same, then finally to a hallway, which led to the bath and bedrooms. He pushed open one door, then another, until he came to a door at the end of the hallway, which lead to a small bedroom Jay knew belonged to Chris, one he'd often shared with Rocky.

Jay pushed open the door to find Chris sitting, hunched over on the bed, a framed photo held in his hand, one Jay assumed was of Chris and Rocky. He waited a moment to see if Chris noticed him, but he didn't. The kid was just sitting there, quietly staring at that photograph, like the calm before the storm. Or maybe, more accurately, the calm after the storm. Everything in the house that was breakable had been smashed, and Jay suspected it had been Chris who'd done the smashing.

"Christian..."

Chris heard Jay call his name, but his gaze remained fixed on the photo in his hand. There was a song stuck in his head, the words on rewind, playing over and over, like slow, agonizing torture. He hadn't heard the song in years. He didn't even like it, but somehow he couldn't get it out of his head.

Every time you go away,
You take a piece of me with you...

"I remember when this picture was taken," Chris finally said, running a thumb over the photograph, as if by doing so, he could touch her one last time. "It was in the Keys, when we first met, after we found out about Sparks. Remember? God, she was so beautiful. She took my breath away, you know? We went out for dinner, dancing. I can't dance for shit, but she didn't seem to care. We went for a walk on the beach, and the next thing I knew, we were making love under the stars. It was magic, Jay. I never felt like that before. Not with anyone. I loved her, and now she's gone, and I..." He trailed off, unable to continue.

Jay frowned. He knew what the kid was feeling. He'd lost his wife to a drunk driver a few years back, and he'd never met another woman who could take her place. Without children, the team had become his family, and like Matt, Chris had become the son he'd never had. He had always thought Rocky was a little bit loco, but he couldn't deny she was good at her job, and who was he to tell the kid who to fall in love with? He knew you didn't always pick who you loved; it just happened.

"So, call her," he suggested, though it went against his better judgment.

Chris shook his head. "I can't." How many times had he and Rocky broken up, only to get back together? Somehow, Chris knew this time was different, and his heart ached with sadness, the depths of which he'd never known.

It wasn't so much that Rocky had blown up his house and his car. They were just things that could be replaced. What hurt so much was the fact that she'd left him to Guido's goons; she'd walked out on him when he'd needed her most. Maybe she'd thought he had it under control or that they needed to teach him a lesson. Whatever the reason, it felt like someone had plunged a dagger in his heart and had left him bleeding and in utter agony.

"She betrayed me, Jay," Chris continued quietly. "Just like my father. Just like Tulsa. I can't..." He trailed off as his voice broke. After all they'd been through together, she'd just walked away, like none of it had meant anything at all.

"Let it go, amigo," Jay said, sensing the younger man's pain and his struggle to keep it under control. He knew the kid was devastated, just like he'd been when his wife had died. He gave Chris' shoulder a gentle squeeze, silently letting him know he understood, before turning back toward the door. In all the years Jay had known him, he'd never seen Chris cry. Not even once. Not until now.

It would be another hour before Chris finally emerged from the wreckage, the photo of himself and Rocky clasped in one hand. He quietly got into the car and didn't look back. That part of his life was over. There was no turning back.

Morning came and Chris awoke with a groan. His head felt like it was ten sizes too big, and his stomach was lurching like a roller coaster. He tried to pry his eyes open, what little sunlight streaming in through the window making his head throb painfully. He felt like he had a hangover the size of Texas.

The girl beside him heard him moving around, but hadn't moved yet. She waited to see what his reaction may or may not be, but she did take a soft, quiet breath.

Shielding his eyes with a hand, he pried them open and found himself in an unfamiliar room. Startled, he bolted upright in bed, and his stomach rolled over. "Oh, shit!" he muttered and made a beeline for what he hoped was the bathroom, familiar or not. He just barely made it in time, his stomach revolting against the tequila, the sound of violent retching coming from the bathroom.

"Seriously, you have to go that bad?" She was nearly purring, her voice not like Rocky, more of a smoked honey. She watched him run for the bathroom, and then wrinkled her nose. "That's just not right."

Something wasn't right about the whole situation, but at the moment, he couldn't do anything but heave up the contents of his stomach.

She pulled on a T Shirt, nothing else and walked toward the bathroom quietly. She wet a wash cloth, and tapped on the door. "You okay in there?"

He didn't answer. After a few minutes of heaving, there wasn't much left in his stomach, though he was still bent over, worshiping the porcelain god with dry heaves. When he was finally done, his stomach felt like it had been wrung out like a wet towel, and his jaw was aching.

She twisted the knob, and didn't step in, but she held the wet cloth out. "Here. Put this on the back of your neck."

He heard an unfamiliar female voice on the other side of the door, and his heart froze. He hesitated a moment before snagging the washcloth. "Who are you?"

"Anita." She said as she closed the door, leaving him to his praying.

"Anita..." he muttered to himself, trying to jog his memory about the previous night. Anita. The chick in the bar that had given him her number. How the heck had he ended up with her, and what else didn't he remember? He straightened and turned to the mirror, squinting at his reflection. Where the heck were his glasses?

She walked back to the bed and sat down. "Your phone just buzzed off into the floor, and took your glasses."

He was alarmed to suddenly find he was only wearing boxers and a t-shirt, and he idly wondered if he'd need a shot of penicillin or something. Like he had the night after he'd been with that hooker Stone had set him up with. He threw some water onto his face and washed the taste of regurgitated tequila from his mouth, then patted his face dry with a towel. Drawing a breath and gathering his courage to find out whatever it was that had happened the previous night, he pushed open the bathroom door and looked around the room for his phone and glasses.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs were crossed at the ankle, and she was picking at her nails. She was wondering if he was okay, but she hadn't gone back to check on him.

Without his glasses, the girl was blurry and looked vaguely like Rocky, though she smelled and sounded nothing like her. He wasn't sure yet if she was a hooker or just some chick who'd been looking for a night's companionship.

"You okay?" she asked, looking his way.

He found his glasses on the nightstand and slid them onto his face. "Not really," he answered honestly. He picked up his phone and found with dismay that Jay had left several messages. He'd have some explaining to do, and he wasn't even sure what had happened. The last thing he remembered was sitting at the bar and drinking tequila.

"Still sick?" She was watching him and smiling his way.

"I'm fine," he replied, though he really wasn't. He turned to face her, looking worried. "Did we..." He nodded at the bed, almost dreading the answer.

"Someone was calling, or texting." Then she looked at him and smiled, "You don't remember last night?"

Now that he had his glasses on, he could clearly see that she wasn't Rocky. She was pretty and there were some similarities -- same black hair and dark eyes -- but she wasn't his Rocky. He frowned and sat down on the bed, feeling ashamed, confused, and guilty as sin. "No."

"Chris, I'm shocked."

He looked over at her. Okay, so she knew his name. What else did she know? "Did we or didn't we?" He realized she might lie to him, but he hoped she'd tell him the truth. His heart froze in his chest while he awaited her answer. He needed to know.

She just grinned at him, this was amusing. "Um, check your chest...the bandage?"

He arched a quizzical brow. Bandage? He lifted his shirt and glanced down to find a bandage taped to the right side of his chest. Okay, that would explain the itchiness. "What the heck..."

"It is really nice." She was still smiling, and watching him. "The red, really stands out against your skin."

"Nice? What are you talking about?"

"Your tattoo, Silly." She swatted at him.

He shot an alarmed look at her. "My what?!"

"Your tattoo!" She reached over to help him with the tape.

"What tattoo? I don't have a tattoo!" Not on his chest, anyway. He shoved her hand away and headed back toward the bathroom to have a look.

"You do!" Then she frowned as he rejected her. "Well maybe you didn't...but it's there."

He winced as he pulled the bandage off and examined the brand new tattoo in the mirror, gasping in shock at what he found there. He had apparently had Rocky's name branded on his chest in a drunken stupor. "Oh, my god! No, no, no..."

"You said yes, yes, yes last night, even when I said no."

It wasn't his first tattoo, so the itchiness and irritation didn't really bother him much. What bothered him was the fact that he'd gotten his ex-girlfriend's name permanently etched in his flesh. "What happened?" he asked, tracing the tat with a fingertip.

"Well, you went from the bar, over to Demented Images, hell you even paid for my new one."

"I did?" he asked, darting a look at her in the bathroom mirror. She was cute and seemed nice enough, but she was no replacement for Rocky.

"Yes," She was proudly pointing at the wrapping around her ankle and her bandaged shoulder. "Half Sleeve is started!"

He pulled his t-shirt down over the tattoo as he turned to glance at her bandages.

"I am not surprised you don't remember, Alex really didn't want to tat you, but you were insistent, and drunk as hell."

He frowned as he went to retrieve his pants from the floor.

"Wait... why are you getting dressed?"

"What did I say?" he asked, wondering what else had happened that he didn't remember.

"You said, something about knowing what you were doing and wanting done."

He stepped into his jeans and yanked them on. "I gotta go."

"Go where?"

"You know what I did with the car?"

"Um, yeah. It is at impound."

"Impound? What impound? What are you talking about?" He groaned in dismay. "Jay is gonna kill me."

"Seriously? You parked it on the Church's steps. Saying you would marry me, but they were closed, then you got your tattoo."

He zipped his jeans, then sank down onto the bed, shoving his fingers through his hair, as he listened to her relay the previous night's events.

"I knew you wouldn't." She sighed. "At least another date...or picking up where last night left off..."

He laid his head in his hands as the lost fragments of the previous night came together like a jigsaw puzzle.

"You okay?" She moved closer to him then, reaching a hand up to push his hair back.

No more tequila. Never again. It was like that stupid Margaritaville song.

But it's a real beauty
A Mexican cutie
How it got here I haven't a clue

He lifted his head to meet her gaze. Were there tears in his eyes or was it the headache that was making his eyes water? "I must've thought you were her," he admitted quietly, feeling like a total jerk.

"Aw..." She saw the tears then heard the words. "Oh."

"I'm sorry," he told her remorsefully.

"We didn't do anything," She said quietly. "You were trying, got you here, and you sat down on the bed, I started with your pants, and you fell over...passed out. So I stayed, to be sure you didn't like...I don't know, get alcohol poisoning or something." She moved away to get her own clothing.

"Anita..."

"I know... Rocky. You love her, I see that.?

"I'm really sorry," he repeated his apology. She seemed like a nice girl and under any other circumstances, he might have even been interested, but the timing was all wrong. "She hates me," he said miserably.

"Well, maybe you can show her your new tat." She pulled her panties up, then her jeans, before looking for her shoes and socks.

He averted his gaze while she got dressed, even though he'd already seen more than was proper. "I don't think so."

"You love her, Bullwinkle." She was fighting rising tears, cause he was a nice guy. "You should tell her...or show her, something."

He shrugged his shoulders. "It won't matter."

"She can't be that much of a hard ass."

He rubbed at the place where the tattoo had been burned into his flesh, a permanent reminder of his broken relationship. "I lied to her about something and..." he broke off. More accurately, he'd withheld certain truths.

"People forget, Chris." She gathered up her other things.

"Not Rocky. She..." He let go of a sigh. There was no point in explaining. It wouldn't change anything.

"She makes you happy, call her."

"I can't."

"Bullshit, give me your phone. I bet you have a special ring tone for her too."

It was Nights in White Satin, but he didn't tell her that. He reached for his socks and sneakers, feeling like an idiot. "You have a death wish?" he asked, remembering what Rocky had done to the redhead in Vegas.

"I wasn't going to talk to her, you were."

"Just let it go, okay? The last time I talked to her..." What was he supposed to say? That Rocky had left him for dead, blown up his car, his house? Told him she never wanted to see him again?

"You are gonna fuck up, Man."

"Too late. I already did," he muttered as he put on his socks and sneakers.

She pulled on her boots then, looking at him. "You are bullheaded."

"I'm Irish." As if that was an excuse.

"Yeah, well," she sighed. "You need a lift to the impound?"

"Would you mind?"

"Not at all," she smiled weakly. "Too bad things weren't different."

He was surprised at her offer, everything considered. He smiled weakly back, realizing with a heavy heart that he was still too heartbroken over Rocky to even think about dating again. Not yet. Maybe never. "Yeah, thanks."

"Shall we?" She started toward the door.

"Did we have fun?" he asked curiously.

"You did." She smiled, "The tattooing was fun, and you were crying like a baby."

"Crying?" he echoed, eying her doubtfully as he moved to his feet. He wasn't sure if she was teasing or serious.

"Seriously, you said it hurt."

"Not my first tattoo," he reassured her, somewhat defensively. He knew it probably did hurt a little, but he doubted he'd have cried over it. Crying over Rocky, now that was another matter.

"Yeah, but apparently you are sensitive in that area." She pointed at his chest.

"Maybe I am," he admitted, not necessarily meaning the same thing that she did. He shoved his cellphone in his pocket and checked his jeans for his wallet.

"Your wallet is under the bed." She pointed. Then dug into her pocket, handing him back a stack of cash. "You gave me this to finish my sleeve."

He arched a brow at the stack of cash she was holding out to him, unsure if he should take it or let her keep it for her trouble.

"Seriously, take it. It's a lot of money."

He relented and reached for the money, shoving into a pocket. "I'm a jackass."

"Maybe I can take you to breakfast?" She grinned. "I hear the best hangover cure...well I heard it on TV was a greasy pork chop served in a dirty ashtray." She was about to laugh at her joke, but looked at him. "Why are you a jackass?"

His stomach lurched, threatening to revolt at the thought of eating a greasy pork chop for breakfast.

She was smiling, but wondering why he was a jackass.

"Because I am." He went down on his knees to try and fish his wallet out from under the bed, head pounding painfully. He wondered how his wallet had gotten there, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"You threw it under there, and I really don't know why," she answered, before he could ask.

He had an inkling why he might have done that, but didn't comment. Once he retrieved his wallet, he straightened, checking to make sure all his I.D. was intact. "What happened to cigar man?" He remembered she had been hitting on the guy with the cigar in the bar, but somehow she'd ended up with him instead.

"He was weird," she grinned.

"Weird?" Satisfied all his belongings were intact, he climbed to his feet and shoved his wallet into the pocket at the back of his jeans. "Weird how?" he asked as he started toward the door.

"Like killer drifter weird. You knocked out his front tooth."

"What?" He blinked, obviously not remembering that either.

"Yeah, he popped off as I walked back to talk to you, and you just mentioned his ancestry, starting with his mother...and working backwards. He came stalking over there, and you popped him in the mouth. I'm surprised your hand doesn't hurt."

"I did?" That didn't sound like him. He must have been really plastered. He glanced at his hand, opening and closing his fist. Now that she mentioned it, it did hurt a little.

"You drank, A LOT! Mezcal, and everything." She was grinning.

He looked at her doubtfully. He didn't normally drink anything stronger than a beer or two. "Mezcal? No wonder I feel like crap."

"Mezcal, yeah, you even ate the worm."

"I did not!"

"Chris, I didn't lie about anything else, why that?"

"I don't drink. I mean..." Well, obviously he had the previous night. He was still trying to process it all and looked thoroughly perplexed. He sighed heavily, giving up trying to sort it all out for now. "You wanna go to breakfast? It's the least I can do."

"Yeah, let's go."

He took a last glance around the room to make sure he hadn't forgotten or left anything behind, and then he pulled the door open for her. The least he could do was buy the girl breakfast for all her trouble. He wondered if it was a night she'd remember with fondness or regret. Probably laugh about it with her friends later. Tell them about the drunken idiot who'd mistaken her for his ex and tried to marry her.

"That's all you brought in." She pressed her lips to his cheek as she passed him. "Thanks for being a gentleman, Chris." She smiled up at him... "Call her." And she was walking toward her little Pontiac.

He followed her with his eyes, looking even more perplexed by the kiss, before stepping out the door. If nothing else, she had him thinking.

(Story continued in "Swimming with Sharks".)