Chapter 7
Mike waited until Ziva and the suspect were over at the elevators before he turned to McGee. “Tell me everything, Timothy. Everything you’d put in a report and then your impressions.” Mike watched as McGee handed him a evidence bag with a couple of knives. Mike signed off on them and then held up the bag. “Nice.” Two ceramic survival knives, very high end. “We need Abby here. Don’t care what his ID or business card says.” He motioned to the card inside the evidence bag. “We’re running everything on him. He’ll be in the system.”
“When we were inside at the party, Abby and I were separated by the crowd. I kept her in my sight, but left her alone, per your orders, so that the mark could approach her unhindered. When Jet Brooks approached her, I kept her in my line of sight. He grabbed her hand and took her down a side hall. That was when I lost track of her. Tony and I met up at the entrance and went to clear the rooms. When we came to the room Abby ended up being in, we heard a thump. Tony called out ‘NCIS’ and we charged the room. That’s when we found Abby, shaking, white as a ghost, with the suspect unconscious on the floor. We cuffed him, patted him down for weapons and found those two knives on him. In the van, we Mirandized him. And now we’re here.”
Taking a breath, he watched the elevator doors shut with Ziva and the suspect inside. “My impressions? He’s a scumbag who tried to take advantage of Abby. He’s willing to do whatever it takes to get what he’s after. He’s not afraid to use people to his advantage. But I have to be honest, Boss. He doesn’t seem to be the type to be into drugs. Brooks is too…put together, to in charge of his surroundings to be involved in something as out of control as drugs.”
Mike took in all of Tim’s words before speaking. “How long was he alone with her, Tim? Could he have assaulted her? He had his paws on her.” Instantly Mike could see that Tim was getting agitated and knew he had to try a different approach.
“Proof of identity? Where’d you get his name? This business card?” Mike pointed to the card inside the evidence bag. “He have a license or a passport on him?” Mike was relatively sure they’d be fake but even so, he had to check.
“What makes you think he isn’t our man, McGee?”
“From Abby and the suspect, it doesn’t seem he had enough time to do anything but kiss her, which he admitted to, and from Tony’s behavior, I think Abby did too. Admitted to kissing him that is,” Tim sighed, frustrated.
“Other than what is in that evidence bag, we have nothing else to use for IDing him, nothing else to verify that the name on the card is the name he was born with. Boss, I don’t know why. In my gut, I guess. I don’t like him. There’s something…off with him. Abbs would say hinky. He’s not a good guy, that’s all I’m sure of.”
“Okay, Tim.” Mike squeezed the younger man’s shoulder. “You run down every record on that name. Go through the wallet, every hidden pocket. Check the business address, the credit card history, even the DMV. I want answers before I start interrogating, so get on it.”
“On it, Boss. I’ll be at my desk running background on Brooks, first name Jet.” He signed out the evidence to maintain chain of custody. “Thanks, Boss.”
Mike pulled in a breath, wondering about all of this. He knew he’d seen this guy before, maybe on a BOLO for the jewel theft ring. He knew he should probably call Fornell from the FBI in, but Franks didn’t want to call in another agency, especially not someone like Fornell if he could avoid it.
But if this was a jewel thief, he’d learn what justice, Mike Franks style, was. “Tim, pull up the BOLOs and descriptions for the inter-agency jewel thief thing as well.” Mike would have to deal with Morrow before he could join the investigation.
“Goin’ up to MTAC level, brief the director.” Mike looked at the elevator. “I’ll take the stairs”. It’d give him time to think…
Mike gave the pretty young assistant a smile and jerked his head toward the door. “He busy, Cynthia?” he asked, wishing he had a treat of some sort for the woman. The team didn’t know it, but he kept some sample boxes of luxury chocolates in his desk. A satisfied and happy Cynthia was a compliant Cynthia, and a compliant Cynthia meant that Mike got his way.
And if DiNozzo knew the chocolate was there, he’d eat every damn box. And that’d mean Mike would have to kill his senior agent. Messy and not a good career move for either of them.
“No, Special Agent Franks. Let me buzz you in.”
“If it makes you happy, Pretty Lady.” Even though Mike had been counseled by HR on being an old-fashioned guy who sometimes called women endearments, Cynthia and his girls allowed him a lot of leeway.
“You flirt,” Cynthia replied, but her eyes were extra bright. “Go on in. He’ll see you.”
It was good having a hands-on director like Tom Morrow, who could be expected to be at work until late in the evening,, especially if Morrow needed to smooth things over with other agencies. “Thanks, Sweetheart.”
Mike strode in and nodded a greeting at Morrow. “May have a breakthrough, Tom, but you’re gonna hate my methods. And I’m not sure we have a breakthrough on one of our cases.” Mike wandered over to the liquor bottles in Morrow’s office and half turned. “What’re we drinking tonight?”
“Scotch. One ice.” Hanging up the phone, Morrow closed the file in front of him and turned to face a man he considered one of his top agents. “All right, then read me in, Mike. What do you mean by your methods? And when have I ever condoned the methods you use?”
Mike poured Tom a Scotch with ice and his own neat before reclining in the chair in front of the desk. “I sent Abby undercover and she met some trouble with a capital T. Gussied her up and all since Ziva wasn’t making any contact. Anyways Abby found a guy by the name of Jet Brooks. Looks military, silver hair, blue eyes. Forties. Can swear I’ve seen him before…”
Mike took a swallow of the liquid before he continued. “He got fresh and she stunned him. Team brought him in. Had two ceramic knives on him, military grade. Kids think he’s not a part of our drug ring but brought him in anyway. Me? Think he looks like a gentleman mercenary. And I’ve seen him before, Tom. I know it. Could be part of that jewel thief ring FBI is running. Might be something more. And Abby’s all shook up.”
Mike didn’t relish sharing the news that he was bringing Abby in to interrogation, that he was making her a very active part of the investigation. “Got Ziva babysitting him in interrogation, McGee running an ID check on him. DiNozzo’s bringing Abby back.”
Mike took another swallow, watching his boss. Tom had been his team leader a while back and they were good friends with a healthy respect for each other and their jobs, even though Mike admitted he couldn’t be that political or diplomatic. But behind these closed doors, they were essentially equals. “What’s on your mind, Tom?”
“Many things are on my mind, Mike. Not the least of which is how you chose to handle this operation. Why on earth would you send our best forensic scientist undercover? There are more female agents aside from Officer David. Surely one of them would have been more than equipped to handle the situation, before having to drag Abby into it. You put her in an unnecessary, risky situation. Was she hurt? You mentioned that she was shaken up, that the suspect got fresh with her. What in the hell does that mean?”
Morrow took a healthy drink from his glass, knowing he would need it and more before Mike’s briefing was over. Franks was a great agent. But his general way of handling cases, of going by his gut and forgetting the rules, tended to make Morrow’s job more difficult in the end.
“Nobody available. Cassie’s on a long-term op. Cheryl is pregnant. Victoria just got married to some famous pretty-boy actor. Guy stars in a crime show, Tom. Couldn’t make this crap up. Anna is a single mother, Lyn’s husband just deployed, Annie’s working with some folks at the Pentagon, Air Force joint op. I could have gotten Cynthia, but she isn’t an agent. Abby was,. You know we weren’t getting results from Ziva. We have to break this case, Tom. Before more people die. Been pussyfooting around for too long here.”
He eyed the director for a moment. “What would you have done? Thrown DiNozzo in a dress?”
“I am not so sure that DiNozzo would not have enjoyed that. And you had no other options? If not, then I can understand your choice. But how did you prepare her? How did you get her ready for this op? To my knowledge, she has never worked undercover before.”
“You tell me who, Tom. Time was of the essence. I had time to run Abby through weapons and self defense training and give her three days of in-depth undercover training. She was supposed to go to the party with McGee, mingle, separate herself, and get approached by our guy. And maybe she did, but my gut doesn’t think so. Seen this guy before, Tom. Don’t know where though. And it’s bugging my gut. Older than a recent BOLO too. Might have collared him when I was working near Pendleton.”
For some reason, Mike’s mind was pulling him in that direction and he didn’t understand why.
“Then find out where you know him from, Franks. Before you get too much farther in this investigation. If you do know him, if you’ve either worked with him or arrested him before, I need to know. And find out what’s wrong with Abby. I can’t have our girl off her game. It will affect too many cases and too much evidence if she is.”
Setting his glass down on the desk, he finished their conversation. “Dismissed.”
“McGee’s chasing down leads, Abby’ll chase down forensics. We’ll figure it out.” Mike finished his Scotch and nodded, walking out of the inner and outer offices with a wink to Cynthia.
Not wanting to go down to the main level yet, Mike took the elevator to the ground level, finding his favorite park bench and working over his memories. He remembered those eyes, burning in…not anger…pain? Set in a much younger man’s face. But other than that, he didn’t have anything solid to hang on to.
If they didn’t get any answers tonight, tomorrow he’d go to records and see about then pulling his San Diego, Pendleton, and Lejeune era files. But hopefully they could break Brooks in interrogation first.
~*~
Down in the forensics lab, Abby made quick work of her evening wear, after turning up her music loud enough to vibrate the walls. Grabbing a short plaid skirt and one of her favorite t-shirts, a black one with a monkey one it, with kisses all over his face, she got dressed, feeling more herself. Brushing out the hairspray and curls from her hair, she pulled it into low ponytails. Checking her makeup, she decided to leave it. It worked, though it was a little more formal than she usually wore.
After hanging up her clothes and changing into some high platform boots, she went over to her computer and grabbed Bert. Giving him a big squeeze, comforted by the loud fart noise he gave her in response, Abby sighed. “What am I going to do, Bert? I’ve gotta go fingerprint him. And I’m scared all of a sudden. It would be so much easier to just have someone else do it. But it has to be me, and I have to see him.” All Bert could do was fart in response.
Taking a deep breath, Abby put Bert aside and grabbed up her gear, her fingerprint kit and evidence bags. Shaking a little because her insides were overrun by a flock of butterflies, she made her way out of the lab, only stopping to pause her music.
The ride up in the elevator was excruciatingly long. But as soon as the bell rang for the interrogation floor, she realized it wasn’t long enough. Walking through the hall, she spotted Ziva standing in front of one of the rooms.
“Hey, Ziva. Is he in there? I’ve gotta take his fingerprints,” she said, almost resigned.
“Hello Abby. Are you well? Yes, he is inside. But you are not supposed to go in alone, are you? I believe Franks was quite clear on that,” Ziva said, concerned.
“I’m fine, Ziva, really,” she lied, even though she knew the Mossad officer would be able to tell. Sighing, she said, “Okay, no not really. But I will be. And Franks said I wasn’t supposed to be along with him for the interrogation. He didn’t say anything about the fingerprints.” Which was stretching the truth a bit, but at this point, Abby didn’t care.
Eyeing her suspiciously, Ziva said slowly, “Al lright, Abby. But if there is any trouble, any sound of distress, I am breaking this door down. Understood?”
Giving her a half hearted salute, she said, “Yes, ma’am.” Opening the door quietly, she walked through.
Seeing him, seeing Jet, sitting there at the table, Abby felt her heart stop. The entire night came whooshing back and all she could do was stare. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it, waiting.
He looked toward the door when it opened and fought to not show a visible reaction. The elegant woman from earlier now looked like a schoolgirl gone very bad. Very, very bad. He started at her boots and let his gaze slowly sweep upward to the pigtails that should have been ridiculous on a woman of her age but somehow suited her.
“The real Abby, I assume,” he said, not bothering to hide his continued interest in her. “Suits you. That dress did too, though.”
Finally moving her frozen body, Abby pushed off the door. Shifting her gear into her left hand, she held out her right. “Abby Sciuto, forensic scientist with NCIS.” She was blushing under his gaze, feeling stripped down and bare under his knowing expression. For some reason, she felt that he saw her, the real Abby, despite the clothes and the collar.
“Jet. Whatever you want me to be,” he replied, purposely not using his last name. “You here to take advantage of me, Abby.” He motioned to the two-way glass. “Sure we have an audience this time but if you want another kiss…”
She wanted him to tell her, to be truthful to her. But Abby knew that in his situation, anything he might say, even to her, would put him at risk. “No, not here to take advantage of you,” at least not yet. “I need to take your fingerprints.”
Looking over at the two-way window, she said absently, “There is no audience. No one is recording or watching yet.” Before she could comprehend what that meant, his hand on hers distracted that train of thought.
“Ziver is watching,” he insisted, but didn’t go beyond that.
Instead he clasped his hand in hers, squeezing it gently before his finger stroked over her palm. Before she could protest, he stood, looking down at her. “Don’t regret what happened.”
It could be taken two ways, an admission on his part or an order. That said, he sat down again. “DNA and fingerprints?”
When he rose in front of her, she whispered, “I don’t, Jet. I don’t think I could ever regret what happened.” Before she could initiate the kiss she so desperately wanted, he sat down again. Sighing, she put down her kit and pulled out the equipment she needed.
“Just fingerprints, for now.” DNA would come later, if Mike asked for it. She held out her hand for his again. When he placed it in hers, she stared at the hand for awhile, tracing the lines in his palm. Shaking herself out of the reverie, she started to fingerprint him, fighting off her imagination as images of what she wanted those hands and fingers to do to her body.
As those images flitted through her mind, she felt her body heat up as her need for him rose. As she fought against the need, she focused on concentrating on her evidence gathering. She knew, somehow, that this would be important. That finding out the truth would change the course of everything, the events of the day, even the direction her life was going.
He fought the urge to get up and just watched her. “Anyone giving you any crap? Told your friend, Ziver, to go easy on you. Anyone who doesn’t answers to me. You tell me if they give you crap and I’ll take care of it.”
It was time he let the military man out and he knew the last thing he uttered sounded like an order. It was. A level of protectiveness he no longer thought himself capable of having rose up inside him.
“Ziver? Do you mean Ziva?” Normally, someone giving her orders like that would have set her off. Unless it had something to do with evidence, she didn’t really like getting bossed around. But it was natural coming from him. And for reasons beyond her, she didn’t care that he was ordering her around. It felt right somehow. Like, instead of him just being an Alpha male, he was her Alpha male.
“Yeah, the dangerous one of your group.” He watched her, noting how she was accepting to him even in body language. He still had a chance here as long as he didn’t screw it up.
“If they have given me crap, it was my own fault. Nothing I haven’t deserved.”
“You’re nobody’s pawn,” he finally said, steel in his tone.
She smiled when he called Ziva dangerous. Finishing up his first hand, she said, “She’s really just a sweetheart. A big softie inside. If you want to get on her good side, give her chocolate. Or a new knife. That works too.”
As she grabbed his second hand, she noticed the cuff still attached to his wrist. Twisting the cuff lightly to move it up his wrist, she asked softly, “Did you free yourself, or did Ziva let you go?” Remembering the comment Jet had made earlier about handcuffs, Abby blushed under his gaze.
“Freed myself.” He causally took the pin out of the watch and opened the cuff, locked it, opened it again. “Three seconds if my hands are in front of me,” he said both to Abby and Ziva. “Seven if they’re behind my back.”
He leaned in a little closer. “Ziva and I reached an understanding. We’re not so different, Abby.” That was as close to the truth as she’d get. What she knew could eventually hurt her and he wasn’t letting that happen.
Shaking her head in exasperation, she said, “The cuffs did little good to restrain you, then, right? Poor Tony. I wouldn’t mention that to him then. He might get a little bit hurt about it.” When he got closer, she sucked in a quick breath, her body trembling suddenly at his proximity.
Knowing interrogation like she did, Abby knew that anyone in the bullpen or the director’s office could click a button and see what was happening in the room. However, she also knew that the range did not extend to the area underneath the camera. And if he really wanted to kiss her again, she could take him there. But she still wasn’t sure, wasn’t sure he really wanted her.
Deciding she had to know what was happening between them, she put away the equipment, filed and signed the fingerprint cards. Taking a deep breath for courage, she looked at him. “If you still want to…” But she chickened out. She couldn’t say it out loud, too unsure of herself as she was.
Instead, she walked over to the wall and leaned against it, crossing her arms under her chest. Stilling, she watched him, still trying to figure him out. “What do you want, Jet? Other than to be freed? Who are you?” she whispered.
He took a wet wipe out of her kit and cleaned off his hands, not knowing what she might make of that gesture. He watched her carefully, noting that she was directly under the camera and that the room appeared to be a single-camera configuration.
Jet stood, stalking closer to her, sighting his prey. “What do I want? You. Not worried about being freed. Safest place for me is here.” Who was he? That was the clincher. “You know what they say ‘if I told you I’d have to kill you?’ Overly dramatic for my case, but the knowledge will put you in a bad position and I’m not letting that happen.”
“You’ll find out, when it is safe for you to know. And then, Abby, you’ll understand.” In her chunky-heeled boots, she was almost as tall as him. He moved in closer so that their chests were almost touching.
“Not stealing anything from you, not even a kiss. If you want to kiss me, you take the last step.”
She was breathing a little rapidly now, her pulse fluttering at her throat. “I want you,” he whispered recklessly. He refused to examine how stupid he was being and how he could be screwing everything up. All that mattered right now was them, in this moment.
When he went through her bag for the wipe, she raised her eyebrows at him, at his comfort level with her belongings. But when he got up and started tracking her, a predator after his prey, she lost track of anything else, her focus tightening to just Jet, her breath catching in chest.
“When it’s safe?” she asked, her comprehension disappearing as well. As he stopped in front of her, her hands dropped to her side, her gaze drifting to his lips. It was to be her choice in the end, her decision. He left that to her, gave her the chance to change her mind. But she didn’t want that, didn’t need that. She needed, she wanted, him.
“That was what I said. When it is safe for you to know. Knowledge is power and power can be manipulated. I don’t want anyone manipulating you, Abby. It wouldn’t be right. And I’d lose my cool too damn fast and get us both into trouble.” He sighed, watching her, frustration in his every jerky motion all of a sudden.
Despite the lack of understanding, despite not knowing what he was or, for that matter, who he really was, all Abby knew was that there was something between them, something that defied explanation. And she was quickly figuring out that she didn’t care if she ever did. She may not know his name, may not know the past behind the man, but she knew him, knew the essence of the man. Her instincts screamed that she was safe with him. That regardless of how they met, Jet was a man to be trusted.
“Isn’t that I want to be cryptic, Abby. I can’t risk you being used…” His house of cards was falling around him, but for now, until it happened, he’d maintain his air of mystery. It was always possible they’d let him twist in the wind anyway.
“Guy like me doesn’t have many friends…” He spoke the words quietly, almost sadly. It would have been nice to have had a circle of friends he could rely on to get him out of this mess, but the network of people he confided in was shady at best.
Reaching her hand up, she cupped his cheek softly, her thumb brushing over the fullness of his lower lip. Breathlessly, she said, “You didn’t steal anything from me earlier, and you won’t now. I want you, Jet.” Pulling him in so that they were a hairsbreadth apart, she whispered, “I want you,” before closing the gap.
He swallowed hard when she touched his face. He knew he had to be the strong one here but he couldn’t be. For once in a very long time, he wanted to give in to something purely because he wanted it.
And then her mouth brushed his tentatively and his heart started beating more rapidly. She tasted sweet, some flavor he couldn’t put a name to, her lips plump and pliant, and her breath mingling with his. He forced his eyes open for one second, studying her expression, before they shuttered closed again.
Jet pulled her close, one hand cupping her skull as he deepened the kiss, his tongue demanding entry, his intensity and sense of urgency growing. Any minute they were going to be pulled apart by their circumstances and the way they were at opposite sides of the law.
But dammit, he wanted so much more. He pinned her against the wall there, pressing his body against hers, cupping her face in his hands now, her pigtails brushing over his fingertips, his tongue exploring every curve of her mouth. He was vaguely aware of the low groans he was emitting, sounds coming from his soul rather than this throat.
Sighing, Jet turned them around expertly so that he was against the wall and arching outward and she controlled the motion of their bodies. He didn’t want her to feel forced or that she’d lost her free will.
For as long as she was kissing him, he felt completely whole.
When he had spoken of keeping her safe and his lack of friends, Abby felt her heart ache for the loneliness she heard in his voice. But before she could say anything, she felt him take over the kiss, dominating her space and her body with his own.
With his tongue teasing and torturing her, she gasped against his lips, her arms circling around his waist, pulling him in tightly against her. Though desire was slowly darkening her other senses, she was aware of a strange sense of peace in the core of her. A peace she’d never found anywhere else. A peace that she had been searching for. It was as if something that had been missing from her life, something vital to her survival, was unearthed in this unknown man, and she was whole again.
Suddenly, she was pinned by his body, her arms grasping at the cool wall behind her, unable to find purchase. She could feel the desire rising in him, the heat threatening to burn her if she got too close. But Abby loved danger, she craved that heat. Crying out his name, little moans escaping from her lips in between kisses, Abby arched against him, desperate to feel all of him.
Quickly, she found herself in reversed positions, with his back to the wall, her body pressing against his. Leaning back a bit, she cupped his face in between her hands, her lips only a whisper from his own, her eyes peering into his own blue. “You want me safe,” she murmured, almost amazed that he would even be concerned with that.
“You’re not alone anymore, Jet. You have me,” she said, offering herself to him, a stranger, physically, but not a stranger emotionally. She knew it was crazy, irrational, probably stupid. Nothing about the entire situation was rational. But every atom, every molecule screamed that this was right, that this was where she needed to be.
He’d never heard anything as erotic as her forming his name into the most sensual words, bracketed by groans of desperate need. She had to know he needed her just as badly, his body throbbing and straining for hers, hips grinding against hers.
“Want you safe,” he agreed, staring into her eyes. He needed her safe, needed to know that she was protected if this went down in flames. The rest of ‘em could fend for themselves but she had to be protected.
Even if it was from him.
“Don’t know what you’re offering,” he replied, his voice tight, his emotions barely leashed. “Getting in over your head.”
Even as he said the words and even as he knew that it was crazy, that he was setting her up to be used and destroyed, he nodded. “I have you,” he whispered against her mouth, trying not to smile and let the giddiness get to him.
Eighteen years he’d gone without peace and this girl with her emerald eyes and ruby lips was gonna ruin him.
Or save him.
As his mouth captured hers again, his hand stroking over her face, he felt as if she was his home. “Mine?” he asked, a whispered plea.
When he pressed his hips to hers, she got light-headed from the sensation, the power she felt pulsating against her aching core. Pressing her forehead to his, she gasped for understanding, though, in the end, she really didn’t expect it. The entire time, from the instant awareness of him struck her, Abby knew that she could never really expect anything again, at least not with him. Nothing about them made sense.
Jet was older than her, a stranger, a possible suspect in their current case. He was dangerous, addicting, dominating, all things that Abby was finding as necessary as breathing. Regardless of the warnings, regardless of the threat to her well-being, she was a moth to his flame, drawn despite her possible destruction. And even if her wings burned, she could have no more turned away than she could ever give up her Caf-Pow.
She’d tried that before. Didn’t work. She knew when she was beaten. And now, Jet was her addiction, her drug. And, despite the cliché, he was as crucial as breathing, as necessary as Caf-Pow, and she wouldn’t be able to give him up.
“I’ve been in over my head ever since your eyes slammed into mine, Jet. And I don’t care.” She took his hand and placed it over her heart, above her breast. “I don’t need to know, because I feel. Right here. And in case you didn’t know, for a scientist, that’s a big deal. But that’s me. I tend to go with my heart instead of my head. And my heart, my body is screaming for you. Despite the danger or the stupidity behind it, or maybe even because of it.”
Her eyes closed against the sweetness of his touch against her face, against the burn of his sapphire eyes, overwhelmed finally by the impact of him. At the tenderness of him, she felt a single tear escape down her face. Giving up the final measure of control, she whispered, sealing her fate, “Yours.”
“Won’t hurt you,” he promised, rasping the words out. “It’ll make sense…have faith.” He pulled back reluctantly, brushing the tear away and a wisp of hair back. “You know we can’t do this here. Shouldn’t…
As much as he loved this, he also hated this, hated that he had control over her. Hated that their bond had made her vulnerable. “We have to stop…for now. And whatever they tell you about me, listen here.” He tapped her chest where she had rested his hand before withdrawing it.
“Look at me, look into my eyes. There is truth there…”
The temptation to tell her was overwhelming but he had to think of the endgame, of what it all meant. He was just a cog in a wheel here and other people’s needs meant a lot more than him. Though at this moment…
“Whatever happens here, hang onto the truth in my eyes.” He didn’t know how they would play it when they got wind of it. Would they use him, would they sacrifice him without a second thought? If it meant their victory in the end, they damned sure would. It could go a lot of ways here and he had no control. Losing freedom was the least of his worries now.
He hadn’t come so far and finally found someone worthy only to lose her because of his bad choices.
Looking into his eyes, emeralds to sapphires, Abby knew the truth, that no matter what happened next, no matter what was revealed, the only really truth was between them. That was the only truth that mattered. “I trust you, Jet, and I have faith in you, in us.”
Pressing in for one more hard kiss, she dipped her head and stepped back, breaking the contact, despite how much her body ached for him. Standing straight, she looked at him, taking confidence from whatever it was between them, from the truth in his eyes.
~*~
Tony took the elevator up to the squad room, removing the cummerbund, tie, and designer blazer as he hit his desk. McGee was deep in thought staring at his computer screen and as Tony removed the cufflinks and rolled up the sleeves on his tux to mid-forearm, he walked over to the desk.
“Whatcha got, McMonkey Suit?”
“Nothing,” Tim groaned, frustrated. “I’ve got nothing. There is nothing on Jet Brooks. No driver’s license. No credit cards. No credit history of any kind. No social security. Nothing. There is no evidence here that says Jet Brooks even exists. It’s a cover ID, Tony. I think ‘Jet Brooks’ isn’t sitting in interrogation right now. Someone else is.”
“You think so, McNerd?” Tony asked a little sarcastically. Anyone could have seen that coming. “He’s what? At least forty. Run a criminal check on the name ‘Jet’, a wildcard search. And check military records databases too. That’ll take a while, but at least we can tell Franks we’re on it. Jet is a movie star name, not a real one. But he could be a John or Jason that is also known as Jet.”
Or he could be Air Force or Naval Aviator and that could be a fighter jock nickname.
“Look up one of those name databases too, Probie. Find every male name in the top five hundred that have a ‘Jet’ anywhere in them. I’m gonna make some calls to my friends in Baltimore. See if they’ve ever heard of the name.”
Nodding in agreement, Tim upped his search, expanding his search to include the criminal databases, federal databases, and any other database that would fit under his search radius. Adding height, weight, physical characteristics, age, and name, Tim kept typing as he waited for the results.
Tony made a couple of calls and shook his head. “Nothing on my end, Probie. What was that woman’s name at the FBI? Cassie…what’shername. You know the one…” They’d worked with her last year and she was a lot less imposing than Fornell or even Ron Sacks. Maybe he could call her and see if she could tap into the FBI only databases.
Distracted, Tim wasn’t really paying attention to what Tony was saying. Pounding away at the keys of his keyboard, he tried to speed up the data search, though he knew that there was little he could do to hurry up the search. Absently, he mumbled, “Uh huh.”
“Probie!” Tony crossed the gap between the two desks and sat on the edge of McGee’s, head slapping him. “What was her name? Cassie? Courtney? Help me out here. Maybe the Feebs have a file on this guy.”
“Hey! What the heck, Tony? I’m trying to run my own searches over here. Do I have to do everything for you? Her name was Cassie. Gorgeous, actually.” He sighed a bit, remembering her long legs. Though, in truth, not nearly as good as Ziva’s. Banishing that thought quickly, he tried to return his focus to his work. Turning back to his computer, he kept at his search, knowing Franks would be by soon, demanding answers.
“Testy,” Tony barked back. “You’ve been out of control tonight, McGee. Don’t think Mike won’t find out. You let that dirtbag get to you and that was stupid.” Tony stalked back to his computer and located her name. “Courtney Krieger! Not Cassie at all, McCranky.”
Tony fired off a text message to her.
“Pot. Kettle,” Tim ground out. He hadn’t been the only one testy and on edge all night. “You haven’t exactly been in control, Tony. And if you found her name that easily, you could have just done it yourself, without the head slap.”
“Was asking you a question, McNerd. Teamwork, remember, McLone Wolf.” Tony came around and sat on the edge of McGee’s desk. “Searches are running. Want to tell me what is going on. You assaulted him and we can’t even make a case that it was accidental. Not like you, Probie. What about him gets so deep under your skin?”
“Wasn’t the question, Tony, it was the interruption.” Finishing the protocols needed, he leaned back in his chair, eyeing Tony. “You can’t tell me that guy didn’t get under your skin, not after your reaction, not after seeing Abby. You’re just pissed it wasn’t you that had that gun to his gut.”
“Not that pissed, Probie. Pissed enough to knock his head against the wall but not pissed enough to almost pull the trigger. You were more out of control than I’ve ever seen you. Before I report everything that happened to Mike, tell me why.” So that I can protect you and have your back. Tony silently added.
“You saw Abby, and you have to ask?” McGee pouted. He didn’t understand why Tony was suddenly all concerned about the suspect.
“Yeah I did. And she was shaken up, Tim, but it isn’t like he raped her or anything. I’m ticked at him; I’m not pulling my gun on him. You still hoping to knock it with Abbs, McProbster?”
Rolling his eyes, he only answered with a “humpf.” His feelings regarding Abby were no one’s business but his own.
“Fine,” Tony muttered, looking over at the screen, not leaving McGee’s desk yet. “What’s your theory here, Probie? What did he do with Abby and who is he?”
“My theory is that he’s not who we think he is. I think he’s a criminal, but probably not drugs. Something more…sophisticated. His name is definitely a fake since nothing is coming up to identify him. It’s very…hinky.” As for what he did with or to Abby, Tim didn’t want to think about that.
“Yeah, hinky,” Tony agreed, sighing.
~*~
In a dim office, a screen popped up a warning and then text messaged the computer’s owner. He was doing paperwork and turned to his screen, eyes widening in horrified shock. NCIS was poking around for information on Jet Brooks. This was bad. Very bad. He’d have to wait and see but if any more alarm bells went off, Brooks would have to be contained.
By any means necessary…
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