Three months . . .        

By: Kimberly

Email Kimberly

       Kim looked up at Michael, "She's in - signal is loud and clear. Unless she goes underground deeper than Section, I'll be able to find and hear her the whole time - and Pepe is coming in clear too."

       Michael looked down at Kim, "Pepe?"

       "Yeah," Kim told him, "Walter implanted him with a tracker. If they find Alex's god forbid - we have a backup, at least until they dispose of him."

       Michael gave an almost imperceptible nod, and then looked up across comm at the main floor below Operations glass observation deck.

       Kim followed his gaze. Kristie was walking across the floor, heading for Walter's station. Kristie turned and looked at Michael, her expression conveying regret, sadness and wounded feelings.

       "What do you think Michael?" Kim asked him quietly.

       "They weren't lethargic on the tape. Their movements weren't clumsy. I'd trust my life with Kristie, and with Darren. I know them both well. It doesn't fit, but that tape is damning."

       "I did some of my own research on this drug they were slipped," Kim told him, "It's possible. The reports of symptoms are varied though, and there are a wide range of different forms of the drug too. It's big business right now."

       Michael sighed, "I've been drugged before Kim. With stuff that was experimental and well established. I've never done what they did . . . and they're close."

       Kim looked up at Michael, "But they were close to Alex too . . . I don't know any of these people Michael . . . but from what I hear, but a lot of people are really shocked, and half of them want to tear Kristie and Darren apart."

       Michael's lip twitched. This was going to be nightmare.

       "With Alex out of Section for a while, things should calm down," Michael told Kim, "Keep me posted on Alex. I'll be in my office."

       "Walter," Kristie called softly.

       The wizened armory specialist appeared from the storage room, "Wild thing! You got yourself in a heap of trouble, don't ya!"

       Kristie sighed, "You and Nikita are the only people who believe us."

       "I heard the tape was pretty . . . graphic," Walter said quietly.

       Kristie sighed, "I've never been shy - but I'd just as soon have had no one see me like that. At least Alex destroyed it. I thought for sure she was gonna strangle Darren. I've been looking over my shoulder - until she left."

       "She's mad, but she won't kill either one of you," Walter told her, patting her back as he walked past her, reaching for some piece of equipment.

       "I've never seen Alex like that Walter," Kristie told him, "She was so angry, and cold. Tyler doesn't look that mean when he doesn't get his way! She made Madeline and Operations look like normal sane people! Then she fell apart and cried. I feel like dogshit! And she won't read the research on this stuff."

       Walter nodded slowly, "Give her some time. She'll be curious eventually. The last time she and Darren had a falling out - over Anna - it took some time before either one of them could even talk to each other. Time heals all wounds."

       "Or lets them scar over," Kristie corrected, "Walter there has to be some way to reach her!"

       Walter sighed deeply, "When she gets back, try again. Right now she's still in shock. She is just as hot headed as you are."

       Nikita walked into Walter's area just then and said in greeting, "Walter."

       "Sugar!" Walter exclaimed, "Named a date yet?"

       Nikita sighed, "Somewhere around 4 months from now. The big question is where."

       Walter grinned, "If I know you, it won't be inside Section."

       "No," Nikita agreed, "it won't. How ya holding up Kristie?"

       Kristie humphed, "I'm gonna volunteer for the abeyance pool."

       Nikita shook her head, "I was thinking about all the various reports of symptoms - because it's engineered, but not regulated, so there are no control factors. We could get some, and slip some to Alex, but there is no guarantee she'll get the same effect."

       Kristie looked over at Nikita, "I thought about that too - slipping some to Alex. Darren came unglued."

       "We just have to find out what strain Hirt purchased - which means finding his dealer."

       "Who supplied information to us on Hirt?" Walter asked them.

       Nikita looked out of Walter's station over at Kim, "I don't know, but I bet she can find out for us."

       Kim stood up and balanced herself on her strong leg and by grabbing her desk. She bent over, stretching her back and hamstrings. She tried to move as much as possible. The next few weeks of 12 hour shifts were gonna be a killer.

       Kim then stood back up, and came face to face with Nikita.

       "I'm trying to avoid middle age spread early in life," Kim joked.

       Nikita laughed, "I hate spending 12 plus hours at comm - and it seems to happen way to much."

       Kim nodded, "The equipment here is better. I can work on a couple things at once if I just need to monitor an operative."

       "Really?" Nikita said, "So you could find something out for me?"

       Kim looked at Nikita. People came to Kim wanting information all the time at her previous duty station. She hadn't expected it to be any different here.

       "Sure - if I can get to it. What do you need to know?" Kim asked.

       "The Hirt mission, who supplied us information on Hirt?" Nikita asked her.

       Kim grabbed her cane, and limp/walked over to another terminal, and started typing on the key board, "Henry Smith - gee, that's a generic name."

       Nikita nodded, "Alias?"

       "I hope not, cause that's how he's listed in all our data bases. He's been snitching for us on a lot of people for a while. He's a drug dealer - and greenlisted."

       Score! Nikita thought to herself.

       "Where would I contact Mr. Smith?" Nikita asked her.

       "You're gonna find out what Kristie and Darren were slipped," Kim thought out loud, "Operations and Madeline know your doing this?"

       "Nope, and I hope they don't find out," Nikita said, hoping Kim would get the hint.

       "Won't hear it from me," Kim said, "I'll erase the search."

       Kim typed in a few more commands, then grabbed a piece of paper, and wrote something down, "His haunts and address. His contact is actually someone from the agency - Tomas Vasquez."

       Nikita smiled. She knew Tomas well.

       Nikita saw Tomas enter the cafe, spot her, check the street again, and walk over.

       Nikita was wearing a dark wig, her skin had been darkened. Her clothing was bulkier.

       "I hear congratulations are in order - are you delivering a wedding invitation?" Tomas asked her, "Or are you gonna run away with me to Las Vegas and leave Michael standing at the alter?"

       Nikita laughed, "Too much of a health hazard - Michael would find us! But you will get an invite. We're still looking into where we're gonna do this."

       "Michael must have done something fucking phenomenal for George," Tomas commented to her, "Operations must have had a stroke."

       "Close," Nikita said, "I have no idea what Michael did - not sure I want to either. Listen - I need a favor Tomas."

       Tomas nodded, "Anything Nikita."

       She laughed, "You have a contact, Henry Smith. We used him to get to a target named Hirt. Hirt slipped some kind of drug to two of our operatives. Looks like it might have been an engineered strain of X-tasy - used to arouse people, make them do something they normally wouldn't have done . . ."

       Tomas blinked, "Henry would know it - can you tell me who got hit with it?"

       "Two friends of mine - Darren and Kristie - you haven't met them. I want to get a sample for testing," Nikita told him.

       "I'll introduce you to him," Tomas told her, "Let me get back to you."

       "Thanks Tomas," Nikita said, "I appreciate this."

       Nikita scrubbed the makeup off at a bathroom in the mall, and stuffed the wig in a bag. She returned to Section, and found Michael and a team preparing to leave.

       "Alex was able to feed us our first target," Michael told Nikita. Carlson made a phone call in the car right in front of her. We'll pick up the target before Carlson gets there."

       Nikita nodded, "Be careful."

       "Where were you?" Michael asked her, his voice, calm, controlled - but she could detect an edge.

       Nikita was used to Michael being possessive. She knew he trusted her in their relationship. It was Section that interfered. Neither one of them counted Section sending them out on a target as an infidelity to their relationship - to the marriage Section had no knowledge already existed

       Nikita smiled, "I met with Tomas about a contact of his. He say's your a lucky bastard."

       Michael's eyes swept over her, quickly, "I know."

       Nikita stood back as the last of his team went climbed into the van.

       They were set up and waiting three hours in advance. Their target tended to come early to meets, and scout the area out. By the time Carlson got there, Section - and the man they were going to take - would be long gone.

       "I'm not seeing a soul," Dante's voice came over the comm link, "This guy ought to be here by now."

       "Maintain position," Michael replied.

       "I think I got someone here," Kristie's voice came over the channel, "From the southeast."

       "I got one from the north," another cold op said.

       "Hold positions, monitor only," Michael told them.

       They waited for another tense hour, before a limousine pulled up. The two men who'd been scouting out the area approached the car, spoke to someone in the car, then walked away, concealing themselves.

       "Kristie and Kevin, take out the wheels," Michael ordered, already sighting up with his rifle, "Everyone but the target is expendable."

       Kristie lifted her weapon, lined her cross hair up on the rear tire facing her, and fired. POP POP sounded, and a millisecond later, she saw the tire start to deflate. She turned her scope on the next tire she could get too, lined up, and fired.

       Michael watched as all four tires were quickly shot and rendered useless. The drivers door of the limousine flew open, and the driver baled out, gun in hand, looking for something, anyone.

       A shot rang out, and Michael judged that it came from Kristie. The driver bucked backwards and fell, dead before he hid the ground.

       Two men came out from the other side of the car. Shots rang out from above, where Michael knew member's of his team were situated.  Both of the targets men fell in seconds.

       The two men who'd scouted the area out frantically ran from their hiding places, to be cut down moments later.

       "Dante, fire the tear gas," Michael ordered.

       A deep popping sound came out from where Michael knew Dante was holed up, the glass shattered on the passenger side of the back portion of the limousine. White gas started to billow out moments later.

       The back driver side door opened, and the target rolled out.

       Michael sighted him up, and fired once. The tranque bullet hit him in the chest. He wavered, and fell.

       "Call housekeeping," Michael ordered.

       Kristie scanned the fire zone below her one more time, just to make sure nothing had been missed. Satisfied, she lowered her rifle, and started down the corridor, then down the stairs of the deserted building where she'd stood guard, then acted as sniper.

       When she emerged from the building, two other cold ops were carrying the target to the waiting van. A second van had appeared. Kristie knew what was in that van. She didn't care to see them do their work - Housekeeping.

       She stood back while their unconscious target was loaded into the van, then climbed in after him.

       "How long before Carlson gets here?" Kristie asked Michael.

       Michael turned a calm emotionless gaze on her. It was his mission face - the emotionless mask he wore when he worked. Today, somehow, it felt colder.

        "Two hours," Michael replied, and seeing the last of his team had climbed in the van, he patted the partial wall between the back passenger area and the driver, "lets go."

       Kristie sat back, and sighed deeply. She was tired. She hadn't slept much since that night, the night she wished had never taken place. She let her gaze travel around the van, and instantly regretted it.

       Dante looked at her, then looked away. Kevin's expression was a crude leer. No one else would look at her. Kristie wanted to scream at them all. But an outburst would only condemn her more.

       You can all bite my ass! Kristie thought to herself.

       "They're buying a poison," Operations began his speech about the next heinous criminal Section was going to find, catch and destroy.

       He pointed the remote, "Sean O'Mally. IRA extremist. He's in the market to buy a substance he plans to use to poison the water supply in a small town in Ireland. Early projections suggest that the fatality rate will be over 90."

       The small team assembled grimaced, frowned, and expressed general dismay.

       "Recent Intel has O'Mally meeting with Terrence Drakemore - an American chemical engineer. His company has been involved in drug research - prescription drugs is their legitimate business. He's been known to experiment with other substances. To date, he's manufactured synthetic heroine, and synthetic cocaine. When they meet tomorrow afternoon, you'll surround the site, and take both of them."

       Operations hit a button on the remote, "Failure is not an option people. Thousands will die if O'Mally is allowed to carry out his plan. Meet at Egress in 10 minutes."

       The first scrap of a chair on the floor started everyone else's rustlings to leave. Darren waited a moment, allowing everyone else to pass by him. Nikita saw him hanging back, and matched her pace with his. They walked in silence until they were out of the briefing room.

       "Did I just hear right? Drakemore is a chemical engineer? Engineered drugs?" Darren asked her.

       Nikita nodded, "I have a contact who knows who sold Hirt the engineered X-tasy. I'll have a sample for testing soon."

       Darren stopped in his tracks, "How the hell do you test something like that Nikita?"

       She sighed, "I don't know - I'm hoping Walter knows. I figure that worst case, we slip some to Alex - so she has the experience - and she'll get over it."

       Darren sighed, "I . . . She's been addicted to so much shit Nikita . . ."

       "Worst case," Nikita told him, "Keep your chin up. We gotta go - and I'm putting this new guy with you. I only have the reports from the substation - and I don't want to leave anything to chance.

       Darren nodded, "Tony?"

       "Yeah," Nikita said, "The Portland substation had him. All the reports are glowing. We're running short, they actually 1 over. I just want someone who knows their shit with him."

       Darren fell into step with her, "I'm your man. Can you tell me anything else?"

       "Jovial, Italian, strong sense of right and wrong but able to compromise if he has to, tends to be overly protective with female operatives - and lucky me - I get him."

       "Hence he'll work side by side with a guy for a while," Darren finished.

       Tony was tall, broad shouldered, dark brown eye's and hair, which was cut short. Very Italian features. He obviously had expected to be partnered with someone for a while. He and Darren took up their positions quietly. Darren let him choose, deciding that he'd watch rather than direct.

       "How long have you been in Section Darren?" Tony asked after a minute.

       "Year and a half outside my training," Darren replied, "You?"

       "Year outside," Tony told him, "I just got to this station yesterday."

       "Welcome to hell," Darren commented, and then sneezed, "Fuck! I hate Ireland!"

       Tony chuckled, "Allergies?"

       "I think so," Darren said softly, "Happened last time I was here. It's cold, wet, and always rainy."

       "Did we get all the Intel on this guy? Or do they do it 'need to know' here?"

       "If Nikita has it, we have it," Darren told him, "Operations, Madeline and Jonathan will hide stuff if they think knowledge will affect performance. Nikita is always straight with us."

       "Roll call," Nikita announced over the comm suddenly.

       "Tim is on site and dragging his ass," Tim joked.

       "Ken is feeling like the only black man in Ireland," Ken added.

       "Martin can't think of anything witty to say," Martin called in.

       "Nick really wishes we could chuck this whole thing and have a decent beer," Nick said over the comm unit.

       "Darren and Tony are voting we go with Nick's suggestion," Darren called in.

       "Charley thinks Darren is gonna be eating humble pie for the rest of his life," Charley called in.

       "Kim reads all of you testosterone spraying studs loud and clear and feeling really sorry for Nikita, and you've got a van coming in from the north, 3 people in the van, looks like O'Mally. Drakemore is still in the courtyard," Kim announced.

       "Watch for any one coming at us from our back Kim," Nikita told her, "Everyone hold your fire until we have confirmation that O'Mally and Drakemore are in the courtyard.

       They all watched from their various positions as the van pulled into the courtyard. Two men got out of the van.

       "Martin, get me a close in visual on the two new comers," Kim told him.

       Kim watched her screen inside the van, hidden inside a barn. Slowly, two faces came into focus.

       "We have confirmation on O'Mally. Blue jeans, green jacket and blond hair," Kim announced.

       "Darren and Tony , you've probably got the best angle - on three you take O'Mally. I'll take the shot for Drakemore. Tim you got the guy who came with O'Mally. Ken gets the man on the left of Drakemore, Nick you get the man farthest south,  Charley gets to play clean up fire," Nikita told them, "One . . . . two . . . three!"

       Shots fired out from all around the courtyard. Within ten seconds, everyone who had been standing in the courtyard, was laying on the ground.

       "Proceed in carefully. I don't want to lose anyone because they're playing possum. Kim, notify housekeeping to stand by," Nikita ordered.

       Everyone quickly made there way out into the courtyard. Nikita moved among the bodies, tossing weapons out of reach as she came across them. Drakemore had one bullet in his leg, besides the tranque in his neck, O'Mally had been tranqued only.

       "Send in housekeeping, bring the van around," Nikita ordered.

       Kim looked up at the driver, to make sure he'd heard. The housekeeping van had already started up.

       Moments later the team started to climb into the van, the two targets were secured in the back of the van.

       "Testosterone spraying studs?" Darren asked Kim.

       "Well, we know you're sure full of testosterone," Kim teased him, "I found some more data for you by the way. I sent it to your intranet address."

       Several 'oooohhhhs' and 'ah mans' were heard. Nikita only smiled a little bit. Darren took the teasing insult in the spirit it was mean, she was teasing - and helping him too apparently.

       "So who's monitoring Alex while you're away?" Darren asked her.

       "Michelle," Kim told him, "know her?"

       Darren nodded. He knew Michelle was proficient. She'd know when to call for assistance. That was what Alexandra would need the most.

       "Breakfast?" Alexandra said, surprised.

       She'd awoke to the aroma of bacon, eggs and toast. She sat up, and watched a tray being carried into the bedroom she was given, and then set down across her legs. A glass of orange juice sat on the corner of the tray. Cut strawberries were also on the tray in a bowel.

       Carlson had taken her to his home, given her the bedroom he'd slept in all to herself, and had a T-shirt left for her to sleep in, a bathrobe laying over a chair.

       Alexandra had taken a long hot shower, and collapsed in bed.

        Carlson had preceded the servant into the room with the breakfast tray.

       "Louis will take Pepe out for a morning stroll," Carlson informed her.

       Pepe stood up and waggled his tail at the mention of his name. The servant picked him up, and disappeared from the room.

       "How did you sleep?" Carlson asked her.

       Alexandra sighed, "Well enough. You?"

       "Fitfully I'm afraid. I went to meet a friend last night - you heard me call him from the car. He didn't show up. I'm concerned," Carlson told her.

       "Really?" Alexandra asked him, "I take it you tried to call him again?"

       "No answer," Carlson told her, "And it's difficult to call any of his relatives, considering the nature of our friendship."

       Alexandra managed a smile, "OH, a business friend."

       "Precisely," Carlson told her, "Yesterday was a miserable day for business. Today will have to be better."

       Alexandra dug into her breakfast, "So . . . at the risk of sounding rude . . . are you giving me a place to crash?"

       Carlson smiled, "Beautiful and forthright. Intriguing combination. You have a place to crash - indefinitely. I frequently need female companionship when I meet with people to keep things looking social."

       "Oh, OK," Alexandra said, "I uh . . . have one small problem. I have just the dress you brought me here in."

       "We'll remedy that today," Carlson told her, "A change of cloths will be delivered soon, and we will go shopping for you."

       Alexandra took all this as she ate her breakfast. Carlson intended to keep her - everything was going to plan.

       The change of cloths fit reasonably well. They were definitely nicer than the cheap dress she'd arrived in as part of her cover.

       He took her to a posh brand name store that employed 'personal shoppers'. They took down your size, sat you down with a glass of wine, or coffee, and came back a little later with several outfits to try one. Carlson walked her in, spoke with the manager - a man who knew Carlson well. Within moments, two women were bending over backwards to help Alexandra.

        The clothing with chic, well made, and tasteful. It bespoke money and power, without being crude. Hours later, Carlson paid a bill that was thousands of dollars. Alexandra would have gagged at the amount if Carlson hadn't been rich from the weapon's trade.

       They hit several more stores that way. Dresses, pant suits, casual attire, lingerie, shoes, handbags, accessories.

       That afternoon, he took her into a spa, and again he knew the owners. Alexandra was whisked away, a facial, makeover, manicure and pedicure were the order of business.

       So now, she found herself sitting comfortable in a chair with built in vibrating massage, someone giving her a pedicure, someone else giving her a manicure, and a third person doing her makeup.

        It was now that she had some time to think.

       She couldn't reconcile the images she saw on the tape with the Darren she knew, or Kristie for that matter. After all she'd put him through, all the things he'd seen her through, supported her through, and he always wanted her, always loved her, and his actions backed up his words.

       Had he finally had enough? Was he starting to get bored with her?

        Then there was Kristie. Alexandra just couldn't see Kristie doing this to her . . . but the images on the tape came back to argue that point with Alexandra.

       The spa staff finished with her, and Carlson was called to pick her up. When he arrived,  Alexandra learned that they were going out tonight, to meet with a 'business' friend of his.

       It was exactly the kind of thing she was here to do.

       "Michael," Kim said into the phone, "Alex is about to be present for another meet."

       "I'm on my way," Michael's voice said back.

       Kim hung up. Michael was Alex's cold op contact while on this assignment. It wasn't required that he listening for each meet - but he'd asked Kim to notify him if he was reachable. Kim didn't hesitate. Alex's situation could get bad quickly.

       Moments later, Michael appeared.

       Kim was coming to realize that black on black was Michael's standard attire. Unless he was on an assignment that suggested he wear something different, it was black on black - end of discussion. He walked with a lithe grace, his eye's tracking everything as he moved.

       Wordlessly, Kim handed him a comm unit, and Michael slipped it into place.

       It was a mint pastel linen pant suit that Alexandra wore that evening. Her hair had been pulled out into a French roll of some sort, small tendrils of hair left loose to brush across her shoulders. Her makeup and nails were still done and perfect from the salon visit.

       The pantsuit consisted of loose draping slacks that tapered to her ankles, a strapless halter top under a waist length jacket. She had on a new watch and silver jewelry. The heels she wore were simply a soul, thin white straps behind her ankle, and two across her instep, with a thin slender heel.

        Alexandra checked her appearance in the mirror one last time, and saw Carlson slipping into her bedroom in the reflection of the mirror.

       He watched her for a moment. Alexandra turned around,  slowly for his inspection.

       "Truly lovely," he told her, and offered his arm.

       Alexandra picked up her purse and slipped it over her shoulder, tucked Pepe into her arm, and slipped her other arm through Carlson's. He walked her out to the waiting limousine, and she had the nagging feeling in her stomach she was walking with death itself.

       They had met up with him 17 times in order to get Alexandra inserted into Carlson's home. Madeline had predicted no more 12. Alexandra had been worried.

       Carlson, always being the perfect gentlemen it seemed had placed a two sided dog dish in the limousine. One side had water, the other side had dog food. Pepe inspected it, and started to feast.

       "I should have named you pig," Alexandra told Pepe as she watched him devouring his food.

       "He's a puppy, and busy," Carlson commented, "My staff told me he was more interested in playing outside than doing his daily business."

       "He's litter box trained," Alexandra said, looking up at him, "I guess I forgot to tell you."

       "Not to worry," Carlson told her, "You'll have a litter box for him tomorrow."

       They had pulled up in front of the club.

       The club was much more elegant than any of the places she and Ryan had been to on their meets with Carlson in the past. They  were shown to a table enclosed on three sides with dark smoked glass, giving an illusion of privacy. Two body guards remained near by, hovering. Alexandra pretended to ignore their presence.

       A few minutes later, the man Carlson was meeting arrived, and drinks were served.

       "Vincent Cappielli - Alexandra Murtagh," Carlson introduced them.

       Cappielli bent over Alexandra's hand, his lips lingering a little too long. Alexandra felt her flesh crawl.

       "A lovely creature - and Irish perhaps?" Cappielli asked, looking at her.

       "By heritage only," Alexandra replied.

       Cappielli turned his attention back to Carlson, "I need more guns . . ."

       Michael listened to Cappielli and Carlson talk about the impending transaction. Cappielli wanted 10 very high tech, very expensive, cutting edge of the market laser site machine guns. Carlson didn't ask why he wanted them of course. It didn't matter. Carlson arranged for the purchase,  laundered the transaction, and saw to it that the items were delivered.

       The weapons that Cappielli wanted had just been developed. They were still in the testing phase - not even on the market yet.

        Carlson agreed to get them for him, and  named a price that even Michael thought was high. Cappielli agreed to it, without any hesitation. They agreed to talk again in two days.

       "Alex," Michael said through the comm unit, knowing Alexandra alone could hear him, "We need to find out how he's getting them. Clear your throat if you understand me."

       Alexandra delicately cleared her throat.

       "So what do you think?" Nikita asked Darren quietly, as they walked behind the rest of the group towards the van.

       Tony was several feet in front of them, carrying a piece of equipment for Kim. Kim walked rather quickly, considering she was dependent on a cane. When Tony offered to carry her laptop for her, she'd hesitated. Tony had given her a charming smile.

       "Hey, I'm flirting here," Tony said, "You're not making it easy, my fragile male ego is taking a beating."

       Kim sighed, "And this isn't the 'oh help the disabled girl' routine?"

       "Disabled?" Tony asked, "I thought disability was all in the head and shit. I've seen you do some moves - You don't need any help."

       Kim managed to smile, and handed him the lap top.

       That had been three days ago, two missions ago.

       "I think he's probably a good operative," Darren said, "He knows his stuff, he seems to be a team player. He's a flirt - but that's not a crime."

       Nikita chuckled, "It better not be, you'd be locked up for life."

       "Someone needs to tell Alex to slow down the feed," Darren told Nikita, "I'd like to get a little sleep ya know."

       Nikita sighed, "Get used to it . . ."

       Two weeks later . . .

       It had been the first night the Carlson came to her bed. She'd been drinking a little, and  over the last two weeks, he'd become touchier. He always watched her.  But Alexandra was used to being watched that way by men now. If nothing else, Section's training had a positive effect on her looks.

       She hadn't had to ask him to use a condom. He'd come to her with them. He'd been gentle with her. His methods of foreplay told her he had experience pleasing women and worked to be a thoughtful partner in bed. She found her body respond,  but not with the same ardor that Darren had been able to arouse in her. But that didn't surprise her though. When he entered her, his movements were gentle at first, his thrusts becoming harder towards the end. Alexandra matched his pace, deciding halfway through the round of foreplay that if she had to do this, and since she was beholden to stay faithful to no one now, she'd enjoy what she could.

       The last two weeks had been like the first few days. She shopped, went to the salon twice a week. She went with Carlson when he met with clients and suppliers. He treated her well. She ate what she  wanted, when she wanted. Though he always knew where she was, his only demands on her time were in bed,  and when he met with clients. When she wanted to run in the park, she ran in the park.  If she wanted to spend the day in the pool, she did.

        "We're going out?" Alexandra was surprised, "Who are we meeting?"

       Carlson watched her get up from the bench. He'd found her working out in the little gym he'd set up in the basement. He found her there a lot. Alexandra was unlike any other woman he'd brought into his home. She had a brain - she took an interest in his business that should have made him nervous, except that she came up with suggestions that helped him, not hindered him. She'd managed to come up with a solution to make a buyer happy, and salve all the egos.

       She took care of herself too. Unlike the others, she worked out, ate the right foods most of the time. She didn't drink heavily. She was uninterested in any of the drugs his clients sometimes offered. She was kind and considerate to his house staff. She got to know all the security staff very well. In short, everyone adored her.

       His chef was even starting to prepare and plan meals tailored to her eating habits.

       "No one," he told her, "We're just going out - a date."

       She blinked, "A date? You mean where we go out for fun alone? I didn't know people did that anymore!"

       She was teasing when she said it, following her outburst with a smile, "So how should I dress?"

       "Not formal, but nice," He told her, "We're going to this restaurant on the coast. We'll sit on the outside deck, have a nice bottle of wine, walk on the beach . . ."

       She watched his face, really looking, "Sounds fun . . . and if it's the coast, I better go get cleaned up."

       Carlson scooped up Pepe, "You little one, can come for the ride,  but you can't go into the restaurant. I don't have that kind of pull here."

       Pepe licked his hand in response

       Alexandra showered and dressed in a slip dress made of soft silky material, and sandals. She left her hair hanging loose, and wore delicate earrings, necklace and bracelets. A faint touch of makeup, and she was ready to go.

       Carlson was dressed in slacks and a short sleeved shirt that had three buttons from the top and a collar. Corporate casual style.

       Madeline picked up the ear piece to listen in. She'd seen Michael standing by, then Nikita. If both of them were listening, something was going on.

       "What's happening?" Madeline asked after she'd placed her ear piece.

       "Date," Kim answered calmly, "No business meeting, their just out for fun."

       Madeline glanced at Michael and Nikita looking for reactions, any facial expression that might tell her something - anything.

       Both of them were listening calmly. But if they were both there, they were worried.

       "So tell me about life before men like me Alex," Carlson asked her, once the waiter was gone.

       They were sitting on the deck outside, the tables were spaced far apart, giving a little bit of privacy. Torches burned brightly - some kind of citronella oil to drive away the bugs.

       Alexandra stuck to the story Section provided for her.

       "Men like you? You're not awful you know," Alexandra commented, laughing as she spoke.

       "Thank you  - but seriously - what was Alexandra like before?" He asked her, "What makes you - you?"

       "Oh boy - in my head . . . there isn't much to tell. I have a mother and a  younger brother. My father died when I was a baby. My grandmother died a year ago - you know all about that," Alexandra told him, "Money was always tight, we went hungry often . . . I'd rather live well and risk being called whore than starve flipping burgers and hope I don't get raped on a city buss going home because I can't afford a car or to live someplace nice."

       "You're an intelligent woman - yet you never went to college?" he mentioned.

       "Ah but I did," Alexandra told him, "For a while. I took summers off to work - that was when my grandmother first became ill - I was just never able to go back. I thought that if we could afford better doctors . . . but it didn't make a difference."

       "What did you study?" he asked her.

       "Business," she replied, "Consumer relations . . . psychology . . . some accounting - the basic versions. I was only two years into it - and I went hungry - a lot."

       "Any nice boyfriends - before men like Ryan?" Carlson asked.

       "More friends than anything else," Alexandra told him, "I once thought I was in love - and we broke up two weeks later because he was phenomenally prejudice  - I was 17."

       "Oh to be 17 and idealistic again," Carlson smiled, "How did you get Pepe?"

       "I found Pepe living on the streets," Alexandra told him, "I was in town - downtown, and I bought myself a slice of pizza. Ryan was sleeping off an incredible drunk and drug feast. I looked down, and there Pepe was, looking up at me and looking so skinny. You could see his bones. So He got a slice of pizza too. I spent most of the day trying to find an owner, and someone finally told me he was a stray. I took him home."

       "Pizza! How long did he keep that down?" Carlson laughed.

       "Oh he kept it down. He slept for hours afterwards, but he kept it down. I bet he'd have eaten ten more slices until he burst, but he kept it down. What about you. How did you grow up?"

       Carlson shrugged, "Middle class. My father owned a gun shop. I was an accountant out of college.  My parents had a decent marriage. I was never abused. I never wanted for much. I just like having money to spend."

       "I wasn't asking you to justify what you do," Alexandra told him gently, "Life is too short. Someone is gonna do it and make a bundle - it might as well be you."

       "That's the way I look at it," He replied, "My father died when someone robbed his shop. He had a little money put away, but not a lot. I support my mother. She lives in a retirement community in Florida. She's happy there, doesn't ask any questions because she doesn't want to know. She has anything she needs or wants."

       "Did they get the guy who did it?" she asked him.

       "We never even knew who it could be," Carlson told her, "They took the cash and a few guns, some ammunition. Probably someone on drugs, desperate for money."

       Alexandra nodded, "Probably."

       They spent the evening talking that way. Alexandra asked him if he'd been someplace in the world and he'd tell her about it. She'd probably been to half the places, but she couldn't tell  him that. They stayed away from business altogether. He told her what the places looked like, the cultures there, the customs, the politics, the food.

       They left the restaurant, retrieved Pepe from the limo driver and walked barefoot along the beach. Late into the night, or early in the morning, they finally went back to the limo, and made the drive back into the city.

       Tony knew who Madeline was. He saw her walking down the stairs, her gaze sweeping the room, but she was heading for comm - and Kim. He stopped talking when she was within ear shot.

       "Do you have the transcripts?" Madeline asked her.

       "Right here," Kim told her, handing her a disk, "Everything from when he told her they were going out to when they got up for breakfast  -  or lunch."

       Madeline nodded, her gaze taking in Tony, where he stood, and Kim. It wasn't the first time she'd seen him around Kim. Tony frequently stopped at comm to talk to the blond woman.

       "Notify me if there are any more 'dates' in the next couple days," Madeline told her.

       Tony watched the older woman walk away. He waited until Madeline was far out of earshot.

       "What's going on?" Tony asked.

       "Alex - she's a cold op. Nice woman too I think. I haven't had a chance to get to know her. She's playing mistress to a money launderer and gun dealer. Yesterday he decides to take her out just for fun, not for business," Kim told him.

       "Well, if she's playing his mistress, he must like her enough to take her out," Tony commented.

       Kim watched as he stretched out his long legs, and arched his back to stretch. He was sitting in a chair next to her. It wasn't the first time he'd sat down to be social.

       "Not in his profile. His women have been showpieces. He's involving her in business. She's helping him - so he gets more deals, we get more targets. But he's getting attached to her. That hasn't happened with his previous mistresses in the past," Kim told him.

       Tony nodded slowly, "Ah . . .What about Alex? Is she gonna get too attached?"

       Kim took a deep breath, "You heard any rumors about Alex - and a few other operatives?"

       "The one where Darren fucked her best friend behind her back, and they're saying they were drugged?" Tony dead panned.

       Kim laughed, "Yeah - that rumor. Like I said, I don't know Alex - but if she was really in love with Darren . . . she could be really susceptible to anyone's attention."

       Tony groaned, "I know that drug - Darren and Kristie are not full of shit, believe me. When you got that stuff in your system, all you want is to fuck. It doesn't matter who, it doesn't matter where - and the next day - it's like seeing a movie in your head, you can't believe what you did. You lose total control. Scary shit."

       Kim raised an eyebrow "How do you know about this stuff?"

       "Hey, I'm Italian. My family is into all kinds of shit," He told her, "They were at least. Most of them got whacked when I got  thrown in jail  - and now I'm . . . . Here."

       He made a sweeping guesture with his hand.

       "So now that you're here," Kim said, "If you had to do it differently?"

       Tony sighed, "If I could go back, I'd go to law school, and stay the hell away from the family business - but that's hard to do. I don't know how much you know about Italians - were stubborn - and we're big on family. You always back your family."

       Kim nodded, she'd heard that, but never experienced the kind of 'family' Tony talked about, "I helped Section get to someone running drugs and guns. The cold op that worked me brought me in instead of canceling me."

       "Ah," he said, "One of the few innocents."

       "No one is innocent," Kim told him, "Not when you're hear a year."

       She stood up, and grabbed her cane, walking over to a rack with large computer chip inserts, "Like when I first came to Section - I'd hacked systems before, re-routed ill gotten gains. Here I've done stuff I'd never have done on the outside. I'd be too afraid. Here, it's child's play. Take this Carlson guy. Right before we take him, I'll be re-routing every last dime he has. Spoils of war. Blatantly illegal in the real world."

       "This isn't the real world?" Tony asked, her grinning.

       "We're all ghosts," Kim said, "We do what we have to . . . so for most of the world, we're the good luck or bad luck - not something tangible . . . so I guess I don't think of this as the real world."

       "He seems like a nice guy," Nikita commented.

       Michael had spent a few more seconds than normal watching Tony and Kim talking at comm.

       Michael's vivid green eyes turned to Nikita, "She doesn't socialize much. Not even at her old substation."

       "Not since her injury, right?" Nikita added.

       Michael nodded, "I wish you could have known her before - outside of Section."

       Nikita glanced around, to see who was watching. Her fingers brushed against his affectionately, "So tell me."

       They were on their way out of Section. They had an appointment with a caterer - today they were going to decide what kind of food would be served at the reception of their wedding - their second wedding, though no one knew it would be their second, and not first.

       Michael waited until they were in the elevator, and the door closed. Suddenly, he pulled Nikita to him, his mouth covering hers, kissing her hungrily. Nikita pressed into him, kissing him back just as passionately.

       The sounds of the elevator told them their short ride was over. They stepped apart, reluctantly, and walked quietly to Michael's bronco.

       Nikita waited until they were outside of Section property to ask again, "Tell me about Kim before she was in Section."

       Michael actually smiled, "Cocky - aggressive. She'd take on the world, maybe a little reckless. It doesn't surprise me that having to walk with a cane hasn't stopped her - but the wind has certainly been taken out of her sails. I know she resents it. She was very social before. I haven't seen that here.  Aside from Tony - she hasn't flirted with men, doesn't look at them . . . before she would have. Her attitude about sex was similar to Kristie's."

       "And now you are watching Tony with her - and you're worried," Nikita commented.

       Michael took a deep breath, "I . . . I would hate to see her feelings hurt. I found her next to the body of her Station head - despite the fact that he turned her away, she felt a loss when he died..  I'd hate to see her get her feelings hurt - you heard what she said - choicer pieces of flesh."

       Nikita nodded, "She befriended Kristie and Darren a little - but they've been kind of ostracized - Tony pursued getting to know her. She all but chased him off at first - I don't know him well yet, but my gut tells me he's OK Michael."

       Michael felt a little better. Nikita's gut was rarely wrong.

       The catering company was affiliated with the palisades restaurant - which had a huge ballroom that was frequently rented out for occasions just like this. They could accommodate up to 500 guests in the ballroom comfortable. Michael characteristly hadn't reacted when Madeline informed them of this. Nikita's eye's bulged. There was no way they'd have that many people there - would they?

       They met with the head chef, sat down and discussed what they wanted to have. Michael wanted something a bit more elegant than a buffet table of munchies. Nikita wasn't sure she wanted to go through a full sit down dinner. People would want to mingle, gossip and gawk. They decided on a buffet with a wide range of hor'deurves. Cold cuts, cheeses, various breads and crackers, pastries. Sweat meals, shell fish. Fruits from around the world, a few small serving entre's. Michael leaned more towards tastes an experienced pallet would like. Nikita wanted convenience. It seemed with a buffet of these things they would suit both of their desires.

       Then the wine list came up. Nikita deferred to Michael totally. She knew very little about wine, other than what she'd picked up from Michael. The decorating manager for the Palisades joined them a little later. Nikita had a samples of the fabric colors she'd chosen so the Palisades could coordinate napkin colors. A florist would be in contact with them to arrange the flowers. The Palisades had a house band that could accommodate a wide range of musical tastes.

        Hours later, the food and wine had been chosen, an bar had been arranged, a decorating scheme was now being designed by the decorator who would meet with them again. A tentative date for 5 months in the future had been set.

        "We still haven't found a church," Nikita reminded Michael, "The two I spoke with said we'd need to be members, or have someone sponsor us - but neither one of us are exactly the Sunday morning church going type."

       Michael thought that was a vast understatement, but wisely decided to hold his tongue. The last thing he wanted to do was upset Nikita over something as simple as her preference to be married in a church. It was a simple concession for him to make after all - especially since their previous wedding was done in a park, outside, with no guests - under fake names.

       "We'll find something," Michael told her, "Not every church will be so stringent."

       He reached across, sliding his fingers into hers as he drove them back to his apartment.

       When they arrived, they climbed the stairs silently, holding hands, walking close. The air practically hummed with desire and tension. It was as if they kiss they'd shared in the elevator would explode into more any moment.

       Michael opened the door to his apartment and the moment it closed behind Nikita, it did. Michael pushed her up against the door, pressing her body back into the wood with his, their bodies melding together. His mouth hungrily sought out hers, as if he'd been starved and she was food for his soul. She responded just as passionately. Her lips hungry and demanding against his, tasting, challenging.

       Moments later, Michael pulled her off the door, wrapping his arms tightly around her. They moved slowly towards the bedroom, shedding clothing items as they went.

        When Nikita felt the bed hitting the back of her legs, she'd just pulled Michael's last article of clothing down his hips.

       She eagerly fell back, her gaze hungrily sweeping over his sculpted form. It never ceased to amaze her how beautiful he was. Even with the tell tale scares his flesh sported, he still seamed to be carving of granite, sculpted to perfection.

       Michael felt his own desire pulsate deep within him. He was used to woman looking at him with pure unadulterated lust in their eye's. But when it was Nikita, it meant so much more to him somehow. Maybe because what they had between them was honest. There was no Intel to be stolen. She wasn't a target he would devastate to get to a relative. With Nikita, it was just them. He didn't have to play whore for someone else's sake.

       He moved over her, pushing her farther back onto the bed. Nikita reached up, wanting to pull his body down to hers, but Michael grasped her hands pushing them down to her sides, and holding them down. He wanted to kiss her, torment her with his mouth, taste her, all of her.

       His mouth moved to her lower lip, traveling down to her neck, finding a pulse beating wildly, then to the hollow of her throat, his tongue flickering in the valley created there. He moved down, between her breasts, and shifted to the right, trailing wet kissed and flicks of his tongue across her breast, teasing the flesh surrounding her nipple, but not quite reaching the quivering tight little peak.

        Nikita moaned under him, unable to stop her body from writhing and arching up toward him. Not that she wanted to resist him of course. But she knew his goal was to drive her insane with need, and he always won.

       Finally, his tongue flicked over her nipple. Nikita couldn't help but cry out in her need. Michael took the sensitive peak into his mouth, gently sucking and lapping with his tongue. When it seemed for a brief moment she might relax, his teeth barely nipped her. Her whole body reacted, convulsing once and trembling. She moaned huskily, her hips bucking up.

       Michael moved to the other breast, and repeated the same slow sweet torment.

       Nikita always tried to touch, and stroke Michael when they made love. Half the time she knew she damn near just clawed him to death. She wanted to arouse him, make him feel the same pleasure she did.

        She felt the muscles in his chest and stomach bunch under her touch, and she cupped his balls in one hand, massaging them in her fingers. She knew that got to him every time. Her wrist would brush against the base of his cock. After a few moment's, Michael would grab her wrist, and pull it back. His ragged breath, and heaving chest telling her he fought to control himself. Sometimes she go the better of him, other times, he won.

       Today, he moved down her body quickly, so his most tender parts were out of her reach. His mouth had moved to her stomach, his tongue flickering over her navel and the piercing he'd found so irritating and arousing at the same time. Michael would always be in awe of the way her mind worked. Nikita would never be conventional.

       He moved lower, his fingers trailing through the blond curls crowning the apex of her thighs. She didn't resist when he pushed her legs apart, pushing her knee's up and out. She knew what as going to come, ached for it even.

       Her flesh was already swollen with arousal, tell tale moisture beading on the tender nether lips that parted like a flower for him as he touched her. Her body quivered as he tongue parted her, she moaned huskily for him when he stroked his tongue from her opening up to her sensitive clit. It never seemed to amaze Michael how good she tasted to him. He stroked her sensitive labia with his tongue, working up to her clit each time. After a few moments he slid his finger inside her, and worked his tongue just over her clit. His finger would stroke in and out, pressing up against the front wall of her sheath. Her flesh quivered around him, and he drew back, and slid back in with two fingers. She cried out in ecstasy, begging him to not stop.

       She came for him moments later, and while her body still quivered in the aftershocks, Michael moved over her, sliding his now rock hard cock into her warm wet sheath.

       Nikita almost came again right then and there, enjoying the tight fit of his thick member inside of her. There was just something about the way they fit together, that no other man had ever been able to match.

       He moved, picking up a familiar rhythm, and Nikita matched his thrusts, arching up to meet him. Her hands were everywhere. His chest, his nipples, his back, his buttocks, in his mouth when he wasn't kissing her mouth. Nikita's mouth roamed from his to his check, his chest.

       "Harder," she gasped in his ear, "Michael please!"

       Michael was only too willing to do what ever she asked. He thrust into her harder, carefully watching her reactions. He'd give her whatever she could take if that was what she wanted.

       Nikita went insane under him. Her orgasm was violent, her muscles squeezing Michael in a painful but pleasurable way, milking his own climax to the surface. He felt her biting his shoulder, and loved the way it felt. He knew he'd driven her to the brink of madness, and dove right after her.

       His body tensed and went rigid as the last contraction of muscles shook him, and he rested his weight on her, knowing she enjoyed it, too weak from the intense pleasure to do much else. He felt her mouth on his neck, tasting him, the perspiration moist flesh tasting of arousal and satiation. His mouth trailed from her shoulder, to the hollow of her throat, then to her mouth. He loved the way her skin tasted after they'd made love.

       Nikita lay drowsily in his arms, and felt a twinge of guilt threatening to haunt her, from somewhere in the back of her mind. She and Michael had always been passionate - but this had been almost violent - and she'd enjoyed it. She remembered only to well where she'd first learned she could enjoy that too.

        But she pushed the thought out of her mind. Anything she learned at the hands of another man because of a mission, that she and Michael could enjoy would only be a plus for them. Wasn't experimentation supposed to keep the flames burning?

        Four weeks into the Carlson mission . . .

       Alexandra woke up one morning feeling ill. Carlson had been spending almost every night in her bed by then. Alexandra had resolved herself to enjoying the sex, but feeling empty inside afterwards. It wasn't the same. She knew it was because she wasn't in love with Carlson. Deep down inside, she knew he was the evil incarnate Section was there to fight. On the outside, he was good to her. She quit trying to resolve the two polar opposites, and tried to forget Darren, and the pain that always hit her like a tidal wave when she thought of what had happened.

       This morning, when she woke up, she'd felt overly warm. So warm that when she stirred and Carlson awoke, the first thing he said to her was that she was burning up.

       He pulled her out of bed, and into the shower, turning the water on tepid. She felt dizzy and disoriented.

       Carlson put her in a T-shirt and panties, put her back to bed, and called for the house first aid kit. It arrived, and he slipped the thermometer under her tongue.

       Alexandra was hardly aware of what he was saying to her. She knew he dressed her, she knew that someone carried her down to the car. She knew she was going to a doctor. . .

        "Michael," Kim called him up at home, "Alex is sick."

       Michael sat up in bed. Nikita had been tucked into his side. She sat up as well, and watched his face. Something was wrong.

       "How sick?" Michael asked her.

       "Carlson told one of his staff that she was running 104.3 degree temperature. They're taking her to the county hospital."

       "Keep me posted," Michael told her, "I'm coming in."

       "Should I send someone from med lab?" Kim asked him.

       "No," Michael said,  "If her cover is blown, she's dead."

       "What's happening?" Nikita asked Michael when he hung up the phone.

       "Alex is ill. 104.3 degree temp, Carlson is taking her to the hospital," Michael told Nikita.

       She leapt out of bed, a step behind him, "Which one? If they have volunteers, I can get in to see her."

       "The county hospital," Michael told her, "Be careful. We don't want her cover blown."

       It took Nikita two hours to drive to the county hospital where Carlson had taken Alexandra. She went in, watched the staff, trying to discern their uniforms. She quickly figured out who the volunteers were, and who was medical staff.

       She picked up a lab tech coat when no one was looking, and found a terminal sitting unattended. The man who'd been manning it had just picked up a magazine, walked out of his glass enclosed office, and down the hall into the bathroom.

       Nikita slipped inside, and quickly figured out how to look up information.

       Alexandra was still in the emergency room. They'd run a number of tests on her, including a pregnancy test, which came up positive.

       Nikita felt her blood run cold.

        Alexandra's head had started to clear a little. Her temperature was down to 100 degree's. An IV bag dripped antibiotics into her veins.

       "I . . . didn't know," Alexandra said quietly, "I was careful . . ."

       The doctor managed a sympathetic smile for her and Carlson, not knowing the relationship between them had only recently started, and that it was essentially . . . business.

       "You were close to 12 weeks along," he told her, "It appears you've suffered a lot of pelvic trauma in the past. That would be my first guess as to why the embryo couldn't maintain it's hold  - and you've got a nasty case of strep throat, that has spread to your chest as well. The trauma alone makes me surprised you were ever able to let an embryo implant. Combine that with the infection, and that was why you lost the baby."

       Alexandra closed her eye's. Twelve weeks . . . it was Darren, Darren's baby . . .

       "What do you mean trauma?" Carlson asked.

       Alexandra kept her eye's closed. She had a very good idea what trauma meant. The rapes . . .

       "Alex," the doctor said gently, "Were you every raped in the past?"

       She nodded, her eye's opening slowly, "About two years ago - the doctor said I'd be fine . . ."

       "You've got some tissue damage," the doctor told her, "You have heeled, but the damage is there. If you decide to have children in the future, I'd recommend consulting a specialist first. We're going to keep you overnight, just as a precaution. If all goes well, you can go home tomorrow. Someone will be by to take her up to a room upstairs in a little while."

       The doctor left.

       "Alex," Carlson said gently, "I'm so sorry . . . for you. I don't think a child with Ryan would be a wonderful thing, but I'm sure this must hurt."

       Alexandra had been fighting tears the whole time, and couldn't stop them now. It hadn't been Ryan's baby. She'd never slept with Ryan. But Carlson hadn't known that of course. The real father would never know. Alexandra wondered what kind of a father Darren would be - but pushed the thought away as a fresh torrent of tears hit her. She'd never know.

       "I . . ." she sobbed, "I'm not upset about Ryan . . . he'd have made me get rid of it . . . I just . . . never knew that I may not be able to have kids . . ."

       Carlson placed a chaste kiss on her cheek, and wrapped his arms around her. He felt regret for her loss. He'd become very attached to her over the last month. She facinated him at every turn. She didn't deserve all that happened to her.

       "Rest now. I'm going to leave Miguel here to watch over you. I have do some things, and I can't cancel one of them."

       "Pepe - he's going to be upset when I don't come back - will you take him with you? I don't want him locked up in that bedroom alone all day. He'll be upset that I'm gone."

       "I'll take Pepe and keep him company," Carlson told her, "Providing  you promise to get better."

       Alexandra nodded, and squeezed his hand. He lightly kissed her forehead, and stepped outside the room.

       Alexandra could hear him talking to Miguel. If the doctors became concerned about anything, or she started to get worse,  Miguel was to call him immediately. Make sure he knew who her visitors were. Ryan wasn't to get anywhere near her - or anyone else that Carlson did business with.  Obviously, Carlson was not at all concerned that she would run, but he was concerned about her safety. Miguel was her bodyguard.

       So Alexandra laid there, knowing that section was monitoring, that they would know what had happened, and that it was now over. Rumors would run wild while she was gone, and Darren would undoubtedly hear. Alexandra wondered what his reaction would be.

       Alexandra hoped that Kim would be able to get a good signal off of Pepe. There was no guarantee that Carlson would really take Pepe, but at least she'd tried.

       Nikita had been able to eaves drop by appearing as if she was organizing a cart outside the door. She kept her back turned when someone came to take her upstairs to regular room. Miguel, the body guard, stayed close. When they reached the room, he stayed outside, in a chair. Nikita watched for another hour. Miguel checked on Alexandra once.

       Carlson really is doting on her, Nikita thought to herself. Alexandra was going to be particularly vulnerable as it is, with the problems she and Darren were having. But add this kind of loss to the mix . . . Nikita was worried about Alexandra getting attached to her target now.

       Nikita pulled her cell phone out, and placed a call to Kim. Kim would turn off the surveillance on Alexandra and just concentrate on Pepe signal for a little while

        When Nikita walked into the room, Miguel was outside. He saw the lab tech logo on her jacket and didn't pay her any attention. Alexandra was in the hospital bed, an IV bag hung, fluids slowly dripping down. Alexandra looked horrible. Pale

        "Hey," Nikita said softly, looking behind her to make sure that the door was closed.

       Alexandra's eye's fluttered open, "Nikita!"

       "How ya feeling Red?" Nikita asked her.

       "I . . . who sent you?" Alexandra asked her, "Are they listening still?"

       Nikita shook her head, "up until about two minutes ago. Kim is monitoring Pepe instead . . . Alex I heard about you losing the baby . . ."

       Alexandra closed her eye's, "I didn't even know . . . I've been drinking a little each night . . . I kinda had too . . . . and I'm irregular, so I never thought . . ."

       "It's OK," Nikita told her, squeezing her shoulder.

       Alexandra looked up at Nikita, her eye's tearful, "I woke up with a temperature

        Nikita took a deep breath, "It doesn't matter what you did, from what I heard, you would not have been able to have that baby anyhow

        Alexandra nodded slowly, "I know . . . can you keep it from spreading around? I don't want Darren to find out . . ."

       Nikita nodded, "I'll try. I have to go. I just wanted to check on you myself."

       Nikita bent down, and hugged her, "I can't stay long honey."

       Alexandra had weakly hugged her back, and now released the blonde woman. Nikita sat down next to her bed, "How are you holding up - besides this here?"

       Alexandra sighed, "I'm fine - he's not at all what Jonathan profiled, but it's working out. He doesn't exclude me from anything - I even helped arrange some things and salved some egos - I thought it was fortify my cover - and Section would get one more scumbag."

       "You're doing great there," Nikita told her, "We heard he's been taking you out on regular dates . . . I know you can't refuse - but keep in mind what he is Alex."

       The redhead nodded, "I know . . . he's a saint to me, but a demon for the world at large, I remind myself of that every day. Nikita if I wasn't there watching and participating in these deals, I wouldn't be able to believe it."

       Nikita nodded, "He's unique that's for sure."

       Alexandra nodded, "So how are the wedding plans going?"

       Nikita groaned, "I finally picked out a dress. It's long and kind of form fitting, no train, but it has a split up to mid thigh. Very elegant. I picked out a rich emerald green for the brides maids gowns. We have the Palisades tentatively reserved - now we just have to find a church. Three have turned us away because we aren't members."

       Alexandra frowned, "Go to the catholic church on 44th. Tell father Patrick you know me, and that I'm on a job out of the country. Tell him I did some photography work with you or something. He's a nice guy. He won't care that you're not the every Sunday morning attendee's. He accepts everyone whenever and however."

       Nikita nodded, "I'll talk to him."

       They were quiet for a few moments.

       "How . . . how are Darren, and Kristie . . . are they . . .  OK?"

       Nikita nodded slowly, "They're catching a lot of flack. Kristie and Stephen hardly speak to each other. Darren's getting a lot of shit from a lot of people. They both feel terrible."

       Alexandra drew a ragged breath, "I want to believe so much Nikita . . . but I've been high out of my damn head myself . . ."

       Nikita sighed, "Honey, I gotta tell you, I believe them. I'm not telling you that you have to. You gotta work that out in your own head. I can't make you believe what I believe. I know Darren loves you. I know Kristie thinks of you like a sister. They both wish to god they could change what happened . . . but all the explanations in the world don't mean anything, until you can really believe them yourself, no matter what the rest of us think."

       Alexandra blinked back tears, "I thought Michael was gonna rip Darren's head off his body."

       Nikita drew in a deep breath, "Sometimes I still think that . . . I inherited a new guy from a substation. He's a good op, nice personality, nice looking - and I think he's got an eye for Kim."

       Alexandra raised an eyebrow, "Cool. When does she have time for a life though - I hear from her all the time."

       "She's got you 12 hours a day," Nikita agreed, "He visits her at comm a lot. It was her that called us this morning when you became sick."

       Alexandra nodded slowly, and tried to prevent a yawn, but it slipped out. Nikita smiled at her.

       "I should go," Nikita told her, "You need to rest and I've been in her almost too long."

       Nikita bent over her, and hugged her friend once more time, and left quickly.

       Darren found himself sitting outside, across the street from the church that Alexandra went to sometimes. Like she had done at first, he didn't go inside. He knew what he'd find in there. He was raised catholic

        He'd just come back from a mission when the news had reached him. Nikita found him less than five minutes later. She'd tried to stop him from finding out.

       But she'd been too late.

       Twelve weeks . . .

        Twelve weeks ago they had been at the ranch.  He and Alexandra had stopped using condoms months ago. She got the depo shots, so pregnancy wasn't a big concern. Darren knew they should have been more careful. They were careful with targets after all . . .

       The whole concept of ever fathering a child was something Darren had thought about a lot lately. Hadn't Alexandra cracked some joke while they were at the ranch

        But he'd already done it . . .

        The man who was comforting her now was someone Darren considered despicable. It should have been Darren that took her home, held her while she cried over the loss of something that she'd never be able to have . . . not some arms dealer that was her target.

       But right now, she probably wouldn't want anything to do with Darren.  Darren knew what Section would have made her do too. She'd have to abort it.

       He closed his eye's, and in his mind, he could see her, what she might have looked like in a few months if they had any kind of normal real life.  Her stomach huge and swollen, wearing a loose T-shirt and stretch pants, because her short skirts and crop top wouldn't have fit. He could see himself placing little kiss over her swollen tummy when they made love . . .

       Kristie was in a foul mood when she walked into Section that day. She'd worked out, alone. She and Darren had agreed to not be seen together a lot. It was a mutual agreement. But she was reaching her breaking point. The worst of the criticism had died down. But it was still there - and it wasn't her fault.

       She walked over to Walter's station, and took her usual seat - a bar stool at the end of his table.

       "Wild thing!" Walter greeted her, "How does the wind blow today?"

       "Foul and full of hypocrites if you ask me!" She muttered, and then she spotted Stephen walking towards them, "oh this ought to be fun!"

       Walter looked up, and pressed his lips together in a thin line, "Stephen," Walter said in greeting.

       "I've got a mission in the works, this is the inventory," Stephen told him.

       Kristie looked over at him, "When is briefing?"

       Stephen looked at her, his gaze cold, "You're not on this team."

       Kristie's temper flared, "Not on your team, certainly not in your bed! what did you do? Trade me off to Michael? Are you trading my ass off to someone too?!"

       Walter held his breath.

        "Now is not the time or place," Stephen snapped at her.

       "There won't be at time or place! Maybe I'll just take Walter home!" Kristie snapped at him.

       Walter's mouth fell open, but his feet seemed rooted in place. He did not want to get in between these two, not right now, but he just couldn't make his feet move!

       "What ever gets you off babe," Stephen said, his voice sickeningly sweet.  He turned and walked away.

       Kriste glared at his retreating form, and then turned to look at Walter, "I'm sorry - I shouldn't have used you in my threat."

       Walter managed a laugh, "Damn, I was looking forward to it!"

       Kristie laughed with him, "Walter, why is it so easy to fall in love, and so hard to fall out?"

       Walter patted her back as he walked behind her to get something, "Honey, when I figure it out, I'll let you know - did you hear about Alex?"

       Kristie looked up, "No - is everything OK?"

       Walter sighed, "Depends on how you look at it. She got sick. Carlson took her to the hospital. Turns out she was pregnant - about 12 weeks or something like that."

       Kristie swallowed hard, "Was?"

       "Lost it," Walter said quietly, "I can't imagine what's going on in her head."

       Kristie drew in a raggedy breath. Pregnant . . . 12 weeks . . . that would have been at the ranch.

       "Does Darren know?" Kristie asked Walter gently.

       "Yeah," Walter said, his voice telling Kristie he felt bad for the younger man, "He looked devastated."

       Kristie shook her head, "Does Alex have a curse on her or something? She has the shittiest luck!"

       "Should have gotten her that dog about a weak earlier I say," Walter told him, "I don't know. I'm thinking we ought to go get a whole pack of Chihuahua's to stand around her and absorb the bad vibes or something. Of course, she'd have had to end it."

       Kristie nodded. That was a given. She wondered how Alex had gone 12 weeks and not known . . . but they all got those depo shots after all. She recalled Alexandra saying she was irregular.

       "Michael, the targets coming by car from the south, looks like four bodies total," Birkhoff's voice said.

       Dante squinted his eye's, trying to see what Michael was peering out through the binoculars.

       "How many is? Seven or eight?" Dante asked.

       Michael knew he was asking how many people they'd picked up because they'd planted Alex in Carlson's home.

       "Nine," Michael told him.

       Dante sighed, "He's gotta be looking for a leak by now."

       Michael had thought about that himself. Alexandra was in an extremely high risk situation. This was a mission for an abeyance operative. But an abeyance operative wouldn't have been able to stay in play this long, or help smooth out three deals for Carlson. Carlson was distracted. That was the reason two of the deals had small problems. The distraction was Alexandra. He was totally obsessed with her.

       "We'll probably pull her out soon," Michael commented, "Operations wants to wait until we get Saccelli."

       Dante shook his head, "Saccelli might be getting cold feet, since half of Carlson's clients and suppliers seem to disappear or get waxed."

       Michael sighed. He agreed with Dante. Dante, a level 4 cold op, was training to lead a team. Michael thought he was ready, but Section had to be sure. They didn't have a surplus of operatives after all.

       "Carlson is negotiating a deal with him. It should close in two weeks," Michael told him. It had better close in the next two weeks. Nikita had pointed out that Carlson was very attached to Alexandra. Alexandra was going to be very susceptible to Carlson, if she wasn't already.

       "You're call," Michael told Dante.

       Dante gave an slight nod. He handed out assignments logically as the targets all got out of their vehicles. A few moments later he gave the order to begin the sequence.

       Bullets seemed to rain down on them from everywhere. Their main target started to run for his car. Dante ordered to cold ops to take out the tires, sighting up one of them himself. The car spun out of control, with three tires punctures and leaking the precious are, slamming the car to the left, and into a raining wall.

       "Everyone out, move in carefully," Dante ordered, "Some of them boys may be playing possum."

       Michael followed Dante out as they approached the scene outside. Dante kept his eye's moving, watching for any movement in the periphery, any other threats. He had learned well.

       "We got a live one over here, but not for long," Kevin announced.

       "Bring him along. I'm sure Madeline would like a chat with any of the help," Dante told him, "Birkhoff, send in housekeeping."

       Dante resisted the urge to look at Michael for approval. Looking at him askance would undermine his authority, make him look unsure. He'd covered everything. It was a simple assault really.

       Michael's report would recommend Dante be given a small team of his own for missions like this for the next few weeks.

       Eight weeks into the mission . . .

       "Alex?" Carlson called to her softly.

       Carlson was bringing the salon to her over the last two weeks. This was the fourth time they'd come, given her a manicure, a pedicure, done her hair and makeup.

       She'd dress in a chic short and Halter top outfit. Pepe sat right between her knee's, content to be near her. Carlson remembered what the little Chihuahua had done when Alexandra hadn't come back with him that day. He'd paced around and whined.  He wouldn't settle down. He barked at Carlson three times right in the middle of the meet with a client. Carlson had to explain the dog belonged to his girlfriend, who was in the hospital with food poisoning. Thank god the client had found the whole scene amusing.

        At his house, Pepe had run all over, looking for her. He refused to lay down and go to sleep. In the end, Carlson had grabbed up the 4 pound beast and taken him to the hospital to see her at 2:00 A.M.

       When he'd brought Alexandra home, Pepe had been with her ever since then. He wouldn't leave her side. He stood outside the shower. He followed her around the bedroom, slept on the bed with them.

       Alexandra looked up when he called to her,  and she forced a smile onto her face, "Hey!"

       She'd always been a little on the melonchology side, but she'd always brightened up when he walked up to her. She'd been a little more down lately, but that was understandable.

       The people working on her gathered their things and left. Alexandra had been lounging on a chase lounge outside in the shade.

       "I just lost a huge deal," Carlson told her.

       Alexandra sat up, and lowered her sunglasses, "What?"

       "My supplier is missing, and I can't provide the merchandise,"  Carlson sighed. As he spoke, he picked up her hand, examining the manicure work, then he just held onto her hand.

       "Someone in the industry is turning us in," He said quietly.

       Alexandra forced herself not to react, "Are you sure?"

       Carlson nodded slowly, "Alex - I've had buyers - repeat customers turn up missing, or dead. I've lost suppliers. I would worry that it was someone in my organization  - but it's happening to two other people who do what I do. The only thing that I can think of is that a supplier is placing trackers on the weapons - and ratting out other suppliers."

       Alexandra nodded slowly, "So what do you do? Change suppliers? Start cleaning the merchandise?

       Carlson sighed, " I don't know which supplier it is . . . right now, the best I can do is clean the merchandise. I've received some threats from a customer who was almost picked up. He wants to blame me. I need to tighten security on you when you go out."

       Alexandra nodded  slowly, "I don't have any real reason to be going out anyhow."

       "I don't think I want to have the salon staff at the house anymore . . . just as a security measure. Twice a week, I'll have Miguel and two other guards take you to the salon. This is all temporary, until I find out who's turning on us," Carlson told her.

       Alexandra nodded, "Yeah, no problem . . . "

       Nikita walked into the church with Darren. Darren had met father Patrick a couple times. He didn't come here with Alexandra often. It was where she escaped to, when she couldn't talk to someone. Darren didn't intrude on that. But Darren would know father Patrick.

        The priest was tending a hanging plant in one of the alcoves. He turned to look as they walked through the door. He turned back to his plant for a moment, looking back over at them twice more. When it became obvious that they'd come to see him, he completely turned around.

       He was in his late 30's Nikita suspected. Thinking sandy blonde hair that he kept cut very short. Gentle looking hands. But he was a priest after all . . .

       "Darren, it's good to see you," Father Patrick greeted them.

       "Thanks - Father, this is a friend of mine - mine and Alexandra's - Nikita, meet Father Patrick," Darren made the introductions, "Alex asked me to say hello. She's doing some free lance work in the Balkins."

       Father Patrick sighed, "Ah, I'd wondered where she was off to. It would have to be someplace in turmoil too. I haven't seen her in two months. I did see you outside the week before last."

       Darren nodded, "I enjoy the park. We've . . . come to ask a favor."

       Father Patrick nodded, "Go on."

       Nikita cleared her throat, "I'm getting Married . . . not to Darren, to a man named Michael. Neither one of us is Catholic, or exactly regular church goers. I'd like to be married in a church though."

       "Faith, but not in the politics?" Father Patrick asked, his voice held a little humor.

       Nikita smiled, "Yeah, it is . . . and I'm not catholic, neither of us are."

       "I see," he said, "Alexandra once told me in a rather apologetic way that she had a bad taste in her mouth over throngs of people who are catholic and devout on Sundays, and forget it the moment they leave. I had to agree with her."

        Nikita nodded, "My family just never went to church is all."

       "We're not so busy here with weddings that I couldn't fit one in," Father Patrick told her, "Why don't we go back to my office, look at the calendar, and set up an appointment for you and your future husband to come in and discuss what kind of a service you'd like."

       They followed the priest back across the floor, and up the stairs, down the walkway to an office.

       "Are you one of the friends who was stuck in the Balkan's a few months ago - I guess it would be a year ago almost?" Father Patrick asked.

       "Me?" Nikita said, "No, I don't think so. I do some modeling work, small stuff. Alexandra has on a few shoots I was on."

       Nikita glanced at Darren behind the priests back. Darren had told her the story that father Patrick knew. Alexandra was a small time free lance photographer, took any work she could get. She didn't mention much about what her friends did.

       "Who took Pepe for her?" Father Patrick asked, "He was almost physically attached to her."

       "He's living it up at a day care," Darren replied, "I saw him two weeks ago. He's growing like mad."

       The priest's office was small but cozy. The walls were lined with book shelves on two sides, on the other two and on the inside of the door, there were drawings, most looked like they'd been done by children. Several photo's, some of them color snap shots. There was a black and white photograph of the Alter with the priest, probably performing something at mass. The pews were about 3/4's full. Nikita knew right away it was Alexandra's work. Even in black and white, she'd managed the capture the light coming through the stained glass. A color photo sat next to it, but the church was empty. The colors from the stained glass washed over the alter in a rainbow of colors.

       "This has to be Alexandra's work," Nikita said, examining the photographs.

       "Yes," Father Patrick replied, "I saw her the day she took the black and white one. She walked into the back of the church, and hovered there for a while. She never comes in when there are lots of people here. I was surprised to see her actually. She took a few photographs, and disappeared. She came back two days later with that one."

       Eleven  weeks into the mission. . . .

       Alexandra was becoming very used to her life with Carlson. She left the bed every morning to work out, then she swam or sat in the hot tub. She read a lot while Carlson conducted business over the phone. He allowed no one into his home, so they were out, a lot.

       Today, she had one of her twice weekly appointments at the salon.

       "Ms. Murtagh," the woman at the counter said, "We have the blue room prepared for you, what type of music would you prefer?"

       "Something soft and moody," Alexandra told her, slipping her sunglasses off her nose, "and I'm sure my boys would love something to drink."

       "Of course Ms. Murtagh - and for yourself? You're usual?" She asked.

       Alexandra nodded, and followed the woman back to the 'blue room'. The 'blue room' was one of the massage rooms. Nice stereo system, very private. They had a wide selection of music to choose from. A full service wet bar available to clients.

       "We have a new masseuse Ms. Murtagh - a very talented man. Our best clients are raving over him. I managed to steel him away from another spa just this morning . . ."

       Alexandra nodded, "Thank you."

       She stepped into the room, and a moment later, found herself alone with music that fit her mood. Alexandra slipped out of her cloths, stretched out on the table, drawing a towel over her tush. She had a few moments to wait and think - and usually the masseuse's didn't talk to her too much, unless she initiated the conversation. They were perceptive.

       The massages were a time when she wasn't busy, she wasn't working really - and time to think. Section was in a feeding frenzy. Carlson was losing suppliers and customers so fast because Section knew ever last move he made. No matter how often that he swept for bugs, he'd never find them, not on her or Pepe - because what they had implanted was something new, that had never been out on the market. The technology was experimental.

       How different her life was now. She knew she was getting a little too used to her lifestyle on this mission. She slept well, ate well, Carlson doted on her. He didn't treat her like a paid whore. He didn't farm her out to his friends or business associates. She didn't worry about being shot, she didn't feel the dread of going into a briefing to find out she was going to be bait  - or  worse yet,  whored out to a target - even though that was exactly what she was doing now. The only difference was, this target didn't treat her like a whore. And while she was gone, on this mission - she didn't see Darren, or Kristie. But they consumed her thoughts every free moment. It had been almost three months, and tears still threatened to well up every time she thought about them.

       Humiliation and betrayal were the emotions that welled up first - then regret.  She should have seen this coming. How much could he have been expected to take from her? After all, she wasn't always there at night - when he was not on a mission. He'd had to tolerate a lot from her, because of what she did for section. Once in the past, Darren had been angry with her, disgusted because she'd found it so easy to pull the trigger, and get on with it. That certainly hadn't changed. If anything it had gotten worse. She poisoned Tyler, attacked Kristie - and even if her intentions had been good, Alexandra could only imagine what they looked like to Darren.

       Then there was Kristie . . . who had been through hell and back the last couple months. She'd always  taken her pleasure where she found it. Why should that have changed any?

       Alexandra heard the door open, and turned to look. What she saw, made her eye's blink twice. It had to be her imagination. A trick played on her by her mind. Hadn't she woke up at night, longing to roll over and reach out for him? Hadn't she closed her eye's and pretended that the man she having sex to was Darren, and not Carlson?

       He moved with lithe grace, closing the door behind him. He set down her drink on the table set just in front of her head.

       "We need to pull you out," Darren said softly, squatting down in front of her.

       Alexandra picked up her drink, "How?"

       "The next time he takes you out on a meet, we'll take him then," Darren told her, watching her take a sip of her drink, "How are you holding up?"

       "I'm fine," she said calmly.

       Darren reached up, and tucked a loosened tendril of hair back from her face. He saw her react, and try to hide it.

       "I heard about it all Alex," Darren said softly, "I'm so sorry."

       "Are you the masseuse?" she asked coldly.

       "Today I am," he voice betrayed his regret. She'd shut him out, they both knew it now, "I'll quit tonight, not come back."

       He stood up and walked around to the side of the table. Alexandra watched him pour a generous amount of massage oil into the palm of his hand. She turned her face away, sipped her drink, and waited for his first touch.

       It was almost too much.

       His hands were warm, and felt like velvet on her skin. He kneaded her now very tense muscles, moving down her back, her shoulders, her neck, up her legs.  Alexandra felt her body melt down into a liquid puddle of aroused goo.

       Gently, he started to turn her over. Alexandra felt powerless to resist. He shifted the towel so it stayed low on her hips, leaving her chest bare, her arousal plainly obvious in her erect nipples. He started with her shoulders, working his way down her arms, then her legs again. He moved back to her shoulders,  then over her breasts.

        Alexandra moaned softly, unable to hold the noise back. His palms cupped her, his fingers stroking over her nipples, drawing little circles over them, occasionally pinching them a little. Her head was thrown back, she fought to control her breathing. Unconsciously she'd parted her thighs a little. Darren was sure she wasn't extending an invitation, but he couldn't resist.

        He moved lower, then, over  her abdomen, then lower still. He parted the soft petals between her thighs then, stroking her sensitive flesh back and forth, circling his thumb around her clit slowly but firmly. He slid two fingers inside her, stroking her upper wall, his thumb still working tight little circles over her clit. He bent his head down, taking her nipple into his mouth.

       It was too much. Her body convulsed under his ministrations, and she moaned loudly, startling both of them.

       She lay there for a few moments, panting, while Darren's eye's devoured her. He'd love to continue this, but the hour was drawing to a close in a few minutes, and she did have body guards sitting outside the room.

       He gently helped her sit up, and held the water bottle up to her lips.

       "Do you do this for everyone else you work on here? Or just Kristie and I?" Alexandra asked bitterly.

       It was as if she had just turned a firehose of ice cold water on him, and knocked him across the room.

       "Alex - I don't know what I have to do to convince you - we didn't want it to happen, we weren't in control of ourselves," Darren said firmly, "Tell me what to do to fix this, and I will!".

       Alexandra turned her face away, drawing the towel up to cover herself, "Then go back in time, and undo it!"

       Later that night . . . .

       It was another busy, glitzy club where people didn't recognize anyone else. Alexandra had kept her eye's open all night. She knew Section would take them tonight, but she didn't know when or where exactly. She kept Pepe close to her, and in her lap, instead of allowing him to move from person to person.

       Carlson was going to have the merchandise shipped to a warehouse. The supplier was surprised, but he didn't argue. Carlson didn't tell him he was doing it to  'wash' the merchandise.

        The supplier was talking,  then suddenly stopped. Alexandra looked over at him, and  then followed his gaze.

       It was Kevin - standing out like a sore thumb, reaching in for his comm unit.

       "That man right there - I've seen him before - he was there when Aldiz was taken out!" The supplier snapped.

       "Where!?" Carlson snapped quietly.

       "Over there, by the bar - White guy, blonde hair, blue silk shirt - the one looking at us and not one single woman in  here!"

       Carlson stood up, grabbed Alexandra by the arm, and started towards the Kitchen. Alexandra watched as his body guards started to close around them.

       She heard one of them telling someone to bring the limousine around  behind the kitchen. Alexandra was about to ask why they were leaving from the kitchen - just to warn Section, but just then she saw Kristie and Darren together, on the dance floor. She knew they were here to bring her in - but they were together . . .  and they looked together . . . . too together . . .

        And the warning died in her throat.

       As the limousine careened through the back streets, she had time to consider what she'd just done. Michael would be furious with her. She should have clued Section in. They should have anticipated this though too. She knew she couldn't stay with Carlson. Section would always be able to find her with this implant, her and Pepe. If she removed it, she'd need help, and Carlson would kill her. She had no options, she had to go back. But for moment, life as his mistress hadn't seemed to bad. It hadn't seemed so bad for almost three months . . .

       It was two days later, when she was out with Carlson. She'd let her eye's linger too long on a dress in a window shop while they waited at a stop light.. He'd insisted on stopping the limousine, going in, and having her try it on.

       Alexandra didn't want the dress. It wasn't her style, she felt a fraud in these elegant upper class outfits, and it was red - not a good color for her.

       But Carlson insisted, and asked what other colors it came in.

       A few minutes later, she was back in the dressing room, trying on a black version of the dress.

       She was just zipping it up when she heard the curtain being yanked back. Alexandra turned to look, and felt her heart stop when Michael stepped into the dressing room.

       Wordlessly, he pulled  photographs out of an envelope.

       "His last mistress," Michael told her,  "Consider your fate next time you choose to not come in."

       "Kevin was spotted," Alexandra told him, "The supplier saw him on a team, taking out Aldiz!"

       "Trip and fall, slow them down," Michael told her, "The next meeting - otherwise - Section cancels you with him. This woman was pampered  the way you are - it didn't stop him from giving her over to an associate to play with before she was killed. He only suspected she'd been seeing someone else. Imagine what he'd do to you if he found out who you really were?"

       Michael shifted through the photographs. Alexandra turned her head away,  "I didn't-"

       "Look!" Michael snapped, grabbing her jaw and yanking her head back around, "This is what the man you didn't stop last night does."

       Alexandra glanced at the photograph, then up at Michael, "You, Section, the whole lot of you can think what ever the hell you want! You always do! I know exactly what kind of monster I've been living with for the last three months! I'm reminded daily when I listen to him conduct business!"

       "Tonight, at the club - we'll bring you in as a prisoner," Michael told her, "No mistakes."

       "We're not going out tonight,"  Carlson announced, two hours later.

       Alexandra looked up from her book, "What about Catoire?"

        "Alex

        Alexandra took a deep breath, "What are you gonna do?"

       Carlson watched her, "Clean house. I've been notifying everyone

        Alexandra took a deep breath, "I . . . where?"

       "The Bahamas I think. You'll like it there. Warm sandy beaches, swimming in the ocean," Carlson told her.

       She nodded slowly, "So when you clean house, you just tell everyone you're stopping for a while?"

       "Not exactly. I have some suspicions about who may be hurting me, who may have started it," Carlson told her.

       Alexandra swallowed hard, "Anyone I've met?"

       "No," He told her, "My Swiss banker. It's nasty business, but I won't tolerate being betrayed. If I don't make an example out of him, I lose my reputation. I just have to finish two deals I having going. We should be leaving for the Bahamas by the end of the week."

       Alexandra blinked, "That fast? What about your house?"

       Carlson smiled at her, "It's a house, it will be here when we come back."

       Alexandra looked down, "OK, but . . . you think we'll really be safer in the Bahamas?"

       "We don't have to be inconspicuous with security in the Bahamas," Carlson told her, and picked up a phone, "I need to make some final arrangements on these deals."

       Alexandra hoped whomever was listening at Section was notifying Michael. Except for when they left the house, it was damn near impossible for Section to get to her. The security at the house was top notch, there were armed guards. The risk was too high.

       When she went out shopping, she always had 4 men with her. Last week, Carlson had someone beat up to within an inch of their life for looking at her a little too closely. Now, he was talking about closing up shop and taking her away from here. If section didn't extract her tomorrow, it could be months . . .

        But the last 3 months hadn't been so bad either. Carlson, despite the fact that he was a monster to the rest of the world, was good to her, if a little possessive. He didn't beat her though. He asked her opinion frequently. He didn't whore her out to his friends. If he hadn't been profiting off the misery of others, Alexandra could see herself staying. But that simply wasn't possible. It never would be.

       "OK, tonight then," Carlson said, " at 9:00 PM."

       Alexandra looked over at him, "We're going somewhere?"

       "Yes - that was my banker. He's going to meet us tonight," Carlson told her, "We'll settle this thing, and let things cool off."

       Alexandra nodded slowly. They'd take her tonight then.

       "We have a few hours," Carlson said gently, his hand coming to rest on her thigh.

       Alexandra knew it was an invitation. He'd always asked her, invited her, since she'd become sick and lost the baby that never could have been.

       She never refused him. She didn't want to give him reason to be unhappy with her, and if she was going to be honest with herself, sex with him was a fun distraction, and if she closed her eye's, it was someone else she was with.

       She slid her fingers through his, and let him pull her up from the chair. Pepe jumped down, and followed them back into the house, and up the stairs.

       "Your little friend is a voyeur," Carlson whispered in her ear.

       Alexandra laughed, "You don't like to watch?"

       "I like to participate more," Carlson said to her, his voice husky.

       They'd reached his bedroom. Alexandra had slept in 'her room' very little. Carlson always brought her to his own bed.

        He gently started to undo the small buttons on her top, laying it open to reveal white flesh and a satiny bra.

       Alexandra knew he liked to undress her, then take his own clothing off. He didn't like women to undress him. That had become clear the first few times he'd been with her.

        So she let him slowly peal her clothing away, her top, her skirt fell to the floor. She reached behind her back and unfastened her bra, and he slipped the straps down her shoulders. Small red marks from where the underwear of the cub pressed into her flesh appeared beneath her breasts.

       "I know you don't like to wear a bra dear, and your breasts are lovely, but you look so much more classy when they don't sway and bounce," Carlson told her.

       He pressed his lips to the faint red mark, as if to kiss away the irritation.

       Alexandra hadn't argued with him. He'd asked her to wear one, so she did.

       She felt his fingers sliding inside the waist band of her panties, and slid them down her hips, so they fell at her feet. She stepped out of them, and moved back onto the bed.

       He quickly started to shed his cloths, and moved over her. His mouth moved over hers, and Alexandra kissed him back. His hands stroked her breasts, her stomach, and she felt her body respond after a few moments.

       She knew better than to reach for him. If she handled his penis or his balls, he came early. It pissed him off one night. So she kept her hands to his chest, back and shoulders. In way, it was kind of nice not having to worry about his pleasure.

       But he was attentive to hers. His fingers stroked between her nether lips, finding her clit, stroking her there.

       His mouth left hers, and he said breathing raggedly,  "Tell me what pleases you."

       Alexandra hesitated. He'd pleased her well enough in the past. Why this? Why now?"

       "Don't stop using your hands, while you're inside me," she said, her voice betraying her arousal.

       It seemed to satisfy him, and he grabbed a condom out of the bedside table, and rolled it down over his hardened penis. He positioned himself just inside her opening, and pushed inside.

        Alexandra sighed, enjoying the feeling of having someone inside her. She closed her eye's, and it was no longer Carlson, but Darren.

       Kim hated listening in when Carlson and Alexandra were having sex. She knew that it was something Alexandra had to do. She didn't think it odd that the other woman seemed to enjoy it. If she didn't, she had to fake if of course. But it happened every damn day! The only time Carlson didn't have sex with her was that week she had her period. And if Kim was going to be honest, she was a little jealous. She hadn't enjoyed  a man's touch since her accident . . .

       Tony walked up, and sat down, "What's up?"

       Kim almost told him Carlson was.

       "We're gonna bring in Alexandra tonight," Kim told him, and Carlson. "I think they're about to call a briefing soon."

       "How long has she been on this guy anyhow?" Tony asked, "I bet she's chomping at the bit to come in."

       Kim almost told him at the moment that it didn't sound like Alex was in any hurry to leave. But just then Darren walked up.

       "How's she doing?" Darren asked, reaching for an ear piece.

       Kim looked up at him, "It's fine! Don't-"

       Darren had just slipped the ear piece in place. His eye's widened, then his face took on a stern set to it.

       I know you don't like to wear a bra dear, and your breasts are lovely, but you look so much more classy when they don't sway and bounce . . .

       Darren listened for a few moments. He knew they were having sex. He knew it was expected. But he also knew Alexandra was enjoying it. He knew how she sounded. He heard Carlson ask her to tell him how she liked to be touched.

       She told him to use his hands.

       Darren pulled the earpiece off, turned and walked away.

       Tony looked from Darren to Kim, "What . . .?"

       Kim sighed, "He just heard someone he cares about being screwed by someone else - and it's pretty graphic."

       Tony bit his lip, "I'll be back."

       Kim watched as Tony took off after Darren.

       "Hey, Darren!" Tony called out, jogging up to catch him.

       "If Kim sent you, I'm fine," Darren bit out.

       "Oh yeah, sure - if my woman was getting it from someone else, I'd be just skippy too!" Tony dead panned, "Cut the shit. Let's grab a soda and brood over it. I'd say beer - but I have it on good authority we're gonna be called in for a briefing in a few hours."

       Darren looked over at him, tempted to tell him to just go away. But Tony had befriended him, even when he heard all the nasty rumors.

       They didn't talk any more until they were completely out of section.

       "I'm not pissed that she's doing it with a target," Darren clarified, "She's enjoying it - and after what happened . . . it's just too much."

        Tony matched the Hispanic man's pace as they briskly walked to the diner two blocks away from Section.

       "I heard all the rumors and shit - and like I said before, I know the stuff your talking about - has she seen the research on this stuff?" Tony asked.

       "Ton's of it, she doesn't believe me," Darren sighed.

       They made it to the diner, and sat down at the bar, and ordered their soda's.

       "Well, you could slip her some - I mean, she'll probably be pissed, but once she understands . . ." Tony told him.

       Darren shook his head, "She's been addicted on three missions. I can't do that to her."

       Tony sighed, "Then you just ride her ass till she gets it."

       Darren managed to laugh, "You don't know Alex. Just wait till you meet her!"

       "But you do know Kim," Tony began.

       Darren looked over at him, "A little. We're not really close . . ."

       "So is she not into men or something? I'm laying it on thick and she's not biting," Tony said.

       Darren shook his head, "I think there's a confidence problem. What I heard - and this is third hand - She got her limp and needs that cane because of something that happened a few years ago. Red Cell managed to get a directory of some cold ops - it was before me, so it was over 4 years ago. She was on the run with two other cold ops, and got shot. They had to cauterize the wounds to stop the bleeding, and the damage was pretty bad. They rebuilt her hip, but she's always gonna have that limp. There are a few scars apparently. I see her walking late at night, and I can tell she's starting to hurt. There's this chick we have from her old substation before it was lost - a real bitch too - she say's Kim was quite the socialite, but Devin turned her away after she was hurt - damaged goods or some kind of shit like that."

       "That's stupid," Tony muttered, "So she's got some scars. Big deal. We all get a few here."

       Darren nodded, "I'm starting a collection."

       Tony laughed, "Well, this changes the whole picture then. I just gotta keep it up."

       Darren looked over at him, "Just don't fuck with her head. She's our life line when things go to shit. I'm learning women carry huge grudges."

       "I just thought of something for your woman troubles. What if Section tested some?" Tony asked him, "Maybe she'd believe that test."

       Darren sighed, "Who knows. Nikita managed to get a ton of the stuff and med lab is testing it - but who knows. Alex is stubborn. If we'd have told her right out - she might have believed me."

       "Where are we going?" Alexandra asked, "You said the wharf, but I'm not familiar with that club."

       She felt guilty. She knew Carlson was the epitomy of evil - but he'd been good to her to. That was what she had trouble resolving. What she knew about him, and how he treated her. She hated to admit it, but she'd grown attatched to him - and now she was going to turn him over to certain death.

       "It's not a club," Carlson told her, putting his arm around her shoulders, "We're going to the wharf - downtown by the water."

       "Oh," Alexandra said, "I thought we were meeting the banker."

       "We are," Carlson replied.

       Alexandra ran her hand along his thigh, "OK, I'm confused. Why are we meeting him at the wharf - it's kinda secluded and out of the way right now, right?"

       "And the perfect place to deal with a problem," Carlson replied, he pulled her across his lapp, his mouth moving on hers, "We'll make this quick, I want to take you home,  back to bed . . ."

       Alexandra felt her blood run cold. The banker was innocent, and he was going to die because of her.

       "What if it's not the banker?" Alexandra asked him, "Are you sure?"

       "Very," Carlson said, and pressed a kiss to the flesh below her ear, "Relax my love. I did my homework, I always do."

       Section must have spoon fed it to him . . . maybe they'd be there before Carlson killed him, but he'd still be collateral . . .

       Pepe squirmed on the seat next to them. He was restless. He could feel her tension. He kept looking up at her with is buggy eye's, his ears perked up. Alexandra knew he'd grown a lot in the last three months. Would he recognize everyone at Section?

       "He's already here," the driver called back.

       The limousine pulled to a stop. Carlson climbed out, Alexandra cradled Pepe in her arms, and stepped out as well.

       The banker looked nervous. Very nervous.

       "Why are we meeting here?" the little man demanded, "You finally get tired of those loud clubs?"

       Two of Carlson's thugs grabbed him at once.

       "Hey! what the fuck is going on!" The little man squealed.

       "I've lost suppliers and buyers in droves, you're the common thread," Carlson said calmly.

       "Me!" the little man gasped, "No! I didn't!"

       "I've also noticed that a little more than your 5 cut has been coming out of the transactions lately," Carlson told him, "You're going to be lesson - for everyone else."

       "NO! I didn't! I can pay it back!" the little man squealed.

       "Gut him from his belly to his neck, and dump his entrails on the pavement," Carlson ordered.

       Alexandra turned away, her eye's searching their surroundings. Where the hell was Section?

       "Get in the car if you don't want to watch," Carlson said softly.

       Alexandra walked around to the other side of the car, and kept her eye's on their surroundings. An inhuman scream rent the air, and she felt her stomach turn. Another scream, and hugged Pepe to her closely.

       She saw movement, something, back on the far side of the yard.

       "Alex," It was Michael's voice in her ear, "Turn back to Carlson. We're going to bring you in as a prisoner too."

       Alexandra turned around, and kept her eye's on the back of Carlson's head. She heard something behind her, a soft sound. Then someone grabbed her, and a gun was pressed to her temple.

        Several gun shots rent the air suddenly, and the four thugs went down. Carlson whirled around, gun in hand.

       He stopped cold, seeing a large Hispanic man with a gun to Alexandra's head, his hand tight on her throat. She had a death grip on Pepe, who somehow had the presence of mind to keep quiet and burrowed into her chest.

       "One wrong move, and your girlfriend's brains get dumped next to the bankers," Darren's voice said coldly, "Drop the gun."

       Alexandra felt cold fear course through her veins. Would he really do it?

       Carlson's eye's darted around, taking in the 15 or so black clad men and woman surrounding him. There was no way he was getting out of this. His best bet was to negotiate something, and then he and Alex could make a run for it, when they were free.

       He dropped the gun.

       Alexandra saw Kristie move closer, and reach for Pepe. Alexandra hated to give him over, just because she wasn't exactly sure where she was standing right now. But if she didn't . . .

       Kristie took Pepe gently, and started back towards the van.

       Alexandra was dragged over to the second van. She was shoved into the small make shift cell in the back with Carlson. No one would look at her. Now she was really worried.

       "Stay calm," Carlson said to her gently, brushing mussed hair back from her face, "I can negotiate with these people. Any group like his has a need for the things I provide."

       Alexandra closed her eye's, guilt and regret threatening to over take her.

       She saw Darren watching from the far end of the van, his expression cold. His eye's flickered from her to Carlson.

       Go ahead, feel jealous . . . Alexandra thought to herself.

       It was a long miserable ride back to Section. Black hoods were put over their heads when they neared the entrance. She felt Carlson being pulled out. A moment later, the hood was gently pulled off her head, and Michael motioned for her to be silent.

       She climbed out of the van, and followed the entourage out of egress.

       "Take him to Room 1, her to room 2," Madeline said, for Carlson's benefit.

       The two men holding Carlson dragged him away.

       "Go to room 2, we're going to take an mpeg of you and alter it," Madeline told her.

       Alexandra took a deep breath, and once again tried to convince herself she was really OK. Michael escorted her down to room two. She stood where she was told to, the electronic feed camera roved around her, then stopped.

       "You can go," Michael told her.

       "What's that for?" Alexandra asked.

       "We're going to alter the video. He'll see you tortured. Madeline will use it to break him," Michael told her.

       Alexandra shook her head, "He just had someone gutted, I doubt seeing me tortured will get to him."

       "Then come and see," Madeline's voice said behind her.

       Alexandra turned. She hadn't heard Madeline walk in. That should not have happened.

       Alexandra followed Madeline down the hall, and sat down in an observation room. Pepe was already sitting in there, pigging out on little treat's Kim was feeding to him with one hand, while the other flew over the key board.

       "We should be up in a minute," Kim told Madeline.

       Alexandra heard the edge in her voice, and looked over at Michael, who had his calm emotionless mask on. But they were in Section.

       Pepe took the last treat, and bounded over to Alexandra. She picked up him.

       "We're ready," Kim bit out.

       "Dim the lights, run the feed," Madeline said in calm even tones.

       The lights in the white room dimmed, and Carlson jerked at his bonds. He was looking at a screen that was out of their view.

       "Alex," Madeline said calmly, "This is what he is seeing."

       She indicated a small screen on the far end of the panel Kim was working on.

       An image of her, hanging from chains in a white room appeared. It was a side view. She was begging someone not to hurt Pepe. It sounded just like her.

       The screen flickered to someone holding Pepe, and right in front of her eye's, they began to suffocate Pepe. The dog on the screen struggled in vain. She screamed, begged and howled.

       "Jesus Christ!" Alexandra gasped, "Did we . . . someone . . ."

       "It wasn't necessary," Madeline said calmly, "This time."

       Alexandra cringed inside.

        Pepe  - or his simulation, suddenly went limp. The man in the image snapped his neck, and threw him at her. The Alexandra in the sim screamed histericly.  Alexandra couldn't help herself, and she flinched.

       The man came at Alexandra with electrodes, attaching them to her exposed stomach, arms, legs and neck. A moment later, the started to electrocute her simulation. The body on the screen jerked and writhed. She screamed in agony.

       Alexandra turned away, "I get the message Madeline, I'm disposable. Do I have to watch this?"

       Madeline turned to look at her, "You need to see how Carlson is reacting."

       Alexandra turned her gaze out the view window to Carlson. He looked like he was in agony.

       "All right!" he yelled, "Just tell me what you want!"

       No one answered him.

        "He fell in love with you," Madeline said calmly, "Good work."

       He screamed, and begged for them to stop hurting her for hours. He promised the world to them. Hours later, Madeline walked in, and began the interrogation. Carlson told her everything she wanted to know.

       Alexandra got up, and moved to walk out as the interrogation started to come to a close. She knew what was going to come. A lethal injection.

       "Med Lab is expecting you," Michael said gently, "They're going to examine you, make sure the doctors that treated you while you were with Carlson didn't miss anything."

       "I'm due for another shot too," Alexandra said, "A stronger one apparently."

       She walked out, Pepe held snugly in her arms.

       Just as she rounded the corner, so did Darren.

       "Are you OK?" He asked. It sounded forced.

       She took a deep breath. She wasn't ok. She felt immense guilt for the emotional damage she'd enabled Section to inflict on Carlson. She was afraid she'd just been warned about what could be done ot her.

       "I'm fine," She lied.

       Darren sighed, "Alex - I know you're never going to forgive me - but you're not fine. If you can't cry on my shoulder, find someone else. I don't want to see you turn into some of the half dead freaks in the abeyance pool."

       He placed a chaste kiss to her cheek, and walked away.

       Alexandra forced her feet to move, instead of crumpling right there on the floor and crying. Neither she nor Darren saw Michael in the shadow by the observation room watching.

       Continue on to The week after

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