#these two weird law fanboys like their jobs too much to step away now that things are getting better (gets shot a second time)

[hychlorions]

[romien]

How to save a life (part 1)

This is my first time posting my writing in English. I am not a native speaker, so forgive any mistakes you might find here. Hope you enjoy it!

Waking up on an alien planet after five years that just somehow went by, even though for you it was like a blink of an eye, is weird. And quite frankly, terrifying.

But running around the fallen debris from the destroyed Avengers compound that was turned into a battlefield while simultaneously holding the most powerful jewels in the universe and dodging spears, energy beams �� and was that a branch? – definitely beats it.

Peter was so not having a good day.

„Karen! Is there anything we can do to distract them?“ he shouted, mildly desperate as the aliens kept coming and he was nowhere near the van inside which he was supposed to drop the gauntlet.

„I’m sorry, Peter, but your enhanced strength and agility are the only reason you were not taken down yet,“ his AI informed him.

Peter actually envied how cheerful and unconcerned she sounded while telling him that.

„Super helpful, Karen,“ he growled and ducked when a knife was thrown his way.

There had to be something he could do. Webbing aliens and dodging hits surely did not get him killed but it really didn’t help him to move towards his goal either. In fact, Peter realized, that the aliens were actually forcing him to move backwards.

„Karen – does this suit have any weapons I could use?“

„Would you like an access to the manual or automatic weapons?“ was the enthusiastic response he got.

„When this is all over, you and I are gonna have a really long talk about what a necessity are the laws on gun control,“ Peter huffed partially amused but mostly concerned.

„Should I disable the weaponry then?“

„NO!“ he yelped and hissed as one of the knives nicked his thigh. „Is there a… wait, is that a grenade?!“

„Yes, Peter,“ Karen chirped in his ear.

„Okay, we will add that to the list of things we need to discuss. Get me the grenade and calculate with how much force should I throw it on the ground so that I can use it as a boost.“

„That is not advisable.“

„Says who?“

„Per the Baby monitor protocol-“

„That was rhetorical, Karen! How much force?“

„About half of your full strength throw, Peter.“

With a deep breath, he took five quick steps behind, which made the aliens stumble in surprise. They didn’t have any time to get their footing back as Peter threw the grenade and shot a web onto the little flying vehicle that sped above them.

His spidey sense flared up when the greande hit the ground and immediately blew up. Thankfully, the flying drone was going at the same crazy speed, even with Peter latched onto it. More importantly, it was headed straight to the van so the boy braced himself for what was about to happen.

But that was when the Parker luck striked again.

„Peter!“

He was sure that was Mr. Starks voice and so he automatically turned his head towards it. Iron Man was really looking his way and even from the distance he saw the panicked look upon his mentors face. Alarmed, Peter looked up and saw another drone headed his way.

Cutting the web string was not an option. He was moving too fast and the momentum would throw him directly to the very pointy looking debris that lay ahead. If he tried to jump up the webbing would be cut by one of the drones, possibly by both of them.

He was screwed.

And just as he was contemplating letting fate run its course he saw another thing quickly flying towards them. At first it looked like another drone, but even from the distance it seemed smaller.

„Hold tight, young spider!“ hollered a booming voice somewhere down on his right.

The hair on the back of Peters neck stood up and he would swear that he felt electricity in the air. Once the flying object was closer, Peter realised, it was Mjolnir. And even though he was most likely to die however the situation will resolve, the fanboy in him was screaming in delight with the thought that Thor was actually talking to him.

„Brace yourself, Peter,“ interrupted his inner fangirling Karen as she calculated movement of every object in his vicinity and displayed the results to him. „The hammer is flying very fast so it would be best to web yourself to it as soon as you can.“

„So I won’t hurt myself?“

„You will definitely get hurt. My data tells me there is 77,5 % chance that you will dislocate your shoulder performing this maneuvre.“

„I am so inspired by your pep talk, Karen.“

Not hearing her answer Peter shot his web at Mjolnir the second he was in his shooting distance. As he dropped from the drone and brace himself to the pain of having his shoulder dislocated, the most unexpected thing happened.

Instead of his shoulder being popped from the socket, he was stopped mid swing. Because the hammer wasn’t moving towards his goal anymore. It flew right into the spiderlings hand. Peter was too shocked to do anything but his muscle memory took over so that his fingers could wrap themselves around the handle.

And then he was falling again.

This time he thanked the one lucky start that watched over him (and probably died right after helping him) as he was close to the ground and with a little bit of uncoordinated moving and wiggling in the air he hit the ground less harshly than he anticipated.

Peter let out a long breath and closed his eyes for a second to try and calm his racing heart while he lay there. However the second he felt himself calming down his spidey sense prickled as a shadow fell over him causing his eyelids to snap open and look up.

His heart stopped for a second and then started racing a mile a minute.

„You are extremely annoying, little spider.“

Thanos reached for him with his big purple hand but before he could even get close to him Peters sensitive ears picked up the sound of repulsors charging and he instinctively ducked more to the ground a second before the power blasts flew above him and hit the titan square in the chest.

The loud angry roar hurt Peters ears and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to regain at least some of the control of his senses and body. When he opened his eyes again he felt like he couldn’t possibly close them again, not even for a second.

The scene right in front of him was both horrifying and enticing. Captain America, Thor and Iron Man were all fighting the Mad titan and each clash of their weapons and armor reverberated in Peters body. He couldn’t look away and he couldn’t move. Even though he should. He really, really should.

Get the gauntlet away from Thanos.

Throw it inside the van.

But his limbs wouldn’t listen to his brain screaming at them to move. He was absolutely petrified. For the first time since he became Spider-man he understood his own mortality. How close to death he was at times in the past saving people.

And how he saw death, in its endless haunting beauty and finality, in Thanos‘ eyes.

His thoughts were interrupted when the body of Steve Rogers landed not even two feet away. Peter was relieved when the man grunted as he got back up on his feet even though a bit unsteady. He fastened the strap of his broken shield on his forearm, effectively stopping the blood from the nasty gash there.

And then he looked up from the ground beneath his feet and his eyes met Peters. Well, the now fully engorged white lenses of his suit. The Captain then looked at Mjolnir that was resting comfortably in the spiderlings clenched fist. Peter looked back to the fight that a glowing lady who fired blasts from her bare fists has joined and for the lack of anything to do he offered the hammer to Captain America who took it but not without a curious glance in his direction.

Then he threw the hammer at Thanos and rejoined the battle. Another explosion sounded somewhere behind Peter and with the sound of Iron Mans repulsors firing it was enough to shake him from his stupor. Standing up on shaky feet he looked in the direction of the van and after taking a big breath he leaped from his position and headed straight to his goal.

Every move he did had a purpose now. He felt himself zoning out as he automatically kicked and punched everything that came running at him. There was no time to think about the injuries he caused while making his way to Ant Man.

But then another explosion went off right next to him and he was thrown away alongside many others. He felt disorientated and was glad that so many warriors from their side stood up and defended him. Because Peter was too busy looking around.

People and aliens were dying. Both sides were attacking viciously and Peter felt chill running up his spine. They were losing. And he didn’t need Karen to tell him that, he could see it with his own eyes. Those eyes fell upon the object in his hands and in complete contrast to the furious battle around him his hands carefully turned the gauntlet so the Stones were shining on his face.

They were intriguing. He could feel the power by looking at them and just imagining what it takes to actually wield them... He shuddered and closed his eyes.

He could feel and hear his protectors being defeated by their enemy. He will never get the Stones to the van in time. Or in one piece.

Opening his eyes in that second was the most challenging thing he ever faced his entire life. But the ongoing sound of repulsors made him. And the words that came to the front of his mind.

Nice job, kid.

Peter leapt to the feet so suddenly that the aliens didn’t have time to defend themselves. And once the ones in front of him were dead by his feet thanks to the still active instant kill of his suit, he ran. He was sprinting so fast he made himself dizzy with the speed and felt like his legs didn’t even touch the ground anymore.

So close. The van was right there.

His spidey sense was murmuring below the surface. But for the second time in his life, he didn’t listen. Because he had to get there. He had to.

Twenty feet.

Scott got out of the car eyes widened.

Eighteen feet.

Peter was ready to try his luck and throw the gauntlet.

His spidey sense screamed.

And then a spear went straight through his left knee.

The scream he let out was more out of the frustration than the pain. Tears blurred his vision as he fell to the ground and onto his wounded leg, probably screwing the busted kneecap even more. He didn’t care about that though.

His eyes frantically searched the ground and once he saw the gauntlet he began to crawl towards it. He reached it quite quickly thanks to his determination and clutched it tight to his chest.

He could do a lot of things. Most of them would be considered stupid by Mr. Stark.

But he didn’t have a choice. Not really.

His fingers deftly reached for the stones. The metal mended when it was met with his superstrength. Just as he was starting to think about how to execute the plan, his world exploded in pain.

He screamed again, this time purely from the agony as he was dragged by the spear lodged in his limb. Somewhere in the distance he heard yelling and feel the ground shaking as people ran to them. It was hard but he managed to lift his head and look Thanos in the eyes with as much disdain as he could muster.

It made the Titan smile as he easily plucked the gauntlet from the spiderlings weak hands. Peters closed fists fell to the ground as he breathed heavily and looked at Thanos from his position lying on his back, defeated.

„Perhaps in another life, you will fight on the right side,“ was what he said with such conviction of his own rightousness and superiority it almost made the young man laugh out loud.

„Depends… on how you… look at it,“ Peter managed to say between his clenched teeth. His whole body was pulsing and he had to close his eyes to regain control.

The Titan probably decided that that was the end of the conversation as the next thing Peter knew, he was kicked ten feet away and harshly landed on some rocks. The spear still lodged in him.

His eyes barely opened as he heard an angry scream, that could have been no one else’s but Mr. Starks. On cue, Iron Man flew from the sky and hit Thanos who protected himself with his sword and punched him so hard he hit the ground and parts of the Iron suit were obviously broken.

Thanos took the gauntlet with the intention of putting it on but was stopped by Captain Marvel. While the two fought Peter saw Tony looking at something behind him so he painfully turned his head as well. And there was Doctor Strange, looking at them with solemn expression on his face.

Slowly he lifted his hand and held up one finger.

Only one.

Peter closed his eyes and heard as Carol went flying from similar punch that Mr. Stark received. He could also hear the whirring of the gauntlet as it adjusted to the large hand.

„I am inevitable.“

The snap that followed would have had him flinching but he could barely move. He pried his eyes open and with the last amount of strength turned his head back to the Titan. He didn’t try to get up because he knew it would be pointless.

So he lay against the pile of rocks behind him, not even feeling them digging into his back. He had his eyes on Tony who was kneeling on the ground facing the Titan and Peter.

Eyes determined. Furious gaze. His right hand went up and the Iron man armor slowly crept up onto his hand and formed a gauntlet.

„And I…am.. Iron Man.”

And the same thing that happened to the Mad titan occurred again. Mr. Starks eyes widened in shock that was slowly morphing into panic. And Peter wanted to assure him. He wanted to ran to him and tell him so much.

He wanted another hug.

But he knew it wouldn’t be possible.

It took both Thanos and Mr. Stark a second to figure out what happened. Then they both turned towards Peter.

Dead eyes looking at him with the intent of murder, but also fascination and disbelief.

Warm eyes looking at him with so much fear. For him.

Peter tried to smile but the pain didn’t let him express anything, so he hoped his eyes were the same as Mr. Stark described to him.

Full of curiosity and intelligence. Shining with passion and excitement. Like an open book.

And Peter prayed and pleaded with the Stones he was holding tightly in both hands to let him show the one thing that mattered.

To let Mr. Stark know, how much he loved him.

He didn’t see Iron Man when he blinked. He saw Tony Stark, face crumpled with tears in his eyes, looking at him with such a loving look that Peter would have teared up as well if he could.

So he hold that look in his mind. And added Aunt May, Ned and MJ. Mr. Rhodes and Miss Potts. His family.

He was still looking in Mr. Starks eyes as he wished and felt the Stones responding.

Greedy and wanting. His body, his mind, his soul.

Everything.

But he was not afraid

Bight light. Painpainpainpainpain…

And he was not alone.

[victorianoir]

The Detective and the Embezzler, Part 2

Here’s the second part to the chapter I put out last week, dear readers!! 

If you want to read part 1, or any other parts of The Detective and the Tech Guy, you can do so by hopping on over to the tumblr MASTER POST for the story. Or you can read it on the fanfiction.net site: HERE. 

Enjoy, my friends!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Ugh, this is bumming me out.”

“What?”

“This timeline I’m being given is so shitty. And I feel like I have a lot to do. And they’re actually doing a pretty good job keeping their affair quiet, in spite of how chatty they were with us at Sir Sensei’s the other day.”

“Well, they’re bound to slip up, right?”

“I don’t know. Penny sort of seems like the brains. She must be handling details. She’s the smart one in this whole situation.”

Penny Havert didn’t have much of a criminal record, Sarah’d discovered, which either meant this was her first offense, or she was good at not getting caught. Whether she actually cared for Pendleton or not, Sarah had no idea. Nor did she care. Penny was orchestrating most of this, but they were both going down. Hopefully. If she did her damn job.

“Sarah, what if—and hear me out—neither of them are the smart one in this whole situation?”

“Oh. Yeah. Good point.”

Her boyfriend chuckled as he lowered half of a four egg omelet onto her plate with a spatula, heading over to his own place at the coffee table and sliding the rest of the egg out of the pan onto his plate.

“I still think it’s rad how you figured out who his mistress is, you know,” he said, heading back towards the kitchen, putting the pan in the sink and grabbing the plate of bacon, before tugging his apron off and tossing it on the counter on his way back to the couch.

She smirked. “It’s scarily easy to get a hold of someone’s credit card if you hang around a restaurant. Wear a white button up, black slacks, and an apron, walk over and grab the check with their card, and bam.”

He shook his head as he plopped down next to her on the couch, setting the bacon down between their plates. “I bet it looked so cool and spy-ish, though.”

She snorted, shaking her head.

“So what d’ya got?” he asked. “You said you’re bummed out. Gimme the deets. Maybe I can help.”

Maybe a few years ago, she might’ve been miffed if one of the men she dated had plopped down wanting to “help” with a case—if she ever told them anything about her cases, which she never did. But Chuck had proven he wasn’t just a nerd who’d seen a lot of noir movies with detectives and hardboiled lawmen. He was actually incredibly good at thinking outside of the box, and she’d learned over the past few days especially that he could be a massive asset. Even if sometimes his ideas were absolutely wild and out of left field, it got her mind going.

“Right. So I’ve been tailing both of them for a few days now—I know how that sounds, like I’ve duplicated myself, but I just mean I followed him one day and her the next.”

“Hm? Oh. Sorry, I’m just a little fixated on the idea of there being two of you. Is it too stereotypical dude-ish of me to say that’s hot?”

“Yes.”

“Noted.”

“Back to my investigation,” she said pointedly, aware of the fact that she was doing a poor job of ignoring his flirtation. She took a large bite out of her breakfast, leaning forward to keep the long string of melted cheese from getting stuck on her chin. “She went to the bank that day, and she withdrew a lot. I don’t know how much, but it was enough that it took the teller a while. I’m sure it’s an account he’s been transferring money into for her, but I need to prove that somehow.”

Chuck huffed. “I’ll think on that.”

She clicked around on her laptop and turned it towards him on her lap. “In the meantime… So, look at this email Mestik sent me. He forwarded Pendleton’s travel itinerary for a business trip, like I asked him to. This says he’s going to Atlanta. As in Georgia. That’s not Miami. See? LAX to Atlanta with a layover in Chicago.”

“Why did they tell us Miami, then?”

“Maybe they’re just lying sacks of shit.” He chuckled at that. “She gave him an annoyed look about it. I dunno if you saw that. Maybe that’s where she wanted to go and instead she’s stuck going to Atlanta because of his work so she’s pissed.” She shrugged.

“Atlanta doesn’t sound so bad.”

“If she was looking forward to beach time, it’s probably not preferable.”

“Good point.”

Sarah nibbled on her lip, turning the laptop back to her. “I’m going to ask Mestik if Thomas has charged anything else as an expense yet. And I need to know if Penny is going to be on the flight with him, even if her portion isn’t being charged to Mestik Insurance. Nobody’s that stupid.” She huffed. “But I need to do it quick. I’ve only got a week and a half to solve the case.”

“What? Why only a week and a half?”

“Because if I don’t solve it by then, I’m going to have to go to Atlanta to tail these assholes, and I really don’t want to do that.”

“Why? Might be an interesting place to go.”

“Atlanta is fine, but that’s an expense I’d be charging to Mestik, add on top of that whatever expenses Thomas and Penny charge to the company while they’re on their romantic getaway. If I figure this all out before the trip, I save Mestik a lot of unnecessary expense, not to mention his niece’s husband doesn’t get to go off to some other city to knock knees with his mistress on his uncle-in-law’s dime. It’s the principle of the thing.”

She felt Chuck reach over to tenderly stroke his fingers over her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear and she smiled a little at him.

“For the record, I love that you’re a P.I. who’s on the up-and-up. Like, not a hardboiled P.I. who’s kind of in this murky grey area of morality, but a genuinely good detective trying to help her client.”

She gave him a look as she sipped her coffee. “What makes you think I’d ever be hardboiled? Seriously, baby, you watch way too many of those movies.”

“Maybe, but you love that I’m such a dweeb fanboy about your career choice. Don’t deny it.”

“Oh, I have no intention of denying it. You’re the cutest person on the planet when you geek out about the dumb letters on my office door. But still…I’m serious about this, Chuck. A week and a half. I need to do this right.”

He swiped a hand in front of his face, sobering up completely. “Yes. Absolutely. I’m with you.”

Sarah froze then, an idea hitting her.

“I just need to figure out where Penny is going. Duh. Wherever Penny goes, Thomas goes. As far as they know, nobody knows about Penny Havert and wherever she ends up, we’re going to find him there, too. But how do I know where she’s going?” She nibbled on her lip.

“Well, how do you even go about finding that out? Gonna steal her computer or something?”

She shook her head, and then a slow, mischievous smile stretched over her face. “No. But you’ve given me an idea…”

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Chuck looked up from his desktop screen as his assistant poked his head in after a quick knock. “Yeah?”

“Sarah’s here.”

“Oh, good. Thanks. Send ‘er in.”

Sarah smiled at the bespectacled man as she swept past him with a thank you and some weird handshake they’d concocted over the last couple of months and stepped inside, not saying anything until the door was shut and they were alone. And then she pulled a smartphone he’d never seen before out of her pocket.

“What’s that?”

“Thomas Pendleton’s phone,” she said with a nonchalant shrug.

Chuck’s eyes practically bugged right out of their sockets as he sat up straighter and spun his chair towards her. “What? How’d you get his phone?”

“I stole it. The guy kept setting it down everywhere he went and looking away. It was so easy. I don’t even know if he even realizes now, an hour later, that it’s been stolen.”

She rolled her eyes, but he was still stuck on the fact that his girlfriend had just stolen someone’s phone.

“And now you’re bringing stolen property into my place of work. Wonderful, great, thank you so much.” He gave her a teasing grin as she scoffed, walking around his desk and plopping down on the edge of it. “So what’s on it?” he asked, reaching up to take the phone.

She held it away from him. “You aren’t officially my partner or even my assistant, and I’m not sure I should even be sharing this info with you, Chuck Bartowski, heir of Bartowski Electronics Corporation.” He liked how flirty she was being. In fact, he’d go so far as to say he loved it. But it made him wonder if doing things like this made her a little cocky…or, as Morgan would say, randy. He couldn’t blame her, exactly…

“You could always make me your partner.”

“No.”

“Assistant sounds good.”

“You’re my big-brained boyfriend and that’s it.” She cocked an eyebrow.

“You share info about your cases with all your boyfriends?”

“Mmm, no. Just you. You’re the smartest boyfriend I’ve got at the moment.”

“Out of how many?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“You bad girl,” he teased, biting his lip, narrowing his eyes, and grinning.

When she got a certain glint in her eye, he felt like his prior thought about her being cocky wasn’t all that much of a reach. “If you promise not to tell anyone, I’ll let you help me call the phone numbers on here.”

Chuck sat back, away from her, and glared. “Ohhhh okay I get it now. I thought you were being all sexy and flirtatious with me because—never mind what I thought,” he said quickly. “But you’re just trying to get me to help you call a bajillion phone numbers to find out who his contacts are.”

“No, most of his contacts in his phone have labels and names. But he’s made over fifty recent calls to numbers that aren’t labeled and I do need help with that.” She sighed and put Pendleton’s phone on his desk. “This sucks. Back when I was at Pinkerton, I’d send it into our analysts and they’d come back with a list within a day. Ugh, it was so easy. Now I have to go all old school and actually call the numbers.”

Chuck shook his head with an amused huff. And then he stopped, an idea coming to him. “What if you didn’t have to do that? Even though you aren’t with Pinkerton anymore?” She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

Chuck held up a finger and spun back to his computer, clicking around until he got onto the Google document where he kept a list of projects his employees were working on. He scrolled through as he felt Sarah sidle up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders, leaning over him and dropping her lips to the top of his head.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“A top secret list of all of B.E.C.’s current projects, or at least…potential projects.” He tilted his head back and raised his eyebrow up at her. “This is super secret stuff. Feel special, Sarah.”

She giggled. “Oh, trust me. Not a day goes by when I’m with you that I don’t feel special.”

A slow grin grew on his face as he looked up at her. “That was pretty damn sappy and I dug it.”

Sarah leaned down to kiss his lips with another soft giggle, and she stood up again, squeezing his shoulders. “I figured you might. But why is this list going to help me?”

“Oh. Right.” He sat up again and kept scrolling. “These are the things my employees are working on outside of the everyday tasks their job requires of them. Things they pitch to me and my team…Well, mostly my team. I have a lot of employees and I can’t be one on one with all of ‘em that often. I see the prototypes when they seem viable enough to maybe implement them under our brand. But I seem to rememberrrr…hmmmm…” He found it. “Ha!”

He spun to his phone and picked it up, paging his assistant.

“Yeah, Boss…”

“Would you please get, um…” He glanced at his screen. “Phoebe Butler on the phone for me? I have no idea if she even works in this building. Does she work in this building?”

“Uh…I’ll find out, Chuck.”

“You’re the best. Thanks.”

He hung up the phone and turned his chair to look up at Sarah. “While we wait, how are you planning on getting the phone back to Pendleton?”

Sarah shrugged. “I’m meeting Mestik for coffee tomorrow morning, hopefully with some more info than I had for him last night,” she huffed. “I’ll just give it to him and let him slip it back in the jerk’s desk or something.”

“Good pl—”

Bzzzzzz!!!

Chuck gasped theatrically for Sarah’s benefit, earning a chuckle, and he smacked the speaker button. “Did you find her?”

“Her desk is on the third floor of this building, and I’ve got her on the line right now. Um…she sounds…nervous. So maybe let her know she isn’t fired. Wait…she isn’t fired is she?” his assistant asked.

Chuck laughed. “She isn’t fired. But thanks for the head’s up. Transfer her over.”

“On it.”

He grabbed the phone receiver and held it to his ear.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

She heard Chuck come in the door, the rustle of whatever he was carrying, and then the slam of him kicking the door shut as she poured over the notes she’d taken from tailing Thomas Pendleton and Penny Havert for the last few days.

“Hey, how was the store?” she asked, looking up from where she was draped across his couch.

“Okay, I can’t do Trader Joe’s anymore. I just can’t. Or, like, maybe I can take a Lyft there next time? Because parking is like… And I’m not trying to go to Disneyland on a Saturday, here. I’m not trying to wait in line for five hours. I just want to get some groceries on a Saturday. They need to fix their shit.”

He dropped the reusable bags on the counter and huffed.

Sarah giggled to herself and sat up with a soft groan, putting her paperwork down and going around into his kitchen to help him unload the groceries. “My poor guy, braving the weekend health food crowd so that I can have delicious lamb ribs for dinner tonight.”

His arm wrapped around her from behind as she took a bag of lettuce out, and he kissed the side of her face with a “muah”, before shifting his lips to her neck. “I’m going to bake the hell out of those ribs and I’m going to enjoy them, too, damn it.”

She giggled again.

They unloaded the groceries in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Chuck looked up from where he was sticking a few things in the fridge. “Still trying to connect the dots on that case?” he asked.

“Mhm. Well, I mean…Phoebe’s number tracking program helped a lot. Now that I know Thomas has been in contact with both Penny and that travel agency, I at least have a bit of a lead.”

“Who uses a travel agency, though? I know I said this before,” he said, shutting the fridge, “but, like, really. A travel agency? You can easily do everything through your computer and talk to zero other humans. How is that not the best choice?”

Sarah laughed. “That’s just it. I thought the same thing, but I did a bunch of research today while you were out running errands. Guess who owns that travel agency…”

Chuck stopped halfway through folding the now empty bag and looked up at her. “Oh, do you mean the cleverly named travel agency, ‘Go There’? That one?” He made a pfft sound and shook his head.

She laughed again. “Yeah. That one.”

“Who owns it?”

“Brett Smith.”

Chuck made a face, then grabbed another bag to fold it up. “Am I supposed to know who this is?”

“No, I mostly just paused for dramatic effect.”

“Oh, cool.”

“Brett Smith attended Texas Tech the same four years that Thomas Pendleton was there. They were both business majors and they were both a part of the Sigma Delta Alpha Nu Epsilon whatever-the-fuck fraternity there. I don’t remember the name, but it’s the same one. And I found a picture of them on the alumni website at their ten year reunion that happened a few years ago.”

“Great work, gumshooooe,” Chuck drawled, pointing. “No, seriously. That’s legit. So his frat buddy owns ‘Go There’. God, it’s so bad.”

“It’s terrible,” she agreed.

“And, what, he probably thinks that’s a pretty safe way to go, right? When you’re booking a vacation with your mistress, go with your bro. Don’t tell my wife, right, brah? Bro Code.” Chuck grabbed her hand and did a lame excuse for a high five with her. “Dope.”

“Okay, you’re a doofus. But that aside, you’re right. Those are my exact thoughts. Uh…in not so many words,” she said, giving him an amused side-eye. “There’s no paper trail—well, the online version. The travel agency has the paperwork but he trusts his frat bro to keep all of that safe. My only problem now is how do I get in there to get the itinerary for Thomas and Penny’s real vacation?”

Chuck shrugged, leaning back against the counter and popping a grape into his mouth. “Easy. Wait for ‘Go There’,” he rolled his eyes, “to close for the night, break in through the air conditioning system, crawl through the ducts, lower yourself Mission:Impossible style into the room where they keep their records, and take pictures of it with your ballpoint pen that’s actually a camera. Boom. Done.”

Sarah just looked at him for a moment, almost impressed. “Wow. I was really expecting a legitimate idea that would actually be helpful…the whole body stance and your delivery was that good.”

He smiled around the grape and shrugged again. “You’re welcome.”

“Do you have anything else to add?”

“Um…I’ll think on it.”

She sniffed in amusement and wadded up a produce bag, throwing it at his face as he laughed and batted it away. She left the kitchen and walked back to the couch, plopping down. He sat beside her and swung his legs around to drape them over her lap, laying his head against the armrest. She began rubbing his leg muscles in that way he liked and he sighed, his eyelids fluttering.

She’d been to that same store on the weekend before and she knew he wasn’t just being melodramatic. It was a damn trial getting through there. But the food was amazing and so was the price.

“I mean, is there a way to get them to give you the itinerary? So you don’t have to break in and steal it?” he asked.

“There must be. I just haven’t thought of it yet—Wait.” He sat up quickly, staring at her and waiting patiently for her to continue as her mind went a mile a minute. “I might’ve just thought of it. I’d need a really good cover. And I’d have to sell it.”

“A cover? Like…incognito?” He gasped and it was so boyish and adorable. “Like a disguise?!”

“Maybe not that intense. But I am going to need to figure out how to forge an ID and business cards so that I have some way of proving who I am.”

He blinked. “Who are you?” He shook his head. “I mean, I know who you are. I just mean…who are you supposed to be?”

“Mr. Thomas Pendleton’s assistant, of course. Just need to make a few changes to the business trip itinerary for the boss man.” She smirked flirtatiously.

“Okay wait. Are you flirting with me, or are you going to try to seduce Brett Smith?”

She smacked his shoulder hard as he laughed. “I’m flirting with you, you ass!” She laughed with him and shook her head. “I just don’t know how I’m going to make business cards and forge an ID in such short notice. I could use my own ID, but it’s still a Chicago driver’s license and I’m not sure I want my real name anywhere near this.”

“Uh, yeah. I don’t really want the name Sarah Walker to be in their minds for when all of the shit hits the fan for their buddy Tommy,” he said, and he put his hand on her thigh and squeezed. She thought it was a bit of protectiveness, something she hadn’t necessarily seen from him before. And, to her surprise, she liked it.

“Know any forgers?”

“I might. And he has access to an ID card printer.”

Sarah gaped at him. “Wait, seriously? I was joking. You really do?”

He shrugged. “You want an ID and some business cards or no?”

A slow smile grew on her face and she had the urge to kiss him. Alas, it would take some acrobatics to do so and she didn’t have time to waste, so she just winked instead. “Take me to him.”

XOXOXOXOXOXO

“Don’t ever stop surprising me, Tech Guy.”

She heard the wonder in her own voice as she watched Chuck fiddle with the ID card software on the system. He was meticulously building a California driver’s license for her, even superimposing the shiny golden gate bridge decal into the background of the card. He had his own license propped on the keyboard so that he could copy it as best he could.

“I’ll do my best, Sarah Walker, P.I.,” he muttered distractedly.

“Seriously. When I asked if you know any forgers, I had no idea the forger you knew was…you. What, did you do this for a little side cash when you were in college?” She snorted, but then his hands stopped what they were doing and he snuck a look at her over his shoulder, his features pinched.

“What if I said yes?”

She stepped around his chair and looked down at him. “Did you really?”

“Listen, those Beverly Hills brats had a lot of money and they coughed up big bucks for fake IDs so they could buy brewskies for their dumb parties. My dad was struggling and it was a help.”

To say she was shocked was an understatement. “You forged IDs for kids to buy beer? Also, did you just say brewskies unironically?? That feels like the more important question. Strangely.”

Chuck laughed, but there was a thread of nervousness in it. “Oh, I said it with complete and utter irony, trust me. And um…to that first question…yes…I did.” He winced. “It was easy, fast cash. And erm…I don’t do it anymore. Except, well…right now. I’m doing it for you right now. In the belly of Bartowski Electronics Corporation on a Saturday afternoon when it’s completely abandoned. Because I am not stupid.”

Sarah gaped at him. “Oh my God.”

She read nervousness in his face then as he swallowed, and she quickly dove in to put her hands on his shoulders. “Wait, wait…What d’you think, I’m gonna turn you in to the LAPD or something?” She giggled as he gave her a bit of a dark look. “Chuck, come on. It’s not like you’re a serial killer. You maybe contributed to a few alcohol poisonings, but teenagers eventually find a way to get alcohol anyway, so whatever.”

Chuck grumbled and went back to work, the dark look fading a bit at least.

“This is actually kind of amazing, if you think about it,” she said, still completely gobsmacked to have learned this pretty important tidbit about the man she’d thought was such a saint before today—well, in all the ways it mattered, at least. She stepped back behind him and slid her arms around his neck, cuddling him and pressing her cheek against his. “I’m in a very serious romantic relationship with a criminal. Maybe I am a little bit of a hardboiled detective. And you, my good man…You’re my nerd-fatale.”

He burst into laughter and shook his head, shifting in the chair to face her a little better. “I’ll take it, and gladly, but I also promise that in spite of my…checkered past…” he said with a smolder, and she snorted, “I would never lead you down any dark paths, or use you for my selfish whims…”

She growled, sliding her fingers into his mess of curls and tightening her grip, tugging his head back teasingly and meeting his laughing brown eyes with her blue ones. “That’s what they all say…in the beginning…”

Their lips met then, and she tangled her fingers of one hand in his hair, sliding the other around his neck, deepening the kiss. When she felt him sweep his tongue against hers, she pulled back quickly, even going so far as to put a good two feet between them, leaving him sitting there with a put out look on his face.

“Wha—why?” he whined.

“We have work to do.”

“No. But—No, why?”

She giggled. “Listen, buster, I’d like nothing more than to utilize this strange little illegal forgery den as a setting for a seriously hot private eye and nerd-fatale encounter, but first I need that driver’s license and those business cards.”

Sarah couldn’t help but feel a little guilty as his shoulders slumped and he turned back to the computer. She leaned in and hugged him from the side, kissing his temple. “I mean…there’s always…after…”

Chuck’s head snapped up as he gave her a wide-eyed look. A crooked smile tilted his handsome mouth for just a split second, before he dove back into his work with a vengeance. “One driver’s license for Jennifer Burton, coming up.”

XOXOXOXOXO

Sarah heard the door to the outer office open, then the shuffling of feet, and finally… “Miss Walker?”

Letting herself half a moment to take a deep breath, Sarah stood from her desk upon which she’d set up all of her materials, and walked to stand in the doorway of her personal office. “Mr. Mestik, good afternoon.”

He clapped his hands together upon seeing her. “Afternoon, Miss Walker. My assistant said you needed to see me as soon as I was able to come.”

“Yes. Thank you for coming so soon, sir. Come into my office.”

“Yes, uh…Of course. Thank you.”

He followed her into her office and took a seat in the chair across from her, on the other side of her desk. “I gotta hand it to ya, Miss Walker, you’re always prompt. This looks like…well, it looks like evidence.”

“Yes, well…My time is valuable, and yours is even more valuable.”

He nodded.

“Can I get you some coffee or…?”

“I don’t drink the stuff,” he said, waving his hand. “Trudy has weaned me off of it with tea.” Greg Mestik smacked his lips with a disgusted face. “But it’s better for my heart. I guess. So they say.”

“Understood. Well, let’s get down to business, then, Mr. Mestik. There’s a lot.”

“By all means.” And then he paused, his dark brow turning down, a frown on his face. “Is it worse than the news you gave me the other night?”

She’d told him about Penny Havert the Mistress the other night, and he’d wanted to see the proof, so she’d been forced to give him the photographs she’d taken. His response was… Well, angry would’ve been an understatement.

“I’m not sure.”

He sighed. “Just give it to me straight. Am I being swindled?”

“In no uncertain terms, sir, yes. You are. Now, I couldn’t tell you that for sure before because I had to collect evidence sufficient enough for you to go to the authorities. I planned on making sure you got that before the business trip to Atlanta, because…Well, there is no business trip to Atlanta.” She grabbed the folder in the corner of her desk, then turned it towards him, putting it between them and pushing it closer to him.

“No business trip? There’s a conference on insurance and marketing there. He practically begged me to let him be the one I sent, said he needed to brush up on…What’s this?” Mestik asked as she flipped the folder open and showed him a travel itinerary that looked very different from the one he’d emailed her a few days earlier.

“Thomas Pendleton purchased two plane tickets to Miami through a travel agency.”

“Miami? What the shit? And he used a travel agency? What is this, nineteen-seventy-five?” He shook his head, then scratched the back of his neck. “I’m very confused. What is all of this?”

“I used a very precise, rather genius computer program that a, um, friend created to figure out whom all of the unlisted phone numbers in Thomas’ phone belong to.” She took the suspect’s phone out of her bag and slid it across to Mestik. “There’s that for you.” His eyes popped. She probably should’ve warned him that she’d stolen his niece’s husband’s phone, but oh well.

“It’s supposed to be used as sort of a telemarketer deterrent, but it gave me a list of individuals and businesses he’s called in the last few months. A month and a half ago, he contacted a travel agency called ‘Go There’—I know, it’s a really great name, right?” When Mestik didn’t respond, she cleared her throat and continued. “Anyway, he used this particular agency because an old frat buddy from college owns it. He thought it’d be a lot safer and leave less of a paper trail doing it through someone he trusted rather than online. That whole Bro Code thing, I’m assuming. But it’s really easy to get around the Bro Code, I’ve found. I just pretended I was Thomas’ assistant and I needed them to change part of the trip. I had them email the itinerary to an address I created for this purpose exactly, and then I called them back and had them change a small enough detail in the plans that neither Thomas nor Penny would notice. I have the flight information, the hotel information—a suite overlooking the Miami bay, cocktails on the terrace every afternoon at the same time…which is…strangely precise, but whatever…uh, the rental car information. There’s also a reservation for a boat tour of the Florida Keys. A reservation for two. The dates coincide with the exact dates of the seven day trip to Atlanta he told you he was going on.”

She sat back and took a deep breath, letting Mestik look through all of it himself. The frown on his face grew deeper and deeper as he flipped through all of it.

“Swimming with the dolphins, is he?” He chuckled mirthlessly and then sat back, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Well, you got evidence that he’s a lying cheating son of a bitch, but what about the money he’s stealing from me?”

She slid another file towards him. “Thomas Pendleton’s income doesn’t match the amount of money he’s been putting into three different banks systematically for a while. He then transfers the money into a fourth account, slowly but surely, and Penny withdraws. She’s the one whose name and money went towards air fare, the hotel suite, the reservations, the rental car, everything. Although it isn’t her money, it is your money, Mr. Mestik. Open that file. Inside is the concrete evidence they’ve been embezzling from Mestik Insurance. Redirecting client payments to their own pockets. Once you get the LAPD involved, they’ll have much more freedom as far as being able to go through private files to bring Mr. Pendleton down.

“Yes, of course you’re right.” He looked haunted.

“For what it’s worth, Mr. Mestik, I’m sorry. It’s hard enough to see actions like this from a valued employee, but I can’t imagine how much worse it is with family.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about him. I just didn’t want Irma hurt. This is awful.” He let out a long sigh and then shook his head. “You did exemplary work, Miss Walker. Thank you. I’m passing your name on to colleagues, you can be sure of that.”

“That’s kind of you, Mr. Mestik. Thank you.”

Sarah waited for almost a minute, as he sat there buried in his thoughts, looking very troubled. And then she quietly gathered the evidence into a neat stack, and eased them into a carrying case. Eventually, he lifted his gaze to hers and she continued. “Here’s all of the evidence I’ve found and notes I’ve taken. It should be more than enough to convince the LAPD to continue my investigation and make an arrest.”

“Thank you, Miss Walker.” He stood again. “Especially considering in just a few days, I would’ve been sending that little shit on an all-expense-paid getaway with someone who isn’t his wife.”

“I wanted to make sure that didn’t happen. I also, erm, didn’t want to have to go to Atlanta or Miami. That would’ve been expensive for you as well.”

“Yes. Thank you. I…hope I can also count on you…” He cleared his throat. “…keeping things under your hat about this. It is already going to be difficult enough for Irma without extra…attention.”

“I have a strict policy of complete secrecy. I used to work with Pinkerton, Mr. Mestik, and they taught me how best to stay out of the way of the press. I assure you, I won’t be talking to anyone.”

“Good.” He nodded. “Good good. Oh! Yes. Payment.” He went into his blazer jacket and pulled out a checkbook, leaning over on his desk and writing it out. “I take it the amount is still the same as the one you gave me before…?”

“I’m not charging you for any extra expenses. Same amount. Thank you, Sir.”

He looked pleasantly surprised and relieved as he looked up at her, and then he bent to his task again, finally tearing the check out of the book and handing it to her. “You do excellent work. And you’re kind. I’m grateful.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mestik. And I hope everything turns out okay.”

“Me, too.”

They shook hands again and the man smiled, picking up the carrying case with all of the evidence the LAPD might use to arrest his niece’s husband. He walked to the door and pushed it open, moving into the outer office. Sarah slid into the doorway and watched him as he opened her outer office door. His shoulders were slumped and he was moving so much slower.

And for the first time since she began this case, she was starting to come to terms with the emotional and mental toll her findings would have on an entire family. Her chest throbbed a bit as he shut the door behind him and she let out a long breath.

She lifted the check Mestik had written her and she eyed the zeros, letting herself have just a moment of celebration, before she composed herself again and grabbed her jacket and bag. She had work to do.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Chuck had just finished arranging the gardenias in the vase he’d purchased at a corner store when he heard the door to Sarah’s agency open. “Oooh! You’re back already!” He lunged for the doorway to her personal office. “I have a surprise for y—You’re not Sarah. Hi.” He cleared his throat and stood up straighter, running his hands down the front of his T-shirt.

He eyed the man standing at the entrance to Sarah’s private investigative agency. He was even taller than Chuck, which was…something. And he was built like a tank, his hair cut close to his head, his features twisted in what seemed like a permanent state of distrust or disgust…maybe both?

And then he went into his pocket, looking around the place and letting go of the door so that he could step inside. “No, I’m not Sarah. She ain’t here?”

“Uh, she ain’t—isn’t. Can…Can I help you?”

“You her assistant or secretary or somethin’?”

Chuck pulled his lips between his teeth and winced, then made a popping sound. “Um, no. No, no. I am her boyfriend. Heh. She just solved a case and I snuck in here to put flowers on her desk. Sort of a congra—”

“I don’t care. You know when she’s gonna be back?”

Chuck frowned a bit. “No. I mean…soon maybe?”

“Not a very good secretary, are ya? Hope she doesn’t pay you a lot.”

“She doesn’t pay me anything, because I’m not her secretary. I’m her boyfriend. Are you just not listening to me?”

“Guess not.” He finally pulled his hand out of the blue windbreaker he wore and Chuck was sure for a second that it would be a gun and he was about to be shot in his girlfriend’s P.I. agency. But instead it was a badge. And Chuck noticed there was a gun in a shoulder holster, before the man pulled his jacket over it with a grunt.

“Detective Casey, LAPD. I need to talk to your boss as soon as possible, kid.”

“She’s not my boss—You know what? Never mind. I give up.” He went to the nearby desk and grabbed a notepad and pen from the drawer. “You have a number where she can reach you, or—”

“Move.” He was easily shifted out of the way by one hand on his shoulder. The detective scrawled a number down on the notepad. “Have her call me there the moment she comes in. Tell her to ask for Detective John Casey. Got it? Can you handle that much?”

Chuck had to force himself to remember the man had a pair of handcuffs somewhere and a gun, and his bail could easily be what Sarah spent her Mestik case paycheck on instead of building up her business like she planned to. And instead of reacting, he just nodded, keeping his annoyance from his face. “Yep. Got it. Will do. Uh…Sir? Detective, ahem…Detective Sir.”

“Casey.”

“Yes. Sorry. Detective Casey. Is Sarah…Is she in trouble for something?”

The man let out an amused grunt and ran his eyes down his tall, lanky frame, very blatantly surveying him. “She ain’t in trouble. Just need some information about a case. Filling in some holes, that’s all. Why?” He grunted again, humor in his face. As much humor as the man was capable of, at least. “You got a crush on ‘er?”

Chuck narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “Mmmmm. Again, she’s my girlfriend.”

“Heh. Whatever you say, big-britches.”

Well, at least this time he acknowledged the words that had come out of Chuck’s mouth, even if he apparently didn’t believe them.

“Just make sure she calls. I don’t wanna hafta come back here.” The man flicked the pen in his hand at the desk, apparently not caring that it rolled right off the desk and onto the floor, and then he was gone, leaving the agency door slamming hard enough to rattle the frame.

“Okay bye,” Chuck said to no one in particular.