Partners

Partners

“So, do you come here often?” Portia asked as she tried to ignore Lonnie chomping his gum.

“Oh, sure. All the time,” Lonnie shouted over the loud techno music, running a heavily ringed hand over his greasy hair.

“I can see why,” Portia lied back, inconspicuously trying to plug her nose so as to protect it from the stench of cheap cologne covering B.O.

Portia buried her face in the menu, trying to charm him with her eyes. She knew the information he had was more important then her life, but she still felt compelled to remind herself. If she was lucky, he would keep drinking, giving her enough time on a bathroom excursion to slip the mixture into his drink before the appetizers showed up.

“So, what do you suggest I try?” Portia batted her lashed innocently while adjusting her shirt to give him a promising flash of cleavage.

She smiled as she caught his gaze flicker downward, certain her trick had worked. She leaned in closer.

“Well, your rack – I mean, the lamb rack is great here but – ”

“Eh-hem.”

Portia jumped in her chair. She hadn’t seen the stranger enter. A sign, which did not bode well, given her years of training.

The stranger silently passed Lonnie a note and left.

“What’s it say?” Portia inquired as she watched Lonnie’s face redden.

“Filthy bastards!” Lonnie shouted as he stormed from the restaurant. “Hey! You! Come back here! What’s this mean they’re onto me?”

Portia started after Lonnie in attempt to distract him, but the deep voice that buzzed into her earpiece stopped her.

“Get out of there now.”

Discreetly twisting her head, Portia spoke into the microphone that had been attached to her earlier that evening.

“With all due respect, sir, I think I can still salvage this operation – ”

Portia winced as the voice of her superior intensified.

“I ordered you to retreat, Agent Spencer. Now.”

Portia quickly put on her raincoat as she withdrew her gun from its holder. She was careful to slip out the back, checking her surroundings in case the note-delivering man had any friends.

“Where do you want me to go?” Portia asked.

“Copy that, Agent Spencer. Report to Agent Hart’s vehicle behind the surveillance van.”

Portia tried to keep her calm as she crossed through the waterfall of rain to the black sedan, but she couldn’t help slamming the car door shut as she got in. Portia replaced her gun in its holster before dropping her head in her hands.

“Sorry, Hart,” she muttered when she finally looked up.

Her partner’s caring eyes found hers.

“Don’t worry about it, Spencer. Chief Bradford already has someone tailing the guy who blew your cover. We all know you tried your best.”

“But we should have had him! That was the best lead we’ve had in months, Hart. You know as well as I do that Greasy Lonnie is The Horseman’s dirty man. We just needed me to retrieve the key off him and we would have been able to trace The Horseman’s storage facilities. I mean, who knows how many other heads he has locked away? We’ve only reclaimed those few by chance. Those units could lead us to other murder victims!”

Grant Hart nodded.

“I know, Spencer. But it wasn’t worth risking your life. You know that the second The Horseman thinks the FBI is onto him he will move if not destroy any potential evidence. It’s better to wait and see if Lonnie figures out you’re the plant before we risk putting you in danger. That way we’ll know how to play him better.”

Portia sighed.

“Yeah, I guess. I’m just not happy about having to wait through more paperwork. I much prefer being in the field.”

Grant chuckled.

“Don’t we all?”

Portia returned his smile, watching as his gaze flickered from her face to the leather she was soaking.

“Sorry about getting your seats wet,” she apologized.

Grant shrugged.

“Eh, it’s the FBI’s car anyway. I’ll just charge them for the cleaning.”

Portia laughed for a brief second before the outside chill finally crept through her coat to her skin.

“Jesus, sorry, Spencer. You must be freezing. Here.”

“Thanks,” Portia replied as Grant turned the heater up to max.

“So, how bad was that for you?”

“How bad was what?”

“Pretending to flirt with Greasy Lonnie.”

“Oh, disgusting as always. But, as I’ve told you several times, I’m always happy to use my feminine wiles to help in our investigations.”

Grant frowned.

“I know, I just… I don’t like seeing you exploit yourself that way.”

“I think that because I volunteered to be the bait, you can’t exactly call it ‘exploiting.’”

Grant shifted his stiff body away from Portia, placing both hands methodically on the wheel of the car.

“It’s just difficult for me to hear creeps like that making moves on my partner.”

Portia leaned over the console.

“It’s very sweet that you’re so concerned for me, but I promise, I would drop kick that sleaze-ball long before he ever laid a hand on me.”

“Unless you were ordered to go that far undercover.”

Portia narrowed her eyes, trying to recapture the focus of her partner’s gaze.

“And your point would be…?”

“Nothing,” Grant clipped. “No point at all.”

Portia’s steely stare fixed on Grant until he couldn’t ignore her any longer. Grant floundered for the right words in silence for several seconds, yet the crackling of the radio saved him from needing a reply.

“Come in Agents Spencer and Hart,” Chief Bradford’s voice barked through the speaker.

Grant’s hand shot to pick up the radio.

“Agent Hart speaking.”

“Agent Raleigh has tracked the unidentified accomplice to an abandoned warehouse by the old pier. I want all agents to retreat until we can find out more information about this place.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And, Agent Hart?”

“As riveting as your conversation with Agent Spencer is, you might want to tell her to turn her wire off.”

“Yes, sir,” Grant replied as two blood-flushed spots colored his pallor face.

Portia’s still-defrosting hands fumbled under her drenched garments for the cord that was so surreptitiously taped to her body. Portia let out a small cry when the electric box shocked her dampened fingers.

“Did that creep hurt you?” Grant demanded, stopping mid-engine ignition.

“No, it’s the wire,” Portia assured him. “It just shocked me. I’m fine, though. Really.”

Grant nodded and turned his attention back to starting the car, though the concerned crease in his brow remained. After a couple of rain-related sneezes, Portia began to ask Grant a question when she was cut off by his grab for the radio.

“This is Agent Hart. Permission to speak, Chief Bradford.”

Portia was glad to hear that the Chief of Criminal Investigation sounded just as surprised by Grant’s outburst as she was.

“What do you want, Agent Hart? You’ve already been given orders to return to the office.”

“I understand that, sir. However, I think if Agent Spencer catches pnemonia she wont be very valuable to this investigation.”

“So what are you suggesting?”

“Permission to return Agent Spencer to her home before I report back.”

Portia shot Grant a murderous glance before grabbing the radio from him.

“Allow me to retract that suggestion, Chief. Agent Hart should have thought to ask me before he went an-and – ”

Grant stole back the radio as another round of sneezes came over Portia.

“As I said, sir. Permission to take Agent Spencer home first.”

Portia glared at Grant in the few moments it took Chief Bradford to come to a decision.

“Permission granted, Agent Hart. But you had better return to the office immediately after.”

“Yes, sir.”

A timid smile tugged at Grant’s mouth as he replaced the radio back into its holder.

“Great,” Portia sighed, “that means I’m going to have to do all that paperwork over the weekend.”

“No you won’t. I’ll fill in what forms I can to lessen your load.”

Portia’s gaze softened at Grant’s offer.

“That’s really sweet of you, Grant, but I’ll get it done.”

“Yes. With my help.”

Portia rolled her eyes.

“You just don’t give up do you?”

“No. You see, if I gave up, I would have no excuse to visit you during the weekend.”

Portia smirked.

“Well, maybe if you just asked, I’d invite you over for dinner sometime.”

Grant’s head snapped in her direction.

“I – I didn’t mean to – that is I would never put you in a position that would compromise our working together in anyway.”

“Which is exactly why I am putting you in that position. Listen, Grant. We can keep subtly flirting or we can just take the next step.”

Grant nodded.

“Right then… well, here you are.”

Portia reluctantly glanced at her house through the curtain of rain.

“Um, yeah, thanks for the trip home.”

“No problem,” Grant smiled. “So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Absolutely.”

Portia smiled as she dashed through the downpour, glad that something good had come of her evening after all.