"Hi, Harry, what's up?" Dara held the phone against her ear as she pulled on her comfort clothes. "Please, tell me you're calling with good news."
"I'm sorry about the time," he murmured. "Are you sitting? I'm not sure if this is good or not."
Her heart skipped a beat. She sunk to the floor. "Tell me they're not dead."
"They're not dead. Sorry about that. I didn't mean to sound so dramatic. Tonight, your client spoke to a reporter. Your brother-in-law."
"Double damn," she muttered.
"I know. Judy and Tom have taken them away to another location, but not before the interview."
"How did Fox know about him?" She couldn't believe it. Mulder struck again. Was he psychic?
"Email. Newsletters. Mulder set up a meeting. They spoke."
"I told him not to speak with anyone without me or my approval!" She jumped to her feet and began to pace. "I have to talk to Fox."
"I can take care of it," Harry offered.
Dara stopped in the middle of her bedroom. Her toes dug into the plush ivory carpet. "What do you mean? Take care of it?"
"Get Mulder's notes."
"Don't. Leave him to me. He and my sister have reconciled. I don't want this hurting her."
Dara hung up and fell back against her bed. She stared at the ceiling, wondering how she could prevent this from escalating into a mess.
Fox's phone rang suddenly. He answered the call as he climbed his way out of the subway station. "Yeah."
"How did it go?"
He frowned. The woman's timing was uncanny. "It went fine, Dana."
"I still don't understand why you didn't want me to go."
"He wouldn't have spoken in front of you," he said for the hundredth time.
"But you and he understand each other," she said with a hint of sarcasm.
Fox strode the length of the block toward home. Her tone burned his gut. He didn't appreciate her insinuation. "What are you saying?"
"Nothing. I just don't like being shut out."
"You're not. He wanted to meet with me alone. Believe me, if I wanted to shut you out, I wouldn't have told you about the meeting in the first place." He stopped short at the stairs to the brownstone. "Look, I have to go. We can discuss this later."
Without waiting for her response, he ended the call and jogged up the steps to the front door.
The walk cleared Dawn's head. Her path within the department was set into motion as soon as she passed the initial exam. She graduated at the top of her class at the academy. Passing the detective's exam was breeze. Young, black and female, she set records. Her family had never been so proud. And Fox… Her law enforcement ambitions excited him, he claimed. The gun, handcuffs and shiny gold sheild turned him on. She laughed at the jokes, but many times, she wondered if the opposite were true.
She sighed and completed her bedtime rituals. Turning to Elliott had been so easy. The uncomplicated rapport they shared could make it easy again.
Her thoughts quieted and her body became still as a key sounded in the lock. She had half a mind to feign sleep. Fox's rejection hurt. Why not reject him before he--
"Dawn?" He knocked once before easing the door open. "Are you asleep?"
She dropped onto the bed and hugged a pillow to her chest. "No. You're out late."
"I had an interview."
She stared until she couldn't bear to look into his hazel eyes a moment longer. "Good for you."
The door closed with a click. She resisted the urge to look up and busied herself with crawling between the sheets. His sigh alerted her that he hadn't left. Her eyes flew to his. Confusion mingled with hope. But caution kept her quiet.
"I've been wrong." The bed shifted under his weight. He sat just inches from her thigh. "I was mad…at you, but mostly at myself. I fucked up my priorities before. I won't do that again."
She inhaled a deep breath. "Is that supposed to be an apology?"
His eyes widened. "First, I get on my knees and now, you want me to grovel."
"I didn't say grovel."
A smile played at his mouth, emphasizing the fullness of his delectable bottom lip. "Do you want me to grovel?"
Caution faded. Happiness and desire took its place. Various parts of her body began to throb with longing. She curled onto her side, facing him. The v-neck of her nightgown opened and revealed a good view if his labored breathing was any indication. "Ask me again what I want."
"I'm sorry. There, I apologized." He stood and stripped. Standing naked and glorious before her, he said, "Do you want this?"
"Oh, yeah!" She flung back the covers. He wasted no time in joining her.
Nighttime in jail was never fit for sleep. Lights blared from the walkway outside the cells. Guards walked constantly, sometime tapping their sticks against the bars. Prisoners moaned and groaned aloud. The agony of being trapped like an animal slowly transformed them into beasts.
Jason lay on his back. He flung an arm over his eyes to block the light. Above him, Tony tossed and turned. His mattress creaked with his movements. Jason ignored the sound. Going within, he remembered the time spent with Keesha.
Her return from Philadelphia was unexpected. She sneaked back without fanfare. Jason saw her a few times, but the pull he felt whenever he was in her presence set him on edge. His first memories were of her at his bed, staring at him with longing. The urges of his body conflicted with everything. Holding her… He couldn't. She'd want more and he didn't know what more was. So he pushed her away. Years later, every run-in with her made him wonder if he'd made the wrong decision.
Then, it happened. The time for running ended. Port Charles suffered a black out. He and Keesha became trapped in an elevator at the hospital. Words had no meaning. The ache in his pants refused to be denied. By the time the power returned, they had succumbed to desire. She took him to her apartment. They were lovers until she walked out on him.
Keesha, Jason Quartermaine's first lover, bore Jason Morgan's child. His heart began to pound. He pressed a hand to his chest. She wasn't dead. A part of him always suspected that somewhere out there… He squeezed his eyes shut. "I'll find you both," he whispered. "I'll find you."