VM fic: She Never Stopped Falling (V/Weevil) NC-17
Title: She Never Stopped Falling
Author: Shealynn88
Rating: NC17, sexual situations, angst
Characters: Veronica/Weevil
Spoilers: breaks from canon at 3x03
Word Count: ~4300
Summary: AU future!fic. Veronica left Neptune years ago, more than happy to forget all about the heartache and loss she experienced there. Unfortunately, Neptune never forgot about her.
Author's Note: Written for the incognito challenge at vm_library.
If this plot is not the oldest cliché in the fandom book, it's pretty close. But, you know what? I enjoyed the hell out of writing it, anyhow. :) Somehow, being told to write smut makes me feel way less apologetic about my indulgence in guilty pleasure plots.
ACK! And I'm a beast because I forgot to thank leobrat for her beta, suggestions and general handholding.
It was second nature at this point. Holster inside the thigh. Short skirt. Shorter shirt. Fuck-me heels and hard-soled stockings, in case things went bad and she had to run.
Someday, she was going to take Biggs up on those donuts he kept offering her, and then this seduction scenario would fall to someone else. Those two hours a day in the gym were suddenly looking like a one-way ticket to endless assignments involving calf-killing heels and skimpy outfits.
"Mars! You ready yet?"
She felt her padded bra, making sure the microphone was well hidden.
"Veronica!"
"Shut up, Biggs," she sighed without malice, stepping though the bathroom doorway.
Her partner whistled appreciatively and she ignored him. They'd been together almost four years now; with the hours they'd been pulling lately, it felt more like ten. And while the reality of their partnership was about as sexual as a graveyard, Biggs liked to keep up appearances.
Before they stepped out of their by-the-hour hotel room, Biggs stopped her, the leer temporarily shelved. Veronica knew from experience that it would be back the moment his hands were off her.
He checked her thoroughly, hands sliding over her hips and ass to be sure the gun was well hidden. Then under her skirt, pulling the gun out of the holster and sliding it back in. His knuckles brushed against the crotch of her lacey black underwear, but neither of them acknowledged it. He moved his inspection upward, hands firm over her breasts to check the bug, then sliding down her sides until they reached the broad stretch of skin between skirt and shirt.
Only when his hands had fallen away from her sides did he raise an eyebrow suggestively. "Lookin' fine, Mars." He nodded at the door and she took the invitation, sliding out ahead of him.
***
In the past two weeks, she'd established herself as Lucinda Franks, a young woman with a pricey drug habit who had worked at the Bold and Beautiful Nail Salon until they'd been shut down for prostitution. Veronica had gotten to know the real Lucinda fairly well during her time working that sting, and the persona-quiet and flirtatious-was easy to adopt.
The payoff, if she managed it, would be a hell of a lot better than the last-a few ubiquitous prostitutes, replaced within hours.
No, the focus this time was big-time crime lord Carlos Andrejo, who held meetings in the back rooms of the Saigon Grill and apparently had a weakness for leggy blondes.
At least she didn't have to dye her hair this time.
***
She found his room without a problem. He tended to switch around, she knew, because being a crime lord was a job that came with built-in enemies-the kind with guns, and no hesitation about using them. But all she needed was the tell-tale smell of expensive cigars and the overly loud tittering of every girl that walked by, and she knew she'd hit the jackpot.
There were no guards outside and she took the opportunity to pull a bug from her hair and bend down to fix her stockings.
She could just make out two voices inside. Carlos' voice was even and quiet-she'd heard his testimony at the last hearing. Of the two, he was the harder to hear. They seemed to be arguing about a gambling place on the river. Carlos wanted money; his associate wanted him to buy in. Apparently, 'big things' were on the horizon.
Veronica managed to adhere the bug to the bottom of the door with some adhesive she rubbed off the inside of her holster. Luckily, the door had warped over the years and there was a decent space there.
She was just rubbing the extra adhesive onto her skirt when the door opened with a sharp crack and she jumped to her feet, spinning away and strolling down the hallway in her hip-accentuating 'whore walk.'
"Hey!" It was Carlos' associate's voice-the owner of the gambling franchise. He grabbed her arm and spun her around, and her eyes followed the line of his arm up: leather jacket to silver buttons and zipper, to a black tank that couldn't quite hide the top of several familiar tattoos…and then she was staring into very familiar brown eyes.
Weevil's mouth gaped open for a minute, and Veronica was sure he was going to blurt out something stupid. Then his mouth closed and twisted into a sneer just as Carlos stepped up next to him. Veronica relaxed minutely-he wasn't going to break her cover.
"Hey, there, boys," she said, flipping her hair casually. "Lookin' for a good time?"
Weevil's eyes narrowed for a second and then Carlos took another smooth step forward, looking her over brazenly. "Turn around," he said, making a spinning motion with his index finger. Weevil let go of her reluctantly, shifting closer to her as she smiled coyly and turned, spreading her hands in a flourish when she was facing forward again.
"I might have to rethink my policy on this place," Weevil said, leering for Carlos' benefit before shooting an annoyed look at Veronica.
The crime lord crooked a finger at her and Weevil stiffened slightly at her side. She ignored him and stepped forward obediently, letting Carlos grab her jaw and turn her head from side to side. "Pretty," he said, his voice smooth and dispassionate. His tone gave her chills, but she kept her eyes half-lidded and her smile flirtatious. This was, after all, what she'd hoped for. When his hand drifted down her side, cupping her breast, she fought not to break his wrist.
Weevil laughed and moved behind her, holding her waist possessively. "Wait your turn, old man. I call dibs."
Carlos tipped his head at them, his eyes flinty. For a second, Veronica was sure he was going to protest. Then he laughed, and the tension broke. "Fine, fine. Let me know when you're done." He gave her another intense, reptilian look. "I might want to borrow this one."
"You may want to wait a while," Weevil said. He laughed, low and dark. "When I'm done with her, she won't walk straight for days."
Veronica forced back the thick taste of bile and managed a throaty chuckle. "Well," she said, raising an eyebrow at Carlos. "Doesn't that sound promising."
She managed to give the older man a flirty little wave before Weevil dragged her down the hall to one of the empty rooms.
"What the hell-" he started as soon as the door was closed.
She plastered herself against him in record time, just to shut him up. "There are cameras in here," she said softly, sliding her hands under his jacket and pushing it off his shoulders. "So, congratulations. You're about to get your money's worth." She maneuvered him against the bed, straddling him when the edge tripped him up and he fell back onto the mattress. "So," she purred, loud enough for security to hear. "What's your pleasure?"
She was overly aware of the gun against the inside of her thigh. The holster was as high as she could get it, but the skirt was also really short-if things got athletic, the camera was going to get a hell of a view of her hardware. In more ways than one. And then she was going to get a view of security's hardware…and the odds there weren't good.
She leaned in. "Roll me over."
"Veronica-"
"Do it," she said shortly.
He did, finally, grabbing her waist and flipping her easily, giving her a cocky grin when he ended up on top. Like she hadn't just let him do it.
"Oooo," she breathed for the benefit of the camera. "It's like that, huh?" She gave a soft, sultry laugh and went straight for his belt. Best to get this over with. Maybe if she was quick, she could catch Carlos before he left.
His grin was replaced by shock, and he grabbed her hand, leaning in close.
"Veronica, we don't have to do this."
"If you blow my cover, I'll kill you," she murmured. It was a message for Biggs as much as it was for Weevil.
She flashed a razor-edged smile to emphasize her point. "Relax, Weevil. It's just sex."
He was silent for a long moment, and then his fingers loosened on hers. "Nothing is 'just' anything with you," he muttered.
As if he still knew her. As if there was anything in her that was the Veronica she'd been. She pushed down thoughts of the past and nodded her head at the bed stand, all vacant eyes and suggestive smile. "Protection's in the drawer, handsome. Pick your poison."
He didn't move.
"Bareback's an option, but it costs." She hoped that the extra-toothy smile would make it crystal clear that the 'cost' would be painful, and quite possibly bloody. She was willing to take one for the team, but if it included something that itched, or worse, cried, she would take that very personally.
He shook his head minutely, grimacing, but he reached to the side and grabbed a condom out of the drawer, tossing it near her head.
When his hand slid up her thigh, catching slightly on the holster, she closed her eyes. You learned pretty quickly in this gig that things happened that you didn't want. That stopping them could get you killed or worse. And you learned to zone out and become someone else, or something broke inside you and you visited a shrink instead of doing your job, and you lived off a piddly pension.
Not Veronica. Nothing could break her anymore. Not since she'd left everything she cared about back in Neptune.
"Gotta take this off," Weevil murmured, pulling at the holster. "If anyone sees it, it'd be bad for both of us."
She nodded, not opening her eyes.
His fingers were quick and professional on the ties that held the holster to her garter belt, and she let out a heavy groan to cover the sound of parting velcro. He made a show of messing up the blankets, and slid the holster under one of the resulting folds, leaving one hand on her thigh.
"You sure about this?" he asked.
"C'mon, Romeo," she said quietly, opening her eyes. "Let's do this thing."
He swallowed and nodded, and then his hand moved up under her skirt and her eyes fluttered shut again. I'm Lucinda Franks, a working girl. I've done this a million times, and I didn't care. It's just the easiest way to get my next fix.
Weevil's hand moved up, brushing over her skin just above the line of her lacey underwear, and his other hand wound in her hair. His breath was quick and a little rough, but they were getting no closer to finishing this thing and Veronica was feeling a little pressed for time.
She went for his belt again, and he froze up. Ignoring his reluctance, she grabbed the condom and ripped it open with her teeth. "Let's get the big guy suited up, huh?" she said coyly, trying to push his jeans down with one hand.
"Jesus," he swore, glaring at her. He grabbed the condom from her hand and moved back to take his pants off. Veronica noticed with a black humor that his reluctance obviously didn't extend below his waist. He had no problem putting the condom on.
Veronica shed the lacey underwear quickly, figuring that if she waited for him to get over these weird nerves he was having, she'd be in this room all night and Carlos would be safely ensconced in his small fortress before she could get to him.
Moving slower than she would have liked, Weevil stepped forward again and shifted her back on the bed, joining her only when she gestured encouragingly.
She turned her head away and tried not to wince when he entered her. The condom had a little bit of lube on it, but not enough to make up for the fact that she was bone dry.
I am Lucinda Franks.
Weevil hissed and was still, his breath a little uneven.
Veronica moved her hips to encourage him to keep going, but she couldn't turn her head to look at him. Not now.
"V," he whispered.
She didn't want to hear that catch in his voice…didn't want to know if there was emotion behind the weight of years that hung between them.
"Look at me," he said, cupping her cheek and turning her face toward him.
Damn it, she didn't want to hear that. Didn't want to open her eyes and see someone she'd known staring out of those jaded eyes. Didn't want to remember a past that was so long ago, it felt like it belonged to someone else.
She'd trusted him once. Taken for granted that he'd help her out when she asked, that he'd come flying by on that bike and rescue her when she needed it. And then, at her father's funeral, when every touch had left her cold and furious and empty, she hadn't been able to ask. Hadn't known how.
She was long past rescuing now. Long past wanting it. She didn't want to remember how it had been.
"Look at me," he said again, and, reluctantly, she opened her eyes.
She couldn't be someone else when he watched her like that. She couldn't help but seep back into her skin, pinned down by that gaze. His hand started to burn low on her waist; she could feel the slight sharpness of his hip against the inside of her thigh and the weight of him inside her, completely still.
"Let me make this good for you," he said softly, his thumb stroking the muscles of her abdomen and then sliding up, under her shirt and bra, massaging her nipple. She tried to fade away again, but his eyes never left hers and she was trapped by the emotion there.
Her body started to respond, a vague spark of something sputtering across her skin. Weevil smiled, and it was gentle and sincere and cracked the armor of her carefully maintained distance.
He was holding himself up on one elbow, and his hand was tangling in her hair again. His thumb stroked over that sensitive spot under her ear, and she was warm and tingly and just a little out of control.
This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. She was the one who controlled it. Always. It was her only rule.
Until now.
"You okay?" he asked softly, and she nodded even though she wasn't. Even though she felt like she was staring over the edge of a canyon, ready to fall.
Ready to jump.
When he moved inside her, it was slow and just a little bit painful, and then the pain faded away and it was heat and friction and good.
His eyes never left hers as he shifted, framing her with his arms and pressing close against her in a startling intimacy that had nothing to do with sex.
She let him kiss her, figuring that it was the perfect time to close her eyes and fall away from this whole disastrous turn, but his mouth was a strange combination of gentle and insistent, and she couldn't get away from the fact that this was Weevil whose tongue was tracing her lips, Weevil who was breathing against her open mouth, Weevil who was gently stroking her throat with his fingers. And there was no way that she could get away from the fact that he was doing all this to her and not some random hooker at a brothel downtown.
He pulled away just a few inches, his eyes huge and dark with emotion as he sighed her name.
"Veronica."
And even an amateur could have heard that there was sympathy there, and sorrow, and history, and all the things she didn't want to ever hear again, from anyone.
She closed her eyes against the memories that threatened to well up, and she thrust her hips upward, needing him to be faster, rougher…needing him to make her forget again.
His fingers ghosted against her cheek one last time, and then his weight shifted up and back, and he was pulling her slowly to the edge of the bed until he could stand between her legs.
She glanced at him quickly and his smile was crooked and regretful…and then he closed his eyes, and she closed hers, and they were still Weevil and Veronica, but no longer the people they'd been.
Too much time had passed. Too many things had changed.
Weevil started moving again slowly, steadily gaining speed until tension built and Veronica couldn't help but roll her hips in time with his, and she was whimpering just a little bit as he whispered things that she couldn't quite hear…and wasn't sure she wanted to.
His hand slid across her hip, down her abdomen, and he spread his fingers across her pelvic bone as his thumb pressed, just there, and then twisted and swirled. Veronica barely had a moment to recognize the sudden burst of sensation before they both came together and fell apart. She cried out with the enormous release as it swept away all the painful memories and left her momentarily breathless and panting.
Weevil withdrew slowly and put her holster back on, complete with ties to the garter, before he moved back to dispose of the condom.
He pulled his pants on in silence, and Veronica tried to remember all the pertinent facts that she'd need to get to Carlos, careful not think about what had just happened.
It was just business. That's all.
She got up off the bed, fixing her skirt, not bothering with her hair. It wasn't like anyone expected them to be doing anything else in here.
Weevil leaned close, a hand on her arm. "I never got to tell you how sorry I was. About your father."
She shrugged, keeping her voice quiet. "Why? You didn't kill him."
He shook his head, far too serious for comfort. "Cormac's dead, did you know?"
She nodded. It had happened seven years ago, when she still cared about justice in Neptune and bothered to follow the news. Cormac Fitzpatrick, model prisoner, had tried to escape during a transfer and the agents in charge had been forced to shoot him. He'd died in the hospital.
It was supposed to make it better, but it didn't.
"I have to go," she said, pulling away from him.
She didn't look back as she headed for Carlos' room.
***
Carlos wasn't there-not terribly surprising, really. But she hoped that he was still in the building somewhere, so she'd have at least a chance to catch up with him.
She had investigated most of the rooms earlier in the week, scoping out who used which rooms most frequently. She used the knowledge now to look in every room normally used by the blondes.
No luck.
She was just determining the best way to get herself into the security wing when she heard shots fired outside.
She abandoned her heels in the hallway and stayed low as she came out the front door. There were more shots, shouting, screaming…the sounds of car doors slamming and then general chaos. She took a deep breath and slid in closer.
Carlos was lying very still in a pool of his own blood, and his entourage was shooting everything that moved-focusing mainly on the black van that was currently screeching out of the parking lot. One of those built-in enemies.
It won't bring him back, she wanted to tell them. But they weren’t the type of people who cared.
To be honest, neither was she.
She examined their faces until they were clear in her mind, and then she started moving slowly backward.
When someone grabbed her arm, she very nearly shot them.
"Jesus, Biggs! Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
"No, I'm trying to get you not killed! Now move your ass, Nancy Drew! I've called for backup, we'll go in when they get here."
They stayed low on the way back to the Explorer and watched the fallout from there. There was nothing two officers could do against five very pissed off bodyguards, and it wasn't like there was any helping Carlos at this point.
When backup got there, the bodyguards had moved on. The whole operation was a bust. Their mark was lying dead on the pavement, and all the research they'd done amounted to exactly zip. They'd have to start all over again with the guy who popped up to take his place.
Veronica sighed. All in all, it had been a really shitty day.
***
She finally spoke up on the drive back to the hotel. "Hey, you know that gambling place on the river? Dirty Harry's?"
"Yeah?"
"I think we can get that guy on aiding and abetting, and possibly extortion or tax fraud."
"Your friend?" Biggs asked incredulously.
She glared at him.
He shrugged. "Okay. Because he was with Carlos?"
"Because he was trying to get Carlos to buy into something. There has to be something more to it. More than gambling. Maybe they're smuggling something in, or running an escort service out the back. I don't know. But I'm going to find out." She stared out the window, her jaw clenched just a little too tightly.
Biggs glanced over at her again. "Is this because of what he said to Carlos, or what he said to you?"
She turned toward him, ready for battle. "Look. I did what I had to do in there. It was business. That's all."
"Okay, okay," he said, opening his fingers on the steering wheel in an 'I give up' gesture. Then, quietly, "I just…I worry about you."
"Don't," she told him coldly.
And that was the end of it.
***
Two weeks later, after doing some late night staking out, some inventive record collection, and some careful finagling for an okay from the boss, Veronica had all she needed.
Apparently, Weevil, now going by, 'Elias Balboa,' had been looking to do some serious business with a Columbian cartel. Cocaine, mostly.
She didn't let it surprise her. He'd been small time in high school, but she'd always thought he was thinking bigger things. She just hadn't been sure which side of the law these 'bigger things' would be on.
Well, he'd made his choice. And she'd made hers.
"I'll do it," she told Biggs, tugging at her jacket and finally tossing her ridiculous, official-looking cap in the backseat. It wasn't often that she wore the damn uniform, and it wasn't just because she was usually dressed like a whore.
"I'll go with you."
"No. I'll do it," she said, keeping her voice light.
"C'mon, I'll walk you up the steps. It'll give me a chance to look at your ass." He smiled lasciviously, but there was steel in his eyes.
Biggs was usually pretty easy, but the shoot-out at the Grill had rattled him. Finally, Veronica nodded.
They walked together up to the ratty apartment that 'Elias' kept. Veronica wondered when he'd planned to move up to something bigger and better. Probably as soon as the shipments started coming in.
Well, he'd have a new place, now. Smaller, probably, but clean, with three square meals a day and a nice, predictable schedule.
Community soap.
She shook her head. This was no time to let the past come creeping up on her. He'd brought this on himself.
She knocked on the door.
Weevil opened the door slowly, looking her up and down. "Wow, V. Come on in." He stepped aside, ignoring Biggs as Veronica walked past him.
"So, I'm guessing you're not here to do the cop stripper routine?"
"Good guess, Elias." She pulled the handcuffs from her belt with unnecessary force. "You have the right to remain silent."
She stepped forward, feet carefully positioned so she could throw him if she had to. He sighed, giving her that sad smile again.
She gritted her teeth and kept going. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
He turned and put his hands behind his back. It was too damn easy. Too damn easy to be as hard as it was.
The cuffs clicked into place and she pushed the thoughts from her mind. "You have the right-"
"Veronica." His voice was soft, cutting through the dimly lit room more sharply than a scream. "I know my rights."
She swallowed. "Good," she finally said, steering him out the door and letting Biggs escort him down the stairs.
***
She let Biggs do most of the processing. She said it was because she was tired…because she didn't know the new paperwork. But she knew he knew otherwise. And she trusted him to keep quiet.
She couldn't keep herself from following as Weevil was escorted into the cell block. She waited for the guards to leave before she stepped forward…not quite within reach.
"V. Here to admire your handiwork?" It didn't sound as bitter as she'd thought it would.
"I always get my man," she said, as if it explained everything.
"Yeah." His mouth quirked up, not quite a smile. "I remember that about you."
He put a hand on one of the bars between them, and it took an effort for her not to reach out, if only to reassure herself, for better or worse, that he was real.
***
"You okay?" Biggs asked as she made her way back to the truck.
She nodded. "Of course. Just business."
He watched her for another moment and then let it go.
She'd spent ten years trying to forget Neptune. Everyone in it. Everything it had been to her. Everything it hadn't.
Apparently, Neptune hadn't afforded her the same courtesy.
She got into the truck and stared out the window as Biggs got in and started it up. The station receded in the passenger mirror.
She'd be back there tomorrow. And so would Weevil. And, just like there had been ten years ago, there would be insurmountable barriers between them.
Which was just how she liked it, she told herself.
She was long past wanting to be rescued.
All That's Left of Yesterday (Sequel/Tag)
Author: Shealynn88
Rating: NC17, sexual situations, angst
Characters: Veronica/Weevil
Spoilers: breaks from canon at 3x03
Word Count: ~4300
Summary: AU future!fic. Veronica left Neptune years ago, more than happy to forget all about the heartache and loss she experienced there. Unfortunately, Neptune never forgot about her.
Author's Note: Written for the incognito challenge at vm_library.
If this plot is not the oldest cliché in the fandom book, it's pretty close. But, you know what? I enjoyed the hell out of writing it, anyhow. :) Somehow, being told to write smut makes me feel way less apologetic about my indulgence in guilty pleasure plots.
ACK! And I'm a beast because I forgot to thank leobrat for her beta, suggestions and general handholding.
It was second nature at this point. Holster inside the thigh. Short skirt. Shorter shirt. Fuck-me heels and hard-soled stockings, in case things went bad and she had to run.
Someday, she was going to take Biggs up on those donuts he kept offering her, and then this seduction scenario would fall to someone else. Those two hours a day in the gym were suddenly looking like a one-way ticket to endless assignments involving calf-killing heels and skimpy outfits.
"Mars! You ready yet?"
She felt her padded bra, making sure the microphone was well hidden.
"Veronica!"
"Shut up, Biggs," she sighed without malice, stepping though the bathroom doorway.
Her partner whistled appreciatively and she ignored him. They'd been together almost four years now; with the hours they'd been pulling lately, it felt more like ten. And while the reality of their partnership was about as sexual as a graveyard, Biggs liked to keep up appearances.
Before they stepped out of their by-the-hour hotel room, Biggs stopped her, the leer temporarily shelved. Veronica knew from experience that it would be back the moment his hands were off her.
He checked her thoroughly, hands sliding over her hips and ass to be sure the gun was well hidden. Then under her skirt, pulling the gun out of the holster and sliding it back in. His knuckles brushed against the crotch of her lacey black underwear, but neither of them acknowledged it. He moved his inspection upward, hands firm over her breasts to check the bug, then sliding down her sides until they reached the broad stretch of skin between skirt and shirt.
Only when his hands had fallen away from her sides did he raise an eyebrow suggestively. "Lookin' fine, Mars." He nodded at the door and she took the invitation, sliding out ahead of him.
***
In the past two weeks, she'd established herself as Lucinda Franks, a young woman with a pricey drug habit who had worked at the Bold and Beautiful Nail Salon until they'd been shut down for prostitution. Veronica had gotten to know the real Lucinda fairly well during her time working that sting, and the persona-quiet and flirtatious-was easy to adopt.
The payoff, if she managed it, would be a hell of a lot better than the last-a few ubiquitous prostitutes, replaced within hours.
No, the focus this time was big-time crime lord Carlos Andrejo, who held meetings in the back rooms of the Saigon Grill and apparently had a weakness for leggy blondes.
At least she didn't have to dye her hair this time.
***
She found his room without a problem. He tended to switch around, she knew, because being a crime lord was a job that came with built-in enemies-the kind with guns, and no hesitation about using them. But all she needed was the tell-tale smell of expensive cigars and the overly loud tittering of every girl that walked by, and she knew she'd hit the jackpot.
There were no guards outside and she took the opportunity to pull a bug from her hair and bend down to fix her stockings.
She could just make out two voices inside. Carlos' voice was even and quiet-she'd heard his testimony at the last hearing. Of the two, he was the harder to hear. They seemed to be arguing about a gambling place on the river. Carlos wanted money; his associate wanted him to buy in. Apparently, 'big things' were on the horizon.
Veronica managed to adhere the bug to the bottom of the door with some adhesive she rubbed off the inside of her holster. Luckily, the door had warped over the years and there was a decent space there.
She was just rubbing the extra adhesive onto her skirt when the door opened with a sharp crack and she jumped to her feet, spinning away and strolling down the hallway in her hip-accentuating 'whore walk.'
"Hey!" It was Carlos' associate's voice-the owner of the gambling franchise. He grabbed her arm and spun her around, and her eyes followed the line of his arm up: leather jacket to silver buttons and zipper, to a black tank that couldn't quite hide the top of several familiar tattoos…and then she was staring into very familiar brown eyes.
Weevil's mouth gaped open for a minute, and Veronica was sure he was going to blurt out something stupid. Then his mouth closed and twisted into a sneer just as Carlos stepped up next to him. Veronica relaxed minutely-he wasn't going to break her cover.
"Hey, there, boys," she said, flipping her hair casually. "Lookin' for a good time?"
Weevil's eyes narrowed for a second and then Carlos took another smooth step forward, looking her over brazenly. "Turn around," he said, making a spinning motion with his index finger. Weevil let go of her reluctantly, shifting closer to her as she smiled coyly and turned, spreading her hands in a flourish when she was facing forward again.
"I might have to rethink my policy on this place," Weevil said, leering for Carlos' benefit before shooting an annoyed look at Veronica.
The crime lord crooked a finger at her and Weevil stiffened slightly at her side. She ignored him and stepped forward obediently, letting Carlos grab her jaw and turn her head from side to side. "Pretty," he said, his voice smooth and dispassionate. His tone gave her chills, but she kept her eyes half-lidded and her smile flirtatious. This was, after all, what she'd hoped for. When his hand drifted down her side, cupping her breast, she fought not to break his wrist.
Weevil laughed and moved behind her, holding her waist possessively. "Wait your turn, old man. I call dibs."
Carlos tipped his head at them, his eyes flinty. For a second, Veronica was sure he was going to protest. Then he laughed, and the tension broke. "Fine, fine. Let me know when you're done." He gave her another intense, reptilian look. "I might want to borrow this one."
"You may want to wait a while," Weevil said. He laughed, low and dark. "When I'm done with her, she won't walk straight for days."
Veronica forced back the thick taste of bile and managed a throaty chuckle. "Well," she said, raising an eyebrow at Carlos. "Doesn't that sound promising."
She managed to give the older man a flirty little wave before Weevil dragged her down the hall to one of the empty rooms.
"What the hell-" he started as soon as the door was closed.
She plastered herself against him in record time, just to shut him up. "There are cameras in here," she said softly, sliding her hands under his jacket and pushing it off his shoulders. "So, congratulations. You're about to get your money's worth." She maneuvered him against the bed, straddling him when the edge tripped him up and he fell back onto the mattress. "So," she purred, loud enough for security to hear. "What's your pleasure?"
She was overly aware of the gun against the inside of her thigh. The holster was as high as she could get it, but the skirt was also really short-if things got athletic, the camera was going to get a hell of a view of her hardware. In more ways than one. And then she was going to get a view of security's hardware…and the odds there weren't good.
She leaned in. "Roll me over."
"Veronica-"
"Do it," she said shortly.
He did, finally, grabbing her waist and flipping her easily, giving her a cocky grin when he ended up on top. Like she hadn't just let him do it.
"Oooo," she breathed for the benefit of the camera. "It's like that, huh?" She gave a soft, sultry laugh and went straight for his belt. Best to get this over with. Maybe if she was quick, she could catch Carlos before he left.
His grin was replaced by shock, and he grabbed her hand, leaning in close.
"Veronica, we don't have to do this."
"If you blow my cover, I'll kill you," she murmured. It was a message for Biggs as much as it was for Weevil.
She flashed a razor-edged smile to emphasize her point. "Relax, Weevil. It's just sex."
He was silent for a long moment, and then his fingers loosened on hers. "Nothing is 'just' anything with you," he muttered.
As if he still knew her. As if there was anything in her that was the Veronica she'd been. She pushed down thoughts of the past and nodded her head at the bed stand, all vacant eyes and suggestive smile. "Protection's in the drawer, handsome. Pick your poison."
He didn't move.
"Bareback's an option, but it costs." She hoped that the extra-toothy smile would make it crystal clear that the 'cost' would be painful, and quite possibly bloody. She was willing to take one for the team, but if it included something that itched, or worse, cried, she would take that very personally.
He shook his head minutely, grimacing, but he reached to the side and grabbed a condom out of the drawer, tossing it near her head.
When his hand slid up her thigh, catching slightly on the holster, she closed her eyes. You learned pretty quickly in this gig that things happened that you didn't want. That stopping them could get you killed or worse. And you learned to zone out and become someone else, or something broke inside you and you visited a shrink instead of doing your job, and you lived off a piddly pension.
Not Veronica. Nothing could break her anymore. Not since she'd left everything she cared about back in Neptune.
"Gotta take this off," Weevil murmured, pulling at the holster. "If anyone sees it, it'd be bad for both of us."
She nodded, not opening her eyes.
His fingers were quick and professional on the ties that held the holster to her garter belt, and she let out a heavy groan to cover the sound of parting velcro. He made a show of messing up the blankets, and slid the holster under one of the resulting folds, leaving one hand on her thigh.
"You sure about this?" he asked.
"C'mon, Romeo," she said quietly, opening her eyes. "Let's do this thing."
He swallowed and nodded, and then his hand moved up under her skirt and her eyes fluttered shut again. I'm Lucinda Franks, a working girl. I've done this a million times, and I didn't care. It's just the easiest way to get my next fix.
Weevil's hand moved up, brushing over her skin just above the line of her lacey underwear, and his other hand wound in her hair. His breath was quick and a little rough, but they were getting no closer to finishing this thing and Veronica was feeling a little pressed for time.
She went for his belt again, and he froze up. Ignoring his reluctance, she grabbed the condom and ripped it open with her teeth. "Let's get the big guy suited up, huh?" she said coyly, trying to push his jeans down with one hand.
"Jesus," he swore, glaring at her. He grabbed the condom from her hand and moved back to take his pants off. Veronica noticed with a black humor that his reluctance obviously didn't extend below his waist. He had no problem putting the condom on.
Veronica shed the lacey underwear quickly, figuring that if she waited for him to get over these weird nerves he was having, she'd be in this room all night and Carlos would be safely ensconced in his small fortress before she could get to him.
Moving slower than she would have liked, Weevil stepped forward again and shifted her back on the bed, joining her only when she gestured encouragingly.
She turned her head away and tried not to wince when he entered her. The condom had a little bit of lube on it, but not enough to make up for the fact that she was bone dry.
I am Lucinda Franks.
Weevil hissed and was still, his breath a little uneven.
Veronica moved her hips to encourage him to keep going, but she couldn't turn her head to look at him. Not now.
"V," he whispered.
She didn't want to hear that catch in his voice…didn't want to know if there was emotion behind the weight of years that hung between them.
"Look at me," he said, cupping her cheek and turning her face toward him.
Damn it, she didn't want to hear that. Didn't want to open her eyes and see someone she'd known staring out of those jaded eyes. Didn't want to remember a past that was so long ago, it felt like it belonged to someone else.
She'd trusted him once. Taken for granted that he'd help her out when she asked, that he'd come flying by on that bike and rescue her when she needed it. And then, at her father's funeral, when every touch had left her cold and furious and empty, she hadn't been able to ask. Hadn't known how.
She was long past rescuing now. Long past wanting it. She didn't want to remember how it had been.
"Look at me," he said again, and, reluctantly, she opened her eyes.
She couldn't be someone else when he watched her like that. She couldn't help but seep back into her skin, pinned down by that gaze. His hand started to burn low on her waist; she could feel the slight sharpness of his hip against the inside of her thigh and the weight of him inside her, completely still.
"Let me make this good for you," he said softly, his thumb stroking the muscles of her abdomen and then sliding up, under her shirt and bra, massaging her nipple. She tried to fade away again, but his eyes never left hers and she was trapped by the emotion there.
Her body started to respond, a vague spark of something sputtering across her skin. Weevil smiled, and it was gentle and sincere and cracked the armor of her carefully maintained distance.
He was holding himself up on one elbow, and his hand was tangling in her hair again. His thumb stroked over that sensitive spot under her ear, and she was warm and tingly and just a little out of control.
This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. She was the one who controlled it. Always. It was her only rule.
Until now.
"You okay?" he asked softly, and she nodded even though she wasn't. Even though she felt like she was staring over the edge of a canyon, ready to fall.
Ready to jump.
When he moved inside her, it was slow and just a little bit painful, and then the pain faded away and it was heat and friction and good.
His eyes never left hers as he shifted, framing her with his arms and pressing close against her in a startling intimacy that had nothing to do with sex.
She let him kiss her, figuring that it was the perfect time to close her eyes and fall away from this whole disastrous turn, but his mouth was a strange combination of gentle and insistent, and she couldn't get away from the fact that this was Weevil whose tongue was tracing her lips, Weevil who was breathing against her open mouth, Weevil who was gently stroking her throat with his fingers. And there was no way that she could get away from the fact that he was doing all this to her and not some random hooker at a brothel downtown.
He pulled away just a few inches, his eyes huge and dark with emotion as he sighed her name.
"Veronica."
And even an amateur could have heard that there was sympathy there, and sorrow, and history, and all the things she didn't want to ever hear again, from anyone.
She closed her eyes against the memories that threatened to well up, and she thrust her hips upward, needing him to be faster, rougher…needing him to make her forget again.
His fingers ghosted against her cheek one last time, and then his weight shifted up and back, and he was pulling her slowly to the edge of the bed until he could stand between her legs.
She glanced at him quickly and his smile was crooked and regretful…and then he closed his eyes, and she closed hers, and they were still Weevil and Veronica, but no longer the people they'd been.
Too much time had passed. Too many things had changed.
Weevil started moving again slowly, steadily gaining speed until tension built and Veronica couldn't help but roll her hips in time with his, and she was whimpering just a little bit as he whispered things that she couldn't quite hear…and wasn't sure she wanted to.
His hand slid across her hip, down her abdomen, and he spread his fingers across her pelvic bone as his thumb pressed, just there, and then twisted and swirled. Veronica barely had a moment to recognize the sudden burst of sensation before they both came together and fell apart. She cried out with the enormous release as it swept away all the painful memories and left her momentarily breathless and panting.
Weevil withdrew slowly and put her holster back on, complete with ties to the garter, before he moved back to dispose of the condom.
He pulled his pants on in silence, and Veronica tried to remember all the pertinent facts that she'd need to get to Carlos, careful not think about what had just happened.
It was just business. That's all.
She got up off the bed, fixing her skirt, not bothering with her hair. It wasn't like anyone expected them to be doing anything else in here.
Weevil leaned close, a hand on her arm. "I never got to tell you how sorry I was. About your father."
She shrugged, keeping her voice quiet. "Why? You didn't kill him."
He shook his head, far too serious for comfort. "Cormac's dead, did you know?"
She nodded. It had happened seven years ago, when she still cared about justice in Neptune and bothered to follow the news. Cormac Fitzpatrick, model prisoner, had tried to escape during a transfer and the agents in charge had been forced to shoot him. He'd died in the hospital.
It was supposed to make it better, but it didn't.
"I have to go," she said, pulling away from him.
She didn't look back as she headed for Carlos' room.
***
Carlos wasn't there-not terribly surprising, really. But she hoped that he was still in the building somewhere, so she'd have at least a chance to catch up with him.
She had investigated most of the rooms earlier in the week, scoping out who used which rooms most frequently. She used the knowledge now to look in every room normally used by the blondes.
No luck.
She was just determining the best way to get herself into the security wing when she heard shots fired outside.
She abandoned her heels in the hallway and stayed low as she came out the front door. There were more shots, shouting, screaming…the sounds of car doors slamming and then general chaos. She took a deep breath and slid in closer.
Carlos was lying very still in a pool of his own blood, and his entourage was shooting everything that moved-focusing mainly on the black van that was currently screeching out of the parking lot. One of those built-in enemies.
It won't bring him back, she wanted to tell them. But they weren’t the type of people who cared.
To be honest, neither was she.
She examined their faces until they were clear in her mind, and then she started moving slowly backward.
When someone grabbed her arm, she very nearly shot them.
"Jesus, Biggs! Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
"No, I'm trying to get you not killed! Now move your ass, Nancy Drew! I've called for backup, we'll go in when they get here."
They stayed low on the way back to the Explorer and watched the fallout from there. There was nothing two officers could do against five very pissed off bodyguards, and it wasn't like there was any helping Carlos at this point.
When backup got there, the bodyguards had moved on. The whole operation was a bust. Their mark was lying dead on the pavement, and all the research they'd done amounted to exactly zip. They'd have to start all over again with the guy who popped up to take his place.
Veronica sighed. All in all, it had been a really shitty day.
***
She finally spoke up on the drive back to the hotel. "Hey, you know that gambling place on the river? Dirty Harry's?"
"Yeah?"
"I think we can get that guy on aiding and abetting, and possibly extortion or tax fraud."
"Your friend?" Biggs asked incredulously.
She glared at him.
He shrugged. "Okay. Because he was with Carlos?"
"Because he was trying to get Carlos to buy into something. There has to be something more to it. More than gambling. Maybe they're smuggling something in, or running an escort service out the back. I don't know. But I'm going to find out." She stared out the window, her jaw clenched just a little too tightly.
Biggs glanced over at her again. "Is this because of what he said to Carlos, or what he said to you?"
She turned toward him, ready for battle. "Look. I did what I had to do in there. It was business. That's all."
"Okay, okay," he said, opening his fingers on the steering wheel in an 'I give up' gesture. Then, quietly, "I just…I worry about you."
"Don't," she told him coldly.
And that was the end of it.
***
Two weeks later, after doing some late night staking out, some inventive record collection, and some careful finagling for an okay from the boss, Veronica had all she needed.
Apparently, Weevil, now going by, 'Elias Balboa,' had been looking to do some serious business with a Columbian cartel. Cocaine, mostly.
She didn't let it surprise her. He'd been small time in high school, but she'd always thought he was thinking bigger things. She just hadn't been sure which side of the law these 'bigger things' would be on.
Well, he'd made his choice. And she'd made hers.
"I'll do it," she told Biggs, tugging at her jacket and finally tossing her ridiculous, official-looking cap in the backseat. It wasn't often that she wore the damn uniform, and it wasn't just because she was usually dressed like a whore.
"I'll go with you."
"No. I'll do it," she said, keeping her voice light.
"C'mon, I'll walk you up the steps. It'll give me a chance to look at your ass." He smiled lasciviously, but there was steel in his eyes.
Biggs was usually pretty easy, but the shoot-out at the Grill had rattled him. Finally, Veronica nodded.
They walked together up to the ratty apartment that 'Elias' kept. Veronica wondered when he'd planned to move up to something bigger and better. Probably as soon as the shipments started coming in.
Well, he'd have a new place, now. Smaller, probably, but clean, with three square meals a day and a nice, predictable schedule.
Community soap.
She shook her head. This was no time to let the past come creeping up on her. He'd brought this on himself.
She knocked on the door.
Weevil opened the door slowly, looking her up and down. "Wow, V. Come on in." He stepped aside, ignoring Biggs as Veronica walked past him.
"So, I'm guessing you're not here to do the cop stripper routine?"
"Good guess, Elias." She pulled the handcuffs from her belt with unnecessary force. "You have the right to remain silent."
She stepped forward, feet carefully positioned so she could throw him if she had to. He sighed, giving her that sad smile again.
She gritted her teeth and kept going. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
He turned and put his hands behind his back. It was too damn easy. Too damn easy to be as hard as it was.
The cuffs clicked into place and she pushed the thoughts from her mind. "You have the right-"
"Veronica." His voice was soft, cutting through the dimly lit room more sharply than a scream. "I know my rights."
She swallowed. "Good," she finally said, steering him out the door and letting Biggs escort him down the stairs.
***
She let Biggs do most of the processing. She said it was because she was tired…because she didn't know the new paperwork. But she knew he knew otherwise. And she trusted him to keep quiet.
She couldn't keep herself from following as Weevil was escorted into the cell block. She waited for the guards to leave before she stepped forward…not quite within reach.
"V. Here to admire your handiwork?" It didn't sound as bitter as she'd thought it would.
"I always get my man," she said, as if it explained everything.
"Yeah." His mouth quirked up, not quite a smile. "I remember that about you."
He put a hand on one of the bars between them, and it took an effort for her not to reach out, if only to reassure herself, for better or worse, that he was real.
***
"You okay?" Biggs asked as she made her way back to the truck.
She nodded. "Of course. Just business."
He watched her for another moment and then let it go.
She'd spent ten years trying to forget Neptune. Everyone in it. Everything it had been to her. Everything it hadn't.
Apparently, Neptune hadn't afforded her the same courtesy.
She got into the truck and stared out the window as Biggs got in and started it up. The station receded in the passenger mirror.
She'd be back there tomorrow. And so would Weevil. And, just like there had been ten years ago, there would be insurmountable barriers between them.
Which was just how she liked it, she told herself.
She was long past wanting to be rescued.
All That's Left of Yesterday (Sequel/Tag)