Major Benjamin Shurz was not the only person watching Masucci and Sullivan.
Parked on the street in a nondescript white Taurus,
Special Agent Kelson Ransome was less
camouflaged. For the past two months, ever since
Caitlin had announced she was leaving the
violent crimes unit, he'd been assigned to a special
organized crime task force investigating a
connection between the Masucci organization and
the infamous Dixie Mafia. They had nothing
concrete yet on Masucci, but seeing Masucci with
Sullivan was an unexpected bonus. Kelson
had been afraid that with the appearance of the
forged evidence lists that Sullivan's task force
would turn on Faith Morrison, Mike Logan's former
partner. She didn't need that right now; it
would set her recovery too far back. "This is
interesting."
Dozing lightly in the passenger seat, Special Agent
Lamar Eugene "Tick" Calvert roused at
Kelson's delighted words. "What?" he asked, blinking
sleepily.
"Masucci's meeting with Hiram Sullivan," Kelson informed him. "Wonder why."
"I'd rather see him with Joseph Tyrone," Tick drawled,
referring to one of the known leaders of
the Dixie Mafia. "It would make our jobs easier-"
He stopped suddenly, his attention caught by a
definite, though subtle movement in the park.
"What the hell? Hey, Ransome, we're not the only
ones playing *I Spy*."
"What do you mean?"
Kelson's eyes followed the direction of Tick's
pointing finger to find a well-camouglaged figure
in the woods, spying on the restaurant's occupants
using a camera with a telephoto lens.
*Time to size 'em up,* thought Major Schurz. He'd noticed
the Taurus and the men inside even
before using his camera.
When the Judge and Masucci left their table, Schurz
bagged his camera and headed to the
sidewalk. He walked closer to the Taurus. The
two men inside looked bored--in a surveillance
detail, this was to be expected.
He looked at their clothes. *Feds,* he thought.
He already had the license plate and the dings
on the front end and windshield memorized.
He walked past the car, watching the men with his
peripheral vision as long as he could. His
ears were tuned to the car, alert for any new
sounds.
*Your move, gentlemen.*
**
Cassi brushed her hair off her shoulder as she
headed up the sidewalk. The wind whipped
over her shoulders as she walked, her ears numb
with cold. She hardly noticed. Her mind was
on other things, far away things, things she needed
to concentrate to take her mind of the
horrible events of the past weeks, off her own
heartbreak...off the everpresent eyes she felt
on her shoulders. Someone was watching her. Their
prickly stares had sparked over her all
day. But who? She could only begin to try and
guess. God knows who and what she had
angered this-
A shadow darted across the far wall of her apartment
building and she felt a cold lump of fear
set in her stomach, followed by a hot flash of
anger. She continued walking, slowing down as
she got to the steps. Glancing over her shoulder
quickly, Cassi unholstered her gun and pulled
it out, gripping it tightly. Taking a deep breath
as she slipped around the corner. A shadow
bounced against a neighboring building and she
pressed her back against the cold brick, her
breath roughening, heart pounding in her ears.
Slowly, she crept down the wall, her feet barely
making a sound on the gravel beneath her feet.
The shadow moved again as she approached
the end of the wall and gritting her teeth, she
flattened her back to the building, holding her
breath. A few seconds more and the shadow disappeared
into the darkness of the street.
Letting out a slow breath, she counted slowly
to ten and moved smoothly from behind her
hiding spot, gun leveled at the street, at where
the shadow had gone.
No one.
A bewildered gasp escaped from her lips and the
sound of someone else's breath, someone
elses feet on the gravel, someone elses jacket
rustling in the wind sounde behind her...
She spun around and had only barely registered
dark eyes leveling a sleek black pistol at her
eyes. "You should have listened," the eyes spoke.
Cassi never had time to raise her gun as the bullet
flew silently from the barrel and crushed
into her skull, exiting out of the back of her
head. The dark eyes stood over her as a dark pool
of crimson began to leak through Cassi's dark
hair, puddling on the pavement beneath her, the
life already gone from her eyes.
Coughing, he spit off to his right and pulled out
a pack of ciggerattes, tilting his head and
raising his hand to sheild the match from the
cold wind. Taking in a deep drag, he blew a
steady stream into the air, extending one black
booted foot to nudge the limp, lifeless hand
away from the gun. Rummaging a sleek, black cellular
phone from his inside pocket, he hit
redial and listened to phone number being dialed.
"Yes?"
"Yeah, it's Krycek."
"Just a moment, sir." There was a moment of hushed
coversation and rustling. Alex Krycek
took another drag from his ciggeratte, savoring
the sharp taste.
"I imagine things went to plan?" The smooth, refined voice floated over the phone.
Krycek grimaced. "Of course. The girl's dead. Now what?"
"There will be a car waiting in the usual place.
The driver will have an airline ticket for the 1 am
flight to London." There was another pause. "Have
a good flight."
Krycek flicked the butt deftly as he hung up, pulling
another ciggeratte from the pack and
lighting it as he headed down the cold street,
leaving the body of Detective Cassi O'Connor in
the alley.
**
Mr. Montgomery found the body of a young woman
in his alley early the next morning as he
was taking out the garbage. Now an unmarked Crown
Victoria pulled up to the curb, two young
detectives climbing out of, one grinding a ciggeratte
under his toe, the other taking a long sip
from a styrofoam coffee cup as they headed up
the walk toward the yellow plastic police
barriers and the scurrying officers behind it.
"Whattya got, Rogers?" one of the detectives asked, loudly.
The young officer cleared his throat. "White female,
GSW to the head," he said, nervously. "No
one heard anything...ME figures she's been here
for a couple hours. But..." he trailed off,
clearing his throat. "There's something else."
The other rolled his eyes. "You gonna make us guess
or are you going to get to the goddamn
point before my coffee gets cold, Rogers?"
Rogers motioned to one of the officers. She approached
them, holding a plastic bag in a
gloved hand. "Detective Cassi O'Connor," she reported,
indicating the bloodstained wallet
encased in the bag. "27th precinct. At least that's
what her driver's license says. Let's just say
her face doesn't match her license photo anymore."
"Her service weapon is by the body. Wallet and
money all intact. I-I think that we can rule out
robbery...don't you?" Rogers added, his voice
trembling.
The first detective ran a hand over his brow as
the ME's lifted the body into the black bodybag.
"Damn."
The rather subdued waitress had set 2 steaming
plates of egge benedict in front of Adam
Schiff and Ben Stone. Breakfast had been Ben's
idea. After the meeting with Cassi, he felt
confused yet elated. He had another chance with
her. If this situation with Sullivan had not
arisen, he would not be here, Ben was sure. The
fact that it took this to bring him back to the
place he loved and longed to be, back to the person
he left behind was the most humorous of
ironies. Eating in silnce, he reflected on yesterday's
meeting with Cassi. She looked tired. He
smiled at the memory of her twinkling eyes. Something
was missing from her. What was it?
The twinkle! Yes, that's it. She didn't look as
carefree as she once had. Ben's cell phone rang,
interrupting his thoughts.
"Excuse me, Adam." He flipped it open. "Stone.
Yes, I know her. What? What? Oh my God!".
The sound of Ben's voice shaking made Adam stare
in curiosity. "Yes. I will be there shortly."
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Adam, you'll have to excuse me." Ben gathered
up his briefcase and his coat. Adam noticed
that Ben's face had taken on a white pallor.
"What happened, Ben?"
"They, uh... just found Cassi, Detective O'Connor
dead. Shot in the head." By anyone's
account, Ben showed no emotion, but to Adam, he
knew his old friend was shaken to his very
core. "I have to go, identify her body."
No words were said but Ben felt Adam's support
as he hurried through the door to see Cassi
for the last time.
*************************************************
The sound of a ringing phone awoke Mike with a
start. Reaching past the well-stacked blonde
sleeping on his right, he grabbed it and answered
curtly. "Yeah?"
"This IS Detective Logan. Oh Donnie! I didn't recognize
you. Yeah, well I had a long night last
night. Wel actually I have to get ready for work
and get uh... Mindy or Candy or whatever the
hell her name is out of here. You know I didn't
want to wait on Cassi's apology and you should
have been there when- What?" Sitting up quickly,
jerking off the covers on the blonde, Mike felt
his heart skip a beat.
"What? When? No.... no it can't be! No... Donnie,
she can't be d-. I'll meet you there. Thanks
Donnie."
Hanging upm he envisioned Cassi laying on the pavement
with a bullet to the brain, blood
spattered as he had seen a million times before.
But this time it was different. This time it was
Cassi. Feeling very sick to his stomach, the guilt
of the way he treated her, of teh way they
parted reached a fever pitch, welling up from
his inner soul.
"Nooooooooo!" He screamed to no one in particular
and had awakened his sexual partner
when he threw his phone through his window.
Black Wednesday, January 26: In the Force Plodder surveillance
post on West 46th, Stan
Oromocto played solitaire while listening to the
noon news. The lead story was the murder of
Detective Cassi O' Connor. Next was the arrest
of Detective Lennie Briscoe for an unrelated
six-year-old homicide. The third concerned Judge
Sullivan's ongoing investigation of the 27th
Precinct, of which O' Connor and Briscoe had been
members.
Stan shook his head and snapped off the radio.
Most of the other Force Plodder members
were at their regular posts. Cragen and Logan
would be here soon. Schurz and the Rocket
were off to confer with FBI Agents Ransome and
Calvert.
Movement on the surveillance monitor caught Stan's
eye. Hiram Sullivan and another
well-dressed man had entered the room. The Judge
had his usual tight little smile.
The Plodder thought: *Smug little prick. No wonder the Rocket hates you.*
Lennie Briscoe and his attorney Frank Lehrman looked almost
like twins, although the lawyer
was slightly grayer and thinner.
Lehrman argued that the people's evidence was
flimsy, based on statements by dubious
characters. He insisted that the case be dismissed.
Porteous insisted that the Parkers' statements
were sufficient grounds to accuse Briscoe of
first degree murder and remand him in custody.
Judge Lardeau agreed. Lennie kept his head
low as the bailiff led him out to the throng of
reporters, cameras, and lights.
Ben hurried over to the Medical Examiner's building.
He couldn't believe it. Cassi was dead,
just when they'd been thrust back together again.
He reached the building, and identified
himself to the attendant.
"I'm Ben Stone and I'm here to identify the body of Cassi O'Conner."
As the attendant lead Ben down the hall to the
viewing room, Ben was vaguely conscience of
the antiseptic smell of formaldehyde. He entered
the viewing room. Medical Examiner Rogers
raised the blinds and he saw Cassi's lifeless
body lying on the slab.
"That's her," Ben said as he broke down and cried.
As he exited the viewing room, he ran into Mike Logan and Donald Cragen in the hallway.
"Ben," they both said at the same time, "Good to see you again. It's been a long time."
"Hello, Mike, Don," Ben answered. "Odd to see each
other again after all these years under
such tragic circumstances. I have to go. Maybe
we can get together later and remember the
good old days," and left them and exited the building.
Mike stood next to Cassi's lifeless body. He reached out
and took a hand in his. Sadness
consumed him. He alway knew there was a possiblity,
but he tried hard never to think about
seeing her here on a slab. Now really set in.
" Mike, are you okay?" Don inquired. Taking a deep
breath he replied.
"Yeah I guess."
"Mike, this wasn't your fault." Mike looked around
at Don.
"Yes it is. I should never have got her involved."
Again taking a deep breath he continued.
"I need to go tell he daughter. She might want
to know."
"Do you want me to go with you?"
"No Don, this is something I have to do myself."
Don nodded to his friend.
"I'll wait for you outside." Don padded Mike on
the back. Mike gave him a slight nod.
Mike stopped outside the coffee shop where Cassi's
daughter Lilly worked. He looked in at
her, and watched as she served customers. A smile
stretched accross her face as she talked
to one of her regulars.
*How time changes things.* Mike thought. It was
only 8 years before that Mike had learned
about Lilly and under some griping circumstances.
It took a long time for Lilly and Cassi to
become friends and now, Mike had to tell Lilly
that her that her friend, her Mom was dead.
Mike opened the door of the cafe and entered.
Lilly looked up from what she was doing. She
was always happpy to see Mike.
"Hey there guy! What's you doing in my neighbourhood?"
Lilly said with excitement.It didn't
take her long to realize that Mike wasn't here
on a social call.
"It's Cassi isn't it?" Mike nodded.
"Lilly, Your Mom was shot last night and killed."
Lilly sucked in a deep breath and closed her
eyes. Mike reached out to her, but she pulled
away.
"Who, Do you know who did it." Mike shook his
head.
"No, We don't know who, we may never know." Lilly
walked away to the back of the coffee
shop. Mike followed her. He didn't want to leaver
her alone.
"I'm sorry Lilly, If I could have stopped it I
would have." Lilly nodded.
"Tell me Mike does it have something to do with
this case she was working on. The one
involving JudgeSullivan." Mike was surprised that
Lilly knew anything about what her Mom was
working on.
"Yes, I'm afraid it does. Did Cassi tell you about
it?"
"Cassi and I kept no secrets, Mike. Look, I need
to go home, I have things I have to do."
"Would you like me to come with you?"
"No Mike, these are things I have to do myself.
I'll call you if I need anything." Mike reached up
and pulled her in for a hug.
"Promise me you'll call." Lilly nodded. Then Mike
pulled away from her and left the cafe.
"We're being called on the carpet," Kelson Ransome hazarded
a guess as to why he and Tick
Calvert were being summoned to Section Chief Tom
Davis's office in the middle of lunch.
"You might be," Tick grinned. "I'm only visiting, remember?"
"Rub it in-"
Kelson's words were cut off by the abrupt opening
of Davis's door. "Agents." Tick wasn't sure
if the word was a summons or a greeting, but he
glanced at Kelson, shrugged and followed his
colleague into Davis's inner sanctum.
Sitting at the conference table were Commander
Dietz and a younger man, his close-cropped
hair and disciplined air testifying to a military
career.
"Agents, this is Commander Dietz, NYPD, and Major
Benjamin Schurz," DAvis made the
introductions with his usual professional demeanor.
A look passed between the two younger
men as they recognized the Senator's name. Davis
smiled thinly. "They'd like to talk with you."
Calvert didn't look like a Bureau man, Dietz thought.
Ransome had FBI written all over him, as
though he'd been cut from the original G-man pattern.
Calvert did not wear the customary suit,
but was instead clad in khakis and a black FBI
polo shirt.
He definitely didn't look like an agent who'd graduated
top of his Quantico class or one who
was in charge of a smaller field office, Dietz,
who'd had both agent thoroughly checked out,
mused. He smiled grimly as the two agents sat
down. "Gentleman, it has come to my attention
that we may have a common goal . . ."
Just to lessen the confusion factor . . . here's a list
of the AU characters who have appeared
so far in the "Reckless Ambition" story"
Caitlin Falconetti -- ex-wife of Detective Mike Logan. A profiler with the FBI.
Kelson Ransome -- FBI agent; partner of Caitlin Falconetti
Tick Calvert -- FBI agent in charge of the Albany,
GA office. Temporarily working in NY as part
of a special task force attempting to link the
Dixie Mafia to the Masucci crime family. Dating
Caitlin Falconetti.
It was the crack of dawn and the sound of a pen
scratching on paper was the only sound
emanating from the DA's office. Manuel Sanchez,
the morning clean-up crew danced around
pushing a broom and whistling a popular tune heard
on the radio. Hearing a strange sound, he
cocked his head. Peering into Adam Schiff's office,
a slightly balding man with piercing blue
eyes looked up at him. Manuel had seen him before.
Bowing his head out of the office, Manuel
realized that the man used to work here right
when Manuel started. *Work-a-holics*, he shook
his head. He was glad he didn't have sit behind
a desk all day.
Hours later, Ben dropped his pen and wearily wiped
his eyes, trying to cear the grey fog that
clouded his head. Unable to sleep since Cassi's
death, he found solace in coming into Adam's
office. Layinhg his head on his hands, he closed
his eyes, wishing sleep could come to him.
Maybe then he could think straight. He felt swallowed
up by a black void and for the first time,
Ben was scared. Sullivan was breathing down his
neck, Lennie Briscoe was facing murder
charges and two officers of the 2-7 have been
summarily dismissed of their duties and yet
someone found time to assasinate Cassi. Ben fought
the void from completely devouring him.
A sharp knock shook him awake. Adam lumbered in,
smiling at the site of Ben with his sleeves
rolled up, hard at work. He had missed that. "You
need to go home, Ben. You need some
rest."
"Adam, I have too much to do here. I have to talk
to Briscoe, to Van Buren and figure out
Sullivan's-"
As gently as he could, Adam had to stop his old
friend. "Ben you're not the Executive Assistant
DA anymore, I'm afraid. Let us handle that."
"Adam, Briscoe is in jail, detectives are losing
their jobs and Cassi O'Connor was killed
because somewhere she fits into all this. I have
to find out. This is somehow related to me and
I want to find the son-of-a-bitch who's responsible!"
Adam had never heard Ben so
determined.
Nodding, Adam slid out of the room, leaving Ben
in charge.
James 'Rocket' Deitz--The stern Borough Detective
Commander, now in a stressful 'double
agent' role as Judge Sullivan's lackey.
Stan 'Plodder' Oromocto--Former partner of Deitz
and one of his few friends. An 'old-timer'
detective at the 51st Precinct, and unofficial
head of Force Plodder, at work against Judge
Sullivan.
Carol Bonneau--Youngest sister of Lieutenant Anita
Van Buren. As a temporary secretary to
Deitz, she relayed information about Judge Sullivan's
plans and earned the trust of Force
Plodder.
Judge Hiram Modesto Sullivan--Egotistical, prim
jurist who is leading a shake-up of the NYPD.
Has already brought about many arrests and suspensions
of NYPD members. A popular
far-right-wing speaker. Some members of Force
Plodder have seen evidence that the Judge
has his own superiors.
Sam 'Storm' Catchpole--Hulking, aggressive member
of Judge Sullivan's staff. The police
believe that he committed double vehicular homicide
but don't have enough proof to arrest him.
Duncan Porteous--Judge Sullivan's top attorney,
now prosecuting Lennie Briscoe for a 1994
murder.
Frank Lehrman--Lennie Briscoe's defense attorney.
The two look so much alike they could be
played by one actor.
Major Benjamin Schurz, Jr.--Military policeman
for the Marine Corps who was in trouble with
the law as a youth. He avoided a criminal record
only because his father the Senator bribed
Deitz 17 years ago.
Atlanta Willow--Teenage college student/restaurant
worker who wants to be a cop and has
already saved a life with her skills.
West 46th Street, 5 PM: "It's time for another initiation
rite, Logan," said the Plodder . "You're
going to be our errand boy and take out Bianchi's
finest cuisine."
Plodder, Logan, Cragen, Schurz, Ransome and Calvert
were at the surveillance post. Plodder
asked each man what he wanted. Ransome growled,
"Anything that's not Irish!" while glaring
at Logan, who had a magma-freezing gaze of his
own. Chili dogs, coleslaw and fries were fine
for all.
"Fries for you too, Kel? Potatoes are Irish," Logan said with a dead expression.
"They're from South America, you dick!"
"Enough!," Plodder said with unusual harshness. To Logan: "Go!"
Mike Logan left the room and buttoned his leather
jacket. He knew he would shiver anyway--it
was cold enough for the Siberian wastes outside.
Bianchi's was fast and busy, with steamy good-food
smells. A thin black familiar-looking girl
who looked near 20 worked the till with speedy
dexterity. She saw Mike and gazed at
him...only for two seconds or so, but it was a
very knowing look.
When Logan got to the till, the girl was trying not to stare. Her name tag read ATLANTA.
And now Mike remembered: Atlanta Willow was the
heroine who, along with Lennie, had saved
a little girl in that Kinbasket case last September.
And could she be the same Atlanta who, as
a 10-year-old, had written her condolences to
Marie Greevey after Max was murdered in '91?
One way to find out.
"That was a very nice letter you sent Mrs. Greevey."
Atlanta nodded, eyes gleaming with recognition.
"Th--thanks...Mike." Logan guessed that she
knew his identity from the day his Staten Island
Express of a fist produced that COP POPS
POL headline complete with front-page picture.
In the letter, Atlanta had expressed her recollection
of their encounter in 1988. Mike
remembered the skinny little girl huddled on the
tenement stairs with her doll. She'd asked,
"You the man?" and Max had replied, "We sure are,
honey" in a tired yet compassionate tone
which had impressed her. The magic of Max. Because
of him, Atlanta decided to become a
cop, and had already learned and used life-saving
skills. Lennie was impressed (Mike spoke to
him the day he and Curtis arrested Kinbasket).
Now Mike said, "Try not to worry about Lennie,
we'll do whatever it takes." Atlanta nodded in
understanding.
"Hey, can ya break it up 'fore I become a f***in'
walkin' skeleton!" barked a burly construction
worker.
Back at the post, Kelson snarled, "This food is cold!" but Mike still felt warm inside.
"I would kill for a cigarette," Tick Calvert drawled,
tilting dangerously far back in his chair. His
eyes were trained on the surveillance screens,
where absolutely nothing was happening. He
yawned widely. "And a couple hours sleep."
Kelson Ransome, laid out on the couch, didn't open
his eyes. "Can't smoke in the apartment,
huh?"
Tick sighed longingly. "Nope."
"Maybe you should try a hotel." There was a distinct
note of disapproval in Ransome's voice,
and Mike, who was reading through a set of phone
transcripts provided by the FBI, lifted his
head, halfway listening.
"You got a problem with my sleeping arrangements?"
Tick asked with forced lightness, a hint
of seriousness lurking in his deep Southern drawl.
"Not as long as sleeping's all you're doing."
Tick shot him a long look, popping another peppermint
into his mouth. "Just because we're
sleeping in the same bed doesn't mean we're playing
hide the salami."
"So why aren't you sleeping?" Kelson asked idly, closing his eyes again.
Tick turned back to the window, lifting the binoculars.
"She's having the dreams again," he said
quietly. "About Krycek."
Mike's head jerked up, suspicion and remembered
anguish rising in him. But Ransome's eyes
were closed, and Calvert was focused on the office
across the street and didn't notice.
**
The cramped little bar was crowded and smoky, and
Mike blended right in with the rest of the
patrons. He'd slipped in moments after Tick Calvert,
unsure what impulse prompted him to tail
the younger man as he had.
A sick feeling churning in his abdomen, Mike watched
as Tick smiled at Caitlin Falconetti and
leaned down to kiss her. She kissed him back warmly,
her fingers tangled in his hair, the
diamond on her ring finger winking in the dim
light.
Mike turned away. He needed a drink.
**
Faith snuggled into Kelson’s side, splaying her
hand across his chest. He smiled softly, running
a hand over her hair. “You asleep?” he murmured,
resting his lips on her forehead.
“Yes,” she replied, hearing the deep chuckle in
his chest. She nuzzled his side, dragging
herself to gaze into his satisfied face. “I’m
glad you stayed tonight,” she whispered, resting a
kiss on his chin.
Kelson smiled up at her, touching her cheek. “Me,
too,” he replied, bringing her lips down to his
for a soft kiss. It slid into a second and then
a third, his hand sliding into the darkness of her
hair. The baby monitor Faith still kept next to
her bed crackled and Faith paused, listening,
hearing the light sound of her daughter crying,
a product of her many nightmares. She sighed,
sitting up, ready to apologize and Kelson smiled,
sleepily. “Go to her,” he said, quietly,
covering one of her hands warmly with his, “Wake
me up when you get back.”
Faith got off the bed, fingers reluctantly leaving
his and padded quietly into the living room. As
she crossed the carpet, she heard a soft shuffling
at her front door. Fear seized in her throat
and she crept towards the hallway, pulling the
baseball bat Kelson and Chloe had left against
the desk against her in a firm grip. Holding her
breath, she leaned against the door and slowly
squinted forward to peer through the peephole.
"Mike?" she whispered, confusedly, throwing
open the door.
"Faith, sweetie..." came the slurred reply and
Faith groaned, inwardly, noting the half empty
bottle of Jim Bean in her ex-partner, and ex-lover's,
hand.
Blocking him entrance to her apartment, Faith put
her hands on her hips, discarding the
baseball bat. "Mike, you really can't be here
right now," she hissed, glancing over her shoulder.
"Chloe's asleep."
"Well, that never stopped us before," Mike pushed
by her, teetering slightly as he threw an
arm around her waist. "I promise I'll be very,
very quiet."
Pushing away his arm, Faith moved away from him.
"Mike, what the hell are you talking
about?"
"I came by to see if you wanted to have a roll
in the hay? You know, for old time's sake? Just
for the hell of it?" Mike began taking off his
rumped suit jacket, setting the bottle on the coffee
table. "See, I'm pretty well plastered and I could
use a good lay. And you, my dear, are a
good lay."
Tears of anger and despair welled in Faith's eyes.
"Mike, you need to get the hell out of here.
Go home and sober up. Please. I'm begging you,"
she tried to keep her voice low, wondering
what Kelson would do if he found Mike in her living
room, asking for sexual favors.
"I thought I'd stay here. See...I've pretty much
ran out of legitament ladies in my life. Cait's
sleepin' with the FBI son of bitch Calvert and
Cassi...well, Cassi's dead. You knew that, right?
She's dead? Cassi's...Cassi's dead and Cait doesn't
want me anymore." There was a falter in
his voice and Faith sighed, sadly, hearing the
heartbreak in his voice. "I thought maybe you'd
still want me. I mean, you're all I-"
"Faith?"
Kelson's voice sounded in the bedroom doorway and
Faith nearly jumped out of her skin.
"Kelly..." she said, nervously, pushing a hand
through her hair. He was squinting confusedly in
the dim light, hair mussed, scratching his bare
chest. Faith glanced worriedly at Mike, who was
staring at Kelson in disbelief.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Mike demanded,
standing up, his arm knocking over the
bottle on the table and sending it crashing onto
Faith's spotless eggshell carpet.
Kelson's face set into a annoyed frown as he came
into the living room, standing close to
Faith, who stared at the stain that was spreading
on her rug. "I think I should be asking you the
same question, Logan."
Mike looked back at Faith, who looked away, mumbling
about getting some papertowels as
she hurried into the kitchen. "Oh, I see how it
is," Mike said, reaching down and clumsily
beginning to put on his jacket. "I see how it
is..." he murmured. "I'm out of here."
233