FIC: Still Life (In Plain Sight) rated R Part Two
again, see master post for details
DORADA HOUSE
THE NEXT MORNING
Mary stretched and yawned as she slumped down the narrow stairs to the first floor, checking her watch. The long hours she’d been keeping and the lack of night-time disturbances (fun or not) had combined to make her sleep later than usual.
So it wasn’t really surprising that she had to blink several times at the tall, lanky figure seated at one of the tables in the dining room.
“Good morning, Mary Sunshine!” Marshall told her cheerfully.
In response, Mary pinched his ear viciously.
“Owww! What was that for?”
“Wanted to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.”
“The normal procedure is to pinch yourself.”
“Why would I do that?” Mary frowned as she sat down beside him. She grinned, and leaned forward for a long kiss, as heated as Marshall was comfortable with in public. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
Marshall grinned, and did a quick scan of the dining room to make sure no one was in earshot. “I had a few days vacation time coming, so I thought we could have a long weekend together. Brandi and Jinx are fine taking care of Norah for that long, and once we figure out what happened to Jamie, either way he’s under the aegis of one of the Texas offices, and it’s out of our hands.”
Mary smiled and leaned forward for another kiss. “Did you tell the owner you’re staying with me, or do we have to go through some Victorian-era crap with you sneaking down the hall to my room in the night?”
* * *
NORTH JETTY
LATER THAT MORNING
Mary sucked hard on the straw in her Big Gulp, and Marshall smirked in response. They’d spent the last couple of hours wandering up and down the streets surrounding the jetty, trying to work out what Jamie might have seen that spooked him into running - or if, indeed, there had been something to see at all.
Mary felt a drop of cool condensation drip from her cup onto her upper chest, and grinned as she felt Marshal’s gaze follow it’s trail, as it inched down towards her cleavage. She made no move to wipe it away; it served Marshall right for talking her into wearing an actual dress. He’d picked it out, paid for it and told her that if she wore it today, they could work on page 83 tonight. (More than once, if she wanted.)
Mary hadn’t worn a sundress since her much-regretted trip to Cancun three years ago - although, to be fair, the vacation had been pretty good; it was taking Special Agent Festering along that ranked as the dumbest decision she’d made since getting engaged to someone she really only saw as a decent friend and very good lay. (Sleeping with her ex-husband didn’t out-rank her engagement only because she adored the child that resulted.) Mary did have to admit, at least she wasn’t embarrassed to wear this thing - the hem swirled just above her knees, the bodice closed with a row of buttons from the neckline to the waist, so she wouldn’t bust the zipper when she was in a hurry like she did most of her dresses (there was more than one reason she generally preferred jeans), and it was a fire-engine red that she felt suited her personality.
As the droplet made it’s way between her breasts, Mary gave a tiny shiver that made her boobs jiggle slightly in the low-cut bodice. Marshall coughed, and paged through the printed photos again. Mary smirked, and looped her arm through his. The happy but startled glace Marshall gave her made her briefly regret every time she’d thrown off some kind of physical affection from him in public, from an arm around her to hugs.
They crossed the road to the end of the North Jetty, and Mary gave another shiver from a sudden cool breeze that came off the ocean as they stepped onto the weather-beaten boards. Strolling slowly along, Marshall told her about how Mustang Island had been one of the primary hangouts for the pirate Jean LaFitte - in fact, their B&B was named after one of his ships.
“And of course he buried a chest of treasure around here?” Mary asked, as they passed several fishermen, standing in a line at the railing.
“Of course,” Marshall replied cheerfully. They stopped walking for a moment, as another fisherman hurriedly walked a few steps backward from the railing, laughing as he winched in his line. The marshals waited until he’d pulled up a glittering, red-scaled fish.
“Hmm. Nice redfish,” Marshall commented.
Mary rolled her eyes. Of course Marshall would be able to pick a breed of fish by sight. “They taste good, anyway - I had some last night.”
“Oh? Where? Maybe we can go by there for lunch?”
“Don’t know if we’ve got the budget,” Mary grimaced. “I was with the owners’ wife last night. Don’t know what the prices are for lunch, but if they’re like the dinner menu, we can’t eat there without giving Stan a conniption at our receipts.”
“We could check?” Once the fisherman had moved back to the railing where his basket waited, Marshall continued, “The treasure chest is supposedly marked by a Spanish silver dagger, laid on its side with silver spike driven through the hilt, securing the location.”
Mary sniggered, “Maybe that’s where Jamie went? Hunting for pirate treasure?”
Marshall looked around, realizing that they’d somehow hit a space with only one fisherman, wearing a blue shirt and seated at section of the jetty without a railing. “Who knows? From what you’ve told me, it doesn’t sound likely - why would he take most of his possessions with him?”
Mary slowed her stride as they walked under the arch, Marshall automatically matching her as she cast a casual glance over her shoulder at the grizzled fisherman they’d just passed. “Hey Doofus, wasn’t that man in one of Jamie’s photos?”
Marshall waited until they’d passed under the arch, and pulled out the manila folder from under his arm. Flicking through it, he stopped on one and nodded. “Yes, and he’s right in the same place as in the photo. You know, something’s bothering me about this...”
“Wonder if Jake Taggart can ID the guy?” Mary mused.
“Maybe one of the local fishing fraternity can do it for us now,” Marshall pointed out.
Not wanting to be overheard, they strolled to the very end of the jetty - it was lot less crowded on the other side of the arch, for some reason - and found several men wearing clothes too worn to be taken on vacation.
“Wait a minute,” Mary murmured. “I remember that guy from the photos, too. It’s just a background shot - him and another guy are on a bench outside the cafe at the end of the jetty - the one with the mermaid painted on the window. He’s a local, all right.”
“Excuse me, sir?”
The sixty-something man looked up, the light flashing off his glasses. “Yes, can I help you?”
“Hi,” Marshall gave his most disarming grin. “A friend of ours used to live here, and he recommended this place to us. That fisherman just down the jetty - with the blue shirt and a beard? I think our friend mentioned him, but we wanted to check he was the right man. What’s his name?”
Their new informant bent to the side to take a look past them. “Huh. Your friend didn’t owe him money, did they?”
“Um, no.”
The man - who had ‘Lou’ embroidered on his multi-pocketed vest - crouched down and started to pack up the toolbox that held his gear as he spoke. “Probably the only way you’ll get a civil answer out of Dominic Fischer these days. He’s been bitter as a lemon for the last couple of years, ever since his business went under. Can’t stand being poor, but he hasn’t made any attempts at starting up anything else, so his 401K must have been pretty decent.”
“Is that why he’s alone at the railing?” Mary asked. “We noticed coming up that the railing was fairly crowded, but there’s a pretty wide margin around him.
“Got it in one,” Lou nodded. “He’s such a darn grouch these days that everyone gives him a wide berth.” He picked up his toolbox, slung his fishing rod over one shoulder, and added, “If you want to try and chat up Dom, I wish you the best of luck. You’d better make it quick, though, a storm’s coming in. They usually pass over fairly quickly, but they come on real sudden.”
Mary looked up at the sky automatically, and noticed with a shock that the sky had turned from sunny blue to sullen grey in a matter of minutes. “Holy shit.”
Marshall looked from the sky to her, and frowned. “Maybe we should go find lunch now, somewhere nice and roofed?”
Mary nodded, and they turned around to walk back. As they were passing under the arch, they saw Dom Fischer looking up at the sky and his lips moved; they were too far away to hear what he said, but Mary would bet it was something she wouldn’t ever repeat around Norah. Turning, Fischer knocked over his basket, spilling several fish from it.
Fischer carefully picked up a broad silvery fish and placed it back into the basket, tossed several narrow fish with red scales along the back and body in as well, and slung the folding chair along his back. Picking up the basket with both hands, he stumbled down the pier.
“Somehow, I don’t think we’d better ask him about Jamie right now,” Marshall remarked. “I get the feeling he’s not in a very cooperative mood.”
Mary nodded, and they continued down the jetty, slowed down by the uneven planking. They were about a third of the way down when a large crack of thunder made them both jump, and the sky opened up above their heads, an avalanche of rain coming down. Mary ducked her head and resisted the urge to shriek at the sudden cold shower. Looking to the left and right, her eyes met Marshall’s in a silent agreement; the arch was closer.
They were both wet by the time they made it to the arch, and Mary grimaced as she wrung out her hair.
Marshall was looking at the manila folder in his hand, now distinctly pulpy. “Maybe we shouldn’t have left your messenger bag in the jeep, after all.”
“Great.” Mary squeezed some water out of her skirt, heedless of wrinkling the heavy cotton. “I love feeling like a drowned rat.”
Marshall looked up at the sound of her voice. He simply looked at her for a few seconds, and Mary demanded, “What?”
Marshall grinned, and there was an edge to it that made her blood heat up a little. “I was just thinking how sexy you looked.”
Mary’s eyes widened. Was this her prudish Doofus? The guy who’d all but blushed when he’d seen her in the trashy-slut getup she’d worn for Trisha’s bachelorette party? She couldn’t help but notice that Marshall’s t-shirt was clinging to him, showing off the muscled torso she’d bet money was better than Taggart’s. Even as she noticed this, Marshall grinned wickedly, and peeled it off, exaggeratedly wringing it out and laying it flat on the bench.
Mary looked over her shoulder, and realized that because of the pouring rain, she couldn’t see more than a few feet past the arch, never mind the end of the jetty.
She looked back at Marshall and grinned back. “Sit. Stay.”
Marshall obeyed, still grinning, and Mary eagerly moved to stand between his legs. Bending her head, she kissed with all the passion of a deeply in love woman who’d only gotten laid once in the past week. Marshall growled deep in his throat in response, his hands clenching on her hips, and Mary shivered for reasons that had nothing to do with cold.
Everyone had a more primal, darker, self that was usually kept hidden and even denied. Marshall’s tended to surface around her; when she was being threatened in some way... and more recently when his inner savage wanted to remind her who she belonged to. Mary tolerated Marshall’s possessive, primitive side mostly because it surfaced only for her - that, and it made her hotter than hell.
Even those who knew what a badass lawman he was, never dreamed that Marshall could be vicious and scheming, could taunt and torture in all the worst ways as well as the best. Mary was the only one who knew, and guarded that secret like the rare, precious treasure it was.
Sometimes she thought that she’d fallen in love with Marshall because he was the only one with not only the strength but the depths to stand by her, in her worst moments as well as her best. The only one who could keep up with her, the only one who accepted her as perfectly natural just the way she was. Other times she thought that he’d fallen in love with her because he felt that she was the only one who could truly match him, in his darkest side as well as his natural light. Where he sliced with a sword-edge, she ripped with claws; where he burned, she detonated. Where he cradled and nurtured, she shielded and defended.
Marshall’s tongue slid into her mouth, fighting her own for dominance as they kissed. Mary moaned and pressed closer to him, loving how the warmth of his body felt through the wet layers of cotton between her breasts and his chest. Marshall’s hands came off her hips, and tugged at the unwieldy layer of skirt that clung to her thighs from the rain, until he could slide his hands up her legs and peel her underwear - now soaked in more ways than one - down far enough that they plopped heavily to the wooden flooring. Mary ignored them, struggling to undo the buttons down the front of her dress without losing contact with Marshall’s body. As Marshall managed to get his belt and jeans open, Mary opened the front closure of her bra. Marshall immediately slid his hand into her dress to cup her breast, squeezing and rubbing perfectly, and Mary straddled his lap. Marshall slid his other arm around her waist to steady her, and Mary wrapped one arm around his neck, while the other reached down to find him hard and hot and oh-so-ready for her. Gripping his erection in her hand, she angled her hips to the right position and dropped down, taking him completely inside her in one movement.
Marshall cried out, his hand spasmodically clutching her breast, and Mary grinned. God, she loved having him like this, desperately wanting and blind and deaf to anything but her body and his desire for her. Watching that always-working brain shut down under the pressure of his lust for her, knowing that only she could do this to him, aroused her almost unbearably.
Mary clutched his shoulders, trying to anchor herself as her whole body burned and screamed with need. Marshall snarled and response, and bucked his hips hard to meet hers as she impaled herself on him again and again, their bodies plunging together as they desperately tried to meld into one flesh.
She’d had men who were better endowed (only one or two) and men with greater stamina (a different one or two), even with more varied technique (maybe). But no man had ever aroused her so quickly or as totally as Marshall. No one had ever come close to satisfying her so completely. She’d had men between her legs that made her scream in pleasure - but Marshall was the only one who’d ever made her forget her own name.
The thunder roared overhead, and the rain pounded down on the tin roof, drowning out Mary’s scream as she climaxed. The lightning flashed just near enough to illuminate Marshall’s face as he threw his head back and cried out Mary’s name.
As they clung to each other, still joined, they rocked back and forth slowly and gently, in rhythm to the easing tempest.
DORADA HOUSE
MID-AFTERNOON
Mary sat on the bed in her complimentary robe, towelling her hair dry, and smiling in appreciation at the view. Not outside her window, but of her partner, as he sat at the room’s desk in a pair of sweatpants and nothing else. Once the rain had eased off, they’d straightened their clothes and made a run for the car. A joint hot shower later, Mary was glowing for more reasons than just being warm and dry again.
Since he was on his own time, Marshall had brought his personal laptop along, and had taken Jamie’s thumb drives from the evidence bag Taggart had given her, and was paging through them again.
The light caught the edge of the laptop, and the silver flash made Mary frown.
“Hey, Marshall - remember when we were approaching Fischer right before the storm, when some fish spilled from his basket?”
Marshall twisted in his chair to face her, and nodded.
“There was some redfish - I recognised them from dinner last night - but one of them was all silver, and sort of oval instead of oblong. Did you recognise it?”
Marshall frowned in memory. “Um... kingfish, I think.”
Mary sat up straight. “You can’t catch those off the jetty, only from the deep sea boats. Check the fishing report online.”
Marshall nodded, and spent a few minutes typing. “Mary, you’re right. There’s no way he could have caught that kingfish off the jetty... and now I remember why I wanted to talk to that guy so bad...”
Bringing up the photo of Fischer, he fiddled with the mouse to highlight and enlarge where the line hit the water. “That’s what struck me as wrong with the picture! There are way too many bubbles! A normal fishing line makes barely any.”
Mary frowned, and walked across the room to lean over Marshall’s shoulder for a closer look. “What could cause that, do you think?”
“A scuba diver.”
“What?”
“I remember when I went scuba diving during spring break in college; even on a calm day, you couldn’t see a scuba diver coming up until they were only a few feet from the surface, but you could sometimes track the bubbles - if the diver was about eight feet down, they could hook the kingfish onto the line and the other fishers on the jetty wouldn’t see it-“
“Especially since Fischer’s so grumpy everyone gives him a wide berth,” Mary grinned. “What do you think’s in those things? Must be pretty valuable if they have to make sure that Fischer can distinguish them clearly from the stuff he actually catches.”
“You know we’re going to have to turn this over to Chief Taggart, right?”
“What? But this is our case,” Mary whined.
“Actually, it’s Corpus Christi’s jurisdiction, remember? We still don’t know where Jamie is - you do remember your former witness, right?”
Mary rolled her eyes, just as her phone rang. “What do you want to bet, that’s about Jamie?”
Marshall shook his head. “Way too much of a coincidence,” he scoffed.
Mary put the phone to her ear, and grinned. “Hi, Claire!”
Marshall raised his eyebrows enquiringly.
“What???”
Mary’s eyes narrowed and flashed, her lips went thin, her face went white with fury, and Marshall bit his lip against the sudden wave of lust (because Mary was incredibly sexy and gorgeous when she was angry) and sighed with relief at the same time (because he couldn’t be the one she was angry at, for once).
“And the stupid fucker didn’t bother to tell anyone?”
Marshall watched in fascination as Mary paced and said some very uncomplimentary things down the phone, including warning ‘Claire’ that Stan would be calling them soon - and he would Not Be Happy. Marshall’s eyebrows headed toward the ceiling at this; Mary had only used that phrase to describe Stan’s mood once. Marshall, on the other hand, had described him during that same incident as turning into one of the Aztec Gods (the kind that demanded still-beating human hearts as sacrifices) only slightly less cuddly.
Mary said goodbye rather more politely than Marshall expected, considering her mood through most of the conversation, and flopped back onto the bed.
“So...?”
Mary let out an “Aaarggghhh!” and added, “Well, at least we know now what happened to Jamie. Marshal Ludlum from the Corpus Christi office - who will soon be transferred to Bumfuck, Kansas, or maybe even Alaska, if I have any say in it - got the news all right, and transferred Jamie temporarily for safekeeping. But apparently the stupid bastard was so eager to get off to his vacation the next day that not only did he not do the paperwork, he forgot to tell anyone!”
“What?” Marshall exclaimed.
“The only reason we know now is that Claire talked to the Chief Inspector, who was appropriately worried about potentially losing a witness, and tracked down Ludlum and had him paged at the resort to ask him personally.”
“Well, on the bright side, once we had over these thumb drives to Taggart we can enjoy our weekend?” Marshall offered.
Mary sat up and glared at him. Then took another, considering look at his bare chest, and nodded.
“The business card should be in my messenger bag.”
EPILOGUE
PORT ARANSAS
SEVEN MONTHS LATER
Mary tried to settle into a more comfortable position on the sand, and groaned instead. She gently rubbed the mound of her swollen stomach, trying to lull the baby into doing something other than roundhouse kicks. While she was glad to know the little one was going to be as badass as it’s parents, her kidneys didn’t appreciate it.
This was most definitely the last time she did this - it was not her imagination, she was bigger than she was with Norah, and given how long it took her to get back into shape and get back to work before...
Marshall was already teasing her that they should call the baby Miranda, after Shakespeare’s ‘The Tempest’ - because from the moment Mary had found out she was pregnant, they’d both been certain the baby had been conceived here in Port Aransas, when they’d fucked on the Jetty during the storm. If he suggested the name Caliban or Prospero for a boy, she was going to seriously consider shooting him.
Oh, hell - there had to be at least a couple of normal names in the play. She could give him that much, at least, considering he was being so patient about the wedding thing. She’d just accepted his ring when the test came up positive, and Marshall had immediately suggested heading to Vegas that weekend. Mary refused to rush the only wedding she was ever going to have, or in any way implying she was ashamed of conceiving out of wedlock (again). She wasn’t walking down the aisle until she was in good enough shape to look hot in the wedding photos.
Maybe being here for these two weeks would take the edge off, considering that their second to last day in town would also be Jake and Violet’s wedding day.
Jake Taggart was everlastingly grateful to them for bringing the evidence against Dom Fischer to him, when as US Marshals they could have arrested him themselves. It was just as well for their WITSEC careers that they’d hadn’t... of all things, Fischer had been smuggling uncut diamonds for the fucking Mafia! Ever since diamonds had started being tracked as potential terror funding, diamonds without serial numbers had become more valuable to the criminal underworld than ever before. Fischer had been making money hand over fist until Taggart arrested him with the diamond-stuffed fish in his basket. The arrest had made Taggart’s career.
Even after she and Marshall headed home to Albuquerque, Violet and Mary had kept in touch via phone and email. For some reason, Violet granted Mary the credit for giving her the push to leave her husband a few weeks after they met. McCullough had granted her a no-contest divorce in exchange for Violet foregoing alimony, and Jake had made his move as soon as he was sure Violet’s marriage was over for good. Violet’s divorce had become final less than a month before the date set for her second wedding.
The sun dimmed, and Mary looked up to find Marshall standing over her, Norah in his arms.
“Have fun building sand-castles?”
“Lots of fun!” her fiancée grinned. Settling onto the beach blanket beside her, he gave her a quick kiss, and laid a gentle hand on her stomach. “It’ll be even better this time next year.” Marshall looked back at Norah, “You’ll have a brother or sister to play with!”
Norah laughed and smiled, while Mary watched thoughtfully.
She was starting to wonder... at the ultrasound that they’d chosen to find out the gender of the baby, they’d been told it was a girl. For some reason, Marshall had been ecstatic to find out he’d be living with no less than three Shannon women - she’d sort of been hoping for a boy, so Marshall would have some backup in the testosterone division. But at the next ultrasound, the tech had casually mentioned the baby was a boy.
Last night, she’d dreamed of a double crib, with two babies in it - one of each.
As Marshall made a face to get Norah to giggle, Mary rolled her eyes and sighed to herself.
That would be just typical of her Doofus; he didn't just get her pregnant when she was on birth control, he managed to knock her up with twins!
He was such a fucking overachiever.
FINI
GUEST CAST
(a quick search through each actor’s IMDB entry will reveal how I named most of the characters... except for Lou the fisherman. He and his friend outside the cafe were named after Abbott and Costello)
Claire Fawkes.........................................................................................Shannon Kenny
(fans of Paul-Ben Victor’s previous work - and in my opinion, his best role - should know her!)
Jake Taggart, Chief of Police............................................................... Christopher Gorham
Violet McCullough........................................................................................ Piper Perabo
Dominic Fischer.................................................................................... Nicholas Campbell
Lou......................................................................................................... Richard Donat
(while he doesn’t actually appear, his friend Bud was played by John Dunsworth)
AUTHOR’S NOTES
Again, thanks to tinnny for her lovely artwork!
Originally I thought the diamond-smuggling was too cliché; the fish were going to contain SD cards or thumb drives of personal information for identity theft - the black market in stolen data is now worth more annually than illicit drugs OR jewels. Problem is, I couldn’t think of a reason the info couldn’t just be sent over the internet instead. (shrug)
DORADA HOUSE
THE NEXT MORNING
Mary stretched and yawned as she slumped down the narrow stairs to the first floor, checking her watch. The long hours she’d been keeping and the lack of night-time disturbances (fun or not) had combined to make her sleep later than usual.
So it wasn’t really surprising that she had to blink several times at the tall, lanky figure seated at one of the tables in the dining room.
“Good morning, Mary Sunshine!” Marshall told her cheerfully.
In response, Mary pinched his ear viciously.
“Owww! What was that for?”
“Wanted to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.”
“The normal procedure is to pinch yourself.”
“Why would I do that?” Mary frowned as she sat down beside him. She grinned, and leaned forward for a long kiss, as heated as Marshall was comfortable with in public. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
Marshall grinned, and did a quick scan of the dining room to make sure no one was in earshot. “I had a few days vacation time coming, so I thought we could have a long weekend together. Brandi and Jinx are fine taking care of Norah for that long, and once we figure out what happened to Jamie, either way he’s under the aegis of one of the Texas offices, and it’s out of our hands.”
Mary smiled and leaned forward for another kiss. “Did you tell the owner you’re staying with me, or do we have to go through some Victorian-era crap with you sneaking down the hall to my room in the night?”
* * *
NORTH JETTY
LATER THAT MORNING
Mary sucked hard on the straw in her Big Gulp, and Marshall smirked in response. They’d spent the last couple of hours wandering up and down the streets surrounding the jetty, trying to work out what Jamie might have seen that spooked him into running - or if, indeed, there had been something to see at all.
Mary felt a drop of cool condensation drip from her cup onto her upper chest, and grinned as she felt Marshal’s gaze follow it’s trail, as it inched down towards her cleavage. She made no move to wipe it away; it served Marshall right for talking her into wearing an actual dress. He’d picked it out, paid for it and told her that if she wore it today, they could work on page 83 tonight. (More than once, if she wanted.)
Mary hadn’t worn a sundress since her much-regretted trip to Cancun three years ago - although, to be fair, the vacation had been pretty good; it was taking Special Agent Festering along that ranked as the dumbest decision she’d made since getting engaged to someone she really only saw as a decent friend and very good lay. (Sleeping with her ex-husband didn’t out-rank her engagement only because she adored the child that resulted.) Mary did have to admit, at least she wasn’t embarrassed to wear this thing - the hem swirled just above her knees, the bodice closed with a row of buttons from the neckline to the waist, so she wouldn’t bust the zipper when she was in a hurry like she did most of her dresses (there was more than one reason she generally preferred jeans), and it was a fire-engine red that she felt suited her personality.
As the droplet made it’s way between her breasts, Mary gave a tiny shiver that made her boobs jiggle slightly in the low-cut bodice. Marshall coughed, and paged through the printed photos again. Mary smirked, and looped her arm through his. The happy but startled glace Marshall gave her made her briefly regret every time she’d thrown off some kind of physical affection from him in public, from an arm around her to hugs.
They crossed the road to the end of the North Jetty, and Mary gave another shiver from a sudden cool breeze that came off the ocean as they stepped onto the weather-beaten boards. Strolling slowly along, Marshall told her about how Mustang Island had been one of the primary hangouts for the pirate Jean LaFitte - in fact, their B&B was named after one of his ships.
“And of course he buried a chest of treasure around here?” Mary asked, as they passed several fishermen, standing in a line at the railing.
“Of course,” Marshall replied cheerfully. They stopped walking for a moment, as another fisherman hurriedly walked a few steps backward from the railing, laughing as he winched in his line. The marshals waited until he’d pulled up a glittering, red-scaled fish.
“Hmm. Nice redfish,” Marshall commented.
Mary rolled her eyes. Of course Marshall would be able to pick a breed of fish by sight. “They taste good, anyway - I had some last night.”
“Oh? Where? Maybe we can go by there for lunch?”
“Don’t know if we’ve got the budget,” Mary grimaced. “I was with the owners’ wife last night. Don’t know what the prices are for lunch, but if they’re like the dinner menu, we can’t eat there without giving Stan a conniption at our receipts.”
“We could check?” Once the fisherman had moved back to the railing where his basket waited, Marshall continued, “The treasure chest is supposedly marked by a Spanish silver dagger, laid on its side with silver spike driven through the hilt, securing the location.”
Mary sniggered, “Maybe that’s where Jamie went? Hunting for pirate treasure?”
Marshall looked around, realizing that they’d somehow hit a space with only one fisherman, wearing a blue shirt and seated at section of the jetty without a railing. “Who knows? From what you’ve told me, it doesn’t sound likely - why would he take most of his possessions with him?”
Mary slowed her stride as they walked under the arch, Marshall automatically matching her as she cast a casual glance over her shoulder at the grizzled fisherman they’d just passed. “Hey Doofus, wasn’t that man in one of Jamie’s photos?”
Marshall waited until they’d passed under the arch, and pulled out the manila folder from under his arm. Flicking through it, he stopped on one and nodded. “Yes, and he’s right in the same place as in the photo. You know, something’s bothering me about this...”
“Wonder if Jake Taggart can ID the guy?” Mary mused.
“Maybe one of the local fishing fraternity can do it for us now,” Marshall pointed out.
Not wanting to be overheard, they strolled to the very end of the jetty - it was lot less crowded on the other side of the arch, for some reason - and found several men wearing clothes too worn to be taken on vacation.
“Wait a minute,” Mary murmured. “I remember that guy from the photos, too. It’s just a background shot - him and another guy are on a bench outside the cafe at the end of the jetty - the one with the mermaid painted on the window. He’s a local, all right.”
“Excuse me, sir?”
The sixty-something man looked up, the light flashing off his glasses. “Yes, can I help you?”
“Hi,” Marshall gave his most disarming grin. “A friend of ours used to live here, and he recommended this place to us. That fisherman just down the jetty - with the blue shirt and a beard? I think our friend mentioned him, but we wanted to check he was the right man. What’s his name?”
Their new informant bent to the side to take a look past them. “Huh. Your friend didn’t owe him money, did they?”
“Um, no.”
The man - who had ‘Lou’ embroidered on his multi-pocketed vest - crouched down and started to pack up the toolbox that held his gear as he spoke. “Probably the only way you’ll get a civil answer out of Dominic Fischer these days. He’s been bitter as a lemon for the last couple of years, ever since his business went under. Can’t stand being poor, but he hasn’t made any attempts at starting up anything else, so his 401K must have been pretty decent.”
“Is that why he’s alone at the railing?” Mary asked. “We noticed coming up that the railing was fairly crowded, but there’s a pretty wide margin around him.
“Got it in one,” Lou nodded. “He’s such a darn grouch these days that everyone gives him a wide berth.” He picked up his toolbox, slung his fishing rod over one shoulder, and added, “If you want to try and chat up Dom, I wish you the best of luck. You’d better make it quick, though, a storm’s coming in. They usually pass over fairly quickly, but they come on real sudden.”
Mary looked up at the sky automatically, and noticed with a shock that the sky had turned from sunny blue to sullen grey in a matter of minutes. “Holy shit.”
Marshall looked from the sky to her, and frowned. “Maybe we should go find lunch now, somewhere nice and roofed?”
Mary nodded, and they turned around to walk back. As they were passing under the arch, they saw Dom Fischer looking up at the sky and his lips moved; they were too far away to hear what he said, but Mary would bet it was something she wouldn’t ever repeat around Norah. Turning, Fischer knocked over his basket, spilling several fish from it.
Fischer carefully picked up a broad silvery fish and placed it back into the basket, tossed several narrow fish with red scales along the back and body in as well, and slung the folding chair along his back. Picking up the basket with both hands, he stumbled down the pier.
“Somehow, I don’t think we’d better ask him about Jamie right now,” Marshall remarked. “I get the feeling he’s not in a very cooperative mood.”
Mary nodded, and they continued down the jetty, slowed down by the uneven planking. They were about a third of the way down when a large crack of thunder made them both jump, and the sky opened up above their heads, an avalanche of rain coming down. Mary ducked her head and resisted the urge to shriek at the sudden cold shower. Looking to the left and right, her eyes met Marshall’s in a silent agreement; the arch was closer.
They were both wet by the time they made it to the arch, and Mary grimaced as she wrung out her hair.
Marshall was looking at the manila folder in his hand, now distinctly pulpy. “Maybe we shouldn’t have left your messenger bag in the jeep, after all.”
“Great.” Mary squeezed some water out of her skirt, heedless of wrinkling the heavy cotton. “I love feeling like a drowned rat.”
Marshall looked up at the sound of her voice. He simply looked at her for a few seconds, and Mary demanded, “What?”
Marshall grinned, and there was an edge to it that made her blood heat up a little. “I was just thinking how sexy you looked.”
Mary’s eyes widened. Was this her prudish Doofus? The guy who’d all but blushed when he’d seen her in the trashy-slut getup she’d worn for Trisha’s bachelorette party? She couldn’t help but notice that Marshall’s t-shirt was clinging to him, showing off the muscled torso she’d bet money was better than Taggart’s. Even as she noticed this, Marshall grinned wickedly, and peeled it off, exaggeratedly wringing it out and laying it flat on the bench.
Mary looked over her shoulder, and realized that because of the pouring rain, she couldn’t see more than a few feet past the arch, never mind the end of the jetty.
She looked back at Marshall and grinned back. “Sit. Stay.”
Marshall obeyed, still grinning, and Mary eagerly moved to stand between his legs. Bending her head, she kissed with all the passion of a deeply in love woman who’d only gotten laid once in the past week. Marshall growled deep in his throat in response, his hands clenching on her hips, and Mary shivered for reasons that had nothing to do with cold.
Everyone had a more primal, darker, self that was usually kept hidden and even denied. Marshall’s tended to surface around her; when she was being threatened in some way... and more recently when his inner savage wanted to remind her who she belonged to. Mary tolerated Marshall’s possessive, primitive side mostly because it surfaced only for her - that, and it made her hotter than hell.
Even those who knew what a badass lawman he was, never dreamed that Marshall could be vicious and scheming, could taunt and torture in all the worst ways as well as the best. Mary was the only one who knew, and guarded that secret like the rare, precious treasure it was.
Sometimes she thought that she’d fallen in love with Marshall because he was the only one with not only the strength but the depths to stand by her, in her worst moments as well as her best. The only one who could keep up with her, the only one who accepted her as perfectly natural just the way she was. Other times she thought that he’d fallen in love with her because he felt that she was the only one who could truly match him, in his darkest side as well as his natural light. Where he sliced with a sword-edge, she ripped with claws; where he burned, she detonated. Where he cradled and nurtured, she shielded and defended.
Marshall’s tongue slid into her mouth, fighting her own for dominance as they kissed. Mary moaned and pressed closer to him, loving how the warmth of his body felt through the wet layers of cotton between her breasts and his chest. Marshall’s hands came off her hips, and tugged at the unwieldy layer of skirt that clung to her thighs from the rain, until he could slide his hands up her legs and peel her underwear - now soaked in more ways than one - down far enough that they plopped heavily to the wooden flooring. Mary ignored them, struggling to undo the buttons down the front of her dress without losing contact with Marshall’s body. As Marshall managed to get his belt and jeans open, Mary opened the front closure of her bra. Marshall immediately slid his hand into her dress to cup her breast, squeezing and rubbing perfectly, and Mary straddled his lap. Marshall slid his other arm around her waist to steady her, and Mary wrapped one arm around his neck, while the other reached down to find him hard and hot and oh-so-ready for her. Gripping his erection in her hand, she angled her hips to the right position and dropped down, taking him completely inside her in one movement.
Marshall cried out, his hand spasmodically clutching her breast, and Mary grinned. God, she loved having him like this, desperately wanting and blind and deaf to anything but her body and his desire for her. Watching that always-working brain shut down under the pressure of his lust for her, knowing that only she could do this to him, aroused her almost unbearably.
Mary clutched his shoulders, trying to anchor herself as her whole body burned and screamed with need. Marshall snarled and response, and bucked his hips hard to meet hers as she impaled herself on him again and again, their bodies plunging together as they desperately tried to meld into one flesh.
She’d had men who were better endowed (only one or two) and men with greater stamina (a different one or two), even with more varied technique (maybe). But no man had ever aroused her so quickly or as totally as Marshall. No one had ever come close to satisfying her so completely. She’d had men between her legs that made her scream in pleasure - but Marshall was the only one who’d ever made her forget her own name.
The thunder roared overhead, and the rain pounded down on the tin roof, drowning out Mary’s scream as she climaxed. The lightning flashed just near enough to illuminate Marshall’s face as he threw his head back and cried out Mary’s name.
As they clung to each other, still joined, they rocked back and forth slowly and gently, in rhythm to the easing tempest.
DORADA HOUSE
MID-AFTERNOON
Mary sat on the bed in her complimentary robe, towelling her hair dry, and smiling in appreciation at the view. Not outside her window, but of her partner, as he sat at the room’s desk in a pair of sweatpants and nothing else. Once the rain had eased off, they’d straightened their clothes and made a run for the car. A joint hot shower later, Mary was glowing for more reasons than just being warm and dry again.
Since he was on his own time, Marshall had brought his personal laptop along, and had taken Jamie’s thumb drives from the evidence bag Taggart had given her, and was paging through them again.
The light caught the edge of the laptop, and the silver flash made Mary frown.
“Hey, Marshall - remember when we were approaching Fischer right before the storm, when some fish spilled from his basket?”
Marshall twisted in his chair to face her, and nodded.
“There was some redfish - I recognised them from dinner last night - but one of them was all silver, and sort of oval instead of oblong. Did you recognise it?”
Marshall frowned in memory. “Um... kingfish, I think.”
Mary sat up straight. “You can’t catch those off the jetty, only from the deep sea boats. Check the fishing report online.”
Marshall nodded, and spent a few minutes typing. “Mary, you’re right. There’s no way he could have caught that kingfish off the jetty... and now I remember why I wanted to talk to that guy so bad...”
Bringing up the photo of Fischer, he fiddled with the mouse to highlight and enlarge where the line hit the water. “That’s what struck me as wrong with the picture! There are way too many bubbles! A normal fishing line makes barely any.”
Mary frowned, and walked across the room to lean over Marshall’s shoulder for a closer look. “What could cause that, do you think?”
“A scuba diver.”
“What?”
“I remember when I went scuba diving during spring break in college; even on a calm day, you couldn’t see a scuba diver coming up until they were only a few feet from the surface, but you could sometimes track the bubbles - if the diver was about eight feet down, they could hook the kingfish onto the line and the other fishers on the jetty wouldn’t see it-“
“Especially since Fischer’s so grumpy everyone gives him a wide berth,” Mary grinned. “What do you think’s in those things? Must be pretty valuable if they have to make sure that Fischer can distinguish them clearly from the stuff he actually catches.”
“You know we’re going to have to turn this over to Chief Taggart, right?”
“What? But this is our case,” Mary whined.
“Actually, it’s Corpus Christi’s jurisdiction, remember? We still don’t know where Jamie is - you do remember your former witness, right?”
Mary rolled her eyes, just as her phone rang. “What do you want to bet, that’s about Jamie?”
Marshall shook his head. “Way too much of a coincidence,” he scoffed.
Mary put the phone to her ear, and grinned. “Hi, Claire!”
Marshall raised his eyebrows enquiringly.
“What???”
Mary’s eyes narrowed and flashed, her lips went thin, her face went white with fury, and Marshall bit his lip against the sudden wave of lust (because Mary was incredibly sexy and gorgeous when she was angry) and sighed with relief at the same time (because he couldn’t be the one she was angry at, for once).
“And the stupid fucker didn’t bother to tell anyone?”
Marshall watched in fascination as Mary paced and said some very uncomplimentary things down the phone, including warning ‘Claire’ that Stan would be calling them soon - and he would Not Be Happy. Marshall’s eyebrows headed toward the ceiling at this; Mary had only used that phrase to describe Stan’s mood once. Marshall, on the other hand, had described him during that same incident as turning into one of the Aztec Gods (the kind that demanded still-beating human hearts as sacrifices) only slightly less cuddly.
Mary said goodbye rather more politely than Marshall expected, considering her mood through most of the conversation, and flopped back onto the bed.
“So...?”
Mary let out an “Aaarggghhh!” and added, “Well, at least we know now what happened to Jamie. Marshal Ludlum from the Corpus Christi office - who will soon be transferred to Bumfuck, Kansas, or maybe even Alaska, if I have any say in it - got the news all right, and transferred Jamie temporarily for safekeeping. But apparently the stupid bastard was so eager to get off to his vacation the next day that not only did he not do the paperwork, he forgot to tell anyone!”
“What?” Marshall exclaimed.
“The only reason we know now is that Claire talked to the Chief Inspector, who was appropriately worried about potentially losing a witness, and tracked down Ludlum and had him paged at the resort to ask him personally.”
“Well, on the bright side, once we had over these thumb drives to Taggart we can enjoy our weekend?” Marshall offered.
Mary sat up and glared at him. Then took another, considering look at his bare chest, and nodded.
“The business card should be in my messenger bag.”
EPILOGUE
PORT ARANSAS
SEVEN MONTHS LATER
Mary tried to settle into a more comfortable position on the sand, and groaned instead. She gently rubbed the mound of her swollen stomach, trying to lull the baby into doing something other than roundhouse kicks. While she was glad to know the little one was going to be as badass as it’s parents, her kidneys didn’t appreciate it.
This was most definitely the last time she did this - it was not her imagination, she was bigger than she was with Norah, and given how long it took her to get back into shape and get back to work before...
Marshall was already teasing her that they should call the baby Miranda, after Shakespeare’s ‘The Tempest’ - because from the moment Mary had found out she was pregnant, they’d both been certain the baby had been conceived here in Port Aransas, when they’d fucked on the Jetty during the storm. If he suggested the name Caliban or Prospero for a boy, she was going to seriously consider shooting him.
Oh, hell - there had to be at least a couple of normal names in the play. She could give him that much, at least, considering he was being so patient about the wedding thing. She’d just accepted his ring when the test came up positive, and Marshall had immediately suggested heading to Vegas that weekend. Mary refused to rush the only wedding she was ever going to have, or in any way implying she was ashamed of conceiving out of wedlock (again). She wasn’t walking down the aisle until she was in good enough shape to look hot in the wedding photos.
Maybe being here for these two weeks would take the edge off, considering that their second to last day in town would also be Jake and Violet’s wedding day.
Jake Taggart was everlastingly grateful to them for bringing the evidence against Dom Fischer to him, when as US Marshals they could have arrested him themselves. It was just as well for their WITSEC careers that they’d hadn’t... of all things, Fischer had been smuggling uncut diamonds for the fucking Mafia! Ever since diamonds had started being tracked as potential terror funding, diamonds without serial numbers had become more valuable to the criminal underworld than ever before. Fischer had been making money hand over fist until Taggart arrested him with the diamond-stuffed fish in his basket. The arrest had made Taggart’s career.
Even after she and Marshall headed home to Albuquerque, Violet and Mary had kept in touch via phone and email. For some reason, Violet granted Mary the credit for giving her the push to leave her husband a few weeks after they met. McCullough had granted her a no-contest divorce in exchange for Violet foregoing alimony, and Jake had made his move as soon as he was sure Violet’s marriage was over for good. Violet’s divorce had become final less than a month before the date set for her second wedding.
The sun dimmed, and Mary looked up to find Marshall standing over her, Norah in his arms.
“Have fun building sand-castles?”
“Lots of fun!” her fiancée grinned. Settling onto the beach blanket beside her, he gave her a quick kiss, and laid a gentle hand on her stomach. “It’ll be even better this time next year.” Marshall looked back at Norah, “You’ll have a brother or sister to play with!”
Norah laughed and smiled, while Mary watched thoughtfully.
She was starting to wonder... at the ultrasound that they’d chosen to find out the gender of the baby, they’d been told it was a girl. For some reason, Marshall had been ecstatic to find out he’d be living with no less than three Shannon women - she’d sort of been hoping for a boy, so Marshall would have some backup in the testosterone division. But at the next ultrasound, the tech had casually mentioned the baby was a boy.
Last night, she’d dreamed of a double crib, with two babies in it - one of each.
As Marshall made a face to get Norah to giggle, Mary rolled her eyes and sighed to herself.
That would be just typical of her Doofus; he didn't just get her pregnant when she was on birth control, he managed to knock her up with twins!
He was such a fucking overachiever.
FINI
GUEST CAST
(a quick search through each actor’s IMDB entry will reveal how I named most of the characters... except for Lou the fisherman. He and his friend outside the cafe were named after Abbott and Costello)
Claire Fawkes.........................................................................................Shannon Kenny
(fans of Paul-Ben Victor’s previous work - and in my opinion, his best role - should know her!)
Jake Taggart, Chief of Police............................................................... Christopher Gorham
Violet McCullough........................................................................................ Piper Perabo
Dominic Fischer.................................................................................... Nicholas Campbell
Lou......................................................................................................... Richard Donat
(while he doesn’t actually appear, his friend Bud was played by John Dunsworth)
AUTHOR’S NOTES
Again, thanks to tinnny for her lovely artwork!
Originally I thought the diamond-smuggling was too cliché; the fish were going to contain SD cards or thumb drives of personal information for identity theft - the black market in stolen data is now worth more annually than illicit drugs OR jewels. Problem is, I couldn’t think of a reason the info couldn’t just be sent over the internet instead. (shrug)