Chapter Four
Trying to give Mike an encouraging smile, trying to show him that she was as okay as she was telling everyone, Abby shrugged out of his coat and handed it back to him. “Thanks Mike. I’ll see you back at NCIS, right? You’ll let me know when you need me for…for the interrogation?” She took a deep breath to steady the nerves that threatened to bust out of her.
“I’ll call you, Abby,” Mike promised, wishing he didn’t have to call on her, even though he knew he needed her input. “Go with DiNozzo, get some of that caffeine stuff. Get ready for a long night of work.” His eyes flicked over her outfit. “Swing by your place if you wanna get a change of clothes.”
It was pure protectiveness, but Mike didn’t want her dressed like that in front of the dirtbag. He didn’t want the guy looking at her curves or her cleavage. No man needed to see her like that, much less this dirtbag drug addict/possible jewel thief.
“Thanks, Mike…for everything.” Moving next to Tony, she turned around and said, “I don’t need to go back to my place. I always keep a set of clothes and stuff at NCIS in case I have a court date and need out of those ridiculous clothes, or for just in case.”
“I’ll get started on processing the facial recognition of him…him and the rest that you and Ziva captured. Do you want me to run his prints too? Can Tony take them? I’m not quite ready to see him again.” Waiting for Tony to move, she slowly opened the door and slid out.
Taking a final drink of her Caf-Pow, she sighed. “Tony, can we pick up some more?” she asked, shaking her empty cup. “I think I’m going to need it. I think I’m going to need a lot of it. One for the processing, and at least another one for the interrogation. Hm…maybe two.”
“DiNozzo, get the discs from Ziva. We’ll print him at the Navy Yard.” Mike squeezed Abby’s hand very gently and motioned her to leave with a soft, “go on, Girlie.”
“I’ll take prints,” Tony said though he never had done them before. Having seen them done would have to be enough though. He wasn’t exposing Abby to him any more than she absolutely had to be, especially given the fact that she had some kind of connection to this creep. And it was a connection none of them wanted her to have. It was dangerous, both for her heart…and soul.
“Tony, you know better than that. You know it has to be someone trained, or the prints will be inadmissible in court. It will have to be me, Tony. You know that,” she reminded him quietly, realizing that it was the only way. “When we’re back at NCIS, I will take them. When we’re interrogating him, I’ll print him. Kill two birds with one stone, right? Still gonna need Caf-Pow, Tony. Lots of Caf-Pow.”
“Might have to be, but I don’t have to like it, Abbs. We’ll be there with you, one of us. You never have to be alone with that dirtbag again. Don’t know what he did to you but we’re gonna make him pay, Abbs. Whatever else he did, he’s gonna pay for hurting you.”
This look of vulnerability wasn’t a good one on her. It didn’t suit her any more than the neck without the spiderweb did. That tattoo had been a part of her for so long that he already missed it. He understood that she wanted to get rid of it and that it was created when she was a teenager, but she just didn’t seem to be Abby without it. He wasn’t used to it being gone yet.
And her eyes shouldn’t be glimmering like that with tears and sadness.
“Aw, Tony. You’re a real sweetie. You may strut around with a too cool attitude, but you really are just a softie at heart.” Giving him a watery smile that was meant to make him feel at ease, she added, “And I won’t be alone in interrogation, right, Mike? You’re gonna be there. And I bet Tony, McGee and Ziva will be behind the glass. I won’t be alone, Tony. I’ll have my family there.”
Tony flushed when she called him a sweetie and shrugged. “You’re my best friend,” he answered, as if that explained everything. And it did to an extent. He loved her and would protect her at any cost. “We’ll watch out for ya, Abbs. It’s what we do.”
“And you’re mine, Tony. But that’s not what you do. You guys are NCIS Special Agents, not Abby Sciuto’s personal guard dogs against actions or choices she makes that may cause her more harm than good. But I do appreciate my guard dogs, I really do.”
“We’re good guard dogs. And we even bring Caf-Pow.”
“Damn right you won’t be alone. DiNozzo can be in with ya while ya print the dirtbag then he can sit and wait until I’m good and ready to question him. Might be a while.” Mike gave Abby a smile that was a little cruel. She knew he’d made his suspects wait for hours at times before questioning them, getting them when they were tired and irritable and their natural defenses were down. And this one had probably drunk some stuff inside the party. He’d get vulnerable sooner than a perfectly sober man. Too bad they couldn’t get him right back and into questioning.
“Abby? How much he drink? You remember?”
“You guys are cute in your overprotective ways. To drink? Maybe a glass and a half. But I have no idea what he’d had before then. Could’ve been a lot, could’ve been not at all.” He could’ve had me, she thought with a disappointed sigh. She shivered again as she remembered his touch, on her throat, on her thigh, against the wall. It wasn’t fair that someone she was so attracted to was someone she helped arrest.
“Did he seem sober?” Mike asked, knowing his gaze was sharpening. “Could we have an advantage in interrogation, Abby?” Mike barely resisted the urge to rush her, knowing she was a little fragile and not at all herself right now.
God, yes, he was sober. Made me drunk off of his soberness, his kisses, his touch, his…stop it! Abby was pretty sure she was going to go crazy if she didn’t have a little time to work this all out on her own. Taking a breath, she said, “Yeah, he seemed sober, sober enough in any case. And I don’t see how that’s going to help in the interrogation, unless it’s ‘cause he has to pee.”
“Lowered inhibitions, easier to get off balance.” Mike knew Abby had learned this at FLETC, but she didn’t seem able to remember her training right now. “Easier to control the flow of conversation. Easier to lull into a false sense of security. Abby…” Mike could see from the wildness in her eyes that she was done. She needed to come down from this in her own way and that probably involved that caffeinated crap that made her extra hyper.
For some reason, she fed off being hyper, her concentration growing the more she absorbed that syrupy crap. It looked disgusting and smelled even worse and Mike Franks was a lot of things but he wasn’t fool enough to taste it.
“Get her a couple of those Caf-Pows on me, DiNozzo.”
“Yeah, Mike. I know. I’m just…tired. It’s been a long day. A few Caf-Pows, and I’ll be myself again,” she said, trying to reassure them both.
“You heard the boss, Tony. Caf-Pows. Lots of Caf-Pow. One for the ride home, one or two for the interrogation, and who knows how many for the times in between and after!”
She knew she probably didn’t have to remind him; the whole team knew about her Caf-Pow obsession. But it didn’t hurt to give them little reminders every now and then.
Good thing the Caf-Pow machine at work was usually full. Tony gave her a smile, feeling completely relieved when she asked for more Caf-Pow. He’d give her the moon and the stars right now if it got her back on even ground.
“Come on, Abbs,” he said, coming around to her side and opening the door. Assuming she’d go right to the car, Tony went to the back of the van and opened the door.
Though she finally had her trembling under control, she knew that it would be awhile before her mind followed suit. Not really thinking clearly, Abby proceeded to follow Tony, not realizing where he was headed. But once he opened the door, she couldn’t stop herself and came up behind him. She had to know he was all right; she had to see it for herself that he was uninjured. Why this was such a big deal for her, she still didn’t understand.
“Timmy, Ziva, Dirtbag,” Tony greeted, glad to see the guy was kind of subdued. “Got something for me, Ziva?” He motioned to the digital recorder. “Our Abbs is gonna run her magic in case this dirtbag is lying about who he is.”
Abby stumbled a step when she saw him, bound up and on the floor. Grabbing Tony’s arm to catch herself, she bit back the need to protest his treatment. How could such a vibrant man, someone so full of life that everything around him drained of color, be trussed up and tossed on the floor like garbage. Abby knew, somehow, that it had been Tony who had done the trussing and the tossing.
She looked him over, trying to see if had sustained any injuries. There was a growing bruise on his temple. And from Tony’s earlier statement, she guessed correctly that it had been her friend who did that to the prisoner.
“Abbs! What the hell! Get over to my car right now. You don’t need to be here!” Tony tried to shoulder her aside but she wasn’t budging and he let out an internal sigh at that. Tony turned and glared at her, giving her a dirty look, wondering what she was thinking. “Abby, don’t do this. Step away, Abbs. Step far away. You have to deal with him later, don’t invite this right now. Do not allow him to rattle you.”
But she wasn’t listening, digging in, the Caf-Pow cup left forgotten and swinging in her loosened fingers before it slipped to the ground, the ice within clinking and rattling. But Abby was too focused on the creep to even notice what had happened.
“Abbs…” Tony whispered the plea, knowing he couldn’t force her to move until she was ready.
Abby blinked and shook her head, trying to clear her mind. Vaguely, she heard Tony admonish her, heard him tell her to go to the car. Seeing Jet in the back of the van, she couldn’t leave, not yet. Stepping even closer to him, more in the range of the people in the van, she said, “I am not a child, DiNozzo. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
Absently, she looked down at her foot, feeling a cold, wet sensation. Seeing a melting ice cube on her heel-clad foot, she looked at it curiously, wondering how it got there. Seeing the empty, opened cup, Abby realized she must have dropped it. Swooping down, she righted the discarded Caf-Pow before standing back up again, intending on picking it up before she left. Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet the man lying on the van floor.
Jet’s eyes widened as the traitor stepped up behind the guy. He gave her a wink and a smirk, rattling the cuffs a little. He didn’t say a word, knowing her imagination would paint a brighter picture than his words. And he wanted her shaken up. Few women rattled him like this one had and he hated that she’d gotten one over on him.
Her cheeks lit up crimson again as images blasted through her overactive imagination, images of her being the one cuffed with Jet standing over her, dominant, in charge. Visions of naked, undulating skin, roughened hands against soft flesh, bodies surging, moans, pants, bites and screams, all threatened to overwhelm her.
When she met his eyes, he licked his tongue over his lower lip slowly, promising something that had been over before it had begun. As annoyed as he was about her part in this, he was glad she didn’t seem to be in danger.
God, she was beautiful when she blushed. Jet’s expression turned more serious now. “You okay? These thugs hurt you?” He wanted to ask what her part in this was but he knew he didn’t really want to know the answer. He had been trapped far too easily. It shouldn’t have been that simple and it just proved what he knew. He couldn’t let his guard down around women. They all screwed ya in the end.
Abby almost laughed when he called Tony and Tim thugs, knowing they were anything but. “No, they didn’t hurt me. They wouldn’t think to,” she replied quietly. She wanted to talk to him, was almost desperate to talk to him, to ask him the same. Instead, she didn’t realize her hands were moving slightly, signing what she could not say. Are you all right? Did they hurt you? I’m sorry.
She did that sometimes, signed when she was…not herself. Since no one had ever been able to read her, she had never had to worry about it in the past. She was alone with that talent amongst the team. So, she could sign in whatever state put her off her game; nervous, excited, overwhelmed, upset. All her emotions seemed to come out in her hands.
She signed? He had a way to communicate with her that the others didn’t seem to understand or chide her for? This could be a good advantage. He gave her a slight shrug, looking at her hands and then meeting her eyes, arching one brow. He couldn’t outright answer her without tipping the scales, but he’d file this information away and use it later.
Seeing him look at her hands and raise an eyebrow at her, Abby looked down at her hands, finding them signing without her realizing it. She only did that when she was nervous and upset. Clamping her hands tightly to her, she looked back at him, lifting her chin in challenge.
She had to get her emotions under control, or she’d never last through the interrogation. Yeah, she was an emotional type. Yeah, she had an open door policy on her heart. But she was still tough. She was still the Goth with the black nail polish and spiked-dog collars. It was time she started acting like it. Shoving her hands to her side, she kicked up her chin a little higher and met his eyes again.
He raised an eyebrow again and lifted his chin as well. Yeah he was slumped on the ground of a van, but he still had his dignity and his arrogance. And both were in large supply as her chin came up proudly and his lifted as well. He wasn’t going to slink around like a two-buck criminal. He was Jet…and he was a hell of a lot more than that.
“Should have told me you were a cop,” he said, breaking their silent challenge. “Could have had a lot of fun with the handcuffs not to mention the stun gun. Hit me just as it got really hot and sexy, Abby. Hope you know what you unleashed.” He lowered his voice, using it as yet another weapon in his arsenal. “You kissing me was the best part of my night. Wanna re-enact the crime?”
Hearing his voice again, hearing what he wanted to do with her made her knees weak. There was something about the gravely tone of it that made her hungry to hear more, to hear more about what he would do to her with the cuffs. She may not be a cop, but she certainly had those to spare, among other things. But the stun gun? Abby couldn’t help but wonder what he meant by that, wonder what he would use it for.
What she unleashed? Did that mean he was going to try again? Abby couldn’t decide if she was thrilled or petrified at the thought of him kissing her. Probably a little bit of both, she thought, being honest with herself.
When he asked her if she wanted to “re-enact the crime,” her whole body and mind screamed YES! But she couldn’t say that, not to a suspect, not in front of the team. Instead, she lamely replied, “I’m not a cop. I’m a scientist. A forensic scientist,” she clarified.
“Oh?” Jet asked with a smirk. “What were you collecting there? Hair samples? DNA? Interesting cheek swab technique. Never heard of that one before.” He winked. “But I liked it. A lot.”
There was a definite spark between them and he knew there would be a way to salvage this, if she was willing and able. And if he played his cards right, she would be both. When the time was right, he’d show his hand and see how it all played out. Hopefully without any interference beforehand.
As long as everyone did their jobs right, his identity would be his to share when he judged it most advantageous. Until then, he was perfectly content to be Jet Brooks. These cops could rough him up, but they wouldn’t kill him. There were advantages here. Even though they didn’t know it, he retained some control.
While his expression remained cocky and arrogant, Abby could see something behind his eyes, something that kept her knees weak and her mind working. Was he not the callus bastard he was trying to make himself up to be? The chemistry between them was like a live wire, everyone around them could feel it. What if it wasn’t just a heat of the moment, undercover thing? What if this attraction was real? She was going to have to keep her eyes and ears open, was going to have to watch how he behaved. Maybe there was something after all.
“I was there…” at a dirty look from Tony, she stopped in her explanation of her undercover op. Since she couldn’t explain, maybe she could have a little fun, even in front of the team. “Yeah, I was there collecting evidence. Don’t know if I gathered enough though. With so little of an amount, it probably wouldn’t hold up in court.”
“Then c’mere and kiss me again,” he shot back. The look of pure longing in her eyes told him that she was interested, whatever her guard dogs felt about it, they couldn’t stop this attraction.
The idea of her kissing him slowly, wet drugging kisses, those lips parted and little breaths gasping out. That was an image he wanted to hang on to. Even though her lipstick was gone now, her lips were a little swollen, naturally reddened.
He slicked his tongue over his own mouth and just eyed her.
Though every muscle in her body screamed for her to go to him, she knew that would be a huge mistake. Not only would doing so in front of Tony and McGee completely set them off, but she still didn’t know him, didn’t know if he really was just trying to play her, to use her. She may be off her normal game, but she wasn’t as stupid as she appeared to be in that moment. Didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun with it, Tony and McGee or not.
“I would, but you seem to be…in an inconvenient position, at the moment, tied up and surrounded by guns. I’d only be getting in the way.”
She was cool at this moment in time and he couldn’t help but be a little impressed. He knew she was still rattled but the fact was she met his eyes head on and didn’t shirk from what had to be a very awkward situation. She was a more complex puzzle to him every moment and he wanted to get to know her much, much better.
“Touché,” he said, his voice little more than a husky whisper. “Who put me here?” He studied her, his expression perfectly calm and composed. It wasn’t where he thought he would end up but she was a bright spot, one he planned to examine more when he got out of this jam.
“You did, when you spoke of jewelry, instead of…” she stopped then, knowing the line when she approached it. “Then I did when I took my stun gun to you. So, we are both guilty of putting you in this situation.” Her composure was slowly crumbling under his gaze, under his voice.
He sat there, so cool and collected. To see him, no one would be able to tell he was cuffed and surrounded by highly trained agents, bent on seeing justice done against him. But something about him, something in his eyes and in his voice, hit her in the gut, hit her so deep inside that she doubted his guilt, doubted he was the bad guy she, and the rest of the team, had originally painted him to be.
“I was talking about your eyes and lips,” he said, the rehearsed line coming out smoothly. “You didn’t think I was going for your necklace, were you? I was cupping the back of your head.” A slight smirk lifted his mouth. This was going to be very easy. Divert and regroup and then he’d be able to try a new angle. Once he saw where their thoughts were leading, he could adjust and manipulate the situation at that juncture. He was good at thinking on his feet and this situation just proved it. He knew a few people who would be impressed if he could ever tell them the truth of what had transpired.
And there was a softening in her eyes that led him to trying a new tactic.
“This is just a huge misunderstanding. You’ll see.”
Tony huffed out an angry breath, sub-vocalizing a growl. “Abbs, get into the damn car. NOW!”
“Tony, stop. Don’t yell at me,” she whispered, not wanting to take her eyes off of Jet. Her innate curiosity was driving her to find out what it was about this man - this possible criminal - that lit her blood on fire and caused her heart to race. She had never felt something like this before, something so elemental her mind couldn’t grasp the implications.
He knew she had to feel the bond between them, couldn’t imagine what she was thinking and feeling right now. But her status explained a lot. Why had they sent her in there if she wasn’t an officer? Was she one of those bad kids repenting stories he’d heard about on the idiot box? Was she being forced to do this?
Seemed far fetched but his mind was examining all possibilities now. But it didn’t make sense, didn’t tie in with her relationship to the men and woman. They were protective over her; they had a tight bond with her.
They appeared to be a tight team…
She watched him look between her and the rest of the team. More than anything, she wished she could ask him if he was alright, to ask him what he was thinking, to ask him if he really did want her…but instead, she just stood there, feeling more and more like an idiot with each passing moment.
The team was annoyed with her, overprotective now since they believed she got herself in way over her head. Jet was sitting there, alternating between glaring and something else she wasn’t ready to name. She really wished she had Bert to squeeze right now or at least the chance to talk to Jet privately.
Jet watched the play of emotions on her face. She seemed alternatively blustering and then vulnerable. She couldn’t know that she had bitten off much more than she and her friends could chew though. He had to show up as a dead end or this’d be a cakewalk compared to what was ahead for him. He concentrated on breathing normally, realizing that his pulse and breathing had sped up when she stepped into view, pale and vulnerable looking.
They might have been pros but he was relatively certain she was a newbie. And maybe, just maybe, she could be bent to his will or used for his own devices.
There was a flicker of something in his eyes, almost…fear. Well, maybe not fear. Fear was not an emotion one would normally consider with a man like him. But there was something he was concerned about; something had him on edge farther than the circumstances warranted. Only, what would the proper level of concern be for being tricked, tied up and thrown in the back of a van? She thought, caustically.
Glad that she had hold of Tony’s arm, she knew that if she was on her own two feet she probably would have swooned. And Abby was never one for swooning. She thought it was a ridiculous notion for a girl. But standing in front of Jet with him winking at her, she suddenly knew why some girls did that. In all her years on the dating scene, on the club scene, even occasionally on the BDSM scene, she had never felt such an overwhelming desire as she did in that moment.
There was something in her eyes, he realized. The interior lights of the cabin had her mostly in shadows despite the street lamp giving him some insight to her expression. But her eyes flashed and gleamed, something surging forth that he couldn’t recognize but wanted to examine. She really was nothing like her friends. They were hardened, even Baby Face, but she…wasn’t.
Having observed the exchange between Abby and the suspect, though they spoke very few words, Ziva jumped out of the van, knowing the two other men would have the suspect covered. Walking up to Abby, she cupped the scientist’s face between her hands, her gun holstered for the moment.
“You okay, Abby? We need you, I need you to focus. If I am worried about you, my concentration will not be focused entirely on the job of getting the suspect safely back to headquarters. I need to know that you will be with us now.”
Tearing her eyes away from the locked gaze with Jet, Abby focused on her friend. “I am okay, Ziva. I keep telling people that, but no one will believe me. Do I have something painted on my face that says ‘fragile, hand with care?’”
Confused, Ziva said, “No, your face has no paint on it, only the makeup we applied this afternoon.”
Laughing fully and loudly at Ziva’s bizarre response, Abby released some of the pressure that had been building since her green eyes first locked on to Jet’s blue ones. Though the pressure cooker of emotions was still building, still leading onto an explosion of one kind or another, Abby was grateful for the momentary relief. Leaning in, she kissed Ziva lightly on the nose, knowing no lipstick would be left behind, and knowing that her friend wouldn’t have expected it. “Thanks Ziva. That helped, a lot.”
Dropping her hands in bewilderment, Ziva watched Abby before jumping back into the van, taking up her position near the perp. Pulling out her gun, she trained it on him again as she waited.
Tony hadn’t wanted to provoke either the suspect or worry about McGee feeling vulnerable so he just glared at the jerk, fingers running over his gun slowly. When Abby kissed Ziva on the nose, Tony couldn’t help but smile slightly and as soon as Ziva was back in the van, he shut the door, blocking the dirtbag from seeing Abby.
As he closed the door, she stretched her neck to get one final glimpse of Jet. She could only hope that McGee and Ziva would treat him fairly. McGee might let his mood get the better of him, but Ziva was always cool, rarely let her emotions get the better of her.
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