Put Not Your Trust In Princes

Put Not Your Trust in Princes
By Alexandra Huxley
Fifth in the "Spinning Wheels" Series

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

"O put not your trust in princes, nor in any child of man: for there is no help in them." -- Psalm 146:2.

"Morning, Mrs. Kaplan. And it's Riley. Please," Riley said as he opened the door and came into the office. They had had the same conversation every morning since Riley's first day.

She smiled her sweet smile and turned back to the computer, bringing her face to within an inch of the screen. Her graying hair was up in a tight bun, held in place by two pencils and a letter opener. "Yes, sir, whatever you say."

He passed through the inner office and into the maze of hallways, nodding at the guards stationed at each checkpoint, finally coming to the Command Center, where his eyes were drawn to the huge monitor on the opposite wall. It was showing a map of California with three areas flashing red. "Report," Riley said.

"They appeared about twenty minutes ago. Same locations – Darwin, Tecopa, and Death Valley."

"Not that the satellites have picked up. Temperature readings triggered the sensors."

Riley nodded. This was the sixth time in the last three days that this had happened and apparently, it had been happening off and on for six months. Command said they were keeping an eye on the hot spots and to just ignore them, but Riley was bored. And it had been eight months since he had gone this long without a kill. He was aching for something to happen. "Any teams in the area?" he asked.

"O.k. Send Camby's team in for a closer look. This time I want them down on the ground. Soil samples, water samples, anything they can get." At this point, even soil samples were sounding good.

"But, sir, it's just a..." The soldier stopped short when he saw the withering glance Riley gave him. "Yes, sir."

Riley kept his smile to himself as he walked into his office. If Command hadn't wanted him to make use of the resources at his disposal, then they shouldn't have given them to him. Besides, these boys needed some fire under them. They were too complacent. They didn't seem to have any understanding of what they were actually dealing with.

The government had scaled back the UC - Sunnydale operation so much that these guys didn't even patrol. Their sole purpose was to monitor the region for questionable activity and send in men they knew only by their last names and call signs. Most of the teams were based in Nevada with reinforcements available from Montana and New Mexico when necessary. Or at least as far as Riley could tell – there were still areas he hadn't been cleared for.

He sat down as Paxton came in the office. "You ever seen a vampire, private?" Riley asked.

Unbelievable. No wonder nothing interesting ever happened here. "I think we're gonna start taking field trips," he muttered. He looked at the stack of papers in Paxton's hand. "I'm guessing those are for me," he said, resigned to another day of paper pushing.

Riley took them from Paxton and leafed through them, stopping at one. "Do I really have authorization to spend that much?"

"Communications. Surveillance," Paxton said, shrugging. "The shipment came in a few weeks ago."

"We communicate with that many people? And they say the government wastes money." He had made it his personal mission to get Paxton to crack a smile. Hadn't managed yet.

"Yes, sir. Only two distributors work at that level. They don't usually have much incentive to come down in price. But sometimes they send extras. There's another local buyer. If he's buying something new, we get it, too."

Riley looked at the itemization on the invoice. "Who in this area uses this kind of stuff?"

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Riley asked. "Show me the way." Finally, he thought. Toys.

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

Buffy walked home slowly. So apparently trying to kill your friends is not as bad as sleeping with the enemy. Well, not really the enemy. Sometimes.

Xander had never looked at her like that before. Not even with Angel. He had never really liked Angel, or ever been easy with him, but she had never seen that look. Full of loathing and disgust and cold, hard disappointment.

Or maybe she was reading too much into it. Maybe she was just seeing in his eyes what she felt herself. Or what she should be feeling. Or how she felt about the fact that she didn't always feel that way.

Then again, the whole thing was complicated. Like the fact that she had slept with Spike. And that Spike had slept with Anya. And that she and Xander and Willow and Dawn had actually watched Spike and Anya having sex on the table at the Magic Box.

And part of this was Riley's fault. Not the fact that she had slept with Spike, of course; although if Riley had never left, she would probably have never slept with Spike. Never. Probably. But that was a whole other thing entirely.

No, the part that was Riley's fault was that he had been so understanding. Or at least not disgusted. And there seemed to be no loathing. Not even disappointment. Just the opposite, in fact. Making her actually feel like she hadn't completely failed at every aspect of her life. That there may actually be some semblance of the old Buffy in there.

And she had wondered if he had only been saying that, knowing that he was about to take off to parts unknown and would never see her again. But now that he had seen her again – and again and again over this past week – there was no way he could be hiding that. He hated Spike, and she had no doubt that seeing her with Spike affected him more than he let on, but he hadn't been disgusted. Or disappointed. Or loathing. Angry and sad and regretful, maybe, but not disgusted or disappointed or loathing.

Dawn, too. Sitting there talking to Dawn, Buffy had been struck that Dawn actually seemed to be handling this in an incredibly mature way. Maybe even more maturely than Buffy herself. Where had that Dawn come from?

Then again, Dawn had a crush on Spike – always had. That bad boy thing certainly ran in the family. Dawn seemed to be loving having Riley back around – and she was most definitely loving driving around in his car whenever he conceded to give her another driving lesson – but when it came down to it, she would probably choose Spike hands down.

But Dawn didn't understand. Dawn was much too young to truly comprehend who Spike was. Deadly, amoral, and opportunistic. Or had she forgotten.

And as long as blame was being cast, might as well throw Tara into the mix. Tara who had been incredibly sweet and understanding and supportive. And diplomatic. Which she may not have been if she had known that Spike had tried to kill Willow not so long ago. Or had she forgotten.

So seeing Xander's look had been a surprise. An ice-cold-knife-slicing-into-her-gut -and-zig-zagging-around-until-there-was-nothing-left-but-shreds surprise. But it shouldn't have been. And in a very short time she would have to see him again. And Willow. And somehow explain to them how this had all come about.

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

Riley knocked on the door. He took a step back and looked in the window. The lights were all on; Willow's computer was sitting on the table. He knocked again. No answer.

It didn't feel right to just walk in. He had been here almost every night for the past week and Buffy was expecting him, but it still didn't seem right. He rang the doorbell.

Maybe they're out back, he thought. Xander had mentioned barbecue. They could still be out there, even though it was hours past dinner. He knew he was late, but millions of dollars worth of hi tech equipment had been quite a diversion, especially after two weeks of signing forms.

And he probably shouldn't have stopped home first, but it was the only way he could be sure of not giving in to the temptation. That first night in her bed had been random – it was unlikely she'd be tagged by the same demon again.

The next night, however, had not been such a fluke. No, it was just a regular eating dinner, washing dishes and watching-old-movies-until-late kind of night. They had fallen asleep on the couch and he had woken up with her in his arms for the second morning in a row. And that was just too damn hard. Every night since then, he had made a point to leave his bag at home and be sure that there was at least one thing that needed to be done for the next morning.

Riley had just turned to head around back when the door opened. "Willow," he said. "Hi. Did I wake you up? You're all… ruffled."

"She said something about…" His voice trailed off as he saw Tara appear at the top of the stairs, her appearance equally rumpled. "Hey, Tara." He looked back at Willow, whose blush was quickly spreading. "Um, oh, sorry. I can come back later," he said, smiling and backing up. "Or better yet, have her give me a call when she gets back."

Willow nodded. She had a huge grin on her face. "I'll tell her you were here," she said, starting to close the door but stopping when she saw movement behind him.

He turned to see Buffy walking up the front walk, the picture of dejection. Willow brushed by him.

Willow shook her head. "Buffy, what happened?" She glanced at Riley before asking, "Is Spike o.k.?"

"Oh, Spike's just fine," Buffy replied, her voice ice cold. "Just fine," she said again, walking past them, barely seeing them.

She couldn't look him in the eye. "Riley, maybe it's better if you go. I'm not sure if-"

Her eyes flew up to his, searching for the Riley she knew. Not the hard, cold man that was suddenly standing in front of her, gripping her arm. "She… We… We saw Anya and Spike. At the magic shop. There were cameras…"

"Anya's back?" he said, letting go of Willow. "With Spike? Together? Xander went after them? Alone? Is he crazy?"

"He wasn't exactly thinking straight. After seeing them…" Willow shook her head slowly. She pulled Riley back as he started to go inside. "Riley, I really need to talk to Buffy. Please."

He looked back at her and after a moment's hesitation nodded, watching as she walked into the house. He turned to Tara and said, "Why doesn't anyone seem to be concerned about Spike and Anya conspiring together?"

Tara shook her head. "Not conspiring together, just…together," she said, eyes down.

"Together as in… Oh," he said, finally understanding. All too well. Shit. Xander. He started to go down the stairs, turning back to Tara. "Tell Buffy…" Right. Tell her what? Like she's really going to stay here if she doesn't want to. "I don't know. Just tell her to be careful."

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

"I guess. Is Riley still here?" Willow asked. "Maybe he could get more out of her."

Willow nodded. "She was so happy this week. She hasn't been that way for so long, for such a long time…" She sighed and leaned back into Tara's embrace. "Could we stay here for just a little longer?"

"Sure," Tara said, tightening her arms around Willow and whispering, "We can stay here forever."

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

Xander looked up as he heard the car stop and the door slam. "Don't suppose you brought any tequila?"

"Thought I'd find you first." Riley sat down on the bench next to Xander, leaning back against the seat, his hands in his pockets and legs stretched out. "Come here often?" he asked, gazing at the burned out building across the street.

Xander didn't respond to Riley's attempt at levity. He was leaning forward, staring at the high school, hands clasped and forearms resting on his knees. "God help me for saying this, but those were good times. It was all so easy, you know? Good was good and evil was evil. Well, most of the time anyway," he said. "With Buffy it's never exactly easy."

"Ain't that the truth," Riley muttered. A minute later he said, "Leaving town is always an option. I can have a chopper here in thirty minutes."

Xander turned to Riley. "She slept with Spike, Riley. She *slept* with *Spike.*"

Riley took his hands out of his pockets and sat up straight. "It doesn't mean anything, Xander. She doesn't love him."

"I *watched* them. It was just there, right in front of me, and I… I saw them." He looked down again. "I love her so much, but that's all I can see. Over and over in my head."

Been there, Riley thought. Try every night for four plus months with a few bonus showings this past week.

"And *Buffy*," Xander continued, shaking his head. "How could she…? I mean Anya, I can almost even understand why Anya did it, but Buffy…"

Xander turned back to Riley. "Buffy slept with Spike. Buffy. The Slayer who doesn't seem to remember that she's supposed to be *slaying* not laying." His eyes followed as Riley stood up slowly and walked to the car, leaning against it and staring at the building. Xander hadn't actually meant for that to slip, but now that it was out there it seemed Riley should be taking it quite so well. "Are you getting this? Reactions? Discuss? *Any* response from the Slayer's ex?"

"This isn't about Buffy," Riley said, not wanting to talk about it. "This is about-"

"No, Riley. This *is* about Buffy." Xander said standing up, more agitated. "Doesn't it piss you off? Don't you think there's something wrong with this picture?" He looked closely at Riley, his anger growing. "Or maybe you're just feeling guilty because if it weren't for that chip in his head, Buffy would have killed him a long time ago and none of this would have happened." Xander was coming at Riley, eyes blazing and fists at the ready.

Riley pushed off the car. He understood Xander's rage. He hadn't let his own feelings show when he saw Buffy with Spike, but he definitely understood it, and he wanted to be ready if the punches started coming.

"You know the chip I'm talking about, right?" Xander asked. "The one that you and your soldier friends put in his head? Can I just be the first to say thank you? Because I'm oh so glad that he can't bite any more and that he's had all this time to just sit around and screw Buffy and hey – yeah – why not Anya too?"

"You through there?" Riley said through his clenched jaw. "Wouldn't want you to start saying things you don't mean."

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I say 'screw Buffy'? I *meant* to say that Buffy was screwing Spike. Is that better?" Xander asked, totally in Riley's face now, aching to unleash his fury on someone, anyone who would fight back.

Riley pushed past Xander and walked a few paces away. Trying to get his own anger under control. Beating down the bile in his throat as he pictured her lying there with Spike. Knowing that if he had done his job the night Hostile 17 escaped, things would have turned out a hell of a lot differently.

Riley whirled around at Xander. "Why are you so mad at her? How exactly does this affect your life?"

"She's been a part of my life for a long time," Xander said with a hard look in his eyes. "A lot longer than you've been around. And I actually stuck around, so, yeah, I think I have a right to be *affected* by this." There was no response from Riley. "How can you defend her? Doesn't it make you sick? That she let him touch her?"

"Both. Neither. I don't know," Xander said, still furious, but backing down a little.

"She's human, Xander. They both are. Now at least. Or I guess I hope they both still are." Riley shook his head. So not the point. "People make mistakes."

"Yeah. Exactly," Riley said, seething. "And so should you, if memory serves. No one's innocent here."

"She holds herself to high enough standards. She doesn't need that from us, too," Riley said, looking down.

"Yeah," Riley said. "I know. God, do I know." He sat back against the bench. "Look. It's like you said – it's the brass ring. Anya's back. Willow seems happy. Dawn has actually been giddy lately, and nobody died. Not a bad day for Sunnydale standards."

"Maybe not, but it doesn't have to be that hard, either. Besides, this way Spike wins. And I can't tell you how much *that* would piss me off." Riley stood. "You want to grab a beer somewhere?"

"Yeah. O.k. Just… You know. Don't disappear or anything." Riley opened the car door.

Riley shrugged. "Willow was going to talk to her; she kind of sent me away. Besides, I thought you might get some crazy idea in your head. Like trying to kill Spike or something equally dumb."

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

He approached slowly. She looked so small sitting in that chair, surrounded by darkness. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms around them; chin on her knees and her eyes closed.

Her voice startled him. "And I was worried about scaring you," Riley said, walking towards her.

He laughed self-consciously. "O-kay. Didn't realize I smelled at all, but I guess I'm glad it's nice."

"But when I try to see you, I can't," she continued, eyes still closed. "Sometimes you're there and then you disappear. Sometimes I just see the space where you were. I reach out to touch you, but you just slip away. Up into the sky without ever looking down."

Riley sat down on the chair next to her. He leaned forward, looking down at the ground, not sure how to respond.

O.k. then, Riley thought. No response required. "He's spun. He needs time." Riley looked up to see her staring at him. "What?"

This was a very weird conversation, Riley thought. He kind of wanted to go back to the first part, because they really needed to talk about what had happened between them. They had been on the verge several times over the last week, but never quite got to it. But when it came down to it, he couldn't do it. And there was always avoidance. "So what exactly happened today?"

"They?" he asked, relieved that she was coming out of that odd, rambling mood. Talking about concrete, non-personal things was so much easier.

"The nerds. You know – Jonathan, Warren, and, um, that other guy. I never remember his name."

"No. I think I would have remembered hearing about an evil band of nerds. Wow," he said, sitting back and trying to picture it. "This town's really gone downhill since I left."

"Jonathan? Really?" Riley asked, still trying to comprehend the new resident menace.

"I know," she replied. "Weird. Kind of hard to get all worked up over, but they're really getting annoying."

"Wait," Riley said, sitting up straight. "What kind of cameras are we talking about? Like 'say cheese' cameras?"

"No, like security cameras," she said, more alert as she noticed his shift into soldier mode. "We found one in the front yard this afternoon. Willow tried to trace where it came from and, well, then we saw the magic shop and An-"

"Very funny," he muttered as he held the door open for her and followed her in through the kitchen.

Entering the dining room, she gestured at the table. Willow had shut down the computer and straightened everything up, but the camera and wires were still sitting there.

Riley picked it up and examined it. It was identical to the cameras he had spent most of the day playing with. "Another local buyer," he muttered, pulling his keys out of his pocket and using one to snap open the casing. Serial number looked similar, but he'd have to compare it to the invoice to be sure. "Willow didn't finish the trace?"

"Can I take this?" he asked, putting it back together. The distributor would know who the other buyer was. With a little persuasion, he might even tell them.

"Take it where? I want to go, too," she said, perking up. "Are we gonna be action guys?"

"No, *I'm* going to be action guy; you're going to wait here until I call you," he said, heading to the door.

Wrong answer, she thought, following him. "You can't protect me, Riley. This is my fight."

Riley let out a harsh laugh, pausing at the front door. "Oh, trust me, I learned my lesson. I'm not trying to protect you. I'd just rather not go through a second court martial for treason if you don't mind."

"Right. Whatever," he said, opening the door and watching as she walked past him.

"I'm so totally coming with you. You can't stop me," she said, heading to the car.

He glared at her. "Could you at least pretend I have a choice?" he asked, watching her climb in and put her seat belt on.

She turned to him with a bright smile. "Where to? Secret Army base? Underground tunnels? Do I get to ride in the helicopter this time?"

He just turned to her before looking back at the road. "I just want it on record that this was your choice."

He didn't answer until they pulled up in front of the hotel ten minutes later. "Home sweet home."

She got out of the car and stood there for a few seconds. "Do you really think this is the time…?"

He just smiled at her and walked toward the building, not waiting for her. She had to run to catch up. "This is where you're staying?" she asked.

"A hotel? I thought…" She glanced in the bar as they walked past. "I just assumed you were back on campus. This seems so…temporary."

"Well, yeah, that's kind of the point," he answered punching the button for the elevator.

He was surprised at how tightly she was clutching him. "I actually meant while I find a place to stay, but yeah, eventually."

"Eventually?" she asked weakly, letting go of him. It had only been two weeks – one week, really, since they had been seeing him regularly, but she was just getting used to having him around again. It hadn't occurred to her that he might actually leave. "How eventually?"

He shrugged, trying not to read anything into her questions. Especially not any subtext that seemed to indicate she might actually want him to stay on a more permanent basis. Not that it was really his choice – they could pull him out whenever they wanted. "I'm trying to readjust to actually being in the same place for two whole weeks in a row. Hadn't really thought much beyond that."

"You didn't ask?" she said, hitting his arm. "You didn't think maybe this time you could give a little more notice when you decided to up and leave?" She was surprised when those words slipped out of her mouth. She shouldn't have been – they had almost had this conversation four times during the past week, but still, she hadn't quite intended this to be the way it finally came up.

"Ow," he said, rubbing where she had just hit him. "It wasn't exactly planned," he snapped, turning to her. "And it wasn't like there were a lot of other options."

O.k. That pissed her off. "If I had had a little time between when you said you were leaving and when you actually left, then maybe there would have *been* more options." She lowered her voice to a whisper when she realized that people were staring at them. An angry whisper. "Oh, wait, no. There was a little time. There was a whole eighteen hours where I got to deal with the fact that my *boyfriend* was paying *vampires* to suck him dry. At the very least. I decided to ignore the fact that he was half naked while they were doing it."

She looked up suddenly as the closing elevator doors interrupted her. Neither of them had noticed that the elevator had come while she was talking. She jabbed the button again, trying to stop the tears that threatened to spill at any moment.

He had practiced this conversation for over a year and he still had no idea of what to say. "There wasn't anything else," he mumbled. There, he thought. He at least had an answer to part of it.

"Oh, good," she said. "That makes me feel so much more adequate. Glad to know that I could at least manage that for you."

"Buffy," he said, wanting so badly to just reach out for her and pull her into his arms. To shield her from anyone who would do something like that to her. Who would betray her at such a horrible time in her life. Pick that exact moment to completely lose his shit.

"Well, what *was* it like exactly? What*ever* could have made you do that?" She was hugging herself tightly and fighting not to cry, her eyes pleading with him to give her some kind of explanation that would make sense.

He couldn't look at her. It was hard enough to admit to himself much less speak it out loud. But he owed her that. He owed her so much more, but he at least owed her that. "I was dying, Buffy. I was so empty inside. Forrest. Walsh. It was … Everything. You were all I had left. And it wasn't enough. *I* wasn't enough. You were slipping away."

"I wasn't-" She stopped. He wasn't totally wrong. He may not have understood, but he wasn't wrong. "I *trusted* you, Riley. You were supposed to be the one I came home to. The one that wasn't going to walk away. You told me that. *You* made that promise," she said, tears spilling over. "I trusted you."

"And you just left," she said, as if he hadn't spoken. "You *know* what Angel did to me – how he hurt me – but you just left."

"No, Buffy," he said, angry again, "I don't know what Angel did to you. Because you never told me. Because you never…"

He stopped and took a step away from her, turning back as he spoke, much more quietly. "Sorry. I promised myself I wouldn't go there. I just…" He put his hands in his pockets as he looked down at the ground. "They made me feel alive. For a little while at least. And I hated it. I hated so much that they could make me feel like that. But I couldn't stop. I wanted to so badly, but I…I couldn't stop."

She wanted to hate him. She had wanted to hate him since the day he left town. It would be so much easier to just make it all his fault. But his words stopped her cold. She could have spoken them herself.

Emptiness and pain. A desperate cry for help that she hadn't recognized when he stood in front of her, pleading for her to understand. And maybe there was no way she could have recognized it – she had had no way of comprehending how much it hurt to lose so much; or of seeing how decisions that were so, so wrong might actually have seemed to make sense at the time. Well, if she couldn't recognize it then, she certainly did now.

But still, how could she not have known? How could she not have seen that hollow look in his eyes – the one she saw in the mirror whenever she dared to look? How could she have let him get so far away? No wonder he had left her.

"Well maybe you'd better," she said as the elevator doors opened and she walked in. "Because I can't do that again."

"I haven't totally forgiven you, you know," she said, looking ahead. "I reserve the right to have random outbursts of tears and anger and maybe even throw things at you."

The elevator stopped and they stepped out, heading down the hall. "But I want you here with me," she said. "I clearly didn't say that enough before so I'm saying it now. I like my life with you in it."

They had reached his room and he unlocked the door, pushing it open for her. "Buffy," he said, reaching out for her as she walked past.

"I would give anything to make it up to you," he said, his hand on her shoulder. "Anything."

"Don't say things like that, Riley," she said, her eyes brimming with tears. She put her finger to his mouth and said, "Hellmouth – remember?"

He closed his eyes as she traced his lips, her touch searing his skin. Her hand brushed across his cheek, following the scar up past his eye, and the whole world stopped. The only thing that existed was her touch and the embers that it stoked in his heart.

He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to him, a year's worth of longing spilling out in his kiss. She responded eagerly, pressing against him, savoring the taste of him and hungrily taking him in. She put his arms around his neck and he lifted her, kicking the door shut behind them as he carried her to the bed.

His words were cut off by her kiss as she pulled him down on top of her, tugging at his sweater and pushing it off over his head. "So warm," she murmured, planting kisses on his neck and chest, stopping only when he stripped her of her shirt. "I forgot how warm you were."

He wrapped his arms around her. "I forgot how small you were," he said, kissing behind her ear, moving slowly down her throat. He hesitated for a second when he came to her scar, and then kissed it. Gently at first, then harder as her hands tightened in his hair, his teeth and tongue grazing, hands exploring her body, not relenting until her hips came up to meet his and she cried out.

He looked up with a wicked smile. "Fry cooks – what can I say?" he murmured before heading back down to the scar, his mouth staying there as he unbuttoned her jeans and slipped his hand past her waistband.

Oh, no, she thought. You're not the only one who's learned a few new tricks. She grinned as she flipped him onto his back, slowly running her finger down the center of his chest and following with her mouth. Riley, honey, I'm gonna make you scream.

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

"So was there an actual reason you brought me here or was it all just some pretense to get me into your bed?" Buffy asked.

She watched as he walked over to the desk. Riley pulled some papers out of the bag resting on the floor and paged through them until he found the right one. "Bingo," he said, holding it up as he turned to her, only to be hit in the face with his jeans.

"Put some clothes on," she said, sitting there with the sheets drawn up to her chest. "It's distracting."

He found the camera that they had brought from the house and compared it to the invoice. Same model, same make. Serial number showed it even came from the same lot. He pulled out his cell phone and began issuing orders. "Invoice 8062. I need to get in touch with the distributor. Yes," he said with annoyance, "I know it's late. I don't really care. If you can't do it, get Paxton in. He'll take care of it." He was silent as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line. "No, it can't wait until the morning. Do it now." He snapped the phone shut.

"It probably could have waited until morning," she said, smiling, as he came back to the bed.

"Yeah, I know. He just pissed me off. Doesn't know how to take orders. None of them do."

"So, we have some time before they call back?" She grabbed his waistband and pulled him to her.

"You mean before you can go kick ass?" he asked, lifting his hips as she pushed his jeans down. "Yeah, we have a little time."

She ran her knee up his leg. "And you're actually going to tell me the address? It's not all classified or anything?"

He rolled over and pulled her on top of him. "Well, it may not be quite that easy. You might have to beat it out of me." He cupped the back of her neck and drew her down for a kiss. "Or something."