The Intelligence Unit Series

By the time Frankie had hung up with Bailey, taken a scalding-hot shower, and finished her get-ready-and-get-gone routine, she'd cleared her head of all the crazy what-if thoughts that had crept in over the weekend. She had enough to worry about with Sebastian Beck out there, selling drugs and killing people and God only knew what else. She couldn't worry about Shawn, or the way her belly had mutinously flipped when her hand had accidentally brushed against his when they'd worked together on Friday. No matter how purely good she'd felt in that split second, or the fact that he'd been the only man to ever make her belly flip that hard.

Taking a deep breath and a deeper swig from the vat of coffee she'd grabbed on her way to the precinct, Frankie made her way into the Intelligence office. Detective Hale was sitting at her desk, with Capelli and Detective Hollister at their workspaces, as well, and a pop of surprise filled Frankie's veins.

"Wow, you guys get to it early, huh?" she said. She was almost always the first one in at Vice at this hour.

Hale looked up from her monitor and smiled. Damn, was this woman ever grumpy? "We kind of split it so a few of us go early and others take the later shift. Sinclair's kind of uptight about us all having time to ourselves and with our significant others. Prevents burnout."

"And since Hale and I are both terminally unattached," Hollister added with a grin, "we tend to come in earlier than the rest of these yahoos."

Capelli lifted one dark blond brow over the rim of his glasses. "I beg your pardon. I'm neither unattached, nor a yahoo."

"True," Hale said. "But Shae is on shift at the fire house today. She was up early, which means so were you. And without her there, you have no good reason to stay in bed."

Capelli considered this. "Fair point." After a pause, he added, "I'm going to make some fresh coffee. Does anyone want some?"

Hale's hand shot into the air, empty mug attached. "If you're making it? Like I'd pass that up."

Hollister murmured in agreement as Capelli stood and moved toward the break room at the back of the office, and Frankie couldn't kill her curiosity.

"I take it he makes good coffee."

"The best," Hale corrected. "He's got some freaky formula where he measures out the grounds with a food scale-and I do mean, to the gram-then uses filtered angels' tears, or whatever, instead of tap water. I have no clue how he does it, but the result is divine." Frankie laughed. "Sounds like it."

Hollister slid a pair of earphones into place and turned back to his monitor, and Frankie made her way to the workspace Shawn had given her on Friday. A thought prickled in her mind, one she knew she should just file under None of Her Business. So, naturally, she said, "Everyone else is, ah, coupled up, then? And that's why they come in later?"

Hale nodded, making Frankie's gut do weird things she didn't want to contemplate. "Pretty much. Isabella had a baby two months ago-Elijah. That kid is the cutest. And Garza and his girlfriend just moved in together. Maxwell doesn't have a plus-one, but he's super militant about going to the gym for at least an hour every morning, plus, he's our UC guy, so his schedule can be a little out there, depending on what we're working."

More relief crashed through Frankie than she had any right to feel, followed by a hard shot of, reel it in, girl. This was the polar opposite of focusing on work. She needed to get her shit together, not get all gooey over whether or not Shawn was in a relationship with anyone.

"Ah. That makes sense." She reached out to boot up the desktop she'd used on Friday, but Hale threw a wrench in her get-to-work plans.

"Look, I know there was some tension between you two the other day," Hale said quietly, even though Hollister was thoroughly absorbed in whatever he was listening to through his headphones and Capelli was in the next room, making sweet, sweet coffee. "But don't take it personally. Maxwell was just looking out for the unit. It's kind of his thing."

"His thing," Frankie said slowly.

"Everyone's got one." Hale's eyes flicked to Hollister. "That one jokes to keep himself on the level. Capelli spouts facts. Me, personally, I tend to go all happy-happy, glass half full. Maxwell"-she paused to hold up her thumb and forefinger, with barely an inch of daylight between them-"is just a little over-protective, and by 'a little', I mean 'a shitload'. But he doesn't do it to be a d**k. He does it to keep himself straight. He's honestly a great cop."

"I know." Frankie heard the words only after they'd escaped, forcing herself to follow them with a tart smile as she maneuvered the truth. "I read his jacket before I came up here to work the case."

Hale laughed, not unkindly. "God, you and Maxwell really are perfect for each other."

"What?" Frankie choked out, and Hale's brows lifted in confusion.

"As partners on the op. Checking out your jacket is just totally something Maxwell would do. He's that careful."

"Oh. Right." Of course she'd meant on the op. Jesus. "Good to know."

Hale must've mistaken her awkwardness as doubt, because she said, "I'm not just saying that because he's normally my partner. I really do mean it. Maxwell's always steady, and he never wavers. Ever. There's no one better to catch Beck."

A thought hit Frankie with all the subtlety of a dump truck, careening out of her unchecked. "Oh, God. Are you..."

Frankie cranked her mouth shut before she could finish, but Hale was too smart not to connect the dots.

"With Maxwell?" Hale tossed her head back and laughed. "Lord, no."

"I'm sorry. That's absolutely none of my business," Frankie said.

A tiny smile played on Hale's mouth as she answered. "You're right. It's absolutely not. But it's such an easy-answer question that I don't mind. Not that I'm against the workplace thing, per se, and I'm definitely not against the hot s*x with hot people thing." Capelli chose that exact moment to re-enter the office, his expression looking like he wished he'd rather be getting a root canal than be party to their conversation. "I, uh. See we're getting personal with the visiting detective." "Frankie," she corrected, kind of wondering if she was in the Twilight Zone, herself.

Hale let out a little moan of pleasure at the coffee Capelli passed over, not batting so much as a single blond eyelash as she continued to share, and oh, Frankie liked her. "S*x isn't always personal. Sometimes, it's just casual, consensual fun. I was just pointing out that I don't cross the streams between work and pleasure, even though I know people like Luke and Quinn and Parker and Charlie totally rock working with their spouses in stressful situations."

"That's true," Capelli mused. For Frankie's benefit, he added, "They're friends of ours. Paramedics and emergency physicians."

Frankie nodded, glad to have the focus on something other than the fact that she'd pretty much just blatantly asked about Shawn's extra-curriculars. "So, stressful situations is accurate."

"Yeah, but we're all used to them. Some people are cool getting personal with co-workers"-she grinned at Capelli, who took the subtle ribbing like a champ-"and there's no technical rule about not doing it here, although the department does require disclosure to your sergeant and HR. Not that it matters where Maxwell is concerned. Dude is an island."

"Really?" Frankie asked, her heart doing a weird little pirouette in her chest.

"Not a slam," Hale added quickly. "You won't find a cop more devoted to his unit. His personal stuff is just locked up pretty tight."

Now that, Frankie knew all too well. "Got it."

She let the silence extend long enough for a non-awkward subject change before she said, "Oh, hey, I've got a bit of a weird question. Do either of you know of a good acupuncturist around here? Or where I can find a yoga studio with drop-in classes?"

Both Hale and Capelli's brows winged upward. Hollister had chosen that exact moment to tug off his earphones, and he looked at her with all the curiosity she'd expected to accompany her questions. "No fear of needles for you, huh?"

"Well, I was kind of stabbed by a meth addict with a KA-BAR on a call eight years ago, so, yeah. Needles don't bug me so much."

The screaming silence that loaded the office reminded Frankie, once again, of her stunning lack of social graces. "Sorry." She pressed her lips together and shrugged. "Thought we were still, you know. Sharing."

Hale blinked twice before landing on her feet. "That sounds like one hell of an injury."

"Class 3 hemorrhage with a complete shoulder reconstruction." She left out the whole post-surgical infection/second surgery to fix it/addicted to painkillers part. After all, these people had limits, no matter how brutal her honesty policy tended to be. "Hurt like a bitch."

"Damn," Hollister breathed. "I'm sorry you went through that."

Frankie gave up a wry smile to lighten the mood. "Thanks. I won't lie, it sucked pretty badly. But yoga and acupuncture help keep me healthy, so..."

"I know someone who could probably point you in the right direction for acupuncture," Hale said. "My Tae Kwon Do master is really big on alternative therapies."

Annnnd curve ball. "You practice Tae Kwon Do?"

"A little."

Capelli coughed while Hollister immediately found the ceiling fascinating, and Frankie's eyes narrowed. "You totally have a black belt, don't you?"

"A little." Hale grinned. "I'll ask about the acupuncture today. Also, when you find a good place for yoga, let me know if you want company. One can never really have enough Zen."

A thread of surprise worked its way through Frankie's chest, but she said, "Okay, sure."

"I'd go, too," Capelli said, upping the ante on Frankie's surprise. Hale's, too, if the look on her face was anything to go by, and he continued with, "What? Yoga is an excellent form of exercise, not to mention self-reflection. You just said so, yourself." "Okay, but that doesn't mean I can picture you getting all meditative with your big brain, over there," Hale pointed out.

"Maybe big brains get extra meditative," Capelli said, and Hollister let out a snort.

"Then you'll be meditating for a solid month, dude. Probably, you should pack a lunch."

Frankie couldn't help but laugh. She opened her mouth to ask Hollister if he was in for yoga, too. But then, Shawn cleared his throat from the spot where he stood on the threshold of the Intelligence office, his dark blue stare as unreadable as it was unmovable, and the words went right out of her head.

***

Any hope Shawnhad harbored that the weekend would help him get over the gut punch of being face-to-face with Frankie after eight years of separation died a quick-a*s death the second he walked into the Intelligence office and saw her sitting inches from his desk. With her eyes bright and her smile as beautiful and wide open as the horizon, she looked exactly as she had the morning of the day she'd been stabbed. Although he'd been by her side for months afterward, that morning-that moment in their patrol car, before he'd gone and f****d everything up by impulsively asking her to move in with him-had been the last time he'd seen her genuinely smile. Shawn had been certain he'd never see it again, and certainly not in person, close enough to take in the perfect parting of her bow-shaped mouth and the throaty laugh spilling past her lips.

Guess absence didn't make his heart grow fonder as much as it made his d**k grow harder.

"Oh, hey, Maxwell," Hale said, just as happy as ever as she toasted him with her coffee cup and slam-banged him back to the office. "You gonna just stand there, looking pretty, or are you going to come in and get to work?"

Hale was nothing if not sharp as hell, which meant that if he didn't lock his shit down-and fast-she'd notice. "I'm ready whenever you are."

"Oh, good," Capelli said, turning toward the bank of monitors on the wall over his work station. "Because I've got covers in place for you and Detective R-Frankie," he corrected.

"Great," Shawn said. The sooner he could stow his own shit and be someone else for a while, the better. Plus, Frankie wasn't as used to going undercover as he was, so she'd need as much time as possible getting used to her alias. Moving across the office, Shawn grabbed his chair and angled himself toward Capelli's desk. Frankie mirrored his movements, making just a blink's worth of eye contact with him before focusing on Capelli.

"Meet Shawn Pritchard and Frankie Burton," he said, pulling a pair of IDs out of his desk and passing them over. "Credit cards and a few other personal effects are forthcoming."

"Do the credit cards actually work?" Frankie asked, her brows on the rise, and okay, yeah. This was work. A case. This, he was good at.

"Yep. It's just a precaution," he added. "And, of course, the department tracks them carefully. But sometimes, they're necessary."

To that end, Capelli said, "We set you both up in the system. You've lived in Remington for a couple of years, on the edge of North Point. Before that, you were in Detroit. Shawn is a mechanic, and Frankie answers phones at a doctor's office. You both have minor priors, you for a bar fight"-he looked at Shawn-"and you, for possession," he said to Frankie.

"Of?" she replied, and damn, she was smart.

"Heroin. We thought it would tie into things nicely, since it's Beck's drug of choice to push. I'll send you the complete setup so you can memorize the details and work together on your strategy," Capelli said. "You'll both have burner phones, and we'll be tracking you with several different methods of surveillance, depending on the circumstances. Oh, and there's the vehicle."

"Nice to see that your department doesn't mess around," Frankie murmured.

"Don't get too excited," Shawn said. He knew better than to think they'd get a Maserati out of this deal. "The vehicle has to fit the cover." He'd driven around in more junkers than he cared to remember.

"Five-year-old Dodge Ram pickup," Capelli confirmed. "It's registered to Shawn Pritchard. Well, in the system, anyway."

"Smart," Frankie murmured. "Beck's the kind of guy to run the plates."

Capelli nodded. "Sinclair wanted to take all the precautions, even though this isn't a deep undercover effort."

Shawn blew out a breath. There was something to be said for getting to go home every night. If he and Frankie had to share a bed on an undercover op...

Stop. Right now, you big, dumb, jackass."Okay. So, all we need to do now is find our angle with Beck."

Sitting back, Frankie sent her gaze around the office, where both Isabella and Garza had arrived while they'd been catching up with Capelli. "Chatter on our end in Atlanta has Beck staying here in Remington for a while. If he's looking for ways to expand-and he almost certainly is-he'll have to leverage his relationship with his cousin to do it."

"Which means there's got to be chatter on this side, too," Shawn said. "Anyone got anything?"

Garza, who had a shitload of contacts from the time he spent working in the Gang Unit prior to joining Intelligence, shook his head. "My Cls have all been really tight-lipped about this one. Most are saying they don't know anything about it, but a couple are acting cagey. My guess is that Beck's already a bit of an urban legend. You know how it goes. The story gets bigger every time it's retold, until all of sudden, the guy is ten feet tall and bulletproof, and eats kittens for breakfast. Either way, I couldn't get anyone to bite." "Me, either," Isabella put in. "And believe me, I tried. Beck might be new in town, but his reputation seems to be preceding him."

"Damn it," Frankie muttered. "Given how far I didn't get in Atlanta, I shouldn't be surprised no one wants to talk, but..."

"I might have someone," Shawn said. Leo hadn't always been the most willing Cl, but Shawn knew the guy's pressure points, along with just how hard to squeeze them. "He used to rub elbows with a few of the A Park Phantoms. He's not a gang member, but I know he knows Landowski. It'll take a little finesse to get him talking, though."

Frankie's hair slid down one shoulder as she tipped her head in thought. "Do you know where he'd be right now?"

"At nine o'clock on a Monday morning? I could probably pin him down." At least, if Leo hadn't gotten his a*s fired from the job he'd had four months ago, which was a distinct possibility when you factored in his personality.

"Catching him by surprise would give him less of a chance to dodge you. Or throw up walls," Frankie said. "At the very least, you might get a little intel from his reaction to Beck's name. It'd be something." Shawn nodded. He only needed Leo to slip a little to find an in. Shock and awe was probably his best bet at getting the guy not to serve up a great big helping of no can do. "That might work."

"I can tag team it with you if you think it would get us what we need," Frankie volunteered. "I've talked to so many Cls in the past few months, it's pretty much like breathing for me."

Shawn's gut said "yes" before his defenses slammed the feeling to a halt just shy of his mouth. He'd thought he'd have at least a little time to get his head around the idea of going out into the field with Frankie. But the truth was, taking her to try and track down Leo would be a low-risk way of testing out how well they'd work together. Plus, it would save him from having to get her up to speed once he did talk to the guy, and saying no was bound to earn him some side-eye from Hale, who he'd have taken with him in a heartbeat.

"Yeah, okay," he said slowly. He went to turn toward his desk to run a quick check on Leo to see if there was anything new there he could leverage, but Frankie spoke before he got more than two seconds into the movement.

"You want to run your Cl first, just in case? Maybe he's been up to something you can use."

"Oh. I, uh." Shawn's hands stuttered to a stop. "Yeah, that's what I was about to do, actually." Hale laughed. "Told you."

"Told me what?" Shawn asked, confused, but Hale wasn't looking at him. She was looking at Frankie.

"I was just telling Frankie earlier that you two seem to have a rhythm, that's all. That"-she made a motion with her finger, looping between him and Frankie in an imaginary circle-"was just case in point."

Shit. Shit, shit, shitty shit. "Uh."

Fortunately, Frankie was far better on the rebound. "Nah. Any of you guys would've thought to do the same before going to check in with a Cl."

Now, Isabella lifted one corner of her mouth, and damn it, this was going to be one of those rare times when he wished he didn't work with a bunch of f*****g detectives. "Yeah, but Maxwell would've thought of it first. You're going to make a kickass UC team." Smooth as glass, Frankie said, "I hope so. It's kind of hard not to want to put Beck away for a long time. Five minutes?" she added, her smile entirely professional as she looked at him.

He blanked his stare in return. "Sure. Let's go get something we can use to nail this son of a bitch."