![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: The Lies You Live
Author: alyse
Fandom: Blade: Trinity
Pairing: Abigail Whistler/Hannibal King
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Highlight to read: violence, implications of past torture and sexual abuse, potential triggers for suicidal thoughts and actions.
Notes: This is the extended, higher rated director's cut version of the story. If you'd prefer not to wait, a complete (non-sexy, rated 15!) version can be found here. Also, there is fabulous art by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
skylar0grace here.
This part includes the new material and will be the version posted to AO3. The rest of the story remains the same as that posted originally on the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
het_bigbang site and it is the het_bigbang version that will be posted on fanfiction.net.
Summary: Hunting is in her blood and in her bones, but when Abigail Whistler's path crosses that of a smart-mouthed vampire who seems perfectly happy to die, she's left questioning everything she thought she knew. While her team work to cure Hannibal King of his vampirism with an experimental antivirus, she finds herself warming to their captive in spite of her reservations, and when their actions turn out to have devastating consequences, Abby's loyalties are left torn.
Masterlist: dreamwidth :: livejournal :: insanejournal
-o-
Part 09: dreamwidth :: livejournal :: insanejournal
-o-
King took his time, his fingers sinking into her hair as his mouth moved slowly over hers, the little flicks of his tongue sending pulses of heat spiralling through her. She wasn't as patient - she didn't moan, not quite, but she pulled him closer still, her short nails digging into his skin as she pressed her body against every inch of his, restraint forgotten in the need to feel him, to lose herself in the fact that he was here and he was real.
He winced when her eager fingers pressed too hard against his bruises, but when he jerked his head back to stare down at her, there was no pain in his eyes. They were heated, pupils blown wide and black, and she watched as he licked at his lips, his gaze tracking down her body. The look sent another surge of need through her, and she leaned back on her hands, staring up at him wantonly from underneath her lowered lashes. She didn't do wanton, didn't flirt, didn't tease - but there was no being all business with King, not about this.
His hands settled on her legs, just above the knees. He had big hands, long and lean like the rest of him, easily spanning the breadth of her thighs. His thumbs stroked lightly over her soft skin, easing her legs apart, and she shivered, her nipples hardening underneath the fabric of her t-shirt. He didn't miss her reaction; his gaze dropped to her breasts and his lips parted enough for her to catch sight of his tongue running hungrily over his teeth.
He slid his hands higher, his fingers firm against the outside of her thighs, pressing in just hard enough to make her to feel it, for it to set her heart racing in her chest. His thumbs he kept light, barely brushing over the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thighs, but even that barely-there touch was enough to send another pulse of pure desire running through her, thrumming low in her belly.
She shifted her hips impatiently, her legs falling open as he made his way higher, too slowly for the blaze his touch was kindling in her. But he still wouldn't be rushed, flashing a quick grin when she wriggled again, the move unsubtle. Even when he'd reached her panties, easing his fingers underneath the waistband, he teased her, dragging it out as he dragged the fabric down, inch by tortuous inch. But if she'd thought to protest, hurry him up, those thoughts were forgotten when he leaned down and pressed his mouth against the soft skin of her stomach where her t-shirt had rucked up, only inches from where she wanted him.
She let out a gasp, the sound turning into a moan as he flicked his tongue across her skin. It was easy - too easy - to imagine that touch elsewhere on her body, and the heat that pulsed through her this time didn't settle in her belly, but lower still, her pussy clenching as though she could already feel him in her.
His hands slipped lower, taking her panties with them, and his lips followed in their wake, his tongue tracing circles against her skin, down over her legs, past her knees and to her ankles as he sank down onto the floor. And then he moved up again, pressing kisses against her flesh as he went. He was still taking his sweet time about it, still not letting her hurry him and ignoring every impatient jerk of her hips, every time she tried to grab at him, pull him higher, guide him to where she wanted him. If anything, her impatience only seemed to amuse him; his breath huffed over her skin as if he was laughing silently, muffling the sound of it against her body.
When he finally reached the top of her thighs, his tongue went back to tracing concentric circles. She tensed, already anticipating that touch against the most sensitive part of her, but he was a fucking tease. He moved right past her damp curls, starting to map the inside of her other thigh, and she growled out his name, sinking her fingers into his hair and pulling less than gently. He laughed again, this time out loud, and his breath ghosted warmly over her wet, heated flesh, leaving her shivering, her fingers digging into his scalp.
"Damn, you're impatient," he murmured and she would have said something, cursed him out, but then his tongue pressed into her slickness and any words she would have said were lost in the moan she let out.
God, he felt good, and he knew exactly what he was doing. She tried not to think about why, about how much practice he must have had, and it was easy to forget when her world had narrowed down to the press of his fingers against her thighs, holding them apart, and the feel of his lips and his tongue as he drove her slowly out of her mind. He traced upwards, flicking his tongue against the swollen bundle of nerves until she was twisting in his grasp, the pleasure of his touch surging through her. And then he moved back down, his thumbs spreading her open and his tongue sliding into her.
Her thighs clenched, the sensations overwhelming her, but his hands pinned her in place, holding her legs apart as he jerked her towards him, only stopping when her ass came to rest on the very edge of the table. And then he redoubled his efforts, until she was reduced to a quivering bundle of nerve endings.
"King!" His name came out in a gasp, the pleasure rising up in her and setting all of her muscles trembling. He could feel it - he had to be able to feel it, how close she was - but he didn't stop, not until she reached down and pushed his head away. "I'm going to -"
He stared up at her, something fierce and hungry in his eyes. His beard was wet, wet from her, and she'd be able to taste it when she kissed him again, the scent of her on his breath. The thought did nothing to lessen her need for him, but she wanted his dick, wanted him inside her so fucking bad.
He smiled at her slowly, and even that was fierce, nothing of his normal laid-back persona in it. "I'm pretty sure you can come more than once, Whistler." And then he lowered his head again, his tongue sliding slowly over her clit as he let go of one thigh to push his fingers into her.
Her back arched off the table, her legs clenching around his head, her heels digging into his back, below his shoulder blades as she keened. Jesus, he had to have pushed two fingers into her from the breadth of them, and they stretched her wide open. She let out another cry as he pulled them out again, sliding them back in again in a rhythm that was going to send her careening over the edge in short order. This time when she sank her fingers into his hair, it was to hold him there as her hips jerked, caught between the sensations caused by his mouth and his fingers.
He took pity on her, not drawing it out the way he had been, but driving her onwards, twisting his fingers inside her and paying attention to every gasp and every moan she let out, every twitch, every buck of her hips. She was coming apart, she was coming apart at the fucking seams, and when he sucked at her clit, a faint hint of teeth in it, she finally fell, calling out his name.
She was still twitching when King eased his fingers out of her, and they were wet against her skin as he grasped hold of her thigh, pushing himself up off his knees and leaning over her to kiss her. His mouth was wet as well, and she'd been right - he tasted of her - and she pulled him closer, sliding her tongue back into his mouth as she wrapped her arms loosely around his neck.
His hands slipped higher, sliding underneath the fabric of her t-shirt to brush along the underside of her breasts. He broke their kiss, staring down at her for a moment before his hands were on the move again, this time slipping underneath her and pulling her into an upright position. She wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling his hardness press against her through the fabric of his sweats, and he tugged at her t-shirt, dragging it over her head so that she was completely naked, bare to his gaze.
He ran his eyes appreciatively over her form, letting out a soft sound of need when his eyes finally reached the point where her lower body pressed against him. It should have left her feeling self-conscious, fighting the urge to cover herself, but there was warmth as well as admiration in his eyes and that made it easier to simply lean forward and kiss him again.
His hands traced slowly down her back, leaving little shivery trails of sensation in their wake until they finally slid underneath her bare ass. And then he was lifting her up, carrying her towards the bed as easily as if she'd weighed nothing. She wrapped her arms around his neck, still kissing him deeply, still tasting herself in his mouth and on her lips and swallowing his breaths as though they were her own.
The bed was narrow, barely enough room for the pair of them, but mattress was soft, much softer than the table had been, and she sank into with a sigh as King settled over her, kissing her again as his hand slid up her thigh, dragging her leg up to wrap around his waist again. "This is the point," he murmured against her mouth, "where I really hope I have condoms."
She chuckled, loose-limbed and with her body still humming. "And if not?" she asked, the words brushing over his lips.
"Then I think we might be back to my very first idea of your mouth and my dick."
His words were absentminded, not lecherous, all of his attention focused on rifling through the small set of drawers by the bed, and maybe if she'd had the energy she would have rolled her eyes at him, but she wouldn't have argued, not after the way he'd just made her come. Instead, she watched him, taking in the smooth flex of his shoulders, the way the muscles in his arms bunched and smoothed out again as he searched.
He finally produced a small box with a triumphant flourish and a grin. It was unopened, still wrapped in cellophane, and she raised one eyebrow at him, not quite sure if it was a question she wanted to ask. His gaze darted away from her for a second before it came back, his expression growing momentarily rueful. "Thought they might come in useful," he said as he ripped open the cellophane and pulled out one of the foil squares. "Someday."
She nodded slowly. There was little else she could do, not without opening a can of worms that she wasn't prepared to deal with, not right now, and probably not ever. King wouldn't thank her for it, anyway, and his expression had already smoothed out again, the appreciation of her naked body sliding back onto his face as though his mask had never slipped. Some of it - most of it - might even have been genuine.
She expected him to be impatient, to want to fuck her as quickly as possible, especially as she'd come once already, but he surprised her. He continued to take his time, exploring her body slowly and carefully, almost like he was mapping it, burning it into his memory. She tried to pretend that she wasn't doing the same thing when she touched him, just like she tried to pretend she didn't see the look in his eyes whenever he glanced up at her face.
He trailed slow, patient kisses over her skin until it felt as if his mouth had touched every part of her. Only then did he move his hands to cup her breasts, his thumbs tracing around her aureoles, delicate little touches that had her arching into him again. She sank her fingers back into his hair, dragging his head down; this time he went where she wanted, his tongue following where his fingers had led and laving at each nipple in turn. When he sucked the first one into his mouth, again with that hint of teeth behind it, a jolt of pure need went through her and her fingers curved into his shoulders, her heels digging into the mattress as she strove to get closer to him. He settled his hands on her hips, holding her down as his mouth moved lower, but she'd had enough of him calling the shots. This time when she dug her heel into the mattress, it was to push up, push him off her and wriggle out from underneath him.
He let her go, settling back on his elbows and watching as she leaned over him, pushing her hair back behind her ears. She kissed him on the mouth first before skimming down over his cheek, feeling his beard prickle against her lips, and then set to exploring his body as thoroughly as he'd explored hers.
She found the place on his neck that made him shiver when she kissed there, and she lingered, scraping her teeth over his skin just to feel him jump. His nipples weren't as sensitive as hers, but dragging her short nails over the ridges of his well-defined abs had him shuddering again, watching her wide-eyed as she moved lower to where his cock was thick and heavy in his pants. She slid her hand underneath the fabric, wrapping her fingers around his erection and sliding them along his length, brushing the skin of his stomach with the backs of her knuckles. The skin of his cock felt soft and delicate underneath her touch, and he let out a little gasp when her thumb rubbed over the very end of his dick, and the wetness that had gathered there had her licking at her lips, already wanting more.
She was careful as she caught hold of the waistband of his sweats, easing the fabric up and over his erection before she pulled them down his legs, waiting until he'd slipped his feet out before she threw them on the floor and moved back up his body to touch his cock again. He wasn't cut. Maybe that was a Canadian thing, but it fascinated her, the way his foreskin moved when she stroked her fingers over it, keeping her grip light and gentle. He gasped again when she rubbed her thumb over the head and pressed it against a little knot of nerves underneath his glans.
She leaned in, sliding her mouth over the end of his dick and exploring the contours of it with her tongue. "Jesus," King breathed, and when she glanced up at him, along the long, lean length of his body, he was watching her, watching the way she slid his dick in and out of her mouth. "You look really fucking good like that."
She stopped what she was doing for a second, ignoring the little exasperated look he gave her. "You mean on my knees with your dick in my mouth?" she asked, and she didn't miss the sudden heat that flashed through his eyes. It was too easy to file away the fact that he liked it when she talked dirty to him in the back of her mind, as though she needed to remember it. As though they were ever going to get a chance to do this again.
"Pretty much. But I want to fuck you, not come in your mouth. That okay?"
And maybe he wasn't the only one who liked dirty talk, because her mouth went dry, another low, heavy surge of desire settling in the pit of her stomach. He was so matter-of-fact about it, no shame, not about wanting her or the things he wanted to do to her. Maybe Danica really had beaten it out of him, or maybe this was how he'd always been. She liked it. A little too much, if she was honest.
He was still waiting for an answer, a small frown starting to form on his face when she hesitated. "That's fine," she said, flushing when it came out stilted and awkward, not missing the amusement that flashed across his face. She pushed herself up his body, determined to take control as she straddled his waist, staring down at him. This time it was heat that flared through his eyes as she leaned in and purred, "Do you want to fuck me like this? Me on top, riding you hard and putting you away wet?"
His hands settled on her hips, his fingers spanning her curves while he smiled up at her. And then his grip tightened, his smile turning into a grin as he toppled her over, catching her before she could tumble off the narrow bed, and rolling with her to settle between her legs.
"I think I'd prefer like this," he said, reaching up to grab the foil square again from wherever he'd secreted it. "You can be on top next time, sweetheart."
Next time. He said it so casually, and she tried not to let any of her doubt show on her face, dragging his head down for another kiss and holding him there until she had schooled her expression into something that wouldn't give everything away.
Perhaps she hadn't managed it, or perhaps she was simply no good at pretending, because when he pulled back this time, breaking their kiss, his eyes were soft and warm, not heated the way she needed them to be.
He kissed her again and she let him, letting herself get lost in it even though that was stupid and dangerous. But then he was tearing the condom packet open with his teeth and she could lose herself something else, in the feel of him pushing inside her, and the way that he stretched and filled her. He was big, and it burned a little in spite of how wet she was, how ready for him, because sex had never been that big a deal for Abby and it had been months even before she'd ever met King.
There'd be time to regret that later. For now, there was the scent of his body, the feel of the crisp hairs on his chest under her hands as she ran them down his torso, and the way that the calluses on his fingers brushed against her skin whenever he touched her. And he never stopped touching her, small little brushes against her skin that drove her higher and higher, wanting more, more of his touch, his dick, just him. He kissed her again, deep and desperate as he eased her thighs higher until her heels crossed in the small of his back, the angle so fucking perfect that the friction of each of his thrusts pressed where she needed it and she was gasping out his name before she was even close to coming.
It didn't take long for him to take her closer, for the easy roll of his hips to have her quivering, hanging on that cusp, ready to fall. But he drew it out, back to teasing, watching her closely with his dark eyes, reading her far too easily: each sigh, each time she clutched at him, every little shiver and moan.
He kissed her as she came, muffling the sharp little cries she let out until she had to tear her mouth away, her whole body tensing as her orgasm rushed through her, the feel of him in her and the way he kept fucking her through it stretching the feeling out until her whole body was trembling, the aftershocks keeping her at fever pitch as his thrusts became deeper, more erratic.
He buried his face in her hair as he came, his fingers digging into her shoulders almost painfully as his breath rasped against her skin. She wrapped her arms around him, not clinging because Abigail Whistler didn't do that, but holding him close for a long heartbeat, feeling his chest rise and fall with every breath he took. And then he finally relaxed, rubbing his beard against her neck like a cat as he stretched and groaned, slipping out of her far too soon, and slipping too far away from her for her to do anything but let go.
She stared at the ceiling as he dealt with the condom, feeling her sweat - and his - drying on her skin. It left her chilled and she shivered, just because she was cold, no other reason. There couldn't be another reason, not one that would ever make sense.
When King had finished cleaning up, he hesitated for a moment, staring down at her for long beats that stretched out and left her tense and restless, uncertain and coming close to hating him for it. But then he finally settled back down on the narrow bed next to her, and she could feel the warmth of his body against her skin, hotter now from their exertions. It was hard, so hard not to move towards that warmth, not to sink into it and let it warm her, too. There were so many good reasons not to, the same reasons that made having sex with him stupid - reckless and dangerous - and she couldn't quite bring herself to do it, to close that gap between them.
But she couldn't quite bring herself to move away, either, and after a moment King sighed, scrubbing his hand across his face tiredly. She tensed up further, on the verge of rising to her feet, ready to say goodbye or sayonara or what the fuck ever, but before she could move he simply flung one arm over her and tugged her closer, bracketing her body with his until the warmth of him seeped right into her.
That was the point where she could have pulled away, cracked a joke, been him. Made it all about the sex and nothing else, made it easy for both of them to walk the fuck away.
But she didn't. Instead she closed her eyes for a moment, just one brief moment of weakness, and let the feel of him soak into her skin.
-o-
She hadn't meant to fall asleep. She hadn't even been sure that she could, not when the bed was so small and King took up most of it. She must have been more exhausted than she'd thought because one second she was closing her eyes, just for a moment, and the next she was waking up next to King.
She'd never been good at doing this, not even when it had been casual. With King's cheek resting between her shoulder blades, his beard scratching against her skin as he breathed in and out, this didn't feel casual. The deep, even rhythm of his breathing told her that he wasn't going to wake up any time soon, but that didn't mean that she was going to be able to sneak out without waking him. And that, in turn, meant that the conversation she was trying to avoid was going to happen whether she wanted it to or not.
She was in no real hurry to have it, and she had to admit that it felt nice, lying here with King's arm draped over her like he trusted her to still be there when he woke up. It felt like the kind of thing that normal people did, and that meant it wasn't for her. And she had people waiting for her to come home in one piece.
The sky outside was lightening, telling her that morning was not far off if it hadn't already arrived, and Frank probably had search parties out by now. She shifted slightly, trying to ease herself out from under King's arm without him noticing, but as soon as she moved, the pattern of his breathing changed. The arm he had around her tightened, pulling her closer, and she stiffened, unable to help herself.
"Guess it's going to be one of those mornings after, huh?" King murmured, his voice still rough with sleep.
She didn't answer him, but there was no point in pretending that she wasn't on her way out of the door. King wasn't even close to that stupid, so she simply slid out of the bed, resolutely not looking at him as she picked her discarded shirt up off the floor.
"Mind if I borrow this?" she asked, sparing him only the briefest of glances as she headed towards her pants.
"Sure," said King. "But is that the right question? 'Borrowing' implies that you'll bring it back. Somehow, I get the feeling that this is an 'adios' rather than a 'see you later'."
She turned her head and looked at him, saying nothing, and he raised an eyebrow. "Am I wrong?"
Her pants were dry now, and she tugged them off the back of the chair, pulling them on. "Frank still wants you shot on sight," she said as she fastened them. It wasn't exactly an answer, but it was the closest she could come to giving him one.
"Huh." He treated her to what he probably thought was an intelligent, searching look. It didn't work, not with his hair sticking up like that and his eyes still sleepy. After a moment he gave up, pushing himself up into a sitting position, the sheet pooling around his waist as he scratched lazily at his bare chest. "What about you?"
She kept her silence on that point as well, concentrating on pulling on her boots, and after a moment he chuckled.
"Well, I can't say it hasn't been a fun experience, Whistler." She spared him another glance. "At least tell me you had fun, too."
She hesitated, her fingers wrapped around her laces. She didn't know what he wanted from her. An acknowledgement? Some indication that it had meant more to her than a quick roll in the hay?
Whatever he was looking for, giving it to him seemed too dangerous. Silence seemed the much safer option.
He ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it further, then leaned back against the sparse headboard with a sigh.
"I've got something for you," he said, his tone businesslike as he twisted around to rummage in the bedside drawer. He pulled out an envelope, plain and white with no address on it, and offered it to her. She hesitated again before she took it, eyeing him with something halfway between suspicion and curiosity.
"Relax, Whistler," he said, a small smirk playing around the corners of his mouth. "It's not the equivalent of twenty bucks left on the bedside table. I don't have quite that much of a death wish." He waited until she'd taken it from his outstretched hand before he added, "It's the equivalent of two million."
She stopped dead, her fingers already sliding underneath the flap, but he didn't elaborate, simply grinning at her unrepentantly until she huffed out an impatient breath, ripping the envelope open.
There was a piece of paper inside, and printed on it in King's neat handwriting was a bank name and a series of numbers and letters. Underneath that was an e-mail address. She frowned at it, confused, before turning that same confused look on King.
"Two million," he repeated, giving her another smile, one that lacked his normal smugness. There was something darker in his expression, something grimly triumphant that suddenly reminded her too sharply of Frank. "This stuff," he added, gesturing around the room at the various artefacts, "wasn't the only thing that I stole from Danica. Girl needs to keep her passwords safer. You know, not talk about her secret Swiss bank accounts in front of her pets."
That explained the bitterness, if not why he'd never mentioned it before. She wasn't going to ask, though. King wasn't really her problem any more, no matter what he thought about it. No matter what she thought about it, either.
"Two million?" she asked seriously, still not convinced he wasn't pulling her leg. "Why would you...?"
"Why would I give it to you?" King shrugged again, his eyes never leaving her face. "I emptied the accounts I knew about, which, by the way, only hold a fraction of what Danica has squirrelled away. But it's still going to piss her off and, as we both know, that's pretty much my reason for living. Well, one of them, anyway."
He shrugged again, giving her a smile that was a little warmer and leaving her with no doubt about what he meant. She held his gaze calmly, her fingers steady as she held a fortune in her hands.
"Basically, I stole a hell of a lot more than I'd ever need. Or that I'll ever get the chance to spend. You've got about half of it there." He paused again, and she had the sinking feeling that something else was coming, something she wasn't going to like. "Get Hedges to check the e-mail accounts I know about, every now and then."
"Because you'll be in touch, I suppose. I guess this e-mail address is yours?"
He didn't answer her directly, but gave her another twitch of a smile. This one wasn't smug, just a little sad. "Let's just say that I've got something set up to send Hedges a message if I need to. Something that means that the rest of the money won't go to waste."
She wasn't stupid either. She knew what he was talking about, even if she didn't understand the technology behind it. He was talking about setting up a dead man's switch.
It bothered her more than she thought it would. It bothered her a lot. But there was nothing she could say. The words crowded behind her lips, but wouldn't come out, not in the right order, not in a way that would make sense or make him see sense. There was no point in telling him to be careful - she didn't have the right, and even if she did, he had the same sort of look in his eyes now as had been in Estevez's. Maybe not as broken, maybe not as consumed by his hatred, but still resolute and unyielding.
Her eyes were drawn to his bruises again, to the scars he'd already earned. "At least tell me that you'll to learn how to duck," she said. As comebacks went, it was weak, but he smiled anyway, something softer and lacking the harsh edge that had cut straight through her.
"I'll do my best," he said, and just the fact that he was agreeing had her smiling at him in response. "And since we're exchanging favours, do you think you could use the phone two blocks over instead of the one across the street?"
She gave him a puzzled look, reluctant to ask in case she understood the answer. He seemed to have that effect on her.
"I'd prefer not to be here when Frank turns up, given the whole shooting on sight thing," he explained. "So I'd really appreciate a head start."
She had no intention of selling him out, not again, but she owed too much to Frank to tell him that. Instead, she nodded slowly, feeling like she should say something but unable to find the words.
King seemed to have that effect on her, too.
"I should..." She gestured towards the door and he nodded, his face settling into serious lines that didn't suit him.
"You know, if you wanted to stay for a coffee or something..."
She shouldn't be tempted - it wasn't smart to be swayed by the sight of him, bare-chested and still sleep ruffled. And so, instead of giving in, she repeated, "I should go."
She couldn't quite hide the reluctance in her voice, but he didn't comment on it. He simply nodded, his expression staying serious. For a second, she thought that he might argue further - and maybe if he had, she'd have stayed, just for a little while - but then he seemed to think better of it, kicking off the covers and pushing himself up and out of the bed, completely at ease despite his nakedness.
"I'll see you out," he said, reaching for his sweatpants. It surprised her - she'd never had him pegged as the gentlemanly type, but maybe he was just concerned about getting out of here before she sicced Frank on him. Or maybe he was as reluctant to see her go as she was to leave.
In spite of the early hour, it was bright outside and the sun shone low over the buildings opposite, tinting everything with a golden light. When she stopped on the first step, turning back towards him, the light had gilded his hair, turning his skin golden, too.
He leaned against the railings and folded his arms, watching her. "See you around, Whistler."
She nodded, a catch in her throat. There was nothing to say, not really. Nothing that was safe, and King seemed to have reached the same conclusion. Unlike her, however, he was never one to go with the status quo.
She was about to head out when he pushed himself away from the railings and closed the gap between them. She knew what was coming, but she didn't stop him. Instead, she closed her eyes, losing herself in the feel of his fingers against her skin, the breadth of his palm and the roughness of his fingertips as he cupped her face, pulling her into another kiss.
It wasn't gentle and it felt like goodbye, breaking something deep inside her. She swallowed down the shards and brought her own fingers up to touch his face, feeling the silkiness of his beard under her fingertips. She let them linger for a moment on his cheek, allowing herself to have that one brief touch, just so that she'd remember it.
When she pulled back, he let his fingers slip away, searching her face for a moment. She didn't know what he saw there, but he nodded once before he finally stepped away, folding his arms again and leaning back against the railing.
There was no point in saying goodbye - the kiss had said it all - and so she simply turned on her heel and headed down the steps.
She didn't look back this time either, and she didn't walk two blocks, but four, not stopping until she found a gas station with a sleepy eyed attendant who looked nothing like King.
When she finally got hold of Dex, the relief in his voice sent a brief surge of guilt through her, one that only grew when she told him it that she was the only one coming back, not Estevez. She bought a soda while she waited for him, sitting on a wall with it unopened as she watched the rest of the sunrise and tried not to think about anything, especially not King.
It didn't take Dex long before he was pulling up to the curb, the car windows wound down and music blasting out in spite of the early hour. He looked over at her, his sunglasses hiding his eyes, but there was a twist to his mouth that she recognised and she gave him an answering little grimace in response as she slid into the passenger seat.
"You okay, girl?" he asked, his eyes taking in the bruise on her cheek.
"I'll live." It was the wrong thing to say given that she was coming home on her own, but Dex didn't ask about Estevez. He didn't need to. Frank would debrief her and Dex would be in on that. Knowing that, Dex would bide his time until then rather than make her go through it twice.
In a way, it would be easier if he made her go through it now. It would take her mind off King.
"Sommerfield told me to kick your ass," Dex drawled, his eyes focused on the road. She knew him well enough to hear everything he wasn't saying. Sommerfield wasn't the only one who would be half-pissed and half-relieved. Frank would be the same, although Dex himself was probably simply relieved.
"I think I can take her," Abby said absently, her thoughts still dwelling on King. "Zoë I'm not so sure about."
Dex shot her a penetrating look. "Now that doesn't sound anything like you," he said and she stiffened, turning her head to stare out of the window rather than look in his direction and risking him seeing something on her face. "You want to tell me what happened?"
"Frank will debrief me. You know that."
"Screw Frank," he said succinctly. "Estevez is dead and you were gone all night. You hurt?"
There was genuine concern in his voice underneath the pissiness, and a surge of guilt went through her. "I'm fine."
His expression twisted slightly before it smoothed out again into his normal placid mask. "Not a scratch on you, I'll bet."
"Just one."
He shot her another look, halfway between disbelieving and questioning. "Damn, girl. There's laconic and then there's you." He shook his head, but there was an admiring note in the move. "But you need to ask yourself something."
"What's that?"
"Do you or do you not want backup when you deal with Reilly?"
It was the unthinking offer of support that finally got her opening up, not the fact that she needed his help to deal with Frank.
"Frank was wrong," she said quietly. "It wasn't a small, mobile op. It was clan. Five or six vamps, maybe twenty goons."
He let out a low whistle. "You were seriously outnumbered there, Whistler."
"Tell me about it." She took a second to marshal her thoughts. "And it wasn't just clan. It was Talos Clan."
This time he hissed, not whistled, sucking the air in through his teeth. "They just keep cropping up, don't they?"
"They're taking over," she said, not quite willing to tell him her source, not yet. "I mean, they are literally taking over."
He shot her another quick look before turning his attention back to the road. "Seems like it," was all he was willing to say. "No doubt Frank will have something to say about that."
No doubt, and that was not a conversation she was looking forward to.
-o-
She expected Frank to go on the offensive pretty much as soon as she walked through the door, given that he'd probably been pacing the floor all night, the worry eating at him. That sort of thing tended to make him a little irrational, a little quick to lash out even if he regretted it later. But she was used to it by now, and knew all of the places he was likely to hit and all of the places he wouldn't before he came to his senses. It was just another kind of sparring as far as she was concerned, and she wondered when she'd started to think of Frank as an opponent.
He didn't disappoint her. "Well?" he asked before she'd even caught her breath, and his tone was confrontational, the deep furrows in his face telling her that she'd been right about how little sleep he'd had. She needed to deal with him carefully, but it didn't help that a little voice inside her head tacked a 'young lady' to the end of his question, a little voice that sounded suspiciously like King.
"Estevez is dead," she said bluntly, too tired to make the effort at diplomacy. "He -" She bit back on the words, knowing that whatever she said, it would come out as blaming Estevez, maybe even Frank. She settled on, "Suicide by vamp." King's words, still rattling around in her head, were as apt a summary as anything.
Frank looked away from her for a moment, regret passing quickly across his face. "How?"
She bit back on a sigh. "He wanted to die, Frank. As long as he got to kill at least one vamp before he went, he didn't give a shit about anything else. He just walked out, guns blazing, like he was making a last fucking stand."
"You didn't stop him?"
The unfairness of the question burned and she held onto her temper with an effort, knowing that Frank was just as short tempered as she was, because he was just as tired. "I tried. And I almost got myself killed."
Frank's head jerked up, his eyes sweeping across her face. "You okay?"
She nodded briefly, which was all she could trust herself to do.
"Good." He folded his arms, segueing back to pissed in the blink of an eye now that she was home and safe. "You didn't call, you didn't write..." He was a sarcastic son of a bitch sometimes, even more so when he was worried.
She pulled her shattered phone out of her pocket, placing it carefully on the bench without a word, and the lines around Frank's mouth tightened.
"You couldn't find a phone booth?"
"I found one this morning."
"So what the hell happened to you last night?"
And there was the million dollar question, only in this case it had turned out to be the two million dollar question.
She took a deep breath, sorting through things. "We were outnumbered." Frank raised an eyebrow at her, impatience clear on his face when she hesitated. "I mean seriously outnumbered, Frank. It wasn't a small op. The Talos Clan have moved in."
His expression froze. "Okay, talk," he said, and the tone in his voice was chilling, almost as full of hatred for Talos as King's had been.
Now that she had his full attention, she had no idea where to begin. Normally she would take a moment to gather her thoughts, and normally Frank would be okay with that, but this time he scowled at her impatiently, his fingers tapping against his arm.
"We finally found what we thought was the blood bank," she began. "Only, there was no sign of any vamps, not then. Just six or seven heavily armed goons, the kind of security your normal, garden-variety, scum sucking lowlife of a vamp can't afford."
She had Frank's attention now. "You thought that was a sign of clan activity?"
"It made sense." She hesitated, once again still trying to sort it out in her own mind. "Estevez and I did a sweep of the building, staying low and out of sight like you taught us, and then we backtracked. This time there were vamps, and they'd all brought their own guards."
Frank nodded slowly, but she didn't think he was agreeing with her as much as acknowledging what she'd said. "And then?" he asked.
"And then Estevez went berserk. I think... I really do think he wanted to die, Frank. He just charged in, wanting to kill as many vamps as he could. He headed straight for Danica."
"Okay, that's what I'm not following. How did you know it was Danica Talos? Did you see a clan tattoo?"
His tone was the most intense she'd ever heard from Frank, and she licked at her lips, knowing full well he was going to hate the answer. "I went in after Estevez," she said, ignoring his question for now, although she wouldn't be able to ignore it for long. Frank wouldn't let her. "He was already hit by that point, and I didn't get to him in time."
Frank was watching her closely, narrow-eyed. "How did you know it was Danica Talos?" he repeated.
She finally met his eyes, holding his gaze as she said, "I had help getting out of there."
Confusion clouded Frank's face for a moment, but then it cleared as he started to put two and two together to come up with an answer that was somewhere between three and five. His lips thinned. "And you knew it was Danica Talos because..."
"Because King told me."
She was expecting an explosion, and that would have been the preferable option because that would have been quick to blow over. But Frank's reaction was worse than that; he stilled and his expression grew grim. "King," he repeated and his voice was deep and remote. "Do you know why King was there?"
She shrugged, and Frank's eyes grew flinty.
"He was tracking Danica. That's all he said. He didn't share any intel with me, and I didn't share any intel with him." She didn't tell Frank that he was keeping so much intel back from the rest of his team now that they had no intelligence to share. Estevez had been the one with the death wish, not Abby, and Frank's reactions this morning were sufficiently out of kilter to worry her.
"And you spent the night with King."
It wasn't a question, but that didn't mean she wasn't expected to answer it, even if she didn't like the insinuation. Especially when it was true.
"I spent the night lying low." Frank's eyes narrowed, like he suspected something from her answer, or maybe the tone she'd used, but she pushed on and persevered. "Danica Talos has a hell of a lot of resources and she threw them onto the streets, searching for us." Again she hesitated before grasping the thorn and adding, "Searching for King. I think she hates him almost as much as he hates her."
"I suppose he told you that."
She shook her head mutely, but managed to find her voice again in the face of Frank's refusal to see the obvious. "He didn't need to. I saw her reaction when she saw him, when she realised who almost put a bullet through her head to save me. She really fucking hates him, Frank. I don't think..."
Frank's expression was bleak, and it silenced her for a moment. But only a moment.
"Why didn't you tell me that Danica was looking for King? Sommerfield knew, but you didn't tell me." She tried not to whine like a child being kept in the dark while the adults talked, even if that was what it felt like. "It changes things."
Frank shifted, his eyes still dark and tired. "You seriously think so? Velasquez and Mick are still dead, Whistler. And even if you're right, even if King didn't sell us out, he's still the reason for that. And now it sounds like Danica Talos is going to take the fucking world apart to find him." He paused for a moment to let the full impact of his words sink into her. "This doesn't make him less dangerous, Whistler. Not even for you."
She'd have argued if she could, but there was no denying the truth in his words. Which left only one course of action.
"Why aren't we going after Talos?"
Frank straightened up, a dangerous light entering his eyes. "I told you. The Talos Clan is way out of our league."
"And they're getting bigger," she insisted. "If it's bad now, Frank, how much worse is it going to get? She's taking over, she has to be. Even if you don't believe King, you can't deny that. Unless we stop her now, she's going to end up another Deacon Frost. Power mad and trying to take over the whole damned world."
"Blade took Frost down. If Danica Talos wants to step into Frost's shoes, he'll do the same to her. We're not even close to being Blade."
She huffed out impatiently, not bothering to hide her reaction from Frank. "King's going after Danica on his own while we sit on our asses."
"Good."
She stared at Frank in disbelief, but his expression didn't change, staying grim.
"You ever see wolves hunt, Whistler?"
The question threw her, and she shook her head mutely.
"They don't attack head-on, not the smart ones. Oh yeah, sometimes there's one out in front, but while whatever they're hunting is busy with that one, the others come in from behind."
The penny finally dropped. "You're talking about making King bait," she said numbly, and Frank nodded, the move having an air of inevitability about it.
"At this point, I don't really care if he's guilty or not, Whistler. Even if you're right, it doesn't matter. Goat or Judas goat, either way he's going to keep Danica Talos occupied and out of our goddamned hair. I say we wait until she's busy with him and then hamstring the bitch."
"Judas goat?" she asked, focusing on the one thing she didn't understand because it was better than focusing on what she did.
Dex shuffled a little, when she looked over at him, still confused, he was watching Frank with a thoughtful expression on his face. He caught her looking and explained. "They used to train goats for use in slaughterhouses. The other animals see it trotting in, think it's safe to follow. So it literally leads the lambs to slaughter."
That wasn't a pleasant image, not least because of what it meant for King. She opened her mouth to protest, but there was no point, not with Frank looking at her like that. He wasn't going to change his mind.
He watched her for a long moment, obviously waiting for her objections. He was going to be disappointed. He had a point - she accepted that, and probably would have done so more easily if he'd been talking about anyone but King. King was out there, deliberately trying to piss Danica off as much and as frequently as possible, and from Frank's perspective it would be stupid not to exploit it.
From Abby's perspective, it meant that King had very little chance of making it through this alive. And even if it sounded as though Frank was finally considering making a move against the Talos Clan, she couldn't help but be afraid that it would be too little, too late.
But then, King was no more on his own now than he had been before, and at least this way she might get a chance to back him up, return the favour.
"Anything else?" Frank asked, obviously having decided that if she hadn't objected so far, she wasn't likely to object now.
For a second she hesitated, unwilling to open this particular can of worms while she was feeling so vulnerable about King. But there was no point in putting off the inevitable, and she pulled out the envelope that King had given her. It was crumpled now, crushed by her pocket, but she held it out towards Hedges anyway, waiting until he took it from her before she finally looked at Frank.
"What is it?" Frank asked, jerking his chin towards it.
"Two million."
Dex let out a low whistle and Hedges simply stared at her as though she'd grown another head. She didn't miss how Hedges' fingers tightened momentarily on the envelope, crumpling it further.
"King." That was all Frank said, but he still managed to make it sound like a curse.
"Okay, can I just check something?" Hedges asked, his hands fluttering nervously. "When you say two million, you mean two million dollars, right?"
She nodded and Hedges' jaw dropped. "Jesus," he said, and she understood the sentiment.
"Where the hell did King get two million dollars?" Dex asked, and Frank's expression was asking the same question.
"He stole it from Danica."
"Of course he did," Frank rumbled, his expression darkening. "And it's obviously not a trap Danica laid for him, one we're about to get caught up in."
"I have faith in Hedges. I'm pretty sure he can get the money out without it being traced." She knew nothing about hacking or online banking, but she could trust Hedges to do the necessary research. And two million dollars was a lot of incentive for him to figure it out.
Hedges had pulled the paper out and was reading it, his eyebrows drawn down in a frown and his lips moving as he puzzled out King's notes. And then he nodded, glancing over at Frank. "I'm not a hacker, but I know some guys... They should be able to do what we need, cover their tracks, mask their IPs. For a price, of course."
"For two million, I think we can be generous," Dex said dryly. "Jesus." He let out a ragged little laugh, but there was relief in it and Abby could understand why. Two million would fund their operation for a good long while.
Of all of them, only Frank wasn't convinced, but she could tell that he was weighing the risks against the potential payoff. The irony of having a vampire clan fund the very people who were going to take them out would also appeal to his dry sense of humour.
But he was wily, and he hadn't lived this long by being stupid and reckless. "Why give it to you?"
"Who the hell cares, man?" Dex interjected. "So he's got a crush on Whistler. You want to use him? Then why the hell shouldn't we use this, too?"
Frank ignored him, his eyes fixed on Abby.
"Because he doesn't think he's going to live long enough to spend it. And he wants Danica dead. I don't think he cares if he's the one to do it, but he wants to make sure that if she does him first, he's got a backup plan in place." She met Frank's eyes calmly. "You want to use him. Okay, fine. But you can hardly object if he wants to use us, too." And maybe there was still a small, hurt little voice whispering in her head, because she couldn't resist adding, "I thought that's what you wanted, Frank. King to take the lead, for him to be the... Judas goat."
Frank's face was expressionless; for once she couldn't tell what was going on in his head. It didn't matter. She knew what was going on in hers.
And she'd memorised King's e-mail address.
-o-
Part 11: dreamwidth :: livejournal :: insanejournal
Author: alyse
Fandom: Blade: Trinity
Pairing: Abigail Whistler/Hannibal King
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Highlight to read: violence, implications of past torture and sexual abuse, potential triggers for suicidal thoughts and actions.
Notes: This is the extended, higher rated director's cut version of the story. If you'd prefer not to wait, a complete (non-sexy, rated 15!) version can be found here. Also, there is fabulous art by
skylar0grace here.This part includes the new material and will be the version posted to AO3. The rest of the story remains the same as that posted originally on the
het_bigbang site and it is the het_bigbang version that will be posted on fanfiction.net.Summary: Hunting is in her blood and in her bones, but when Abigail Whistler's path crosses that of a smart-mouthed vampire who seems perfectly happy to die, she's left questioning everything she thought she knew. While her team work to cure Hannibal King of his vampirism with an experimental antivirus, she finds herself warming to their captive in spite of her reservations, and when their actions turn out to have devastating consequences, Abby's loyalties are left torn.
Masterlist: dreamwidth :: livejournal :: insanejournal
-o-
Part 09: dreamwidth :: livejournal :: insanejournal
-o-
King took his time, his fingers sinking into her hair as his mouth moved slowly over hers, the little flicks of his tongue sending pulses of heat spiralling through her. She wasn't as patient - she didn't moan, not quite, but she pulled him closer still, her short nails digging into his skin as she pressed her body against every inch of his, restraint forgotten in the need to feel him, to lose herself in the fact that he was here and he was real.
He winced when her eager fingers pressed too hard against his bruises, but when he jerked his head back to stare down at her, there was no pain in his eyes. They were heated, pupils blown wide and black, and she watched as he licked at his lips, his gaze tracking down her body. The look sent another surge of need through her, and she leaned back on her hands, staring up at him wantonly from underneath her lowered lashes. She didn't do wanton, didn't flirt, didn't tease - but there was no being all business with King, not about this.
His hands settled on her legs, just above the knees. He had big hands, long and lean like the rest of him, easily spanning the breadth of her thighs. His thumbs stroked lightly over her soft skin, easing her legs apart, and she shivered, her nipples hardening underneath the fabric of her t-shirt. He didn't miss her reaction; his gaze dropped to her breasts and his lips parted enough for her to catch sight of his tongue running hungrily over his teeth.
He slid his hands higher, his fingers firm against the outside of her thighs, pressing in just hard enough to make her to feel it, for it to set her heart racing in her chest. His thumbs he kept light, barely brushing over the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thighs, but even that barely-there touch was enough to send another pulse of pure desire running through her, thrumming low in her belly.
She shifted her hips impatiently, her legs falling open as he made his way higher, too slowly for the blaze his touch was kindling in her. But he still wouldn't be rushed, flashing a quick grin when she wriggled again, the move unsubtle. Even when he'd reached her panties, easing his fingers underneath the waistband, he teased her, dragging it out as he dragged the fabric down, inch by tortuous inch. But if she'd thought to protest, hurry him up, those thoughts were forgotten when he leaned down and pressed his mouth against the soft skin of her stomach where her t-shirt had rucked up, only inches from where she wanted him.
She let out a gasp, the sound turning into a moan as he flicked his tongue across her skin. It was easy - too easy - to imagine that touch elsewhere on her body, and the heat that pulsed through her this time didn't settle in her belly, but lower still, her pussy clenching as though she could already feel him in her.
His hands slipped lower, taking her panties with them, and his lips followed in their wake, his tongue tracing circles against her skin, down over her legs, past her knees and to her ankles as he sank down onto the floor. And then he moved up again, pressing kisses against her flesh as he went. He was still taking his sweet time about it, still not letting her hurry him and ignoring every impatient jerk of her hips, every time she tried to grab at him, pull him higher, guide him to where she wanted him. If anything, her impatience only seemed to amuse him; his breath huffed over her skin as if he was laughing silently, muffling the sound of it against her body.
When he finally reached the top of her thighs, his tongue went back to tracing concentric circles. She tensed, already anticipating that touch against the most sensitive part of her, but he was a fucking tease. He moved right past her damp curls, starting to map the inside of her other thigh, and she growled out his name, sinking her fingers into his hair and pulling less than gently. He laughed again, this time out loud, and his breath ghosted warmly over her wet, heated flesh, leaving her shivering, her fingers digging into his scalp.
"Damn, you're impatient," he murmured and she would have said something, cursed him out, but then his tongue pressed into her slickness and any words she would have said were lost in the moan she let out.
God, he felt good, and he knew exactly what he was doing. She tried not to think about why, about how much practice he must have had, and it was easy to forget when her world had narrowed down to the press of his fingers against her thighs, holding them apart, and the feel of his lips and his tongue as he drove her slowly out of her mind. He traced upwards, flicking his tongue against the swollen bundle of nerves until she was twisting in his grasp, the pleasure of his touch surging through her. And then he moved back down, his thumbs spreading her open and his tongue sliding into her.
Her thighs clenched, the sensations overwhelming her, but his hands pinned her in place, holding her legs apart as he jerked her towards him, only stopping when her ass came to rest on the very edge of the table. And then he redoubled his efforts, until she was reduced to a quivering bundle of nerve endings.
"King!" His name came out in a gasp, the pleasure rising up in her and setting all of her muscles trembling. He could feel it - he had to be able to feel it, how close she was - but he didn't stop, not until she reached down and pushed his head away. "I'm going to -"
He stared up at her, something fierce and hungry in his eyes. His beard was wet, wet from her, and she'd be able to taste it when she kissed him again, the scent of her on his breath. The thought did nothing to lessen her need for him, but she wanted his dick, wanted him inside her so fucking bad.
He smiled at her slowly, and even that was fierce, nothing of his normal laid-back persona in it. "I'm pretty sure you can come more than once, Whistler." And then he lowered his head again, his tongue sliding slowly over her clit as he let go of one thigh to push his fingers into her.
Her back arched off the table, her legs clenching around his head, her heels digging into his back, below his shoulder blades as she keened. Jesus, he had to have pushed two fingers into her from the breadth of them, and they stretched her wide open. She let out another cry as he pulled them out again, sliding them back in again in a rhythm that was going to send her careening over the edge in short order. This time when she sank her fingers into his hair, it was to hold him there as her hips jerked, caught between the sensations caused by his mouth and his fingers.
He took pity on her, not drawing it out the way he had been, but driving her onwards, twisting his fingers inside her and paying attention to every gasp and every moan she let out, every twitch, every buck of her hips. She was coming apart, she was coming apart at the fucking seams, and when he sucked at her clit, a faint hint of teeth in it, she finally fell, calling out his name.
She was still twitching when King eased his fingers out of her, and they were wet against her skin as he grasped hold of her thigh, pushing himself up off his knees and leaning over her to kiss her. His mouth was wet as well, and she'd been right - he tasted of her - and she pulled him closer, sliding her tongue back into his mouth as she wrapped her arms loosely around his neck.
His hands slipped higher, sliding underneath the fabric of her t-shirt to brush along the underside of her breasts. He broke their kiss, staring down at her for a moment before his hands were on the move again, this time slipping underneath her and pulling her into an upright position. She wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling his hardness press against her through the fabric of his sweats, and he tugged at her t-shirt, dragging it over her head so that she was completely naked, bare to his gaze.
He ran his eyes appreciatively over her form, letting out a soft sound of need when his eyes finally reached the point where her lower body pressed against him. It should have left her feeling self-conscious, fighting the urge to cover herself, but there was warmth as well as admiration in his eyes and that made it easier to simply lean forward and kiss him again.
His hands traced slowly down her back, leaving little shivery trails of sensation in their wake until they finally slid underneath her bare ass. And then he was lifting her up, carrying her towards the bed as easily as if she'd weighed nothing. She wrapped her arms around his neck, still kissing him deeply, still tasting herself in his mouth and on her lips and swallowing his breaths as though they were her own.
The bed was narrow, barely enough room for the pair of them, but mattress was soft, much softer than the table had been, and she sank into with a sigh as King settled over her, kissing her again as his hand slid up her thigh, dragging her leg up to wrap around his waist again. "This is the point," he murmured against her mouth, "where I really hope I have condoms."
She chuckled, loose-limbed and with her body still humming. "And if not?" she asked, the words brushing over his lips.
"Then I think we might be back to my very first idea of your mouth and my dick."
His words were absentminded, not lecherous, all of his attention focused on rifling through the small set of drawers by the bed, and maybe if she'd had the energy she would have rolled her eyes at him, but she wouldn't have argued, not after the way he'd just made her come. Instead, she watched him, taking in the smooth flex of his shoulders, the way the muscles in his arms bunched and smoothed out again as he searched.
He finally produced a small box with a triumphant flourish and a grin. It was unopened, still wrapped in cellophane, and she raised one eyebrow at him, not quite sure if it was a question she wanted to ask. His gaze darted away from her for a second before it came back, his expression growing momentarily rueful. "Thought they might come in useful," he said as he ripped open the cellophane and pulled out one of the foil squares. "Someday."
She nodded slowly. There was little else she could do, not without opening a can of worms that she wasn't prepared to deal with, not right now, and probably not ever. King wouldn't thank her for it, anyway, and his expression had already smoothed out again, the appreciation of her naked body sliding back onto his face as though his mask had never slipped. Some of it - most of it - might even have been genuine.
She expected him to be impatient, to want to fuck her as quickly as possible, especially as she'd come once already, but he surprised her. He continued to take his time, exploring her body slowly and carefully, almost like he was mapping it, burning it into his memory. She tried to pretend that she wasn't doing the same thing when she touched him, just like she tried to pretend she didn't see the look in his eyes whenever he glanced up at her face.
He trailed slow, patient kisses over her skin until it felt as if his mouth had touched every part of her. Only then did he move his hands to cup her breasts, his thumbs tracing around her aureoles, delicate little touches that had her arching into him again. She sank her fingers back into his hair, dragging his head down; this time he went where she wanted, his tongue following where his fingers had led and laving at each nipple in turn. When he sucked the first one into his mouth, again with that hint of teeth behind it, a jolt of pure need went through her and her fingers curved into his shoulders, her heels digging into the mattress as she strove to get closer to him. He settled his hands on her hips, holding her down as his mouth moved lower, but she'd had enough of him calling the shots. This time when she dug her heel into the mattress, it was to push up, push him off her and wriggle out from underneath him.
He let her go, settling back on his elbows and watching as she leaned over him, pushing her hair back behind her ears. She kissed him on the mouth first before skimming down over his cheek, feeling his beard prickle against her lips, and then set to exploring his body as thoroughly as he'd explored hers.
She found the place on his neck that made him shiver when she kissed there, and she lingered, scraping her teeth over his skin just to feel him jump. His nipples weren't as sensitive as hers, but dragging her short nails over the ridges of his well-defined abs had him shuddering again, watching her wide-eyed as she moved lower to where his cock was thick and heavy in his pants. She slid her hand underneath the fabric, wrapping her fingers around his erection and sliding them along his length, brushing the skin of his stomach with the backs of her knuckles. The skin of his cock felt soft and delicate underneath her touch, and he let out a little gasp when her thumb rubbed over the very end of his dick, and the wetness that had gathered there had her licking at her lips, already wanting more.
She was careful as she caught hold of the waistband of his sweats, easing the fabric up and over his erection before she pulled them down his legs, waiting until he'd slipped his feet out before she threw them on the floor and moved back up his body to touch his cock again. He wasn't cut. Maybe that was a Canadian thing, but it fascinated her, the way his foreskin moved when she stroked her fingers over it, keeping her grip light and gentle. He gasped again when she rubbed her thumb over the head and pressed it against a little knot of nerves underneath his glans.
She leaned in, sliding her mouth over the end of his dick and exploring the contours of it with her tongue. "Jesus," King breathed, and when she glanced up at him, along the long, lean length of his body, he was watching her, watching the way she slid his dick in and out of her mouth. "You look really fucking good like that."
She stopped what she was doing for a second, ignoring the little exasperated look he gave her. "You mean on my knees with your dick in my mouth?" she asked, and she didn't miss the sudden heat that flashed through his eyes. It was too easy to file away the fact that he liked it when she talked dirty to him in the back of her mind, as though she needed to remember it. As though they were ever going to get a chance to do this again.
"Pretty much. But I want to fuck you, not come in your mouth. That okay?"
And maybe he wasn't the only one who liked dirty talk, because her mouth went dry, another low, heavy surge of desire settling in the pit of her stomach. He was so matter-of-fact about it, no shame, not about wanting her or the things he wanted to do to her. Maybe Danica really had beaten it out of him, or maybe this was how he'd always been. She liked it. A little too much, if she was honest.
He was still waiting for an answer, a small frown starting to form on his face when she hesitated. "That's fine," she said, flushing when it came out stilted and awkward, not missing the amusement that flashed across his face. She pushed herself up his body, determined to take control as she straddled his waist, staring down at him. This time it was heat that flared through his eyes as she leaned in and purred, "Do you want to fuck me like this? Me on top, riding you hard and putting you away wet?"
His hands settled on her hips, his fingers spanning her curves while he smiled up at her. And then his grip tightened, his smile turning into a grin as he toppled her over, catching her before she could tumble off the narrow bed, and rolling with her to settle between her legs.
"I think I'd prefer like this," he said, reaching up to grab the foil square again from wherever he'd secreted it. "You can be on top next time, sweetheart."
Next time. He said it so casually, and she tried not to let any of her doubt show on her face, dragging his head down for another kiss and holding him there until she had schooled her expression into something that wouldn't give everything away.
Perhaps she hadn't managed it, or perhaps she was simply no good at pretending, because when he pulled back this time, breaking their kiss, his eyes were soft and warm, not heated the way she needed them to be.
He kissed her again and she let him, letting herself get lost in it even though that was stupid and dangerous. But then he was tearing the condom packet open with his teeth and she could lose herself something else, in the feel of him pushing inside her, and the way that he stretched and filled her. He was big, and it burned a little in spite of how wet she was, how ready for him, because sex had never been that big a deal for Abby and it had been months even before she'd ever met King.
There'd be time to regret that later. For now, there was the scent of his body, the feel of the crisp hairs on his chest under her hands as she ran them down his torso, and the way that the calluses on his fingers brushed against her skin whenever he touched her. And he never stopped touching her, small little brushes against her skin that drove her higher and higher, wanting more, more of his touch, his dick, just him. He kissed her again, deep and desperate as he eased her thighs higher until her heels crossed in the small of his back, the angle so fucking perfect that the friction of each of his thrusts pressed where she needed it and she was gasping out his name before she was even close to coming.
It didn't take long for him to take her closer, for the easy roll of his hips to have her quivering, hanging on that cusp, ready to fall. But he drew it out, back to teasing, watching her closely with his dark eyes, reading her far too easily: each sigh, each time she clutched at him, every little shiver and moan.
He kissed her as she came, muffling the sharp little cries she let out until she had to tear her mouth away, her whole body tensing as her orgasm rushed through her, the feel of him in her and the way he kept fucking her through it stretching the feeling out until her whole body was trembling, the aftershocks keeping her at fever pitch as his thrusts became deeper, more erratic.
He buried his face in her hair as he came, his fingers digging into her shoulders almost painfully as his breath rasped against her skin. She wrapped her arms around him, not clinging because Abigail Whistler didn't do that, but holding him close for a long heartbeat, feeling his chest rise and fall with every breath he took. And then he finally relaxed, rubbing his beard against her neck like a cat as he stretched and groaned, slipping out of her far too soon, and slipping too far away from her for her to do anything but let go.
She stared at the ceiling as he dealt with the condom, feeling her sweat - and his - drying on her skin. It left her chilled and she shivered, just because she was cold, no other reason. There couldn't be another reason, not one that would ever make sense.
When King had finished cleaning up, he hesitated for a moment, staring down at her for long beats that stretched out and left her tense and restless, uncertain and coming close to hating him for it. But then he finally settled back down on the narrow bed next to her, and she could feel the warmth of his body against her skin, hotter now from their exertions. It was hard, so hard not to move towards that warmth, not to sink into it and let it warm her, too. There were so many good reasons not to, the same reasons that made having sex with him stupid - reckless and dangerous - and she couldn't quite bring herself to do it, to close that gap between them.
But she couldn't quite bring herself to move away, either, and after a moment King sighed, scrubbing his hand across his face tiredly. She tensed up further, on the verge of rising to her feet, ready to say goodbye or sayonara or what the fuck ever, but before she could move he simply flung one arm over her and tugged her closer, bracketing her body with his until the warmth of him seeped right into her.
That was the point where she could have pulled away, cracked a joke, been him. Made it all about the sex and nothing else, made it easy for both of them to walk the fuck away.
But she didn't. Instead she closed her eyes for a moment, just one brief moment of weakness, and let the feel of him soak into her skin.
-o-
She hadn't meant to fall asleep. She hadn't even been sure that she could, not when the bed was so small and King took up most of it. She must have been more exhausted than she'd thought because one second she was closing her eyes, just for a moment, and the next she was waking up next to King.
She'd never been good at doing this, not even when it had been casual. With King's cheek resting between her shoulder blades, his beard scratching against her skin as he breathed in and out, this didn't feel casual. The deep, even rhythm of his breathing told her that he wasn't going to wake up any time soon, but that didn't mean that she was going to be able to sneak out without waking him. And that, in turn, meant that the conversation she was trying to avoid was going to happen whether she wanted it to or not.
She was in no real hurry to have it, and she had to admit that it felt nice, lying here with King's arm draped over her like he trusted her to still be there when he woke up. It felt like the kind of thing that normal people did, and that meant it wasn't for her. And she had people waiting for her to come home in one piece.
The sky outside was lightening, telling her that morning was not far off if it hadn't already arrived, and Frank probably had search parties out by now. She shifted slightly, trying to ease herself out from under King's arm without him noticing, but as soon as she moved, the pattern of his breathing changed. The arm he had around her tightened, pulling her closer, and she stiffened, unable to help herself.
"Guess it's going to be one of those mornings after, huh?" King murmured, his voice still rough with sleep.
She didn't answer him, but there was no point in pretending that she wasn't on her way out of the door. King wasn't even close to that stupid, so she simply slid out of the bed, resolutely not looking at him as she picked her discarded shirt up off the floor.
"Mind if I borrow this?" she asked, sparing him only the briefest of glances as she headed towards her pants.
"Sure," said King. "But is that the right question? 'Borrowing' implies that you'll bring it back. Somehow, I get the feeling that this is an 'adios' rather than a 'see you later'."
She turned her head and looked at him, saying nothing, and he raised an eyebrow. "Am I wrong?"
Her pants were dry now, and she tugged them off the back of the chair, pulling them on. "Frank still wants you shot on sight," she said as she fastened them. It wasn't exactly an answer, but it was the closest she could come to giving him one.
"Huh." He treated her to what he probably thought was an intelligent, searching look. It didn't work, not with his hair sticking up like that and his eyes still sleepy. After a moment he gave up, pushing himself up into a sitting position, the sheet pooling around his waist as he scratched lazily at his bare chest. "What about you?"
She kept her silence on that point as well, concentrating on pulling on her boots, and after a moment he chuckled.
"Well, I can't say it hasn't been a fun experience, Whistler." She spared him another glance. "At least tell me you had fun, too."
She hesitated, her fingers wrapped around her laces. She didn't know what he wanted from her. An acknowledgement? Some indication that it had meant more to her than a quick roll in the hay?
Whatever he was looking for, giving it to him seemed too dangerous. Silence seemed the much safer option.
He ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it further, then leaned back against the sparse headboard with a sigh.
"I've got something for you," he said, his tone businesslike as he twisted around to rummage in the bedside drawer. He pulled out an envelope, plain and white with no address on it, and offered it to her. She hesitated again before she took it, eyeing him with something halfway between suspicion and curiosity.
"Relax, Whistler," he said, a small smirk playing around the corners of his mouth. "It's not the equivalent of twenty bucks left on the bedside table. I don't have quite that much of a death wish." He waited until she'd taken it from his outstretched hand before he added, "It's the equivalent of two million."
She stopped dead, her fingers already sliding underneath the flap, but he didn't elaborate, simply grinning at her unrepentantly until she huffed out an impatient breath, ripping the envelope open.
There was a piece of paper inside, and printed on it in King's neat handwriting was a bank name and a series of numbers and letters. Underneath that was an e-mail address. She frowned at it, confused, before turning that same confused look on King.
"Two million," he repeated, giving her another smile, one that lacked his normal smugness. There was something darker in his expression, something grimly triumphant that suddenly reminded her too sharply of Frank. "This stuff," he added, gesturing around the room at the various artefacts, "wasn't the only thing that I stole from Danica. Girl needs to keep her passwords safer. You know, not talk about her secret Swiss bank accounts in front of her pets."
That explained the bitterness, if not why he'd never mentioned it before. She wasn't going to ask, though. King wasn't really her problem any more, no matter what he thought about it. No matter what she thought about it, either.
"Two million?" she asked seriously, still not convinced he wasn't pulling her leg. "Why would you...?"
"Why would I give it to you?" King shrugged again, his eyes never leaving her face. "I emptied the accounts I knew about, which, by the way, only hold a fraction of what Danica has squirrelled away. But it's still going to piss her off and, as we both know, that's pretty much my reason for living. Well, one of them, anyway."
He shrugged again, giving her a smile that was a little warmer and leaving her with no doubt about what he meant. She held his gaze calmly, her fingers steady as she held a fortune in her hands.
"Basically, I stole a hell of a lot more than I'd ever need. Or that I'll ever get the chance to spend. You've got about half of it there." He paused again, and she had the sinking feeling that something else was coming, something she wasn't going to like. "Get Hedges to check the e-mail accounts I know about, every now and then."
"Because you'll be in touch, I suppose. I guess this e-mail address is yours?"
He didn't answer her directly, but gave her another twitch of a smile. This one wasn't smug, just a little sad. "Let's just say that I've got something set up to send Hedges a message if I need to. Something that means that the rest of the money won't go to waste."
She wasn't stupid either. She knew what he was talking about, even if she didn't understand the technology behind it. He was talking about setting up a dead man's switch.
It bothered her more than she thought it would. It bothered her a lot. But there was nothing she could say. The words crowded behind her lips, but wouldn't come out, not in the right order, not in a way that would make sense or make him see sense. There was no point in telling him to be careful - she didn't have the right, and even if she did, he had the same sort of look in his eyes now as had been in Estevez's. Maybe not as broken, maybe not as consumed by his hatred, but still resolute and unyielding.
Her eyes were drawn to his bruises again, to the scars he'd already earned. "At least tell me that you'll to learn how to duck," she said. As comebacks went, it was weak, but he smiled anyway, something softer and lacking the harsh edge that had cut straight through her.
"I'll do my best," he said, and just the fact that he was agreeing had her smiling at him in response. "And since we're exchanging favours, do you think you could use the phone two blocks over instead of the one across the street?"
She gave him a puzzled look, reluctant to ask in case she understood the answer. He seemed to have that effect on her.
"I'd prefer not to be here when Frank turns up, given the whole shooting on sight thing," he explained. "So I'd really appreciate a head start."
She had no intention of selling him out, not again, but she owed too much to Frank to tell him that. Instead, she nodded slowly, feeling like she should say something but unable to find the words.
King seemed to have that effect on her, too.
"I should..." She gestured towards the door and he nodded, his face settling into serious lines that didn't suit him.
"You know, if you wanted to stay for a coffee or something..."
She shouldn't be tempted - it wasn't smart to be swayed by the sight of him, bare-chested and still sleep ruffled. And so, instead of giving in, she repeated, "I should go."
She couldn't quite hide the reluctance in her voice, but he didn't comment on it. He simply nodded, his expression staying serious. For a second, she thought that he might argue further - and maybe if he had, she'd have stayed, just for a little while - but then he seemed to think better of it, kicking off the covers and pushing himself up and out of the bed, completely at ease despite his nakedness.
"I'll see you out," he said, reaching for his sweatpants. It surprised her - she'd never had him pegged as the gentlemanly type, but maybe he was just concerned about getting out of here before she sicced Frank on him. Or maybe he was as reluctant to see her go as she was to leave.
In spite of the early hour, it was bright outside and the sun shone low over the buildings opposite, tinting everything with a golden light. When she stopped on the first step, turning back towards him, the light had gilded his hair, turning his skin golden, too.
He leaned against the railings and folded his arms, watching her. "See you around, Whistler."
She nodded, a catch in her throat. There was nothing to say, not really. Nothing that was safe, and King seemed to have reached the same conclusion. Unlike her, however, he was never one to go with the status quo.
She was about to head out when he pushed himself away from the railings and closed the gap between them. She knew what was coming, but she didn't stop him. Instead, she closed her eyes, losing herself in the feel of his fingers against her skin, the breadth of his palm and the roughness of his fingertips as he cupped her face, pulling her into another kiss.
It wasn't gentle and it felt like goodbye, breaking something deep inside her. She swallowed down the shards and brought her own fingers up to touch his face, feeling the silkiness of his beard under her fingertips. She let them linger for a moment on his cheek, allowing herself to have that one brief touch, just so that she'd remember it.
When she pulled back, he let his fingers slip away, searching her face for a moment. She didn't know what he saw there, but he nodded once before he finally stepped away, folding his arms again and leaning back against the railing.
There was no point in saying goodbye - the kiss had said it all - and so she simply turned on her heel and headed down the steps.
She didn't look back this time either, and she didn't walk two blocks, but four, not stopping until she found a gas station with a sleepy eyed attendant who looked nothing like King.
When she finally got hold of Dex, the relief in his voice sent a brief surge of guilt through her, one that only grew when she told him it that she was the only one coming back, not Estevez. She bought a soda while she waited for him, sitting on a wall with it unopened as she watched the rest of the sunrise and tried not to think about anything, especially not King.
It didn't take Dex long before he was pulling up to the curb, the car windows wound down and music blasting out in spite of the early hour. He looked over at her, his sunglasses hiding his eyes, but there was a twist to his mouth that she recognised and she gave him an answering little grimace in response as she slid into the passenger seat.
"You okay, girl?" he asked, his eyes taking in the bruise on her cheek.
"I'll live." It was the wrong thing to say given that she was coming home on her own, but Dex didn't ask about Estevez. He didn't need to. Frank would debrief her and Dex would be in on that. Knowing that, Dex would bide his time until then rather than make her go through it twice.
In a way, it would be easier if he made her go through it now. It would take her mind off King.
"Sommerfield told me to kick your ass," Dex drawled, his eyes focused on the road. She knew him well enough to hear everything he wasn't saying. Sommerfield wasn't the only one who would be half-pissed and half-relieved. Frank would be the same, although Dex himself was probably simply relieved.
"I think I can take her," Abby said absently, her thoughts still dwelling on King. "Zoë I'm not so sure about."
Dex shot her a penetrating look. "Now that doesn't sound anything like you," he said and she stiffened, turning her head to stare out of the window rather than look in his direction and risking him seeing something on her face. "You want to tell me what happened?"
"Frank will debrief me. You know that."
"Screw Frank," he said succinctly. "Estevez is dead and you were gone all night. You hurt?"
There was genuine concern in his voice underneath the pissiness, and a surge of guilt went through her. "I'm fine."
His expression twisted slightly before it smoothed out again into his normal placid mask. "Not a scratch on you, I'll bet."
"Just one."
He shot her another look, halfway between disbelieving and questioning. "Damn, girl. There's laconic and then there's you." He shook his head, but there was an admiring note in the move. "But you need to ask yourself something."
"What's that?"
"Do you or do you not want backup when you deal with Reilly?"
It was the unthinking offer of support that finally got her opening up, not the fact that she needed his help to deal with Frank.
"Frank was wrong," she said quietly. "It wasn't a small, mobile op. It was clan. Five or six vamps, maybe twenty goons."
He let out a low whistle. "You were seriously outnumbered there, Whistler."
"Tell me about it." She took a second to marshal her thoughts. "And it wasn't just clan. It was Talos Clan."
This time he hissed, not whistled, sucking the air in through his teeth. "They just keep cropping up, don't they?"
"They're taking over," she said, not quite willing to tell him her source, not yet. "I mean, they are literally taking over."
He shot her another quick look before turning his attention back to the road. "Seems like it," was all he was willing to say. "No doubt Frank will have something to say about that."
No doubt, and that was not a conversation she was looking forward to.
-o-
She expected Frank to go on the offensive pretty much as soon as she walked through the door, given that he'd probably been pacing the floor all night, the worry eating at him. That sort of thing tended to make him a little irrational, a little quick to lash out even if he regretted it later. But she was used to it by now, and knew all of the places he was likely to hit and all of the places he wouldn't before he came to his senses. It was just another kind of sparring as far as she was concerned, and she wondered when she'd started to think of Frank as an opponent.
He didn't disappoint her. "Well?" he asked before she'd even caught her breath, and his tone was confrontational, the deep furrows in his face telling her that she'd been right about how little sleep he'd had. She needed to deal with him carefully, but it didn't help that a little voice inside her head tacked a 'young lady' to the end of his question, a little voice that sounded suspiciously like King.
"Estevez is dead," she said bluntly, too tired to make the effort at diplomacy. "He -" She bit back on the words, knowing that whatever she said, it would come out as blaming Estevez, maybe even Frank. She settled on, "Suicide by vamp." King's words, still rattling around in her head, were as apt a summary as anything.
Frank looked away from her for a moment, regret passing quickly across his face. "How?"
She bit back on a sigh. "He wanted to die, Frank. As long as he got to kill at least one vamp before he went, he didn't give a shit about anything else. He just walked out, guns blazing, like he was making a last fucking stand."
"You didn't stop him?"
The unfairness of the question burned and she held onto her temper with an effort, knowing that Frank was just as short tempered as she was, because he was just as tired. "I tried. And I almost got myself killed."
Frank's head jerked up, his eyes sweeping across her face. "You okay?"
She nodded briefly, which was all she could trust herself to do.
"Good." He folded his arms, segueing back to pissed in the blink of an eye now that she was home and safe. "You didn't call, you didn't write..." He was a sarcastic son of a bitch sometimes, even more so when he was worried.
She pulled her shattered phone out of her pocket, placing it carefully on the bench without a word, and the lines around Frank's mouth tightened.
"You couldn't find a phone booth?"
"I found one this morning."
"So what the hell happened to you last night?"
And there was the million dollar question, only in this case it had turned out to be the two million dollar question.
She took a deep breath, sorting through things. "We were outnumbered." Frank raised an eyebrow at her, impatience clear on his face when she hesitated. "I mean seriously outnumbered, Frank. It wasn't a small op. The Talos Clan have moved in."
His expression froze. "Okay, talk," he said, and the tone in his voice was chilling, almost as full of hatred for Talos as King's had been.
Now that she had his full attention, she had no idea where to begin. Normally she would take a moment to gather her thoughts, and normally Frank would be okay with that, but this time he scowled at her impatiently, his fingers tapping against his arm.
"We finally found what we thought was the blood bank," she began. "Only, there was no sign of any vamps, not then. Just six or seven heavily armed goons, the kind of security your normal, garden-variety, scum sucking lowlife of a vamp can't afford."
She had Frank's attention now. "You thought that was a sign of clan activity?"
"It made sense." She hesitated, once again still trying to sort it out in her own mind. "Estevez and I did a sweep of the building, staying low and out of sight like you taught us, and then we backtracked. This time there were vamps, and they'd all brought their own guards."
Frank nodded slowly, but she didn't think he was agreeing with her as much as acknowledging what she'd said. "And then?" he asked.
"And then Estevez went berserk. I think... I really do think he wanted to die, Frank. He just charged in, wanting to kill as many vamps as he could. He headed straight for Danica."
"Okay, that's what I'm not following. How did you know it was Danica Talos? Did you see a clan tattoo?"
His tone was the most intense she'd ever heard from Frank, and she licked at her lips, knowing full well he was going to hate the answer. "I went in after Estevez," she said, ignoring his question for now, although she wouldn't be able to ignore it for long. Frank wouldn't let her. "He was already hit by that point, and I didn't get to him in time."
Frank was watching her closely, narrow-eyed. "How did you know it was Danica Talos?" he repeated.
She finally met his eyes, holding his gaze as she said, "I had help getting out of there."
Confusion clouded Frank's face for a moment, but then it cleared as he started to put two and two together to come up with an answer that was somewhere between three and five. His lips thinned. "And you knew it was Danica Talos because..."
"Because King told me."
She was expecting an explosion, and that would have been the preferable option because that would have been quick to blow over. But Frank's reaction was worse than that; he stilled and his expression grew grim. "King," he repeated and his voice was deep and remote. "Do you know why King was there?"
She shrugged, and Frank's eyes grew flinty.
"He was tracking Danica. That's all he said. He didn't share any intel with me, and I didn't share any intel with him." She didn't tell Frank that he was keeping so much intel back from the rest of his team now that they had no intelligence to share. Estevez had been the one with the death wish, not Abby, and Frank's reactions this morning were sufficiently out of kilter to worry her.
"And you spent the night with King."
It wasn't a question, but that didn't mean she wasn't expected to answer it, even if she didn't like the insinuation. Especially when it was true.
"I spent the night lying low." Frank's eyes narrowed, like he suspected something from her answer, or maybe the tone she'd used, but she pushed on and persevered. "Danica Talos has a hell of a lot of resources and she threw them onto the streets, searching for us." Again she hesitated before grasping the thorn and adding, "Searching for King. I think she hates him almost as much as he hates her."
"I suppose he told you that."
She shook her head mutely, but managed to find her voice again in the face of Frank's refusal to see the obvious. "He didn't need to. I saw her reaction when she saw him, when she realised who almost put a bullet through her head to save me. She really fucking hates him, Frank. I don't think..."
Frank's expression was bleak, and it silenced her for a moment. But only a moment.
"Why didn't you tell me that Danica was looking for King? Sommerfield knew, but you didn't tell me." She tried not to whine like a child being kept in the dark while the adults talked, even if that was what it felt like. "It changes things."
Frank shifted, his eyes still dark and tired. "You seriously think so? Velasquez and Mick are still dead, Whistler. And even if you're right, even if King didn't sell us out, he's still the reason for that. And now it sounds like Danica Talos is going to take the fucking world apart to find him." He paused for a moment to let the full impact of his words sink into her. "This doesn't make him less dangerous, Whistler. Not even for you."
She'd have argued if she could, but there was no denying the truth in his words. Which left only one course of action.
"Why aren't we going after Talos?"
Frank straightened up, a dangerous light entering his eyes. "I told you. The Talos Clan is way out of our league."
"And they're getting bigger," she insisted. "If it's bad now, Frank, how much worse is it going to get? She's taking over, she has to be. Even if you don't believe King, you can't deny that. Unless we stop her now, she's going to end up another Deacon Frost. Power mad and trying to take over the whole damned world."
"Blade took Frost down. If Danica Talos wants to step into Frost's shoes, he'll do the same to her. We're not even close to being Blade."
She huffed out impatiently, not bothering to hide her reaction from Frank. "King's going after Danica on his own while we sit on our asses."
"Good."
She stared at Frank in disbelief, but his expression didn't change, staying grim.
"You ever see wolves hunt, Whistler?"
The question threw her, and she shook her head mutely.
"They don't attack head-on, not the smart ones. Oh yeah, sometimes there's one out in front, but while whatever they're hunting is busy with that one, the others come in from behind."
The penny finally dropped. "You're talking about making King bait," she said numbly, and Frank nodded, the move having an air of inevitability about it.
"At this point, I don't really care if he's guilty or not, Whistler. Even if you're right, it doesn't matter. Goat or Judas goat, either way he's going to keep Danica Talos occupied and out of our goddamned hair. I say we wait until she's busy with him and then hamstring the bitch."
"Judas goat?" she asked, focusing on the one thing she didn't understand because it was better than focusing on what she did.
Dex shuffled a little, when she looked over at him, still confused, he was watching Frank with a thoughtful expression on his face. He caught her looking and explained. "They used to train goats for use in slaughterhouses. The other animals see it trotting in, think it's safe to follow. So it literally leads the lambs to slaughter."
That wasn't a pleasant image, not least because of what it meant for King. She opened her mouth to protest, but there was no point, not with Frank looking at her like that. He wasn't going to change his mind.
He watched her for a long moment, obviously waiting for her objections. He was going to be disappointed. He had a point - she accepted that, and probably would have done so more easily if he'd been talking about anyone but King. King was out there, deliberately trying to piss Danica off as much and as frequently as possible, and from Frank's perspective it would be stupid not to exploit it.
From Abby's perspective, it meant that King had very little chance of making it through this alive. And even if it sounded as though Frank was finally considering making a move against the Talos Clan, she couldn't help but be afraid that it would be too little, too late.
But then, King was no more on his own now than he had been before, and at least this way she might get a chance to back him up, return the favour.
"Anything else?" Frank asked, obviously having decided that if she hadn't objected so far, she wasn't likely to object now.
For a second she hesitated, unwilling to open this particular can of worms while she was feeling so vulnerable about King. But there was no point in putting off the inevitable, and she pulled out the envelope that King had given her. It was crumpled now, crushed by her pocket, but she held it out towards Hedges anyway, waiting until he took it from her before she finally looked at Frank.
"What is it?" Frank asked, jerking his chin towards it.
"Two million."
Dex let out a low whistle and Hedges simply stared at her as though she'd grown another head. She didn't miss how Hedges' fingers tightened momentarily on the envelope, crumpling it further.
"King." That was all Frank said, but he still managed to make it sound like a curse.
"Okay, can I just check something?" Hedges asked, his hands fluttering nervously. "When you say two million, you mean two million dollars, right?"
She nodded and Hedges' jaw dropped. "Jesus," he said, and she understood the sentiment.
"Where the hell did King get two million dollars?" Dex asked, and Frank's expression was asking the same question.
"He stole it from Danica."
"Of course he did," Frank rumbled, his expression darkening. "And it's obviously not a trap Danica laid for him, one we're about to get caught up in."
"I have faith in Hedges. I'm pretty sure he can get the money out without it being traced." She knew nothing about hacking or online banking, but she could trust Hedges to do the necessary research. And two million dollars was a lot of incentive for him to figure it out.
Hedges had pulled the paper out and was reading it, his eyebrows drawn down in a frown and his lips moving as he puzzled out King's notes. And then he nodded, glancing over at Frank. "I'm not a hacker, but I know some guys... They should be able to do what we need, cover their tracks, mask their IPs. For a price, of course."
"For two million, I think we can be generous," Dex said dryly. "Jesus." He let out a ragged little laugh, but there was relief in it and Abby could understand why. Two million would fund their operation for a good long while.
Of all of them, only Frank wasn't convinced, but she could tell that he was weighing the risks against the potential payoff. The irony of having a vampire clan fund the very people who were going to take them out would also appeal to his dry sense of humour.
But he was wily, and he hadn't lived this long by being stupid and reckless. "Why give it to you?"
"Who the hell cares, man?" Dex interjected. "So he's got a crush on Whistler. You want to use him? Then why the hell shouldn't we use this, too?"
Frank ignored him, his eyes fixed on Abby.
"Because he doesn't think he's going to live long enough to spend it. And he wants Danica dead. I don't think he cares if he's the one to do it, but he wants to make sure that if she does him first, he's got a backup plan in place." She met Frank's eyes calmly. "You want to use him. Okay, fine. But you can hardly object if he wants to use us, too." And maybe there was still a small, hurt little voice whispering in her head, because she couldn't resist adding, "I thought that's what you wanted, Frank. King to take the lead, for him to be the... Judas goat."
Frank's face was expressionless; for once she couldn't tell what was going on in his head. It didn't matter. She knew what was going on in hers.
And she'd memorised King's e-mail address.
-o-
Part 11: dreamwidth :: livejournal :: insanejournal
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And okay, I still understand how Frank feels too much not to feel guilty, but I really did enjoy Abby needling him because, OW man, using King like that....
So, yeah, still completely fantastic this. I have all the feelings and no small amount of envy as this totally, totally, is now the Whistler/King fic as far as I'm concerned. Accept no substitutes.
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And Frank... yeah, he can be an ass, but he's feeling things spiralling out of control and even Abby, who he thought he could rely on in spite of everything, isn't acting the way he thinks she should (i.e. unquestioning).
(I am saving your feedback up like chocolate - can you tell? ::g::)