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Section Six
by LeFey


Part One


Mmmm. That's nice," Vic murmured as Mac's hands stroked over him.

"Feel good?" Mac rubbed the flat of his palm over Vic's back, across the rise of his butt and down his legs as far as he could reach without losing his embrace with the other man. He repeated the gentle, soothing caress until Vic stretched in his arms.

"You awake now?" Mac asked quietly.

Vic smiled a candid grin that told how much he enjoyed Mac's touch.

"That's a nice way to wake up." Vic giggled over the last word and brushed his lips across Mac's.

"You like being with me?" Mac pressed closer against him, the sheets and comforter that still covered them intensifying the heat that radiated between them.

Vic entwined his legs with Mac's.

"I love being with you, especially when you're like this." He buried his head in Mac's shoulder, and then after a sprinkle of kisses he turned in his arms and spooned against him.

"Why don't you do the front?" Vic encouraged him by guiding Mac's hands to his stomach.

"Vic, we have to get up and..."

"I am up," Vic interrupted and moved Mac's hand down to his bobbing erection.

Mac slowly pulled his hand away after a few teasing strokes that drew a moan from Vic.

"We have an early meeting, remember? We both have to shower and get dressed. We won't have time for breakfast if we don't get up now."

Vic turned in Mac's arms and looked up, mischief lighting his eyes.

"I don't know about that. I see something I'd like to eat right here." His mouth clamped over one of Mac's nipples. Vic licked and sucked as Mac squirmed under him.

Mac finally pried Vic off of him, a smile lingering even as he tried to be serious.

"Victor, we have to get out of bed. Jeez, when did I become the responsible one?"

"Oh, about the time you got me addicted to you." Vic made another lunge but Mac was able to slip past him and step out of bed.

"I'm getting in the shower," Mac stated. "If we're not on time for this meeting you know who is going to replace the olives in her martini with parts of our anatomy."

"Your balls in a martini? On one of those fancy toothpicks?" Vic thought about it as he stretched on the bed. After a moment his face creased into a frown. "Yuck, it would still be gin."

"Vic! It's not getting any earlier."

"Can we shower together?"

Mac hesitated a minute but then relented. "Okay, but don't try that trick with the soap, again."

Vic jumped from the bed and rushed at Mac, hurtling him towards the bathroom.

"You loved it! You squealed like a teenage girl."

###

They sat in the darkened conference room and waited. LiAnn was late, but that was no surprise. The Director's absence, on the other hand, was a different matter. Victor had already slouched comfortably into the cushioned office chair and propped his feet up on the table.

"Calm down," he admonished Mac. Vic let out a deep breath.

"Doesn't this bother you? Doesn't it piss you off just a little," Mac brought his thumb and index finger together, nearly touching, "when she does this crap? Pulls us in here at the crack of dawn and then makes us wait. It burns me up."

"Who could tell?" Victor grinned and tossed a wadded-up paper napkin, left over from the coffee he'd just finished, at Mac. "The empty cup is next," he said as Mac batted the projectile aside. "It's just her, the way the Director operates. If I reacted to everything she put out I'd be mad all the time." Victor wagged his finger at Mac. "I got over that. I seem to remember that you got me over that."

"Oh, this is easy for you because you're her favorite."

"She doesn't have a favorite besides herself."

Mac's mouth twisted into a half smile as he agreed.
"Maybe Dobrinsky," he added, with a shiver.

Vic gave a surprised laugh and nodded. "I'd like to be a fly on the..."

"Good morning boys," the Director greeted as she descended the spiral staircase at the back of the room.

"More like afternoon, isn't it?" Mac shot back.

Vic had taken his feet off the table and was brushing off traces of dirt when Mac challenged the Director. Vic turned and gave him a quick silencing frown.

"Is there a point to your blithering, this time, Mac?" The Director placed a clipboard and collection of folders on the sleek black granite table and arranged herself in her chair.

"You're late," Mac pronounced.

Vic leaned forward immediately. "Actually, I think we were probably a little early."

Mac and the Director were locked in each other's 'take no prisoners' stare.

"This is why Victor is my favorite." The Director never lost eye contact with Mac. "And you, Mr. Ramsey, are the sole reason that you will never hold that title."

"So, is that our next assignment?" Vic asked as he reached for one of the folders. The Director shot him a cold glance and he sank back in his chair.

"I wanted you here early," she directed a pointed glance at Mac and waited for any comment; when none came, she continued, "because you are going to be working with fellow operatives from another section of the agency. I thought it would be best if I briefed you before they arrived."

The Director pushed the folder Victor had reached for across the table, and he snatched it just before it fell into his lap. Mac's was delivered in a similar manner. Then, the Director opened her own. That was three and there didn't appear to be anymore in reserve.

"LiAnn isn't here," Victor said. "Shouldn't we wait for her?"

"The other woman who has taken being late to an art form," Mac groused.

"LiAnn is already on the job. And Mac, since when have you become the responsible one?"

Mac turned towards Vic who snapped, "Shut up."

The Director shrugged and picked up her glasses. "This is a complicated case, so I want to go over the basics with you before your associates arrive."

A photo of a man in his mid-thirties flashed up on the screen at the other end of the room. His hair was dyed a stark white and accented with a maroon streak in the front. Except for the hair he was rather average and unremarkable; he could have been an insurance salesman, a grocery checker or just the guy next door.

"This is..."

"Robert DelMar," Mac interrupted.

Vic looked at the pleased smile on his partner's face and shrugged.

"That's correct," the Director acknowledged, a slight note of irritation ringing in her voice. "He is the genius behind the couture design firm bearing his name."

"Clothes," Victor said with a resigned sigh. "I should have known. Mac and clothes."

"That blue linen shirt I gave you at Christmas was a DelMar." Mac gently punched Vic's arm when his partner only gave him a blank stare in response. "I told you that," he chastised.

"Would you mind terribly if I interrupt your little dress-up stories with information about our actual assignment?" The Director's voice crescendoed in frustration

Vic waved dismissively at Mac. "Tell him."

"Mr. DelMar is a respected designer, but it seems he's an even better entrepreneur. Fifteen years ago, when he was a fresh young thing, he borrowed money from a mob boss in order to produce his first collection. He's been paying for that loan ever since. But don't weep for Mr. DelMar's youthful mistake. He's used his contacts to establish a prostitution ring that is dependant upon the underaged hopefuls who want to be his models. He also bankrolls a porn studio where he puts his over the hill models out to pasture. He uses all these operation to launder money for the mob at great profit for himself."

"The guy's scum," Vic agreed, "but isn't this a vice case, maybe at a federal level? What's it have to do with us."

"My favorite jacket is a DelMar," Mac said in a tone of disbelief.

"Shut up!" the Director and Victor said in unison.

The picture on the screen changed to a dark haired young man, maybe twenty, with soft sensuous features and smoldering eyes that seemed to look directly at the viewer.

"Does the name Canlan mean anything to either of you?"

"Doesn't he design out of Spain?" Mac offered.
"You mean Roger Canlan, the Reform Party MP from Ottowa. His party seems to have a lock on the elections and he has a lock on being Prime Minister when they win?"

The director smiled. "Victor, you may not dress all that well, but I can depend on you to know what's going on."

Victor's smile quickly turned to a frown. "What do you mean, I don't dress well?"

"This is Stephan Canlan, the MP's nephew. It has come from on high that Mr. Family values wouldn't look so holier-than-thou if it were known that his young nephew was being pimped by Mr. DelMar. Now, while I vote liberal..."

"Oh that's a surprise," Vic mumbled.

"The point being, I could care less what happens to MP Canlan. We have been given this assignment, and I think it is an opportunity to take down a major predator."

Mac turned from the screen and smiled up at the Director.
His hands formed a frame in front of his face. He squinted one eye as if trying to focus on a hard to capture image.

"This is a maternal side of you I never imagined," he told the Director.

"So which one of us has to make the porn film?" Victor asked dejectedly before the Director could respond to Mac.

"Dah! Which one do you think Mr. Inhibitions?" Mac answered.

"Keep it in your pants." The Director tapped a perfectly manicured red nail on the table in front of Mac. "And Victor, don't be so unimaginative."

"Translation," Mac whispered as he leaned close to Vic and grinned, "you're too old."

Vic pushed him away and frowned.

"Here are your new identities." The Director handed them each a large white envelope. "Victor, you are idle rich made richer by technology investments. You are looking for a way to filter money without declaring it as income. The way is not important to you, as you are as amoral as Mr. DelMar appears to be immoral. Del Mar needs capital to expand his porn studio. He has the conceit that he can actually make art films. He wants what most people want: to be in the movies. Your money can legitimize the studio and then he can admit ownership."

"Mac..."

Mac leaned back in his chair and smiled over at Vic. "I'm a model," he said as he showed the first page of his new profile to Vic.

"A model on his way out," the Director corrected.

Victor barked out a laugh and hit Mac on the shoulder. "Perfect casting," he said and fended off the hand that slapped his away.

"Do I need to separate you two?" The director leaned forward and effectively quieted the two men.

"Mac will work as a model and be desperate to stay in the business. That should make him a target for DelMar."

"Also we need someone to get into the business fronts that Del Mar uses to launder money. Vic, in return for your assistance with the film studio, DelMar will give his name to a chain of upscale lingerie stores. This will be your wife's project."

"Then shouldn't LiAnn be here?" Vic asked.

"Victor." The Director lowered her glasses and looked skeptically at him. "You know what they say happens when one assumes." She pushed the glasses back up. "LiAnn is at a final interview for a modeling job at the house of DelMar. We need both sexes on the inside." She looked at Mac for a moment. "Well, we do our best."

Vic couldn't hide the smile and Mac didn't even try to stop the angry frown.

"As I said before, we are recruiting some agents from another section to help us with this operation. One will be your wife," she nodded at Vic, "and one will be your agent, Mac."

"Bet wifey is ten years older with swollen ankles and cellulite, and you married her for the money."

Vic held up the sheet that carried the vitals on his new personae.

"Ah, can we say trophy wife? She's a former Miss California with a degree from Stanford."

"Stanford?" Mac pursed his lips and shook his head, "That's way out of your league GED boy. But I suppose that if they can teach those chimps sign language they can come up with a way for you to communicate with a woman outside your own species. And don't be surprised when you meet her. You know how those beauty queens let themselves go once the hunt for the crown is over."

The air was shattered by the crack of the Director's clipboard impacting with the stone conference tabletop.

"And do you know how much I want to duct tape your mouth shut?" The Director stared at Mac.

"Duct tape has a thousand uses." Victor said when Mac didn't answer.

The Director wheeled on Vic. The door behind them opened. She nodded at Vic. "Company. Lucky you."

"How have you been?"

Vic knew he recognized the smooth elegant male voice, but couldn't put a name to it till he heard Mac's frosty reply.

"Oh it's you. Great, another complication."

Victor turned ready to greet Elliot Hampton. The only member of section six, the agency's cadre of Lotharios, he had ever met. Elliot, with exotic good looks had charm that made you believe his manipulations were your own idea. Vic had only made love to Mac until that one night when Mac and Elliot had shared him. The idea of a man like Elliot —- desirable, clever and together... the things Vic thought he could never be -—wanting him was intoxicating. Even now, the memory made heat flush across his cheeks as he rose from his chair to say hello.

But as he turned it wasn't Elliot that drew his attention. She was standing a few feet behind him as if waiting to be noticed. Elliot was looking at Vic, the same warm smile that made him so appealing lighting his face. He knew Elliot wanted to be acknowledged but all Vic could do was look at her. He never thought he'd see her again.

Long before he had become indentured to the agency she was his snitch. He gave her money and she gave him information. And sometimes sex. After a while, the information was irrelevant but he kept coming back to her because the sex grew to feel like love. Sometimes he watched her strip in the clubs she worked. He'd drink Jack Daniels neat and think how her fine boned face and long-limbed, blonde beauty made her appear like a tarnished Grace Kelly. He allowed himself the errant fantasy of the two of them together, but the stereotype of the vice cop and the stripper kept him from making it real. Then she would take him to the parking lot during her breaks and she'd let him fuck her in the backseat of his car. She'd give him information he already knew and he'd give her more money before she had to leave to perform another show. He never thought it was anything more than what it was; but he always wanted it to be.

The last time they were together she had set him up to be killed. He'd looked into those jewel-like, blue eyes and asked her why. The betrayal he felt was total and profound. But within moments he'd fallen prey to her calculated vulnerability and protected her one more time. He had taken her to the agency, left her with the Director and walked away from her forever.

"Hi Vic." It was the only sound that reached him. Elliot was talking. Mac was making some sounds but it was all just distorted noise. Her voice came floating to him as pure and sweet as the best strains of a blues guitar.

"Ivy." He wasn't certain if he said the name out loud or only thought it. Either way she moved towards him, smiling. She was even more beautiful, if that was possible, than before. Her skin was translucent, like fine porcelain lit from within. Her long legs were encased in a short black skirt. Her perfect breasts, hugged by a soft pink sweater, moved slightly with each step she took towards him. He remembered times he would pet and hold those flawless breast under the soft covering of other sweaters until she would squirm and he would nearly come. There was never a time he couldn't loose himself in the erotic beauty of her body.

She was nearing him now, her hand rising slowly and reaching towards him. The sound of other voices still echoed around him. Though they continued to talk, he could feel that all eyes were locked on him and her progress towards him.

Her fingertips barely brushed the front of his denim shirt but the sensation radiated through him and telegraphed up his spine to a brain that was reeling from the unexpected encounter.

Missed you. She mouthed the words to him, her back to the others. She smiled at him. He was lost. She was able to fix him with the sweetness of her full lips pulled back from a pearl line of teeth. Her face radiated a vulnerable seduction when she smiled.

Before he could manage a response, a hand pressed against his chest and propelled him towards an empty chair.

"Sit down before you fall down," the Director instructed as she pushed Victor into the chair.

Mac had his hand on the back of the chair next to Vic but Ivy slipped into it before Mac had a chance to turn it. He stood and stared for a moment, his lips moving into the beginning of a protest when Elliot took his arm.

Mac shook him off and ignored the gesture Elliot made towards one of the empty chairs.

"He's my partner," Mac told him.

"I'm your partner on this one." Elliot rocked the empty chair a bit and swiveled it towards Mac. "Get used to it," he threw over his shoulder as he stepped around the other chair and sat down.

"Mac, sit down," the Director instructed.

Reluctantly, Mac took a seat but kept his gaze fixed on Victor who sat silently studying his fingertips until Ivy touched him.

At her touch Vic jerked his head up. He stared for a moment at her fingers resting gently on his arm.

"You're in Section Six?" Vic looked at Ivy for only a second, then turned to the Director, his face a mask of confused desperation. "You put her in Section Six?"

"That would make you an Agency whore," Mac chimed in, his bright smile betrayed by a bitter tone.

"Mac, shut up," Elliot snapped.

"Oh, excuse me," Mac made an exaggerated gesture of apology with one hand over his heart. "That would make the two of you agency whores. I've met this whore," he gestured towards Elliot, "but I haven't met this one."

"Mac, knock it off!" Vic threatened.

Mac gave a disgusted laugh. "I'm not saying anything you haven't said first. You're the one who told me what Elliot was. You told me Section Sex," he made quotation marks in the air with his fingers, "as you called it, had a bunch of operatives that whored themselves."

"Mr. Ramsey!" The Director's voice cut off the next words Mac was about to speak. "You are just too talkative today for everyone's good, especially your own. Agents from Section Six have particular talents just as you do. Although yours are much more difficult to discern. Because of the nature of this case, I have brought in experts who will see that you two lambs don't get eaten by the big bad wolf, Robert DelMar."

"I'm no lamb," Mac interrupted.

"No, Mac." The Director cocked her head and gave an annoyed sigh. "You're more like a horse's ass. So I'm sending them with you to protect your ass. Thank me later. You know Elliot. This is Ivy Moen."

Mac blinked for a moment as the name registered. "This is Ivy -—the Ivy? Poison Ivy who set you up to be killed by the Janzyck family?" He was leaning forward and speaking past her to Vic, who avoided his gaze. "What's wrong with you, Vic? You act like you forgot what she did. You have a lobotomy? You're not being reunited with your long lost prom sweetheart here."

Ivy placed her hand over Vic's and he immediately looked at their joined hands.

"So, this is who you settled for." Ivy waved one long fingered hand dismissively at Mac. "I never understood your Catholic need for punishment."

The Director was up and around the table before anyone else could speak.

"Your assignment starts now." She punched her finger into Mac's chest. "You go with Elliot. The two of you have rooms at the Hilton. I suggest you shut your mouth and learn your cover on the way there. Elliot has an interview set up for you with DelMar this afternoon."

"I have to stop by my apartment..."

"Everything you need is already at the hotel." She nodded towards Vic. "That goes for both of you. Victor, you and Ivy have the penthouse at the Hilton. Now, all of you get out of my sight before I forget that I can't hurt you until after the assignment is completed."

They all stood and Mac tried to move towards Vic but Ivy blocked his way and smiled very deliberately at him.

"Mac, come on." Elliot urged and took his arm.

Mac jerked out of his grasp and scowled, but after a moment stalked off towards the set of stairs that lead to the door.

Ivy took Vic's arm. He still acted stunned and just stared at her when she pressed herself against his side.

"Vic, we have a lot to catch up on. You'll have to tell me how you got messed up with him." She said the words loud enough that they carried to Mac, who was almost out the door. When he turned to confront her, Elliot hustled him the rest of the way through.

"Miss Moen," the Director said sharply stopping her as she began to walk away with Victor, "This is an assignment, not a second chance."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Ivy's pretty face froze in a petulant frown.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. And Victor, be careful what you wish for. It may not be what you want at all."

###

Part Two

Vic was starting to come back to himself after the shock of seeing Ivy again. He walked to the garage in silence as she talked quietly, but with a fascinated excitement, about her last year and a half with the agency. She apparently took to the work of seduction. The idea made Vic angry and sad. There was still a part of him that wanted to rescue her and save her from the exploitation she reveled in. And there was another part that hated her for exploiting him.

"So, I thought you knew about me. I was going to tell you myself at the Agency banquet last year. I was pulled away on a case. I asked Elliot to tell you but I guess he had other plans." She laughed softly. "I heard he kept kissing you until Ramsey got in the way. You were always too polite to say no."

'I never wanted to say no to you,' he screamed in his mind, but kept pace in silence beside her.

"There's our ride." She pointed at a large black limousine idling quietly in a vacant corner of the garage.

"But that's... ." Vic stopped and pointed.

"You're a rich man, Lover." Ivy took his arm and pulled him to the waiting car. "You're too important to drive. Our clothes, ID, money and luggage are inside."

"How did you know about... why didn't the Director tell me... ."

"You would have had a complete briefing," she opened the car door, "if that moron, Ramsey, hadn't started acting like a wet baby."

Vic slammed the car door shut.

"If you want to get along with me on this assignment, then Mac is off limits."

Ivy looked surprised for a moment, but then she forced a smile as red misted her cheeks.

"Fine with me. I wish he didn't exist. I just mean I'll fill you in on what you missed."

"You just mean anything I want to hear. Isn't that how it works with you?"

The smile had faded from her face. She barely glanced at Vic as she spoke.

"I've tried every way I could think of... for the last year and a half ... to get back with you. I wanted to make it up to you for what I did."

Vic gave a disgusted laugh. "Where's the sign? Don't you have a sign for me to hold that says 'Stupid'? Maybe I'm already wearing it." He glanced over his shoulder, then back to her. "I'm sure you've slapped something on my back that says 'Dupe', 'Sucker' or 'Chump'. Or maybe it's more permanent like a tattoo. 'Fool,' in black ink at the base of my neck, etched on while I was sleeping."

"When did we ever sleep together, Vic?" Her voice took on a brittle edge of real anger. "You never came around except when you wanted something, like information or sex. And once you got it, you were gone. But I didn't mind. 'I' was the fool when it came to you. I believed I was special when I looked in your eyes. I believed that I could be a good person when you held me."

"You are a good person," Vic interrupted.

Ivy pushed him aside and took hold of the car's door handle.

"I should have believed the Director when she told me I didn't want to see you again." She swung the door open and Vic jumped back to avoid being hit. "But she should have told me why, told me how you'd become such a prick."

She stepped into the dark confines of the limousine.

Victor waited; the door like a shield between him and Ivy's hurt rage. He wanted to run. He wanted to find Mac and the complicated relationship that now seemed simple compared to the one waiting for him inside the car. He wanted to comfort Ivy and tell her that he had found as much strength in her as she had in him. But he still wanted to be certain that she wasn't just playing him again. And above all, he wanted to be someone, anyone other than Victor Mansfield who let life happen to him as he blundered through it.

His skin glowed from a confusion of anger and embarrassment. For all the things he thought she might have marked him with, the last epithet was the worst and felt burned across his face.

Prick.

He'd always thought of himself as her champion, not the cop who gave her no choice but to be used.

Prick.

He valued her information, that's why he'd gone to her about the Janczyk family. Making LiAnn, his exotic ex-girlfriend jealous with the sensual familiarity of his ex-snitch, was unintentional. Wasn't it?

Prick.

He'd ignored her as she asked, then pleaded with angry frustration, to be told what this place was, what this agency was that he'd taken her to when her plan had fallen through. But he'd stepped away from her without a word as he'd done so many times before. A simple turn of his head and she was erased from his world, proving again that her value to him was only situational.

Prick.

Victor stepped around the door and entered the waiting limousine.

"I'm sorry," they both said at once.

###

"He's like a symbol to her, a token of security."

Elliot switched on the blinker and guided the Mercedes convertible into the farthest lane.

"He's mine," Mac said slumped into the leather seat, arms crossed over his chest.

"Wish I had a dime for every time I've heard you pout about that."

Mac shifted in the seat and pulled his dark glasses down his nose, scowling at Elliot.

"Maybe if you didn't try to put your tongue down the back of Vic's throat every time you saw him I wouldn't have to remind you."

"I thought we were talking about Ivy?"

Mac pushed the glasses up in-place with an angry snort, then slumped back down in the seat.

"How can he act like nothing happened?"

"They have history, Mac." Elliot turned onto the busy downtown street that led to the hotel. "She's probably had sex with him more times than you have. I understand he was a horny, young vice cop." Elliot shivered, involuntarily and glanced at Mac. "God, what a delicious image." His lips spread into a sensuous, infuriating smile.

Mac bolted forward as far as the seatbelt would allow.

"He loves me!" Mac thumped his index finger against his own chest as he glared at Elliot. "He's told me, many times, that he loves me. He said it first. And I'm damn sure he's never said it to you or that Ivy."

"You're right, Mac." Elliot turned into the long driveway of the hotel. "The closest I ever got was he told me once he thought I was funny."

"Yeah, well we all think you're funny, Elliot, and I'm not talking about 'ha, ha'. And I know that if something happened to me, you'd be right there after him. You're not going to be the other guy as long as I can help it."

Elliot swung in next to the curb and put the car in park. He unlatched his seatbelt and leaned next to Mac.

"What you don't know, whiner, is that if anything happened to you there wouldn't be any other guy. I'm not the person you have to worry about. I like Vic. I want Vic. I'll admit there are even times I crave Vic. But he's not the missing part of my life."

Elliot turned and stepped out of the car. He handed his keys to the waiting valet.

"Take good care of her." He nodded towards the Mercedes and pressed a twenty into the attendant's palm. "She's an only child."

He looked over at Mac who sat staring off. Elliot snapped his fingers to get Mac's attention.

"Mac, out of the car. We have a job to do. You understand that concept?"

Mac clicked off the seatbelt and let it fly back into the holder. "Fuck you, Elliot." He drew out the curse.

"Not this time, Diva," Elliot threw back at him as he walked towards the hotel entrance.

###

Vic propped himself up on his elbows on the king-sized bed and watched Ivy as she hung up their clothes. Occasionally, his attention would be drawn to his own reflection in the closet's mirrored sliding doors. He watched himself watching Ivy. He wasn't sure he knew the man on the bed. He was wearing casual but elegant clothes; a polo shirt a shade lighter than the fawn linen pants he had changed into on the limo trip over. Ivy had combed his hair into a conservative style with a part on the right.

When she removed his earring her hand lingered, palm against his cheek.

"This color looks good with your skin."

Her skin felt like satin against his. He had wanted her to glide her hand down his neck, under the covering of the soft knit shirt, and caress him.

Vic shook off the image of what he'd wished for in the car.

"You sure I can't help you?"

Ivy turned and wrinkled her nose at him before she laughed. "You always had perfect timing. I'm nearly finished."

"That's not fair. I tried to help in the beginning, but you told me to get out of your way."

Ivy picked up the charcoal blazer Vic had carefully draped over the back of a chair.

"I would have hung that up," Vic said as he pushed himself towards the end of the bed and sat up. "I'm not a slob."

She turned around after the jacket was placed in the closet. "I know you're not, Vic. If anything you're too neat. I could imagine you coming behind me and rearranging the clothes. Besides," she smiled and held out her arms, "isn't this what a wife does? Not that either of us would know."

Vic lowered his head as he felt the heat spread across his cheeks. "I need to take another look at the assignment briefing."

Ivy was beside him before he could rise from the bed.

"It's on the coffee table in the other room." She ran her fingers through his hair. "This worked out pretty well. You look like you've always worn your hair this way."

Vic gave a sheepish laugh. "Thanks a lot. I must have some geek gene." He took her hand and moved her fingers from his hair. In a moment she'd entwined her finger with his.

"Why don't you get the assignment files and I'll run a bath," Ivy said. "You can catch up and still relax before we have to go to that party tonight and meet DelMar."

"That sounds great, thanks."

"Good." Ivy let go of his hand. "I'm dying to try that Jacuzzi." She turned towards the bathroom.

"Together?" Vic was off the bed and trying to formulate a good excuse why it was a great idea a moment ago but not now.

"Did you look at the tub? It's enormous."

"But..."

They both turned as the phone rang.

"I'll get that." Ivy walked into the living room.

Vic followed ready to change her mind about the bath.

"Hello. Yes." Her hand went to her hip and she shifted her weight. "I don't think so." Her voice took on a disgusted edge.

"Who is it?" Vic asked as he neared her.

"Oh, and how would you like it if I told the Director?"

"Who is it?" Vic insisted.

Ivy turned towards him. "Your girl friend, Maxine." She said the name deliberately into the receiver.

"Give me the phone." Vic had it out of her hand before the words were out of his mouth.

"Mac, what's up?" Vic pulled the phone away from his ear as a burst of unintelligible abuse poured out. "Mac! Mac!" Vic managed to cut through the tirade and get him to listen. "Why did you call? Okay. Yeah, okay. Bye."

He turned to Ivy who glowered, arms folded across her chest.

"Mac and Elliot have come up with some new information. He wants me to meet them."

"I don't think it's a good idea to be seen with those two. In your circle you shouldn't even know people like that."

Victor gave a quick shrug. "They have information. We're meeting in the garage; no one will see us."

"I don't like this, Vic. That jerk is going to blow this whole thing."

"Ivy." He said her name as a warning. "I told you Mac is off limits." He motioned at the phone. "And for god's sake stop baiting him. He's volatile enough as it is."

"That's the whole point..."

Vic took her by the shoulders. "Why don't you try out the tub? I'll be right back."

"But I thought we... ."

"Let me talk to Mac. It'll be easier this way." He stopped her before she could protest. "It'll be just this one time."

She glanced away from him but then fixed him with a determined look. "I'm your partner on this one, Vic. I don't care who or what Ramsey thinks he is. I'm the one who is going to have your back."

His first reaction was to reassure her, to make things right. He'd moved his hand, almost involuntarily, to push an errant strand of golden hair behind her ear. She pressed his palm against her cheek before he could move his hand away. He felt trapped. It was the oddest sensation to not be able to move when the touch that held him was so light, so delicate. He could break her in half without breaking a sweat, yet he couldn't step away from her now.

She looked at him. Her blue eyes began to fill with unshed tears. "Please, Vic. I'm just trying to make amends. I know you can't trust me completely right now. But we were good together. Give me another chance."

He managed to wrest his hand from under hers and stepped away. He was one touch, one simple concession away from the liaison they used to have. There was a time when the slightest sign of her unhappiness would have made him her slave.

In abrupt flashes, he thought of LiAnn and how he'd tried to model their relationship after what he'd had with Ivy, and how that had failed. He thought of the Director and her constant manipulations. "I should give you a finder's fee, Vic. Ivy is golden." This was high praise from the queen of deception.

For the first time he thought about how frequently Ivy's tears must have been manufactured to make him do what she wanted. And he wondered if they had ever been real.

Now, he felt outside himself as he watched one tear streak her face. It was followed by the all too familiar action of wiping it away and the sniff that used to break his heart. But Vic just watched and wondered at how he could feel so detached.

"You 'are' my partner on this one," he reassured her in a flat tone, "and I expect you to have my back. That's what partners do. But I don't trust you completely and I don't know that I ever can." He rubbed the back of his neck trying to erase the tension that was knotting there. "I don't know if we were ever good together, or you were just good at using me," he admitted. "But, we'll make this work. Just let me deal with Mac by myself, this one time."

Ivy nodded reluctantly. "Just don't forget I'm your partner, Vic. I never forgot you."

###

"Who were you talking to on the phone?" Elliot asked as he walked through the connecting door from his room into Mac's.

"Vic called." Mac reached for the gold medallion strung on a woven black leather cord that lay on the bed.

"I didn't hear the phone ring."

"Well it did," Mac shot back. "I hate wearing junk jewelry like this." Mac tried to fasten the necklace.

"It's a look. Goes with the leather pants and the panne top."

"I never wear crap like this." Mac let out a frustrated growl as he continued to fight with the necklace.

"Here, let me do that." Elliot reached for him but Mac jerked away.

"I've been dressing myself for a long time."

"That's a surprise." Elliot sat down on the foot of the bed. "What did Vic want?"

"Finally," Mac shouted as he secured the clasp. He took the few steps to the dresser and picked up his watch. "Cheap knock off," he groused as he slipped it on. "Damn thing will probably turn my wrist green by midnight."

Elliot shook his head. "Mac, you can try to change the subject as much as you like but I'm just going to keep asking you what Vic wanted until you tell me."

"Vic has some information on the case. He wants to meet."

"Where are we meeting him?"

"Not we." Mac patted himself on the chest and smiled. "I'll be back in a few."

"We have to be at DelMar's office in an hour and a half," Elliot said.

"Don't sweat it." Mac waved him off and headed for the door.

"You blow this case, Mac, I'm not going to make excuses for you," Elliot warned. "I'm going to hang you out to dry with the Director."

Mac turned suddenly, and stood in the open doorway.

"Whatever you do, you still won't get Vic."

###

Vic tensed as he heard the elevator hiss open. He flattened himself against the large square pillar he was standing behind. Ivy was right. The four of them had no business being seen together. They needed to formulate a way they could share information and not put their cover at risk. A spike of anger shot through Vic. They could have worked these things out this morning if Mac hadn't been such an obstruction.

Vic heard footsteps echo through the hotel garage. They were growing closer but it sounded like only one person. He had expected both of them.

"Vic," Mac called out.

He stepped out from behind the pillar and motioned Mac over, frowning and waving a hand for the other man to be
quiet.

"Where's Elliot," he asked as they both stepped behind the pillar.

"Who cares?" Mac pushed him against the hard concrete surface and clamped his mouth over Vic's.

Vic struggled but Mac had him pinned. He managed to break the kiss and turn his face away.

"What are you doing?" Vic asked in a breathy moan as Mac ground against him.

"Everything you like, Baby."

Mac found his mouth again and pressed hard, arousing kisses onto him.

Vic knew better than to let Mac go on with this. When Mac became this aggressive he was nothing more than a tomcat marking his territory. Vic pushed against him and Mac pushed back.

Vic smiled, despite himself, against the onslaught of the other man's body and mouth. Ivy's attentions had aroused him more than he wanted to admit. The chance to direct all that pent up energy towards Mac was a welcome relief.

They tussled, pulling and pushing, straining to gain dominance as they feasted on each other's skin. Vic revealed in the dynamic of their struggle. There was a physicality with Mac he had never experienced with anyone else. He felt free with this man. There was no lover with less strength than he owned holding him back. Mac didn't prey on his weakness, a need to protect. Mac challenged him with the equality of their bodies.

Mac groped at him, his hand pushing over his stomach, heading for his crouch. Vic thrust into the rough massage and reached for Mac. He squeezed and rubbed the engorged member through the tight leather of Mac's pants.

"I'm going to make you scream," Mac panted as he unlatched Vic's belt and roughly tore down his zipper. In a moment the fine linen of his trousers were pooled around Vic's ankles.

"Did you spray these on?" Vic asked as he tried to gain access to Mac's black leather pants. "I can't even get my hand inside." His words came in labored bursts as Mac's hand found its way inside his tan briefs.

Finally, Vic had Mac's pants pushed down riding snuggly on the tops of his thighs.

"No underwear," he commented as he stroked Mac's rigid cock. "The hustler look's complete."

Vic was silenced when Mac pulled the front of Vic's briefs down and secured them under Vic's balls. The pressure of having his genitals captured by the wide band of elastic made Vic buck against the other man. Mac had trapped him like this before, then teased and tormented him till Vic thought he'd go insane. He managed to continue to stroke Mac despite his attempt to move away.

"Want it?" Mac asked as he pressed himself against Vic. He began to stroke the length of Vic's cock, his fingertips brushing across the surface of the captured balls on each trip.

Vic moaned, alternately trying to pull away and push into the stimulation.

"Want it, Baby?" Mac quickened the stroke.

Vic shivered as the intensity of the sensation increased. He lost his grip on Mac and sunk back against the concrete wall. His legs were turning to water and he tried to steady himself as he fought to prolong the pleasure.

"Want it?" Mac repeated his voice deep and husky with desire. "Tell me," he ordered.

Vic felt Mac rub against his bare leg in time with the hand that tunneled his cock. He knew they were both close and he knew that what Mac wanted to hear wasn't his need to come.

"Tell me," Mac insisted his breath coming in hot gasps against Vic's cheek. "Tell me. Tell me."

Vic began to thrust into Mac's grip. The movement was automatic, as were the words that started to spill from him.

"I love you," he choked out.

"Tell me."

"I love you."

"Tell me."

Their bodies were meshing in an erotic dance. They thrust and pulled, strained and flexed against one another. The movement was constantly punctuated by the ceaseless mantra of need.

"I love you."

"Tell me."

"I love you," Vic moaned out the words as the pleasure pulsed and played through his being. He thrust again and again as Mac pumped him. He tossed his head from side to side as he tried to ride the crest of the wave of bliss without falling off the edge. "I love you. I love you. I love you." The words came fast exhaled with each breath, inhaled with each gasp, a chant to the pleasure and the man who created it.

"Ahhhhh. God! Mac! Love. You."

Vic slumped into the wall. Only Mac's hip wedged against him kept him from sliding to the floor.

Mac pulled some folded paper napkins from his pants pocket and cleaned both of them.

"What was that about?" Vic asked once he recovered and snagged his pants, pulling them up.

Mac tossed aside the napkins and arranged himself back into the tight leather pants.

"Do I need a reason?" He grasped the back of Vic's head and prepared to pull him into a kiss.

Vic grabbed his wrist.

"Since when have things been that simple with us? 'I'm horny let's fuck.'"

"You do this to me." Mac took a step back and waved his free hand at Vic. "You're so fine I can't help myself." Then he really looked at Vic and nearly did a double take.

"Where'd you get these clothes, Preppy Geeks R US? Jeez, I just jerked off my old man!"

Vic thrust aside Mac's hand.

"The Director's right about you. You're duct tape poster boy material."

"You can't honestly say you like these clothes." Mac's voice rose in protest. "You're going to a party at DelMar's dressed in something you could wear when you retire to Florida?"

"I'm not wearing this to the party. I've got some piece of crap he's designed for that. Besides, he's not interested in how I dress, only in my money." He pulled at the front of the soft knit polo shirt showing it to Mac. "This is how most men dress, clotheshorse."

"Then most men have bad taste."

Vic pointed his finger at Mac ready to counter the implied insult.

"I'm not saying you have bad taste, Vic. Actually you have no taste at all. So, this is a big step down for you."

"You should talk, done up in this club-kid-hustler outfit." Vic tried to touch a fingertip to Mac's face just below his eye but the other man leaned away. "What's that? Crow's feet? Old hustler to boot."

"At least I'm not playing house with some chick that tried to get me killed."

Vic felt the wind had been knocked out of him. He rocked back against the cold concrete pillar and stared at Mac. There was more challenge than apology in the look Mac returned. So this was the answer to his question, what was that about. He'd noticed that Mac was upset this morning. But Vic had been too stunned by Ivy's unexpected return to pay any real attention to Mac's feelings. After a moment he found his voice.

"Is there any information, or was that just the excuse?"

"What excuse?" Mac snapped.

"Get me down here and prove that you can make me say it."

Hurt anger clouded Mac's face. He started to speak several times but stopped himself before the words spilled out. Finally, he pushed himself against Vic; a hand propped on the wall on either side of Vic's head.

"Don't do this to me."

"What?" Vic asked, but he knew exactly what he meant. How without meaning to, without thinking, with one look towards Ivy and a glance away from Mac, he had made him feel rejected.

"I gave up everything I knew for you. Because when I realized who you were and what I needed, nothing else mattered."

"Mac..."

"Don't you leave me, Mansfield." Mac's tone had grown desperate. "You love me." The words were nearly a threat. "You said it first. You love me."

"Mac, calm down. It's just this case. Things are messed up right now."

"No!" Mac poked his finger into Vic's chest. "You're messed up. You have to make a choice. I made mine and nothing's going to change it."

The muffled sound of the elevator bell rang from the hallway outside the garage. Mac flattened himself next to Vic at the sound. In a moment they heard the glass panel door, that separated the garage from the banks of elevators, open. The chirp of a car alarm being turned off echoed through he garage.

A few steps sounded across the concrete floor.

"You don't get it," A caustic male voice said. "He doesn't want you anymore, you stupid bitch."

"Don't call me that, asshole." A decidedly masculine, angry voice replied.

Vic looked at Mac and raised his eyebrows in surprise. They were both ready to walk out and breakup what they thought to be an ugly scene between a man and a woman.

"Face it. You're just a washed up muscle boy that Bobby keeps around so you can pay off your debt."

There was a loud thump as a hard body impacted with an equally hard object.

Vic and Mac peered around the corner. All they could see was the back of a muscular guy bent over another man who was flattened against the side of a car.

"I do this because I have to," the one man growled. "You do it because you're a cheap, fucking whore." Slamming the other man against the car emphasized each word.

"Not my face! Not my face," the other man pleaded. "You leave a mark on me and Bobby will have your ass, Tell."

There was a moment's hesitation, but Tell let go and stepped aside.

"Oh that was my mistake," the young dark haired man said as he rubbed his arm. "Bobby already owns your ass."

Vic and Mac turned to each other and mouthed the name at the same time. 'Canlan'. Just as quickly Tell had his hand around Stephan Canlan's throat nearly raising him off the ground.

"Give me the keys, you piece of crap." He flexed his free hand waiting for the car keys to be deposited. In a second Canlan gave them up. Tell pushed him back about a foot as he released him.

"Keep your mouth shut," Tell warned as he walked around the car to the driver's side. "Or I'll let DelMar know that you set up your own tricks, on the side."

Canlan paused as he opened the car door. "You know the only reason you're here is because the guy wanted a three-some. I'm the star. You're just this pathetic loser everyone is tired of."

Tell leaned on the roof of the car for a moment and fixed Canlan with a look that made him take a step back.

"You'll be standing here one day and some drama queen is going to be telling you the same thing. And don't think that won't happen to you, punk." He stopped Canlan as he was about to interrupt. "Because that's the nature of this business. But at least I had five years of legitimate modeling before I got pushed into this. You waded into the sewer from the beginning." He flashed a startlingly mischievous smile. "But knowing that whatever you say to me is going to come back to bite you one day, makes putting up with all your crap worth it." He stepped into the car and closed the door.

In a moment Canlan was also in the car and they drove away.

Vic turned to Mac and smiled. "A disgruntled employee. I think we have potential for inside help."

"I'll ask around when I start working."

"I'd better get back." Vic brushed his lips across Mac's.

Mac grabbed his hand as he tried to walk away. "Remember what I said, Vic."

"I remember what you 'made' me say. Why am I the only one who says it? And why am I the one everybody thinks they can manipulate?"

"This isn't about anyone else."

Vic jerked his hand out of Mac's grasp.

"Of course not. It's always just about you." Vic turned and walked away.

'Why am I the only one who says it?' The words repeated in Mac's head as he watched Vic walk away from him and open the door that lead to the garage elevators.

Mac was mute with anger.

'Why am I the only one who says it?' Because Vic could never show it. At least not so that Mac felt contented. The words were the only concession Mac had gained. The only token Vic gave him that there was anything more between them than their last encounter.

Mac had again been a target of the famous Mansfield temper. He knew he spent too much of their time together appeasing his partner's hot-headed nature. If he didn't, the temper flashed and Vic was gone.

Now, as he stood in the dark recesses of the hotel garage, he was abandoned once again. There had been life before Vic. The choice he'd made, and challenged Vic with just minutes before, didn't seem all that worthwhile now.

"You've walked away from me for the last time."

###

Vic had forgotten the card key to his suite. The same card that operated the elevators. He was furious by the time he'd climbed the three flights from the lower level of the garage and exited into the hotel's posh lobby. After what seemed an endless wait in line, while an overdressed matron complained about incidental charges on her bill, he was able to get another card.

This was all Mac's fault. Vic was nearly trembling with rage as he waited for the solitary elevator that went to the penthouse. 'I've got information.' Mac always had something that needed Vic's immediate attention. How many times had he told himself that Mac was never going to piss him off like this again.

The elevator opened. He stepped inside and pushed the single button for the penthouse. The door closed.

"Fuck you, Ramsey!" Vic screamed as the car began to move.

Ivy turned when the door collided with the wall as it was thrown open with too much force. Vic moved swiftly towards her. She'd seen the look before. Vic's temper was no secret, but it wasn't easily aroused. She'd heard that Vic and Ramsey were an explosive pairing but she never expected a simple meeting to set him off like this.

"What did Maxine have to say?"

He didn't answer. He didn't stop. He stormed up to her, grabbed her and crushed his mouth against hers.

###

Elliot rose from the bed and picked up a pager from the nightstand as he saw Mac enter his room next door.

"I need you to carry this pager. I tried your phone but you left it in the room. I have to have some way to communicate with you," he said as he took a step toward the open door that connected their two rooms. "I had no way to let you know we need to leave."

Mac didn't answer but stood in the middle of his room with his back to Elliot.

Elliot looked at him and shook his head.

"So, what did Vic want?"

Mac turned suddenly and walked towards Elliot. As he neared he took the pager offered and threw it on the second bed in the room. He pushed Elliot backwards and the two landed on the first bed. It only took a moment for Mac to capture the astonished man's mouth with his own.

###

Part Three

"Mac!" Elliot struggled to move from under him. They were a match for each other physically but Mac had grabbed the element of surprise. He rolled with him as Elliot tossed and turned on the bed trying to dislodge him. All the while Mac pressed home hard kisses that knocked their teeth together when Elliot tried to protest.

"What the hell are you doing?" Elliot yelled as he forced his face away from Mac's.

"You like... my... mouth." Mac panted between words. "You always said... you liked my mouth."

"I like Vic," Elliot managed as he wormed his hands up from where Mac had them pinned to his sides. "And I'm not going to let you use me to hurt him."

He raised one leg and managed to tip Mac. A quick shove and Mac Ramsey was sprawled on the floor between the two beds.

Elliot rolled off the bed in the opposite direction and stood, gingerly touching the fingertips of one hand to his mouth.

"I think you split my lip." He held out his fingers and examined them. When there was no blood visible he touched his lip a few more times till he was reassured that the skin wasn't broken.

The stress from the sudden and unexpected attack was quickly turning into anger. Then he looked at Mac.

Motionless, like a large doll tossed aside by a child who was bored with him, Mac sat slouched on the floor between the beds. Head bent, he barely breathed despite the recent struggle.

Elliot eyed him cautiously as he continued to take stock of his throbbing lower lip. It was odd to see him like this. Mac was always up, in your face, energized and mouthy. But Elliot held back. How did he know this wasn't a scam? Mac was a thief and a con artist, capable of as much deception as Elliot was. But Mac's shoulders drooped a little more and he took on the look of a beaten dog.

'You've been at this too long,' Elliot chastised himself. 'Not all emotion is faked.'

He rounded the bed and sat down at the foot.

"So... what happened?"

After a long silence Mac finally shrugged. It was a tight, minimal gesture that explained nothing.

"Did Vic tell you anything about the case, or did he just want to see you?"

Mac barked out a harsh laugh.

"That's the funny part," Mac said without looking up. "I called him. Yeah, I lied to you, but you should expect that by now." He was silent again except for a long exhalation of air that was nearly a sigh.

"Did he get mad at you for that?" Elliot bent forward. He rested his arms on his legs and leaned towards Mac. If he showed enough interest, or could make eye contact, maybe it would draw some sort of reaction from his melancholy partner.

"Mac?"

"Being around you made me wonder what it would be like to do it with you." Mac answered with little conviction. "Maybe I just want you."

Elliot leaned back and touched his sore lower lip.

"And maybe if I put on spiked heels and too much make-up I'll be the Director." He shook his head. "Oh, I just remembered, things don't work like that."

Mac glared at Elliot. His eyes narrowed into a challenging frown. "You've got it made, don't you?" The crisp Ramsey edge was coming back into his tone. "Your biggest problem is coming up with another smart-ass remark."

Elliot knelt beside Mac. His voice dropped to a low confidential whisper.

"My biggest problem is I have a partner who doesn't have his head in the game. If you can't be here one hundred percent, I'll call the Director right now and tell her we're coming in."

"Oh, you'd like that wouldn't you?" Mac pushed Elliot back and stood. "I'll bet you have it all planned out with Dobrinsky. What's first when the Bitch Queen turns me over to him? You and you're buddy Doby sit by the pool playing backgammon and drinking champagne while I grub out the algae with a toothbrush?"

Elliot was sitting on the end of the bed again, watching Mac pace the short length of the small hotel room. Mac didn't realize that they were probably tied for first place on Dobrinsky's list of agents he'd most like to torture. Elliot was determined that Dobrinsky wasn't going to get a chance at either of them.

"I'm not taking the blame if we go down," Mac said suddenly.

"This isn't about blame, Mac. This is about you being able to carry off the ruse of being someone else when you see Vic and Ivy together, and not bitch slapping somebody. This is about you being present and able to do whatever is necessary. This is about you being there for me when I have a gun to my head. Can you do that, Mac?"

Mac had stopped pacing and was looking away, a stiff uncomfortable silence holding him in place.

"Well, can you, Mac? Because that's my big problem. And it's your problem, too. If we can't trust each other with our lives, then we need to step out now. I told the Director you're quick and clever. I told her I could work with you. You want to prove me wrong? You call her."

"He..." Mac's voice faded out as he still stood motionless.

Elliot reached out tentatively and touched his hand. When Mac didn't jerk away, Elliot grasped him and pulled him over towards the bed.

"Sit down, Mac. Tell me what happened."

"I thought you said we had to leave?" He glanced over at Elliot, seated beside him.

"We've got some time."

There was a long silence as Mac sat crouched next to Elliot.
He clenched and unclenched his fists until he finally spoke.

"Vic walked away from me. That's all he ever does. That's how he wins. He just walks away, and I go running after him."

A fleeting thought of comforting Mac came to Elliot, but it was chased away by the image of the other man crumpled in his arms. Mac was close to tears by the sound of his voice, but Elliot didn't have the energy to deal with the consequences of a sobbing Mac Ramsey. He'd just have to talk him down.

Another unbidden thought arrived. If Elliot could convince Mac that Vic was too much trouble that would give him a chance with Vic. That idea was dismissed by the unsettling knowledge that the person you love is never too much trouble. And Elliot had to admit that Mac really did love Vic. There was a sudden clammy heat down Elliot's back. He had chided Ivy about Vic. "Forget him, he's in love with Mac." He'd been able to say the words but never believed them until now. 'Forget about, Vic,' he told himself as he had a million times before. Charming men with kind smiles and true hearts never found their way into Elliot's world. He was stupid to think that Victor would lose his way and join him there.

"Mac, you must realize this relationship with you... It's all new to Vic, being with another guy."

"It's new to me, too!" Mac protested.

Elliot raised one eyebrow. "You trying to tell me you never had sex with a man before Vic?"

Mac turned and looked at him, again. He stammered out a surprised denial but then admitted, "That was just sex."

"You're not going to get an argument out of me against casual sex. But the truth is, you're just more comfortable with this arrangement than straight boy is."

"You don't understand," Mac insisted. "I love Vic."

Elliot felt an unusual flush of heat rush up his face. He'd thought that after all the things he'd done and seen, and lied about, he couldn't be embarrassed anymore. The raw intensity in Mac's eyes and the vulnerable admission of one person's love for another was almost more than Elliot could deal with. He'd heard I love you from countless people. It had always been something he'd drawn from his marks in order to gain the advantage. That had been his job for the last ten years, make them love you. He was the best at it, but the real thing still scared him.

"I've only loved two people in my life," Mac ticked them off on his fingers, "LiAnn and Vic."

"Shouldn't there be three?" Elliot asked as anger rose in him.

"Who?"

"LiAnn, Vic and Mac Ramsey? Not necessarily in that order."

"Christ!" Mac was up and pacing again. "What? Do you and Vic share notes or something? That's all I ever hear. You're so self-centered. You're so fucking selfish." Mac stopped suddenly and pounded his finger into his own chest to emphasis each word. "I'm not the one who has to have everything my way or I walk!"

Elliot had the nearly uncontrollable desire to poke at this open wound. He knew, however, that indulging his anger had just made things that much worse. He had to calm Mac, and get them ready to leave.

"Mac, what the hell do you want? You've got a physically beautiful, previously straight guy who's so taken with you that he has no qualms about admitting he's your boyfriend. In my world that's pretty much a Nobel Prize. Yet you're so damn needy that you... ."

"If I'm needy it's because of Vic," Mac bellowed. He looked away from Elliot. His voice was quiet and sad as he confessed. "He has qualms. I hear it all the time. He's always just one miss-step away from leaving me. I treat him the best way I know how." He shot Elliot a skeptical look to keep him quiet. "The only way I know how. But it's like I'm never enough."

"Mac," Elliot stood and covered the few steps between them. He hesitated to touch the other man, as he sensed the gesture would be rebuked. "If it hadn't been Ivy, it would have been someone else. There is always going to be a woman to remind him of how it used to be. He wasn't a gay man looking for another man. You happened to him Mac, and he never expected that. He's still trying to deal with it."

Elliot grabbed the silent Mac and shook him out of frustration. "You know how fucking special that makes you?"

Mac allowed the action and stood silently in Elliot's grasp. Finally, he moved away.

"I know how much it hurts," he said quietly and turned to look at Elliot.

"He's yours, Mac." Elliot shrugged. "All you have to do is accept that and make Vic think it's his idea. That shouldn't be hard for somebody like you."

"You think I'm that easy?" Mac asked, a sarcastic smile faint upon his lips. "Just play the ego card and I bend over?" Mac frowned but then shrugged his agreement. "Maybe. And maybe I just took advice from an arrogant prick."

"I'm almost certain that there's a yes in there somewhere." Elliot patted the other man on the back. "Will you be ready to go in a few minutes?"

"Yeah. Sure." Mac pulled the silver panne velvet shirt off as he walked towards the door to his room. "I just want to wash up." He stood in the doorway for a moment and looked back at Elliot. "You don't have to worry about me being your partner. I have a rep. Ask anyone. I always give one hundred and ten percent."

"One hundred percent is all I'm asking." Elliot smiled as Mac gave an arrogant nod of agreement and walked into the other room.

"But I'll work with the fifty percent I'm going to get," Elliot said under his breath. There was no way Mac Ramsey could separate himself from his emotions, and Vic had those feelings in an uproar. There were times when Elliot saw the two of them together -—laughing, speaking quietly to one another -—jealousy shot through him. But if half of what Mac said was true, their relationship must be hell.

Elliot shook his head. With all the vaccines being developed around the world, he always wondered why finding something that would protect you from love wasn't on the top of everyone's list.

He picked up his briefcase from the small desk near the bed and went into Mac's room to wait for him.

###

The offices of the house of DelMar were as self-consciously hip as the man they were named after. Bright abstractions of color served as art on the dark plum walls of the reception area. The double doors to DelMar's office were sheeted in metal stamped with triangles that shimmered and winked with a faint prism effect.

"The mighty Oz," Mac quipped when he saw the doors.

He'd been talkative and upbeat since they left the hotel. Elliot always contended that if you made someone think you were on his side, you could have them eating out of your hand. Mac was no exception. Now that he thought Elliot understood his problems with Vic, Mac was his usual cocky but charming self.

They were left to sit in the reception area for so long that Elliot finally noted, "Half an hour since we were supposed to meet. We're being given time to realize how unimportant we are, so we'll jump at his first offer."

"Isn't that the plan, anyway?" Mac asked.

"Yes, but the truly pathetic always put up the front that they are important."

"You scare me, Elliot," Mac said with a shiver.

"Good, you're learning."

When they were finally ushered into DelMar's office by a bored assistant with attitude, they were all but ignored.

DelMar had his back to them, and leaned against his desk as the young man they both knew to be Stephen Canlan kissed him.

Canlan laughed slyly and disengaged himself from the kiss.

"We have company," he confided, as if this were news.

DelMar turned and gave them a quick glance. He kissed Canlan again, this time very much for show, and then pushed him away.

"You can stay if you want."

Canlan brushed his lips across DelMar's. The young man exuded a sensuous experience that belied his years. He was dark, exotic and on the game. It was hard to tell who was being used. In answer to the invitation he took a step away and pulled the high back chair away from DelMar's desk and held it while the other man sat down.

As he turned, DelMar became all business. His hand went out and he snapped his fingers as he demanded, "Your book."

Mac handed over the photos that had been put together for this case. He joined Elliot, who had taken one of the two seats near the desk.

DelMar flipped through the photographs of Mac. Actually, they were cleverly merged photos of Mac's face atop the bodies of models with his build, as there wasn't enough time to take the real thing.

Canlan whispered something in DelMar's ear and he looked up suddenly and stared at Elliot.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Elliot Hampton, Mac's agent."

"I don't usually see agents."

"And my clients don't usually have private interviews with the owner of the line they're going to model."

"From the dates in this book, your client hasn't been seeing anyone, lately."

"If you're not interested?" Elliot reached for the book but DelMar closed it and placed it on the desk out of reach.

"I didn't say I wasn't interested. Your boy has a good body for clothes. I like my models to not get in the way of my designs."

Canlan whispered to DelMar again but was waved off this time.

"I'm trying to get a foothold in the Indo-China market. There's not much return at first, so expenses need to be kept at a minimum. This job doesn't pay much but... ."

"I'll take it," Mac interrupted.

Elliot shot him an angry glance but thought he'd give him props later for jumping in at just the right time.

"Oh, he speaks!" DelMar's declaration was followed by forced laughter from Canlan. "I don't have many models who can put a whole sentence together." He smiled at Elliot. "I can see why you came with him."

"I did a lot of modeling in Hong Kong -—runway work, photography, and some video." Mac finished with a nod of his head, leaving the question of what sort of videos up in the air.

"But he doesn't do that sort of thing anymore." Elliot added "Strictly legit work." Working with Mac was surprisingly easy. They had a rhythm between them after just a minimal briefing of things to point out during the interview.

"Really?" DelMar drew out the one word. "Tell me." He opened the photo book once more and looked for a name, "Mac. Do you like boys or girls?"

Elliot grabbed his wrist before Mac could speak.

"I don't think he has to answer that."

DelMar laughed and exchanged a knowing glance with Canlan.

"I don't think he 'needs' to answer that. You have a job if you want it Mac."

"Yes." Mac grinned. "I want it. I want it very much. Thank you." He leaned across the desk and shook DelMar's hand.

As soon as the handshake ended, DelMar reached for a tissue and wiped his hand.

"Go out to the desk. I'll tell Tess you've got the Indo-China job. She'll tell you where to go."

"I have no doubt about that," Elliot said as he rose and followed Mac towards the door.

"Oh, Hampton," DelMar called after him.

Elliot turned and Canlan was staring holes through him.

"Stevie likes you." He said the words in a childish, singsong voice. "And I like to keep Stevie happy. You interested in a three-way? It could mean a lot of work for your boy."

"And a lot of pleasure for you," Canlan added.

"Pleasure and money, my two favorite things." Elliot gave them a seductive smile. "I see a couple more jobs for Mac, and not just throw away campaigns, and we'll talk."

"I don't plan on doing much talking," Canlan warned with a lascivious smile.

Elliot laughed and pointed at him. "I'm going to have a hard time keeping up with you, clever guy."

"Let the man go," DelMar told Canlan. "He has things to do." His hand went to the bulge in the younger man's pants. "And so do you."

Elliot took the opportunity to leave. He found Mac standing by the reception desk. The moment Mac saw him he grabbed Elliot by the arm and pulled him over to the far corner of the room.

"That was Stephan Canlan," he whispered.

"Yes, I know."

"When I was in the hotel garage with Vic he came down to his car with another guy. They had been turning tricks. They were fighting over who was the bigger loser."

"And you were going to tell me this, when?"

"I never got a chance, did I?" Mac shot back.

"No, I guess not," Elliot said quietly but then shoved him. "You were too busy trying to put your teeth through the front of my face."

"Let's not forget about your pop psychology session!"

"Oh I won't! The next time Vic dumps you, don't come crying to me."

"Elliot, shut-up!" Mac whispered.

"Don't tell me to shut-up."

"Shut-up. Somebody's coming."

Mac spun him around just as another man approached. He was a little shorter than Elliot, tanned and buff with large hazel eyes that gave his face an innocence that contrasted the extreme masculinity of his body.

"Hi" He greeted Mac but then looked at Elliot and extended his hand. "I'm Jason Tell. I'm in the shoot. I'll take you down to the studio. It's on the fourth floor."

"Elliot Hampton. I'm just the agent."

"Could have fooled me."

The flirtatious smile the other man displayed made that unfamiliar heat rise in Elliot again.

"Mac is the model. Mac Ramsey." He introduced his partner and the two men shook hands.

"We'd better get going," Jason suggested.

"We'll be right there." Mac motioned towards the elevators at the end of the hallway. "We need a minute, for some business."

"Sure." The other man walked away from them.

"What business?" Elliot gave an exasperated sigh.

"The other guy in the hotel garage with Canlan?"

"Yeah?"

"That was him."

Elliot shot a quick glance towards Jason Tell who leafed through a folder of papers as he waited for the elevator.

"If there's anybody else involved..."

"There's no one else. Just those two," Mac assured him.

"And neither of them recognized you?"

"We were sort of behind a pillar when they came in."

"With your pants around your ankles, no doubt."

"No," Mac protested. "We had our pants up by then."

Elliot raised his hand and pointed a finger at Mac. "Don't pull this shit on me, Ramsey! If you have information I want to know it before it walks up and shakes my hand."

"DelMar is selling both of them. Canlan likes it and Tell over there doesn't. We can use him against DelMar."

"If he doesn't like the situation," Elliot glanced over at Tell then back to Mac, "why doesn't he just leave?"

"I don't know. I've told you everything I know. We'll have to figure out the rest."

"We?"

"Elevator's here." Jason called to them.

"Hold it. We're coming," Mac answered.

"Ramsey," Elliot whispered as they walked towards the waiting elevator. "If you don't get us killed on this one, I may just kill you myself."

###

Part Four

Victor pressed his forehead against the cool, painted wood of the bedroom door. His hand rose from the knob and gripped the doorframe.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "Sweetheart, please open the door."

Vic waited for a response but he was greeted with the same tangible silence. He had pleaded, cajoled and now begged for Ivy to open the door, but nothing moved her.

The embarrassed heat that charged his body radiated up a notch at the memory of the look on Ivy's face as she pushed him away.

He'd rushed into their suite pissed at Mac, frustrated with this life he'd been sentenced to and ready to prove himself a man. He'd grabbed her up and kissed Ivy. He'd covered her mouth with his, probing, claiming as he pressed her to him in a groping embrace. He'd seized her ass, the way Mac liked, and the act lifted her off the floor. That was when she broke the kiss, and Vic knew she had never kissed him at all but was trying to get away from him.

"Stop it," she'd insisted.

Vic had ignored her. Struggle was just foreplay between Mac and him. With little effort, he hurdled them both towards the couch and Ivy had impacted with the back. Vic had pushed her off-balance and straddled her as she'd leaned backwards.

He kissed and bit at her neck while he rubbed against her. The realization that there was nothing hot and hard bumping back startled him out of his frenzy. Then he heard her, heard her scared, angry words for really the first time.

"Stop it! What's wrong with you? Stop it!"

He'd loosened his grip on her, and she'd pushed him hard in the chest.

"What's wrong with you?" she'd screamed again. "Ramsey's turned you into some kind of sick animal!"

She ran towards the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. A moment later there was the faint metallic click of the lock.

Now, Vic stood pressed against the door listening for some sound from the other room. He'd apologized a dozen times but he was certain there was nothing that could undo the roughness that had become a part of sex for him.

"Ivy, please." He started again. "I never meant to hurt you. I just don't know... ." He stopped himself before the truth, he'd never realized, escaped. 'I just don't know how to handle a woman anymore.'

"I don't know my own strength sometimes," he said instead. "You know how clumsy I can be. Remember? We used to joke about that time I bumped your head against the headboard."

The door clicked open. Ivy stood silently, rubbing a handprint-sized red blotch on her right arm. Victor stepped away from the door, giving her the room to leave if she wanted to.

She took a deep breath and exhaled a sigh of disgust.

"You were never rough with me before, Vic." She looked away as if trying to sort out his betrayal. After a moment their eyes met again.

"You were the most gentle man I'd ever known." The words were almost an accusation.

Vic looked at the floor as a million explanations raced through his mind. Some were true, some lies and some just convenient. When he looked at her again he'd decided that this was one of the few people in his life that deserved the truth.

"That guy, back then, wasn't really me." He gave her an embarrassed smile. Vic felt the adrenaline he had been running on fade away, and suddenly he was exhausted. "Can we sit down?" He motioned towards the couch.

"I don't understand?"

"I've been standing by the door, for what?" He glanced at his watch. "Over an hour and I just want to sit down, now."

Ivy grimaced and shook her head.

"That's not what I meant. What do you mean that guy wasn't you?"

Vic offered his hand. There was a momentary hesitation but she placed her hand in his. He raised the long fingers to his lips and kissed them.

"I am so incredibly sorry," he whispered, his lips still pressed against Ivy's fingers.

She smoothed his hair with her free hand.

"I know you are," she conceded, with a resigned sigh.

They walked to the couch. Ivy sat down in one corner and curled her legs under her. Vic was well aware of her defensive posture, throw pillow clutched to her chest, despite her having accepted his apology.

He sat near the other end of the over-stuffed couch and leaned forward, elbows on legs, hands clutched trying to come up with just the right words to explain something that he didn't fully understand himself.

"Are you trying to say you just slept with me for the information I could get for you?" Ivy broke the uncomfortable silence. "You gave me money for that. I thought the sex was about us."

"It was." Vic agreed and turned to face her. "Ivy, you are so beautiful, and sweet." He lowered his head and laughed. "And so sexy. I used to come around when I didn't need information."

"I know," she responded flatly.

"You do?" Vic jerked his head up and stared at her.

"You forgot the part about my not being stupid," she snapped.

"The point is," Vic said as he fought the sudden anger that flashed through him, "the guy who made love to you wasn't the man I am inside."

"Oh, spare me!" Ivy tossed the pillow aside "I don't want to hear your damn coming out story!" She started to unfold her legs.

Vic took her hand. "I'm talking about us, about how I always held back with you. I didn't earlier, and you felt what happened."

Ivy was quiet again, but pushed Vic's hands away.

"You were so delicate, almost fragile when I held you. I was always afraid that if I got too excited I'd hurt you." He shook his head. "I guess this afternoon proves I was right." Now, it was Vic who picked up the pillow and held it like a shield to his chest. "It made me feel strong and protective that I could be gentle with you, but it wasn't really what I wanted." He looked away and his voice dropped to a faint confessional tone. "I like it rough. I want to push it, and have someone push me back."

"That asshole," Ivy seethed. "Ramsey has ruined you!"

"No!" Vic put the pillow behind him and reached for Ivy but she moved her hand away. "Don't, don't blame Mac for this," Vic stammered. "I'm not the person most people think I am. I'm not the person 'I' used to think I was."

"You were the best person I ever met." Ivy leaned forward, eyes narrowed, ready to defend Vic to himself. "You were a ... you 'are' a really good guy. You treated me better than anyone ever had. Don't tell me that's not what you wanted to do."

"No. I always felt I didn't treat you good enough. Ivy think about it. I was a vice detective and you were my snitch. I should have never had sex with you. That was so totally unethical, yet I came back again and again. We may not want to admit it, but I used you. It was wrong."

"It never felt wrong to me," she threw back at him.

Victor shrugged. Being with her had never been anything but life saving to him. All the reasons he'd ever thought of for not seeing her again were just morning after guilt.

"I never regretted one minute I ever spent with you," he conceded. Her head dipped when he said this. He knew this was what she wanted to hear and he also knew that it had been the truth.

She laughed self-consciously when she looked up at him.

"You were like my fantasy guy come to life. I used to doodle 'Ivy Mansfield' on a notepad when I talked to you on the phone."

"But you said you couldn't imagine us being married." Vic thought back to the odd verbal dance they'd done to avoid their real feelings on the night that she'd set him up for the Janczyk family.

"And when you agreed with me it broke my heart!"

"Mine, too," Vic confessed.

"It's not too late... ."

"Yes it is," Vic interrupted. "You know that as well as I do. My life is different from what we knew together. So is yours. You couldn't stop talking about being in Section Six. 'Finally, I'm calling the shots. I have respect.' You said that to me. You don't need me Ivy." She started to protest but he cut her off. "We were both lost then. Part of what we found in each other was some safety from a world that scared us. You don't need me for that, any longer. You've got you." He tapped a finger on her shoulder and smiled.

She pressed his hand against her chest and held it there with both of hers. "Why do I have to give you up?"

"You don't." Vic scooted closer to her. "Ivy Moen doesn't give up her friends."

She pulled away from him. "But I did, Vic. That's really the problem, isn't it? I set you up."

"No," he responded automatically but then dropped his head and was quiet for a moment. "Okay, I still feel betrayed. I just locked down all those feelings but they came up again when I saw you this morning." He looked at her again. "They were going to kill you. I know you had to do it."

"See, that's why you're the best, Vic." She gave him a faint smile. "No one else would have cared about me, and taken me someplace safe. No one else could have put aside what I did."

"I'm not as noble as you think I am. Leaving you with the Director was only the lesser of two evils. You hurt me Ivy, and I did want to hurt you back. I think the scene by the car this morning proved that. But I always thought, in the back of my mind, that if you'd had any choice you wouldn't have done it."

Ivy covered her mouth, but not before a sob escaped.

"Now, stop that," Vic chided gently. "I didn't say it to make you cry." He ran his hands up and down her arms trying to calm her. In a moment she was pressed against him, holding him tightly and still crying.

"I never wanted to hurt you," she whimpered.

"I know," he told her and hugged her back.

"I didn't have a choice."

"I know that too."

She pulled back from him and wiped at the tears that stained her face.

"But you don't know how much it hurt me when you just disappeared. I didn't know you'd been arrested or that you went to prison. I just thought you were tired of me."

Vic reached out and took her face in his hands.

"I never meant to hurt you, either."

"I know that, now." She managed a weak smile.

"Can we just start over?" Vic moved his hands to her shoulders. "I want to be friends with you."

Ivy slipped back into his embrace and squeezed him tightly as if trying to hold on to the ghost of who they both had been. Finally, she pulled away, but kept her hands resting against his chest.

"I need to know, why did you come in here and ... well, attack me like that."

Vic glanced away as his face heated once more. "Mac pissed me off," he admitted. "I'm not proud of it," he told her, momentarily meeting her gaze. "I've just had it with him and his childish, self-centered... ." He stopped abruptly as he felt the anger grow in him again and his focus shift from Ivy. "Sorry," he murmured. "I guess I tried to use you again. Just like old times."

"I told you, I never felt used by you, Vic. You always made me feel important."

Vic pushed an errant strand of golden hair behind her ear.

"You are important."

Ivy gave him a resigned smile and lay back resting her head against the arm of the couch. "Okay, I'll accept you and Mac but I still don't get it." She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "I can't imagine how you got messed up with Ramsey, especially if he's always pissing you off?"

Vic laughed and shook his head. "Damned if I know!"

"Great answer," she chided. "That explains everything. What the hell do you see in that jerk?"

"He's not a jerk," Vic snapped, but then took a deep breath. "Well, he's not a jerk 'all' the time."

"Most of the time?" Ivy prompted.

"It's hard to explain." Vic sunk into the deeply upholstered couch and stared at the ceiling, trying to sort out all the contradictions that made up his relationship with Mac Ramsey. "It was never a conscious thing," he offered.

"I can believe that," she agreed. "Mac Ramsey, unconscious. That makes perfect sense."

"If you're going to do that... ." Vic started to get up.

Ivy scrambled to a sitting position and pushed him back down.

"Victor, give me the occasional sarcastic remark. I just lost the man of my dreams to a guy. A guy who pisses off everyone, including you. I think I'm entitled to do a little commentary." Ivy reclined again. "I deserve that much and a big L tattooed on my forehead."

"Okay," Vic conceded, "but remember what you say about him reflects on me. And you're not a loser!" He gently slapped the back of her hand. "I don't want to hear you say that about yourself again."

"I thought you were breaking rules, Vic. Not setting them. Come on, back to the subject, you and the boy blunder."

Vic settled back in his seat again. "I don't know how it happened. It started out about the two of us fighting over LiAnn." He looked away for a moment, embarrassed at the memory of how he had used Ivy to try and make LiAnn jealous when he thought there was still a chance to be with her. "We worked together a lot," he continued, "and we argued a lot. I guess we fought in order to stay apart. We didn't think of it as sex, at first." He dipped his head, as his cheeks reddened. "At least I didn't."

"Don't blame you," Ivy drummed her fingers on the back of the couch. "After all it was with Mac Ramsey, but I guess sex is sex to a man."

"It's more than just sex." Vic defended his relationship with Mac, but then became painfully aware of the inconsistency in his actions. He wanted to explain to Ivy the importance of a connection that he had been ready to sever, without another thought, earlier that day.

"There is a kind of bond between us that neither of us ever intended to happen." He stood up suddenly. "I have to call Mac."

"They're probably gone." Ivy reached out and grasped his hand and he stopped beside her. "They have that interview with DelMar."

"Right. I forgot."

"Vic what's wrong?"

He looked down at Ivy but all he could see was Mac's face as he stood in the gloom of the garage and pleaded with Vic to remember they loved each other. Then Vic walked away from him.

"Vic?" she prompted when he didn't answer.

"I guess I do the same thing to Mac that I did to you. I hurt him without meaning to."

Ivy moved her legs and patted the empty space beside her. Victor let her pull him down to sit on the couch.

"We had a fight, earlier. He didn't have any information, and Elliot wasn't with him. He just wanted to see me. He's jealous about you and me." His voice trailed off and he looked away.

"That wasn't such a bad call on his part."

Vic looked back to her. "No, I guess not." He struggled for the right thing to say and then blurted out. "I never... I never meant for this to happen."

"Oh, Vic." Ivy rolled her eyes at him. "You never meant to get involved with your snitch. You never meant to fuck around with Mac. You never meant to storm in here and jump me. It must be convenient to have life happen to you like that."

Vic started to protest, but Ivy was up on her knees and in his face. "You can't have it both ways, Vic. You can't instigate all these situations and then say you never meant for them to happen."

"It's true. I never mea... ."

"You use that a lot don't you?" Ivy sat back into the corner of the couch. "No wonder Maxine is such a mess. It's not just that scrawny ass of his you fuck with."

"Ivy!"

"Admit it, Vic. You may not 'mean ,'" she made little quotation marks in the air with her fingers, "to do these things but you manage to get what you want."

"No! It's different with Mac," Vic protested.

"I can see that. You're just flat-out aggressive with him. You're usually passive with the rest of us."

Vic shook his head in disbelief. "And when did you go from being a stripper to Sigmund Freud?"

Ivy straightened. "I'm two quarters away from getting my BS in psychology."

"Oh it's BS alright! You don't know what goes on between Mac and me. He's manipulative. He works me and when I find out it pisses me off. He lied to get me to meet him."

"And why did he want to see you?"

"Because he had to make me say I loved him!" His voice rose with frustration, but then Vic fell quiet at the realization of what he'd just said.

"And you got pissed about that?"

"No... Well, yeah. Not at what it..." Vic looked at Ivy. "He just pulls things, feelings, out of me that I don't want to give. He's been able to push my buttons from the moment we met. I just want to give it back to him sometimes."

"It sounds like he craves attention and you don't give him enough."

"Who can?" He threw up his hands. "But what about me?" Vic protested "I need to hear it, too!"

"Damn!" Ivy rose from the couch. "Elliot was right. You two 'are' in love with each other." She glanced back over her shoulder as she walked towards the well stocked bar. "You just cost me two hundred dollars."

### Elliot helped himself to a cup of spiced tea as he waited for Mac to change after the photo shoot. Mac was a natural for this. He thrived on the attention, and the whole process fed his inherent exhibitionism.

"The few, the proud, the tea drinkers." Jason Tell reached past Elliot and picked up the steaming carafe. He poured himself a cup.

"Sorry, I didn't know it was yours."

"It's okay," he flashed an engaging smile. "I'll share."

Elliot gave him back his best smile and the other man didn't look away. The guy was a flirt on a professional level. He was attractive, smart and certainly charming. Elliot entertained the idea of using him for more than just getting to DelMar. The thought passed. Elliot was professional too, and this guy could prove to be a major distraction.

"You're very good out there." He motioned at the Mylar and black draped set where he and Mac had been photographed. "The camera loves you. You have quite a presence."

"So does Mac." Jason looked around but when he didn't see Mac he turned to Elliot, again. "You'd think I'd remember him. I worked in Hong Kong for awhile but I guess I never met him."

"He might have been in Europe at the time."

"Where?"

"Different venues." Elliot leaned close to Jason, and was indeed momentarily distracted by the man's scent. He smelled of clean sweat, spices from the tea and a faint tang of citrus cologne. "You know Mac's had some problems," Elliot confided. "He's been in and out of drug rehab. He was probably 'away' when you were in Hong Kong."

"Probably." Jason nodded his agreement. "He's a lucky guy to have a manager who would stick with him through that."

"He's earned it. I think he's capable of great things, with the right guidance. Who represents you?"

The openness, that was so attractive in Jason, suddenly vanished. He looked away and didn't answer. He picked up a pair of sugar cubes and dropped them into his tea before he finally spoke.

"I have an exclusive with Bobby... ah... the House of DelMar."

"Really?" Elliot tried to sound curious and a little impressed. The sudden change in Tell confirmed what Mac had told him. The man was unhappy. Elliot needed to probe without scaring him off. "That must be a pretty sweet deal."

Jason gave a harsh laugh. "You'd think so, wouldn't you?"

Elliot pulled out his wallet. "I don't usually cruise clients, but..." he handed Jason his card.

Tell turned it over in his fingers then offered it back to Elliot. "Put your home number on it, and I'll keep it."

"That was a bad choice of words," Elliot gave the man a slightly embarrassed smile. "I don't usually cruise 'for' clients. If you're ever thinking about changing representation..."

"That's not a possibility." Jason dropped the card on the table next to the tea carafe. "Exclusive means exactly that." He started to turn away.

"Listen, I didn't mean to offend you."

Jason shrugged and turned back. "It's not you, man. It's... well... it's just a really long story and neither of us have that much time."

"We could make time. Mac and I are going to grab something to eat. Would you like to come with us?"

Jason glanced at Elliot. "Are you and Mac..." He hesitated but then looked directly at Elliot. "Is Mac your boyfriend?"

Elliot gave a startled laugh.

Jason raised his hands. "Man, I'm sorry. You're straight. I have no gaydar. I always pick the wrong ones."

Elliot reached out and took his free hand.

"I'm not straight," he said in a confidential whisper, then added in a normal tone, "and Mac's not my boyfriend. I don't sleep with the people I represent."

Jason looked at their joined hands and smiled. "I've never met an agent yet who didn't sleep with his models."

Elliot released his hand. "You have now." Elliot picked up the business card Jason had tossed aside. He pulled a pen from his pocket and wrote the phone number for his hotel room on the back. He offered the card back to the other man. "You've got an exclusive. I can't represent you. So, that makes me just another guy who thinks you're hot." The sudden blush that colored Jason's face surprised Elliot.

Jason took the card from his hand and smiled. "That idea goes both ways."

"Dinner?"

Jason set his tea down. "You buying?"

"If that's what it takes."

"Don't worry." He flashed a gentle smile. "I'm a cheap date."

"Jason!"

A man about thirty approached them. Jason tensed noticeably at the sound of his voice.

"What do you want Jake?"

"You, baby." He shot the other man a sly smile. "I've got a job for you tonight."

Jason looked at Elliot before he answered. "I'm busy."

"Yeah. And I'm just doing Mr. DelMar's business. Personal request for you on this one."

"I said, no."

"Look, Ramsey is already in on this one. He seemed to get off on you. It'll be a good time."

"Mac's in?" Elliot asked.

The other man shrugged. "He said he'd talked to you and you were cool with this."

"Sure, cool," Elliot agreed, hoping he could trust Mac's judgement about whatever this guy was talking about.

"So, you in, Jason? You can ride with me."

Jason Tell stared at Elliot. His mouth drew into a surprisingly hard line. He turned without a word and started towards the door. While he walked the business card fluttered to the floor as he threw it aside.

"Hey, man wait up." Jake called as he ran after him.

###

Part Five

Victor leaned back in the plush limousine seat as they drove to DelMar's palatial compound outside the city. Vic worried his upper lip trying to take in all the information Ivy was going over. He should have had this briefing this morning, not learn what they hoped to accomplish by meeting DelMar on the way to the meet. Spilled milk, spilled Mac he should expect it by now Vic told himself. This morning seemed like days ago.

It was impressive to watch Ivy work as she laid out their plan from overview to particulars. He'd never seen this side of Ivy before, organized, intense, in charge. Then, he admitted to himself that he'd never looked for this aspect of her. It had always been enough that she was a willing, beautiful woman that he was guaranteed to lose himself with.

"One of the primary things we want to persuade DelMar to do is introduce us to some of his money people. We have it on good authority that he still has strong mob connections. He can be brought up on racketeering charges or made to turn states evidence. Either way he's out of the picture. There is also an unconfirmed story that he may be the middleman for some insider trading that profits his organized crime contacts."

"You're really good at this." Vic smiled appreciatively. Despite the fact that he still didn't like the idea of her being in Section Six, he was happy to see how self-confident she'd become. He always knew she was smart and often realized she outsmarted him. Now, it was nice to see her succeed.

Ivy stopped and blinked as if he had broken her concentration. "Thanks, but Elliot's actually much better at coordinating operations."

"Elliot's really good at a lot of things." Vic shifted uneasily in his seat. The unwanted thought of Elliot's erotic skills flooded him with a warm, embarrassing rush of pleasure. Elliot could make him do things that he would have killed other men for just suggesting. "Guys like that, perfect guys, make me nervous."

"That's too bad." She looked up from the file she was holding. A rueful smile crossed her lips suggesting she shouldn't have said anything. After a short resigned sigh she continued, "I think Elliot always hoped that if something happened to Mac he'd be next with you."

Vic held his hands up and laughed. "I'd be in way over my head with Elliot. And I'm afraid he'd realize, in no time, that I was a big mistake." Vic could just imagine that within a month together Elliot would either find fault with everything he did or would have him eating out of a dog dish and sleeping at the foot of the bed. "If there were no Mac there'd only be..."

"The babe, LiAnn?" Ivy finished the sentence for him.

"I don't think that's a possibility. Not anymore," he added quietly. LiAnn was a thing of the past, as Ivy had become this afternoon. He was beginning to realize a sad truth about himself. It seemed Vic Mansfield's cosmic destiny was to be every woman's male "girlfriend."

"Oh that's right, you were just rebound guy."

"Thank you," Vic said in a warning tone.

"Maybe I got it wrong." Ivy gave him an insincere smile. "It's hard to keep track of all the pairings between you three. Let's see, Mac and LiAnn were practically raised together." She wrinkled her nose. "That's a little incestuous for my taste, but they got it on. Then he disappears and she thinks he's dead, so, she hooks up with you. Then he comes back and starts sniffing around the babe again. She dumps you but doesn't go back to him despite the fact that they make big, moony, cow eyes at each other a lot."

Victor started to dispute this point but Ivy held up her hand to stop him.

"Those are the Director's words, not mine. Of course, she said them with a little more venom. I'm trying to be nice."

"Of course you are." He echoed her sarcasm.

"Speaking of the Director, LiAnn seems to be her special, little friend at the moment. That is yet another branch off of this messy three-way of yours. And then we have you and Maxine, who for some reason, known only to god and her warped sense of humor, are currently a couple. You bunch are a regular soap opera," she concluded, as she felt the limousine slow.

"Don't call him that." Vic told her.

"What? Pain in the ass?"

"You know what, Maxine. He deserves better than that. We both do. I'm trying here. I thought you promised you'd try too."

"I know what we said," Ivy popped back at him. "But I was drinking." Ivy gave him a dismissive nod of her head.

"It was a toast!" Vic drew out the words making it a statement of denial. "We had one glass of champagne to pledge we'd stay in each other's lives. I've seen you drink more than that before breakfast without any affect."

Ivy sat and studied her hands, as they rested on her lap, then looked at Vic.

"I'm still jealous," she admitted.

Vic put his hands over hers. "You don't have anything to be jealous about." His fingers gently held hers. "Just don't disrespect a decision I've made, or someone who is important to me. I won't let anyone do that with you."

"I still..." She began to say something but seemed to shake it off after the first stammered words. "I know," Ivy said flatly. "I guess we're here." She said, looking towards the darkened limo window and away from Vic.

"Guess so." He squeezed her hands and held them until she looked at him again. There was a familiar hurt behind the cold look she gave him. He tried to erase both with a smile. After a long moment she smiled back and straightened. Vic let go of her hands, satisfied, that at least for tonight, they'd found some common ground.

Ivy leaned forward and straightened the shoulders of his royal blue jacket. "You look nice," she said. Her voice was still a bit shaky but was quickly taking on a normal timbre. "I've never seen you dressed up like this before."

"Thanks, but it's not exactly me." His eyes strayed to the bodice of the pearl gray silk sheath she wore.

"That's a little... well... you sure that dress is the right size?"

Ivy looked down and appraised the way she spilled out of the small square of fabric that served as the front of her dress and laughed.

"Unfortunately, this 'is' the right size." She untied the cord from behind her neck that held the dress in place. She let it droop a little and re-arranged herself into the small amount of slack she could manage to make before she retied it. "DelMar creates great men's clothes, but he has no idea what a real woman's body looks like. Is that better?" She held her arms out and displayed herself.

Vic looked back from the tinted window where he could see the reflection of everything she did, or undid, but at least couldn't be accused of staring. His face heated immediately at the 'real' sight of her, still barely covered and completely outlined by the delicate silk.

"I suppose. I... I guess it... God," he gulped. "It's just so revealing."

Ivy took his face in her hands and kissed him lightly on the lips before she laughed. "You're still so cute when you're embarrassed."

"I'm not cute." He growled, his face still held in her grasp.

She gave him a bemused smile and released him, then leaned away to pick up her beaded evening bag from the seat beside her.

"Stop worrying, Vic. You saw more than this any time we were together. I'm a trophy wife, remember? It's time to be in 'look what my money bought me' mode."

"But, I thought ours was a true love," Vic said with an expression of exaggerated hurt.

Ivy laughed again. "Don't worry, lover. No matter what happens tonight, I'll be leaving with you and your bank account. Are you ready?"

The door of the limousine opened Vic stepped out. He offered Ivy his hand. "Let's go catch some bad guys."

Del Mar's mansion looked like he'd watched too many reruns of Miami Vice. The Italian villa was washed with pastel blue that was growing darker as the sun set behind it. The entry hall was large but stark. The walls were buff colored and streaked with darker brush strokes imitating the brick on the outside walls. The only decoration was a huge neon DelMar logo suspended from the two story high ceiling.

"Is that in case he forgets who he is?" Vic asked in an aside to Ivy, as they were being lead to the room where the party was taking place.

"I think it's more for our benefit."

He stared up at the garish tangle of neon tubes as they passed under it. "We really need to get one of those with our name on it."

The party room was larger than most good-sized houses. One wall sported a group of six big television screens that flashed, en masse, with song videos. Music surrounded them but was muted and didn't match the images on the wall. Part of the room, near French doors that lead to the terrace, was set up like a small cafe with tiled tables and round-backed Windsor chairs painted a bright blue. Muscle-bound waiters in tight leather pants and minimal red vests circulated through the fifty or so guests offering champagne and other drinks and taking away empty glasses.

Robert DelMar was situated in the middle of the room, ensconced on a richly upholstered couch, holding court. When he saw Vic and Ivy enter he rose to greet them.

"Victor Mansfield! We meet at last. I've never been able to get past your staff. I was beginning to think that you might be a figment of someone's imagination." He offered his hand and Vic shook it. "And who is that assistant of yours? That Di creature is the gatekeeper from hell."

"I limit my exposure," Vic answered flatly. "I have a low threshold for boredom." He wasn't certain how to play DelMar, but the famous designer was obviously bothered that rich man Victor Mansfield wasn't impressed with him. Vic decided to follow some advice Mac once gave him about women: "Pretend you don't care, that makes them want you."

"You certainly won't be bored here. Champagne?"

"Irish whisky, single malt, neat."

DelMar motioned a waiter over and gave him Vic's order.

When he turned back, DelMar reached towards Vic and ran his fingers under the sharply cut lapel of Vic's suit.

"Spring, International collection. Very nice on you, but you'll have to let me show you what I have planned for the fall."

Vic moved just out of his reach. "Tell her." He motioned to Ivy who had gone unnoticed so far. "She picks out my clothes."

Del Mar turned but the smile vanished from his face when he saw Ivy and her attributes straining the fabric of her dress.

"Summer's, European collection," he noted. "That really doesn't do you justice, dear."

Ivy looked down at herself for a moment and nodded in agreement. "It probably looks a whole lot better on you."

"Listen," Vic interrupted before DelMar could retaliate. "I don't party. I'm only here because she wants to be." He motioned at Ivy with his thumb. "I want to do business."

Ivy took his arm and pressed herself against Vic. "We'll have plenty of time for that later, sweetie." She waved her hand at DelMar. "Victor's the guy they wrote that old saying about, all work and no play." She gave Vic's arm a little squeeze. "There's plenty of time for..."

"Mrs. Mansfield."

A quiet voice interrupted her. A man in his early forties was standing next to them. He was blonde, but graying, and his face, while handsome, had a studied calm that made him appear almost ordinary.

"I'm Cal Rutherford, CEO of DelMar Enterprises." He offered her a glass of champagne and then his hand.

Vic felt the tiny squeeze Ivy gave his arm before she took the glass and shook the man's hand. He knew what she was thinking. They'd just had one of the money guys dropped in their laps.

"Cal takes care of all those boring details," DelMar started before any real introductions could be made, "so I can go off and create."

Victor shook Rutherford's hand but turned back to DelMar.

"That's not what I heard. I thought you made the decisions." He glanced at Rutherford. "I don't deal with the second team." He took Ivy by the arm. "Let's get out of here."

"But Vic..."

DelMar was by his side and took a step to block Vic's exit.

"Come on, Mansfield. We're all players here. You must have certain aspects of your business that you don't deal with directly. Whether it's a matter of reputation or distance or," he looked around for a moment and all pretense was gone when he narrowed his eyes and looked back, "or just keeping your ass out of jail. I've heard stories that you aren't particular how you make your money."

"Just so long as I make plenty of it." Vic finished for him.

"Our profit will be limited only by our imagination."

"Then I have no limits. You prove to me that this operation is what you want me to think it is, and we'll start imagining."

"Cal, take Mrs. Mansfield out to the terrace. You can discuss that lingerie line she wants to start."

"Are we leaving?" Ivy asked Vic.

"Not yet," he waved her away and turned to DelMar. "But we will soon if we don't have anything more than your imagination to work with."

He glanced back at Ivy who was walking away, arm in arm with Rutherford. The man leaned his head close to hers as she spoke and then laughed. Vic wouldn't have to worry about that part of the assignment.

"Why don't we go to my office upstairs where we can talk?" DelMar started to take his arm but thought better of it when Vic gave him a cold stare.

DelMar took a step back. "My office?" He motioned towards the door.

"Is this your drink Mr. Mansfield?"

The two men turned. DelMar glaring at the interruption and Vic fighting not to smile because he recognized the voice.

LiAnn Tsei offered a crystal tumbler full of amber liquid to Vic.

Vic smiled and reached for the glass. "Thank you." He looked her up and down. "Your waiters are getting better looking," he told DelMar without taking his gaze off LiAnn.

"She's not a waiter," DelMar snapped as he gave LiAnn a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I'm LiAnn. I just wanted to meet 'The' Victor Mansfield," she said with a flirtatious tilt of her head.

Vic took her hand and kissed the palm.

"I'm pleased to meet 'The' LiAnn."

Vic noted the change in DelMar; the wheels were turning. He hoped to come-off as preditory but if DelMar took his actions as a weakness for women he could exploit, Vic was sure that could work as well. At some point DelMar would probably offer LiAnn to rich Mr. Mansfield, try to entangle him in some affair he could use for blackmail. That would just make it that much easier for her to exchange information with the team.

"We've been fortunate to have LiAnn join us recently. She's been working with the younger models and will coordinate some of our runway shows."

"I'm surprised a woman who looks like you has to work at all." Vic took a sip of his drink and waited for LiAnn's reaction to him reducing her beauty to a commodity.

She hesitated a beat but then smiled as if she understood this was the rich man's idea of flirting.

"Someone has to zip them up."

Vic didn't smile back. "I'd think you'd want more than that."

"Maybe you'd like LiAnn to join us upstairs?" DelMar interrupted.

Vic glanced towards the open French doors but there was no sign of Ivy. He hoped this action gave the appearance of a guilty man checking for his wife.

"Why would you want to join us," he asked LiAnn. "We're going to talk business."

LiAnn smiled. "Isn't business the aphrodisiac of the millennium?"

Victor tipped his glass at her. "That's what I've always thought." He took a sip. "You can join us if you want."

"Bobby!"

Stephan Canlan appeared beside them.

"Not now." DelMar waved him off.

Canlan laid his hand on the other man's arm and leaned towards him. "It's not working."

"Didn't I just say not now!" DelMar countered.

Vic watched the two of them and tried to appear a little annoyed by the interruption. Canlan was obviously tight with DelMar but the designer was still in-charge.

"They're having trouble with the feed."

"What?" This seemed to capture DelMar's full attention.

"I've been on the phone with that toad Jake and he's having trouble with some of the equipment."

"Can't he fix it?"

"I told him you'd have a fit if he didn't. He said they've already started and it won't be too long till the money shot."

DelMar smiled apologetically at Vic. "I have a special treat for some Thai customers of mine who are here tonight and there's a slight problem. Can I leave you in LiAnn's capable hands for a few moments?"

"Don't keep me waiting" Vic said flatly but then looked back to LiAnn. "How capable are those hands."

DelMar and Canlan turned immediately and nearly ran from the room.

LiAnn took Vic's drink out of his hand and took a sip.

"You're a cold one, eh? I never knew you had such a sexist pig buried inside you, Victor. Letting the real you out at last?"

Vic took the glass back from her and smiled. "Oink," he said before he downed a swallow of whiskey. "So, you babysitting these models? Can I help?"

"They'll get enough of your sort of help. I'm nothing more than a recruiter who is supposed to persuade these young girls that it's cool to sleep with old creeps like you."

The smile vanished and Vic cringed. "I'm going to enjoy bringing DelMar down." A flash of anger jolted through him as he remembered in an instance the faces of all the young girls he'd met during his time in vice. Girls who were trapped into a life of doing whatever was necessary to survive. "How far into this whole thing do you think you can get?"

"I already know where they keep the client list. A password here, a download there and I think we'll have enough dirt on this front to bury him. How are you doing? How's your past life treating you?"

"Ivy's off with DelMar's CEO right now. If anybody can trace the money trail I'm sure she can."

LiAnn gave a skeptical nod. "I suppose. But you have to tell me, what's with that dress? Did she leave it in the dryer too long?"

"Your employer hasn't seen a pair of breasts since he was weaned. It shows he's thinking about boys when he designs those clothes."

LiAnn straightened and her voice took on a cool note. "This dress is a DelMar original and it fits me just fine."

"Oh." Vic took another sip of his drink and hoped that LiAnn remembered she was suppose to be nice to him.

"Ms. Tsei?" They heard the agitated voice before they saw who was calling to her. In a moment a tall, willowy blonde girl stepped beside them. "That man won't leave me alone." Her large blue eyes threatened tears.

"What man?" Victor looked around. If LiAnn thought she could score enough information to put DelMar away, Victor was ready to walk on this assignment right now. He'd see to it personally that this girl was returned to their parents by midnight.

"I can handle this," LiAnn warned him off. "Mr. DelMar just thought you might like to meet some of his international distributors."

"But he keeps touching me."

Vic cleared his throat. The anger he felt at the thought of someone taking advantage of a vulnerable girl was rising fast in him. It was only a determined nod from LiAnn that kept him quiet.

LiAnn took the girl's hand. "Don't worry. Just stay with me. We'll meet people together. How does that sound?"

The girl swallowed and seemed confused.

"I can have my car brought around," Vic instructed. "You can go home. LiAnn can go with you."

"Who are you?"

Vic realized the mistake he'd made as the girl looked at him with renewed fear.

"This is Mr. Mansfield," LiAnn answered for him and put an arm around the girl's waist. "He's an investor."

"I... I.." Victor stammered as he watched the girl try to back away. "I just want you to be safe."

"Mr. Mansfield," LiAnn continued in a calm voice that could have been used to coax a frightened animal closer, "Is a very kind and considerate man who is only thinking of your best interests." She gave Vic a sharp look. "But he doesn't understand the whole situation."

Victor balled his fist. This was no time for one of LiAnn's stubborn 'I know more than you do' tactics. "You have what you need. Take her home," he ordered. "There is no reason for you to stay here."

LiAnn's mouth pursed and her eyes narrowed. "Considering that Emily is only one of about fifteen young models who are here tonight, I need to stay or they won't have a chaperone."

Vic felt a helpless anger flash through him. "This whole thing stinks."

LiAnn stepped away from the girl for a moment. She spoke quietly so that only Vic could hear her. "That's why I told you to begin with to let me handle this. Mr. Mansfield, the investor, doesn't have an interest in this and the last time I looked Vic, you left your superhero cape in your truck."

Vic thought about it for a second and grudgingly admitted to himself that LiAnn was right. Victor Mansfield, amoral entrepreneur would ignore a situation like this because there was no profit in it for him. The whole scenario made him feel powerless. It was an uncomfortably familiar feeling. There had been so many nights, or more accurately, early mornings that he would come home from a vice investigation and be haunted by the faces of all the girls he couldn't save, couldn't even help. He knew he couldn't save the world but he still had that frustrating desire to try.

He started to reach out his hand to comfort the girl, but as soon as he began the gesture she shied away. He took a step back and tried to produce a smile that might reassure her. "Ms. Tsei will take care of you."

LiAnn moved beside Emily once more and brushed the girls hair away from her cheek. "Is that okay? Do you want to stay with me tonight?"

Finally, she smiled. "Would you? I don't mean to make any trouble..."

"And you don't need to make any excuses, either." LiAnn looked over at Vic but was startled as the music suddenly stopped playing. Then the disquieting silence was replaced by the harsh amplified sounds of someone breathing, punctuated by a low throaty laugh. The wall of TV screens went blank. The breathing had picked up a rhythm and was developing into grunts and moans.

"Fuckin' hot, baby." A voice rasped out, filling the silence in the room.

A nauseous heat swept over Vic. He knew that voice as well as his own. He knew those words and he fought now to stop the words he wanted to scream into the silent void of the room. He looked around at people who stared at one another, wondering what the sudden, erotically charged sentence meant. Vic knew. It was the familiar overture to pleasure that would tear his soul from his being.

A pulsing rock score blared out as the screens flashed on and two figures appeared.

The images weren't necessary, only additional cruelty to the torture he was already experiencing. The words, the tone, the intensity were all things as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. The passion of sex that was transformed into love and used to reaffirmed his existence were all things he had experiences first hand, from Mac. He'd been fool enough to think that the heated words, and the intimacy was only for him.

The camera moved, with a wobble, towards the two figures. All that was visible was the sinuous line of a bare back. But it was enough for a lover to be recognized. Strong, masculine hands groped at the tanned skin and traced down to the hips. Mac turned suddenly and his profile came into focus. His kiss-swollen lips parted, the large brown eyes were heavy lidded as he turned to a three-quarter view. Mac took the man's face in his hands and drew him into a kiss.

Vic wanted to yell at the sight of the other man. He wasn't certain that he didn't, bellowing like some wounded animal, hurt and outrage melding into an anguished howl. Even if he had, the music would have swallowed his voice and negated the indignation he tried to express at seeing his love, his life, his other self kissing someone else.

Mac's tongue slipped out from between his moist lips before the kiss was ever met. The other man seemed to jerk halfway through the kiss and pulled away. He smiled, his eyes closed. His features came out of shadow for the first time. It was Jason Tell. He stepped back almost out of frame but Mac pulled him in again. Jason was unsteady and appeared to be laughing. He sank against Mac, his face buried in Mac's bare shoulder.

Vic jerked along with the man on the screen. It was Canlan's buddy from the garage. What had he said about him? DelMar owned his ass. He was part of the scum DelMar produced, a hustler at the least, maybe worse and Mac held him like a baby.

There were a few moments of inaction before a hand appeared from off screen and turned Jason Tell around. The camera followed unsteadily as Mac bent Jason on to the arm of a large black velvet couch. The man's body seemed to drape bonelessly over the furniture. He exhaled a deep sigh and then was still.

The camera drew back to show the two men in frame. The angle of sight began to move and Mac's rigid erection came into view. The camera zoomed in until the big TV screens were full of nothing but his dusky cock. The close-up took in the minute detail of Mac rolling a condom on to his erection. The latex covered phallus bobbed for a moment and then the camera pulled further back to include Mac's hands tracing over Jason's round firm butt.

"Victor!" A faint voice sounded in the distance. A million miles of yearning and hope clouded by disappointment and betrayal isolated Vic from everything but the unimaginable performance on the TV wall. With each second the camera lingered it became harder to breath. As Vic stared, transfixed by the horror, the people, the room, the world raced away from him until he was looking out from a dark pit that was swallowing him whole.

"Victor!" The voice came again but he didn't remember who Victor was. He only knew he wanted the torment of having to watch those brutal images on the TV screens to end. But they didn't. Instead they seemed to slow so that each tiny detail was frozen, framed by the glaring light of the vast picture tubes to be examined and memorized and burnt into his soul.

"Victor, look at me!" Ivy grabbed the front of his shirt and jerked him back to reality. "Vic, look at me!" she insisted, her voice barely audible above the blare of the throbbing music.

He looked down at her. LiAnn stepped towards them at the same moment. She leaned between them and shouted at Ivy.

"Let me handle this. I know him better than you do."

Ivy raised one hand from Vic's chest to stop the other woman. "I wouldn't bet on that." Their exchange was muffled by the continuing music.

"Victor," Ivy returned her attention to him. "You don't know that man. This Vic Mansfield," she prodded her index finger into his chest, "doesn't know him!"

Suddenly, the music was gone. The room filled again with the sighs and labored breathing of the on-screen sex.

Vic grabbed Ivy's hand and turned to leave. The guttural sounds of Mac's climax followed them as they left the room.

DelMar and Canlan were approaching, in stride, just outside the door as Vic and Ivy left.

"Victor," DelMar started as he walked towards them, "let me just check on..."

Stephan Canlan began to laugh and pointed towards the party room. "You mean everybody saw it?"

DelMar's eyes shone with panic. He shoved Canlan off in the direction they had come. "Get it stopped. Get it stopped right now!"

Vic was past them and headed for the door with Ivy in tow.

DelMar called after them to wait. Another person who called to Ivy joined him.

"Ivy, please."

Cal Rutherford reached them first. He took Ivy's hand and for a second she was suspended between the two men until Vic stood still.

"I'm so sorry about that. Robert has some customers with ...ah... different tastes. That was meant to be shown privately and some lines were crossed."

"Is that the kind of movie deal you want me to make DelMar?" Vic asked, his tone full of anger and challenge.

"No. Victor, your money would be used to expand and go legit. What we start here could become a huge movie conglomerate. You could influence the world. This," DelMar motioned back towards the party room, "is nothing more than a home movie."

"Home movies, huh? I guess that's what they look like when you live in a sewer."

Ivy stepped between them. "Give me a minute alone with my husband." She looked over at Rutherford and touched his arm. "Please, Cal. Vic has some issues with this."

Cal Rutherford pushed DelMar towards the staircase.

"We'll be upstairs, in the office." He stopped by Vic. "I hope you can over look this unfortunate accident. The business opportunities we have here are very lucrative. If you don't like the current situation we'll make whatever changes are necessary to find someone you'll feel comfortable working with."

Ivy took Rutherford's arm and gently moved him along. "We'll be up in a minute. Probably." She smiled at him and he turned to lead DelMar to the imposing set of spiral stairs.

"I'll check on you in a few minutes," Rutherford called down to her as he neared the landing at the top of the stairs.

"That's sweet." Ivy waved at him and smiled.

She waited until the two men were out of sight and grabbed Vic's arm.

"You get a grip on yourself," she seethed.

"That was Mac and...."

"I don't care who it was. This is our part of the operation and you're not going to walk away from it. We can have the right people handed to us. Cal is a very unhappy man. He hates DelMar...."

"Yeah, well I hate him too!" Vic jerked out of her grasp. "And where was your precious Elliot? I thought you two were along to save us from shit like that!"

Ivy stepped closer to him, her voice dropped to a steely whisper. "I already saved your sorry ass. I covered your mistake. Now, you do your part and get upstairs and cover our story."

In an instant Victor had his hand raised, posed to strike out at her. He watched her blue eyes grow large with recognition of what he wanted to do. This was Mac's doing. This was the terrible realization that all the feelings, the warm fuzzy protective thoughts he'd wrapped himself in this afternoon were for nothing. Vic had always feared, but never admitted, that Mac might find a woman one day who would draw him away. He never imagined that sex with another man would come between them, and casual sex at that. This was proof that sex meant little to Mac Ramsey. Despite the way he cajoled and manipulated Vic to admit his love during the act, it was nothing more than that to him, just an act. And the always gullible, fool for love that Vic knew he was had been ready to lay himself at Mac's feet like the faithful companion he longed to be.

His fingertips were scant inches from Ivy's throat. He blinked and in that moment knew the horror of what he might have done. As suddenly as his hand rose, he pulled it back.

Ivy took a step away, her face a mask of confusion, anger and fear.

"What...? Were you going to...? I can't believe this!" She struggled for words as anger won out over everything else.

Vic reached for her. DelMar was going to pay for this. Mac was going to pay as well. Everyone he knew for the rest of his life was going to pay the price for Mac's betrayal and what he might have done to Ivy.

Ivy slapped his hand away.

"Get that crap out of your system! I'm not Mac Ramsey. You can transfer your anger to somebody else but not to me. I'm not your enemy." She stepped close to him. "I'm your partner and we have a job to do."

"I'm sorry," Vic mumbled, anger and sorrow for what he'd almost done warring in him.

"Sorry?" Ivy shook her head in disbelief. "I don't need an apology. I need you to tell me you're on the team and you'll help me nail this operation."

"I'll do whatever you want." Vic tried to reach for Ivy again but she fended him off. "I was wrong. It's just I never expected... I didn't know what to..."

"That's between you and Mac, I want no part of it." She smoothed her hair back into place. "We're going upstairs and you are going to run this meeting and secure everything we need. Understand?"

"Ivy... I..."

"Understand!"

"Yes, I understand." He followed her to the stairs. As he mounted the first step the words came from his lips as if some other soul spoke them. "I understand that Mac Ramsey is a dead man."

###

Section Six: Parts Six – Ten

oatuniverse@yahoo.com

FANDOM: Once A Thief
PAIRING: Vic/Mac/others
RATING: NC-17 M/M Sex and Language
STATUS: WIP
FEEDBACK: Please oatuniverse@yahoo.com
DISCLAIMER: They belong to John Woo and Alliance.
THANKS: Kest and Nicole for the encouragement and best beta ever.
SUMMARY: Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.
ARCHIVE: RatB, Calculated Risks http://denofsin.slashcity.tv/~lefey

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