Surveillance, Overtime

“So, are we going somewhere?” Sinead asked. “Or was I really that bad of a dinner date?”

Marc had led Sinead out of the restaurant and the valets had brought his car around, but after helping her in instead of driving away he’d circled the block and come to a stop just a little way down the street from the restaurant.

“You were mostly lovely,” Marc said.

“Just mostly?”

“Well, other than the sour looks you would give me every once in a while,” Marc said. “And I never did get any good stories about your time as a police officer. But I’ll forgive you for that, considering the circumstances.”

“Thanks,” Sinead said dryly. She clearly wasn’t put off by the fact that he’d seen her occasional expressions. “So what are we doing, then?”

“Waiting for this,” Marc said, gesturing ahead of them. Victor and his Jamaican guests were exiting the restaurant. “They were halfway through their desserts when we left,” he explained. “Which gave us time to be ready to follow him.”

Victor and his guests split up - a blacked-out Escalade pulled up in front of the restaurant and the Jamaican men got in, while Victor headed down the street and passed Marc’s car without a glance.

“We don’t need to follow him,” Sinead said. “He does the same thing every time he comes here. He leaves right around 9:30, heads home and changes, then he goes out to a bar near his apartment.”

“Well, you could have told me that earlier,” Marc said with a sigh and a little smile. “Where is the bar? We can get there ahead of him.”

“Marc, all he does is try to find a woman to pick up for the night,” Sinead said. “He won’t talk business.”

“Everything can be important,” Marc said, pulling away from the curb and entering traffic. “And everything can be an opportunity if you know how to look at it properly. Trust me, Detective.”

Sinead sighed and gave him directions, then looked out the window. Marc glanced over at her and frowned. Perhaps he was playing things too tightly. Or too loose? Sinead was difficult to get a solid read on - sometimes she seemed to be perfectly happy with how things were going, or even pushing for more, and sometimes she seemed distant and possibly even disgusted, though he caught notes of her possibly being disgusted with herself as much as with him. And then she would get immensely focused on her case, and it would wash away.

Marc focused on driving for a moment and was surprised when Sinead cleared her throat and he glanced over at her. She was sitting back in the seat but was looking at him intently. “Is this still covered under my payment for the night, or is this something new?”

“It’s all part of the night, petite rebelle,” Marc said. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask you for something you are not ready for. Our little adventure tonight has been enjoyable so far, hasn’t it?”

Marc could see Sinead considering her answer to that. She’d been pampered, dressed up and brought to a fantastic dinner that also doubled as undercover work for her case. She’d also had a couple of fingers eased into her butt, followed by a buttplug.

“It’s been… satisfactory,” she said. “So far.”

Marc tutted softly and shook his head. “Then we need to make sure it’s more than satisfactory,” he said. “Will you try to be open to that, Sinead?”

Her breath hitched a moment before she nodded. “I’ll try,” she said.

Marc took a chance then, deciding that if the friendly conversation from the dinner table hadn’t put her at ease, maybe swinging the other way with things would. He slid his hand from the wheel and planted it on Sinead’s bare thigh. She was warm, her skin smooth, and he let his hand curve around to hold her inner thigh, his fingers trailing under her to the back. He wasn’t touching her particularly high on her leg, and certainly not reaching up under the hem of her dress, but it was an intimate touch all the same.

Sinead didn’t react, at least verbally. He could feel her tense for a moment, but when he didn’t move his hand she relaxed. He held her like that, neither of them saying anything about it, for the entire drive to the area of the bar. Marc only removed his hand to back into a parking space half a block from the bar.

“We should make sure we are in and settled before Monsieur Victor shows up,” Marc said. He quickly rounded the car and helped Sinead out, and as he did they ended up standing close together for a moment as Sinead looked up into his eyes. He could see her internal frustration and confusion there. Her hate and want. She wanted him to kiss her, and she wanted to hate him for kissing her.

It was the strangest thing.

The bar, an upscale place that was just stopping itself from being a nightclub, didn’t have a line out front but was decently busy. It was a sort of urban minimalist design, all sharp lines and edges with muted neon lighting - definitely not Marc’s style, but he could see how it appealed to the slightly younger business crowd. Happy hour was well and over, but there were still plenty of Junior Partners around, or whatever mid-level corporate rank they held, along with their counterpart executive assistants. This was the kind of bar where coworkers went to convince themselves that they only hooked up because of the **** or to stumble into something casual within their own business class.

Sinead drew the attention of probably a dozen men when they entered, but half of those looked away immediately after a cursory look at Marc. Those were the smart ones; the ones who could see the quality of his suit and the way he held himself, and knew they were out of their league. The other half began formulating hopes and plans.

“Where does he usually sit?” Marc asked, standing close to Sinead and whispering close to her to be heard over the din of conversation and the just-slightly-too-loud music. He also put a hand on the small of her back.

“Over there by the bar,” Sinead nodded. “He starts with a drink before he starts trolling for pussy.”

Marc nodded, took Sinead's hand and led her deeper into the bar.

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