Riding to the rescue.

Nick and Tommy book the next flight to L.A.; no matter how much he argues the point, his lover insists on coming with him. "I'll stay in the hotel and be quiet as a mouse," she whispers to him as they pack. "I'll swim in the pool, maybe do some shopping and try to make a dent in your fortune."

"Our fortune," Nick points out, pausing to watch her hold up various outfits in front of her mirror, folding skirts and tops, matching socks and panties, putting on a little show for him while pretending to decide if she wants to bring a white teddy night-gown or the lace and leather corset set. He feels himself harden watching her, and laughs when she tosses both outfits into her suitcase. She sticks her tongue out at him, giggling in that pure-hearted innocent way that he loves so much.

"Golly, baby," she purrs, turning toward him, running one fingertip along the seam of his trousers where his erection is becoming more obvious by the second. "Whatever ARE you thinking?"

He groans in mock-frustration, pushing her back and shaking his head. "We don't have time, and you know it. Get packed, you silly, maddening, beautiful girl."

"Yes, Sir," Tommy chirps in a very good imitation of Pet. She closes the suitcase, tosses it to the floor next to his, and turns to the closet, opening in and reaching in to pull out a battered guitar case.

"When did you get that?" Nick asks, surprised. "I've never seen it before."

"Last time you were gone, I picked it up to occupy myself for a while." The fact she doesn't apologize for the purchase, or ask if it's okay, is a perfect sign that they're definitely in a new phase of their complex relationship. "I've been playing since I was little."

"You need to play for me," he murmurs, stepping behind her and sliding his arms around her tiny hips, pulling her into his body, feeling her warmth as he takes a deep breath, inhaling her scent. Suddenly he wants to fuck her, hard, fast, now. He grinds into her bottom, his cock sliding against her perfect ass through their clothes. His thumbs hook into the corners of her shorts, and he starts to pull them down.

Tommy smacks his hands and coughs a little, stifling a laugh. In as serious a voice as she can manage, she clucks her tongue at him disapprovingly. "We don't have time, and you know it," she chides him in a fair impression of his tone. "Pick up our bags and carry them to our ride, you sexy, scary, ass-worshipping man."

***

Tommy get her first taste of tradecraft when they get off the plane in Los Angeles. As they walk off the exit tunnel, Nick smiles a mysterious smile, then pulls out his phone and dials a number. "On the ground, I'll call again when I make contact," he mutters at whoever is on the other side, then hangs up. Instead of heading down to baggage check, he pulls Tommy to the side and reaches into his backpack; with a flourish, he pulls a pair of passports and some ID, handing her a set.

"Mrs. Angela Greenglass?" she asks as she reads the name on the passport. It's a perfect job, her picture and all the appropriate stamps and symbols. "What the Hell are you doing, Nicki?"

Nick grins at her like the proverbial cat with the canary. "Never give the real location of a meet if you're burnt."

"What does that mean?" Her tone is sweet and curious.

"A long time ago, Val and I worked a case on this coast. We set up a safehouse for us to use if we got blown, someplace only she and I knew about. When Val told Azrael she was going to be hiding in Los Angeles, I knew she really meant San Francisco. So..."

He walks her over to another boarding gate, and she sees it's a flight to San Francisco, leaving in twenty minutes. "So we switch flights and leave Azrael in the dust?" When Nick nods, Tommy laughs, genuinely pleased. "What about our luggage?"

"When we checked it in, I paid a skycap $250 to pick our stuff out and take it back to the hotel for us. We'll buy anything we need on the ground. Your guitar and our carry-ons are enough for starters."

"I am in love with a devious, devious man."

"Devious is another way of saying safe," he points out. Standing at the boarding desk behind a grandmotherly lady in a leopard print mumu, he places his finger over her lips when she opens her mouth to question further. Tommy manages to keep quiet as they wait their turn, and when they reach the counter, the tired and overworked flight booking agent doesn't even look up as Nick asks to pick up two boarding passes for the Greenglasses. No one asks any questions as they board the plane a few minutes later, finding their reserved seats in first class. It's an hour and a half to San Francisco, and despite Tommy's half-joking efforts to sneak a quickie in, Nick holds her off until they land. She notices when they come off the surprise flight, he's in a different mode, scanning everything and everyone as they head down to the taxi stand in front of the airport. Tommy stays quiet and out of the way as he walks them back to the far corner, his eyes sweeping the crowds exiting the airport. He sends someone a text, and receives one a few seconds later. Then he launches them at a taxi, asking for the driver to take them to a certain address downtown. After paying the driver, he takes Tommy's arm, and they walk down the block, heading into a local mall. Finally, after twenty minutes of circling around inside the place, he brings her to the food court, and the two of them take seats.

He can see she's burning with questions, and he smiles at her while he watches the crowd. "Go ahead."

"I'm just curious if we are actually going to go anywhere important," she gripes playfully.

"We're waiting for a very special friend," he tells her. "Be patient."

Tommy laughs. "You remember who you're talking to, right?"

"I do." He leans across the table suddenly, kissing her, his hand on her cheek. "Don't enjoy this so much you forget it's dangerous, okay?"

Tommy nods, then leans back when she sees Nick's eyes lock on someone in the crowd. She turns to glimpse a tall black man in a nice business suit walking up, a briefcase in hand. He pulls out one of the empty chairs, and smiles at them.

"Tommy, I'd like you to finally meet one of my closest and most trusted friends, Special Agent Mal Evans of the FBI."