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Victor was leaning against a wall in a filthy alley next to an auto garage and waiting for a police patrol car to finish its slow journey down the street. He wasn't happy about it.

"Mac!" Victor hissed. "Let's give it up. You are never going to get the best of the Director and you know it."

Mac's eyes were sparkling with their usual enthusiasm for any stupid and probably dangerous scheme. He uncapped the bottle of scotch that he'd insisted on bringing along and handed it to Victor.

"Come on," Mac said persuasively. "I ran into this guy a couple of weeks ago and he showed me this stuff. It's going to be awesome!"

"I can't believe you want to paint the Director's car." Victor put his head in his hands. "Why don't we just t.p. her office and go all the way back to high school?"

"You know, that tells me a lot more about your wild and crazy youth than I think you want me to know," Mac teased. "Listen to this. It's perfect. The guy also gave me this specialty template. You know. Patterns like they use for those mountain scenes or flames."

"We cannot paint flames on the Director's car," Victor insisted, wondering how he'd been convinced to participate in this suicide pact. He took a drink, trying not to picture the ugly consequences for what they were about to do.

Starting from what would happen if they got arrested. Which, once he thought about it, would be preferable to what would happen if they didn't get caught and wound up facing the Director, instead.

"Sure we can." Mac was grinning wildly, never a good sign. "Let me finish. Like I said, this is something new. Temporary auto paint. It comes with a special solution that washes the decoration right off. It's perfect, don't you see? We give her a new paint job, make her live with it while we're on this assignment, and then, before we agree to clean it off, she has to promise not to kill us."

"She could get around that by having Dobrinsky kill us," Victor pointed out.

"We'll cover all the bases," Mac said, waving aside Victor's objection. "Don't you think this is the perfect payback?"

Victor still hesitated. It wasn't that the idea of doing something, getting some kind of revenge, wasn't appealing, because it was.

He took another drink. "We're going to die this time," he predicted. "What if it doesn't come off?"

"It will." Mac grinned. "The guy showed me. On his own car." He took the bottle and poured scotch down his throat. "By the time we get back to town, she's going to be willing to do anything to get this stuff off of her car, you know?"

Victor wasn't sure whether to envy Mac's drinking capacity, or to feel sorry for his liver. "Including having us killed and washing the car with our blood," he predicted bitterly.

"Actually, I have an even better idea, now that I think about it," Mac said.

"What? We forget the whole thing and get on with the case?" Victor asked hopefully.

"Not exactly." Mac took another look at the white police cruiser, which was still in sight, then leaned back against the dirty wall and smiled broadly.

Victor was familiar with that expression. He'd seen it a hundred times; whenever Mac was about to talk Victor into something against his better judgement.

He took back the bottle and tried to harden himself against temptation. "Nothing to do with good sense, then?"

"This gets better and better." Mac laughed. "Wait until you hear this."

"I don't want to hear it." Victor took a comforting drink.

"No." Mac shook his head. "This is perfect. When the case is over, don't you see, and we get back to town, the first thing we do is to fix the car. Before she even sees us." He looked triumphant. "Destroy the evidence."

To his horror, Victor realized he was wavering. Maybe he shouldn't have had those last few drinks. "You're sure this stuff comes off?" he probed. "I mean, you did actually see it work?"

"Scout's honor," Mac promised. "He even let me try it myself. It worked perfectly. It looks like finger paint. Thick, you know, so you can't paint over it, but water doesn't touch it. The dissolving compound takes it right off, though."

Victor knew he was going to regret this, but too much scotch was making it hard to focus on possible consequences. "Maybe you're right. She has it coming."

"That's the spirit." Mac's face lit up. "You know, I'll just bet she's sitting somewhere laughing at us right now."

"No," Victor objected. He thought about it. "You think so?" The idea sparked some anger.

"Sure she is," Mac said confidently. "You know how she is. She thinks she's pulled a fast one on us." He held up the bottle in a toast. "We'll see who laughs last, right?"

The challenge in Mac's eyes was too much to ignore. Victor let his partner drink, then took the bottle. "Deal," he said, and drank to it. His stomach objected for a second and Victor decided that he'd let Mac have the rest of the bottle.

"Excellent." Mac was beaming. He looked around the corner. "As soon as we're sure they're gone, we'll get started."

"No rush. Let's finish the bottle, first," Victor offered. He wondered how much it would take to put Mac out. More than Victor wanted to drink, he was sure of that. It might be possible to let Mac drink himself into a more reasonable state of mind, though.

"You're not wimping out on me, are you?"

As always, the hint of a dare from his partner generated an instant response, unconnected to sanity. "No," Victor said. "I just thought we'd have another drink first, that's all."

Mac eyed him suspiciously, then grinned. "Another drink is always a good idea," he agreed cheerfully.

Mac insisted on Victor having a couple more drinks he didn't need or want, to keep Mac company. Victor was seriously unsteady by the time Mac decided it was safe to break into the garage.

Mac scoffed at the garage's heavy steel lock and picked it in less than fifteen seconds. He grabbed Victor's arm and Victor allowed himself to be dragged through the door. He waited, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness of moonlight seeping through dirty skylights, while Mac relocked the door behind them.

"Come on, buddy." Mac slapped him on the shoulder and started picking his way across the floor. "Let's get this party started."

I'm going to hate myself for this tomorrow. Fortunately, Victor had been entrusted with the bottle. Another swallow, and then another and tomorrow seemed a lot less important.

He sauntered off across the floor, swinging the bottle carelessly and looking around at the parts and pieces of various expensive foreign cars that were spread out on tarps next to each car. A classic red Fiat caught his attention for a second. From the display of parts, it looked like this one was in for a carburetor overhaul.

"If we were in the spare parts business, we could make a killing," he offered, feeling much more cheerful now that they were more or less committed to the crime.

Mac glanced around. "That's true." He gave Victor a wicked grin. "You want to find a couple of boxes and pick up a few things to cover our expenses here?"

"Are you crazy?" Victor stumbled over a carburetor and swore quietly.

"Hey, it was your suggestion." Mac shrugged.

"It wasn't a suggestion," Victor objected. He caught up to Mac and grabbed his arm. "We're not here to steal anything," he said urgently. "Are we?"

"Relax, buddy," Mac soothed. He draped his arm around Victor's shoulders and nodded toward the corner of the garage. "There is it. A beauty, isn't it?

The car's high-gloss, immaculate paint job glowed darkly in the dimness of the garage. Mac surveyed it with the air of a connoisseur, or a lover. Mac had a passion for sports cars, the more expensive the better.

"Are you sure this is hers?" Victor tried to picture vivid red and yellow flames sprouting from the car's sleek nose and shuddered. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

"Sure it is." Mac's arm urged him forward as they approached the gleaming automobile.

While he was waiting for Mac to unpack the heavy bag of supplies he'd dragged along on this hair-brained outing, Victor thought about how he'd been driven to this point.

Life had seemed to be making as much sense as it ever did until that afternoon's briefing....

. . . .

The conference room was characteristically dim, cool white light spotlighting the heavy table. Mac and Victor were separated by an empty chair. The space made Victor uneasy. It was surprising how much he relied upon Li Ann's quiet presence as a buffer between him and their irritating partner.

The Director leaned against the other side of the table, watching the two of them. "Your mission," the Director said, "should you choose to accept it...." She caught a glimpse of Mac's expression. "And you will, is to infiltrate a small community that the police have been unable to penetrate, blend in with the locals, establish yourselves as accepted members, and wait."

"Wait?" Predictably, the outburst was Mac's. "Wait for what?"

"You will wait," the Director emphasized. "And watch. And listen. To everyone, and everything."

"What's this closed community?" Victor asked, less concerned about the potential boredom. "I mean, who are we supposed to be blending in with?"

"I'll bet it's the Amish," Mac offered with a smirk. He cocked his head. "You know, I think it's a look that could work on you. I mean, I can really see you in one of those hats, you know?"

Victor threw a pencil at him.

"Boys, boys, boys." The Director's bored voice interrupted the teasing. "Play nice, or mama will have to spank."

Victor didn't know what it was about the Director's bizarre threats that managed to silence Mac, but he was grateful that they usually worked.

The Director continued the briefing. "The rumors, gentlemen, vary between large-scale kidnapping, wholesale murder, involuntary slavery, and a host of other, less palatable ideas. Your assignment is to find out what you can of the truth of the situation, from the inside."

"So, what are we going to be?" Victor asked. "Are we undercover cops, or bait?"

Mac snickered. "I think you're getting a little old to be a harem boy, Vic. No offense."

The air between them crackled with familiar tension. "You know, it's just like you to immediately assume that...."

"That's enough," the Director said sharply. "As it happens, Victor, you're not that far off."

"You're kidding?" Somehow, Victor didn't like the sound of that.

"I never kid. So far, we have twenty-three confirmed disappearances within a five-block radius of a single city. All male, more-or-less single, all attractive, and all between the ages of twenty-five and forty. Which makes you two the perfect bait."

"People disappear all the time," Victor pointed out, remembering the hundreds of 'missing person' reports he'd seen during his years with the police. "And they usually don't want to be found. What makes you think these guys are any different?"

"We've compiled reports from friends and neighbors." The Director paused. " We've done hours of analysis. You name it, we've tried it. None of these men fit any of the profiles for someone who just...drops out. If nothing else, just the statistic tell us that twenty-three disappearances in six months from such a limited area is...highly unlikely. And none of the men were seen under any unusual circumstances before their disappearances."

"Come on," Mac said impatiently. "Give with the details. Who disappeared? When?" How are the cases related? Who says these guys have been snatched for...whatever it is? And, more important, where's Li Ann?"

"She's on vacation," the Director told them. "You won't be needing her on this assignment."

"Hey," Victor objected. "We're partners. I mean, we're a team, right?"

"Yeah." Mac scowled at the Director. "How come she rates a vacation while we have to work?"

Trust Mac to get it backwards, of course. The question wasn't why the two of them weren't on vacation, it was why the Director didn't think they'd need their very capable partner on this assignment.

"Because I said so." The Director answered Mac's irritable question coolly. "I felt she was entitled to some time off. When she returns, she'll be involved with other duties for a while.

"For how long?" Victor demanded. "Are you splitting us up?"

"No." She eyed the two of them, smiling at some private thought. "But you two will be undercover for quite some time and I thought we'd take advantage of Li Ann's availability to use her on one or two special assignments."

"How long is 'quite some time'?" Mac asked suspiciously. "And what about the details?

"How long, boys, all depends upon how good you are at what you do, doesn't it?" She slid two blue envelopes across the table, one to each man. "As for the details, there aren't many more. As I said before, your assignment is to gather information. You'll be working on your own this time. It's a sensitive situation and we don't want too many cooks spoiling this particular soup."

"So, we go in blind?" Victor stared at her in disbelief. "What are these?" He tapped the envelope in front of him.

"Your cover stories." The Director slipped off the edge of the table. "And the facts that we do have. You have sixteen hours to memorize everything in those files, boys. And I do mean, everything. In the meantime, you'll need clothing and so on to fit your cover stories. I'll see to it that everything you need is waiting for you here at nine o'clock tomorrow morning."

She sauntered toward the door. "Oh, and one more thing. Since you will be working together very closely on this one, I'd suggest that you take the rest of the day off. Take your cover stories home with you tonight. You can...get together and work out the details. It might take you all night."

She smiled again, never a reassuring sight, and waved inch-long red lacquered nails at them. "Taa-taa, boys. I'll see you tomorrow."

"We're not going to like this." Mac watched the Director leave.

"How bad can it be?" Victor eyed both envelopes. "We're just supposed to keep our eyes open and gather information, right?"

"Sounds boring," Mac complained.

"Some people are never happy." Victor picked up his envelope and slid it into his pocket. "It's a piece of cake. And, in the meantime, we have the afternoon off. You ready to get out of here?"

"Sure." Mac fingered his envelope, then slid it into his jacket carefully, as though it might blow up at any second.

"How about this?" Victor headed down the deserted hallway. "We go back to my place, get this stuff memorized while I make us something to eat, and if we get done early, we can go get a drink?"

"Sounds okay." Mac brooded for a second, the usual amount of time he was able to keep his mouth shut. "How can she expect this to take weeks? And why doesn't she think Li Ann should help us? I mean, three heads are better than two, right?"

"Especially if one of them's yours," Victor needled.

"Hey! It's just you and me for a while," Mac reminded him. "If I were you, I'd be careful about pissing off the only person who's going to be watching your back in the foreseeable future."

Victor stopped, one hand on the door. "You threatening to blink at just the wrong second one of these days?"

"Not at all." Mac grinned at him. There was something underneath the smile that Victor didn't quite understand. "Just suggesting that a little diplomacy might be in order."

"Right." Victor shook his head. "That'll be the day."

"Hey, are you implying that I don't respond to tact and diplomacy?"

"I'm saying...." Victor stopped. "Never mind. Let's get out of here."

. . . .

Victor took another drink of the potent scotch and watched Mac spread a heavy tarp across the floor next to the Director's car. The only time his partner was ever this neat was when he was committing some kind of criminal act. Mac had a finicky precision on the job that never showed up in his personal life.

Anyhow, the briefing hadn't been that much different than a hundred others they'd gone through. Besides Li Ann's absence, and the fact that the Director seemed to be laughing at a private joke half the time, which wasn't that unusual, he and Mac had still been expecting a fairly ordinary case.

Until they'd gotten around to looking inside the blue envelopes....

. . . .

The assignment stayed just beneath the surface of Victor's mind as he was sure it did Mac's, but neither of them mentioned it again until they were in Victor's living room, jackets off and cold beers in their hands.

"Well, who wants firsties?" Mac held up his envelope and grinned. "Wanna draw straws?"

"Just open it." Victor stood up. "I'm going to get the steaks out. Tell me what it says."

"Steak?" Mac leaned back, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "To what do I owe this honor?"

"To the fact that it's all I've got. Get your feet off of the table."

"Chill, cowboy." Mac ripped the envelope open.

Victor pulled the meat out of the cooler and poured marinade over it. He glanced at his now-silent partner. "Well? Are you going to tell me what it says?"

"I do not believe this." Mac's jaw dropped and his eyes raced over the sheaf of papers in his hand. "I fucking do not believe this."

"What?" Victor waited impatiently, but Mac ignored him. Cursing under his breath, Victor grabbed his own envelope, tore it open, and started reading.

Words jumped out at him from the page.

Twenty-three missing... presumed dead... gay community...three weeks...on your own...you and Mac...couple...blend in ...be convincing ...call for emergency... counting on you...

Oh, my god. Victor's knees buckled and he sat down abruptly. She had to be kidding.

I never kid. He heard her voice echoing in his head. No, she wasn't kidding. She was sending him and Mac, unpredictable, irresponsible, impatient Mac, off to...to play house, for god's sake, for weeks on end. To pose as lovers in front of an entire community of gay men.

The couch springs creaked as Mac stood up. Victor half-glanced at his partner, watching Mac wander over to the window and stand there, staring out into the street.

One of them had to say something, but Victor didn't have the faintest idea what it should be. He wondered what the Director's note to Mac had said. It had been pages longer than Victor's.

Victor drained his beer, then went to the kitchen for a fresh one. Along the way, he picked up a bottle of single-malt scotch he'd been saving, and a couple of glasses.

Back in the living room, he poured two scotches and carried one to Mac.

"What, no ice?" Mac barely took his eyes off the street before he accepted the glass.

"You want ice, get it yourself. This isn't a bar." Victor settled back onto the couch and swallowed his drink. It burned a tortured path into his stomach, stopping his breath for a moment. When the flame eased into a milder heat, he poured a second glass.

He heard Mac in the kitchen, then the sound of ice cubes ringing against glass. A minute later Mac reappeared, drink in one hand and a bowl of ice cubes in the other.

"Figured we might want these," Mac offered. He set the bowl on the coffee table, then hovered for a second before resuming his earlier seat on the couch.

"Thanks." Victor dropped ice into his glass, then leaned back and propped his feet up on the table. "Well?"

"What the hell, right?" Mac took a drink. "It's an assignment, that's all."

"Sure." Victor refilled his glass and offered the bottle to Mac. "Just like all the other assignments, right? We go in, we do the job, we put the bad guys away."

"Right." Mac took another drink. "Simple."

Victor cleared his throat. "Seems to me, if we've got at least three weeks and five city blocks to cover, we'd do better going in separately. Cover more territory faster, you know?"

Mac shook his head. "She mentioned that. Of the twenty-three guys who disappeared, twelve were actually six couples. And over half of the guys were known to be at home, behind locked doors at the time they disappeared without a trace. No splitting up."

Victor wondered what else Mac had been told that the Director hadn't shared with Victor. "What else?"

Mac shrugged. "Street rumors say it could be some kinky sex club thing. Or gay-bashers, but that isn't likely since a lot of the guys were at home. Or some illegal lab, grabbing test subjects. Or a hundred other things." He grinned. "Even a shadowy government agency."

Victor thought about it. No. It wasn't beyond the Director to use the agents to help her fight inner-Agency battles, but this one felt different.

He glanced at Mac and raised his eyes. Mac shook his head. So, they were in agreement. This one was real.

"So, we really are going in blind?" Victor was comfortable with this impersonal discussion of the case. "No other leads?"

"Not a one." Mac poured himself another drink. "Except for what we can scare up for ourselves."

"Right." That weird silence started closing in again and Victor looked for something else innocuous to say. "So, we need a plan."

"Of course." Mac laughed quietly. "A plan. You've always got a plan, don't you, Vic?"

"You want to just show up there and stand around with our fingers in our noses until someone tries to jump us?"

"I can't believe she's doing this to us." Mac stared at the floor, his knuckles whitening where they were wrapped around his glass.

"Nothing to it." Victor glanced at him. Here it comes. "We've worked undercover before."

"Not like this," Mac pointed out. "You're telling me you don't have a problem with this?"

Victor did, but it was nothing he intended to share with his partner. "What kind of problem?" he answered, keeping his voice calm. "It's an assignment."

"Just another job." Victor could see Mac's thoughtful expression as his partner considered his words. "Why not?" Now Mac's face wore a grin that made him uneasy.

Mac made a production of sliding over next to Victor on the couch. "We've had tougher assignments, right?"

"What the hell are you doing?" Victor took a nervous sip of his scotch, but refused to move away. He wasn't going to give Mac the satisfaction of thinking he could get to Victor that easily.

"Our orders say to be convincing," Mac reminded him. "I figured we should have a little practice before we make our first public appearance as a married couple, don't you?" He grinned again. "So, you wanna play house?" He slid his arm around Victor's shoulders.

Victor could feel the tension in Mac's arm, in spite of his teasing. Mac was probably expecting Victor to take a swing at him and for a second, Victor thought he might just do it. But orders were orders. And, although Victor hated to admit it, Mac was right.

"You think it's going to be that easy?" Victor pretended to accept it, waiting to see what Mac would do when Victor didn't rise to the bait.

"Sure, why not?" Mac was still watching Victor. "How tough can it be?"

"You ever been in a relationship with a man?" Victor asked.

"What difference does that make?" Mac jerked his arm away and backed off.

"I'm just saying that it might take a little more than you expect." Victor took a sip of his scotch, keeping his face serious. "I mean, if you really want to be convincing. And like you said, our orders are to be convincing."

"More like what?" Mac looked like he still didn't understand why Victor hadn't turned around and belted him one.

That suited Victor fine. He wasn't going to spend the next three weeks or however long it took to solve this case with Mac believing that all he had to do to get to Victor was to pretend to make a pass at him. Victor knew Mac's sense of humor and knew that if Mac thought Victor was uncomfortable with their roles, he'd do everything in his power to drive his partner crazy.

They were going to do this by the book, or not at all. Which meant figuring out now just what would be needed. Drawing some lines and making sure that Mac didn't cross them.

As long as Victor didn't react, didn't rise to the bait, Mac would be a lot less tempted to keep acting like a jerk, if that's all he was doing. And if Mac wasn't sure just how far Victor would go to keep their cover intact...well, that might help keep him in line, too.

"Hard to say." He answered Mac's last question with a shrug. "Anything in your envelope about who we're pretending to be?"

"Yeah." Mac sorted through the stack of papers, blue to match the envelope, and handed one to Victor. "One for each of us. There's not much there."

Victor glanced at the sheet" We should memorize each other's stuff as well," he said. "After all, lovers would know these kinds of things about each other." He started reading the short list of facts.

"You know, you are just taking this way too casually," Mac complained suddenly. "I mean...where's all that narrow-minded, I'm-a-cop attitude? I would have thought you'd be the first one yelling about this assignment."

Victor didn't look up. "Are you saying you think I'm a bigot?"

"No...I'm saying...I just thought...." Mac fumbled to explain what he meant, then gave it up. "I'm just surprised, that's all."

Perfect. "Twenty-three people have disappeared," Victor reminded him. "We have to go in there and find out if anyone knows anything. If anyone saw or heard anything, or has any ideas." He took a drink. "A crime may have been committed. Several crimes. We're investigating them. Frankly, I don't see the problem, here."

"Fuck you." Mac refilled his glass and stared at the paper.

"I don't think we'll have to take it that far." Victor ignored the stare of mingled surprise and shock that Mac gave him and settled back to start reading again.

The room was quiet as they read. Victor memorized the short biography he'd been given. He and his 'lover' were new to the city. No close family, no ties except each other. Victor had recently gotten a small inheritance from a remote family member and he and Mac were planning to take a few weeks off before they started job hunting. A 'honeymoon' of sorts, although the phrase in black-and-white on the page made Victor nervous.

A note at the top of the page assured him that their stories fit the profiles of the missing men as closely as possible. Not having to pretend to work during the day would give them plenty of time to dig for information.

By the time Victor finished, Mac was through with his own fact sheet. They exchanged papers without a word. It wasn't a comfortable silence, but it wasn't hostile, which, with Mac, was about as good as it got.

The man lived for conflict. If there wasn't any chaos handy, he would set out to create some with a reckless and usually criminal disregard for consequences. Victor had to hope that Mac was convinced by his partner's casual acceptance of their cover story and that Mac would look somewhere else for amusement.

"You about ready for dinner?" Victor dropped the paper back on the table and stood up, stretching. One more drink would be too much if he didn't get some food in his stomach.

"Yeah. Sure." Mac shot him an odd look, then stared down at the glass in his hand.

As he got the steaks ready for broiling, Victor thought about Mac's reaction to the assignment. His partner was so unpredictable that it could have gone either way. Mac could have decided that the unusual case was a perfect excuse for any obnoxious behavior he could think of.

In fact, Victor would be surprised if that thought didn't occur to his partner before long. He just hoped he was right in guessing that Mac would be less outrageous if he didn't think he was getting on Victor's nerves. Or discovering a weakness.

He stayed in the kitchen. Neither of them was going to have much time to get used to the idea of this assignment, which he assumed was part of the Director's plan. Given a couple of days to work on it, he and Mac both would have found a thousand reasons not to do this one. They didn't have that option, though, and Victor needed to think.

He pretended to keep his attention on the cutting board where he was trying to create a salad. Green lettuce. Orange carrots. The rich red of tomatoes. The cookbook he was studying said that presentation enhanced flavor. Not that Mac would notice details like that.

"Well, looks like we know who gets to be the lady of the house.".

Victor hadn't heard him stand up, but Mac was now leaning against the doorway that separated the kitchen from the small living room.

"Fuck you," Victor snapped. He dumped the rest of the vegetables into the salad bowl.

"I thought you said it wouldn't come to that," Mac snickered. He took another drink. From the look of him, he'd taken a couple more when Victor wasn't looking.

"There's nothing specifically feminine about cooking," Victor said tightly. "I like to eat decent food, so I'm learning to cook it."

"Sure," Mac agreed. "Add a frilly pink apron, you'll be a perfect...."

He didn't finish the sentence because Victor had him by the throat, shoved up against the wall.

"Don't," Victor said carefully. He heard Mac's glass hit the floor. "Just...don't."

"Hey, sure," Mac choked out. He raised his arms peacefully "Whatever you say."

Victor eased his grip and stepped back, avoiding the puddle of scotch and ice cubes. Naturally Mac took that instant to retaliate, throwing Victor against the counter and twisting his arm behind his back painfully.

"You want to play rough?" He heard Mac's unsteady laugh next to his ear.

"Get your hands off of me," Victor demanded. His free hand stretched, then inched across the counter toward the paring knife he'd dropped.

"You touch that and I'll break your arm," Mac threatened.

Normally Victor might not have believed the threat but tonight he wasn't sure. Which didn't mean Victor was going to stand there and take Mac's shit quietly. "In case you've forgotten, we're supposed to be on the same side here."

"You started it, buddy." Victor's arm was twisted another painful degree. "I don't appreciate being jumped by my partner."

Victor forced himself to relax, pretending to be calmer than he felt. Sometimes it was like he was always doing that around the hot-tempered Mac. "Hey, I'm not the one who started this."

The pressure on his arm eased and then disappeared. He heard Mac step back. "Yeah. Maybe I was a little out of line."

"I told you," Victor massaged his arm, glaring at his partner. "We treat it like any other assignment. If you can't deal with it, talk to the Director. Don't take it out on me."

Victor was almost tempted to admit that he was anything but comfortable with the situation, but experience had proven that it wasn't safe to admit a weakness to his partner. There was something in Mac that made it impossible for him to resist taking advantage of any opening in Victor's guard.

Besides, Victor wasn't worried about it in exactly the way Mac expected. Mac's hostility was directed at their cover stories. And Victor didn't have a problem with those. His only worry was Mac.

"You'd better eat," he said shortly. He handed Mac a plate, and nodded toward the steaks sizzling on the broiler on the stove. "There's salad if you want it."

Victor cleaned up the mess on the floor before he fixed his own food and took it back to the living room. Mac was already eating. He nodded when Victor put a clean glass next to his plate, but made no move toward the scotch bottle.

Mac carried his own dishes to the kitchen when they were done with their meal. He didn't offer to help clean up, but then he never did.

"Sorry." The apology broke the strained silence.

Victor shoved the last dish into the dishwasher and stood up, staring at Mac. "Are you done acting like a jerk?"

"Hey, I said I was sorry," Mac said defensively.

"Right. Forget it." Victor started the dishwasher. "I guess we should sit down and work out a plan."

"Naturally," Mac said half under his breath. He led the way back to the living room and dropped back down on the couch, not avoiding Victor, but not crowding him the way he had earlier, either.

Mac poured two large drinks and offered one glass to Victor. "Come on. Apology accepted?"

"Sure." Victor accepted the glass. "Why not."

"That's the spirit." Mac offered him a mock toast. "Partners."

"Where should we start?" Victor didn't trust Mac's unusual meekness. With good reason, as it turned out.

"Revenge," Mac said eagerly. "Red-hot revenge. I know just what we can do to her to pay her back for this one."

Oh, no . Victor was shaking his head before Mac finished the sentence. "No way."

"Yes, way." Mac gave him a big grin. "You're gonna love this."

. . . .

That had been a lie. Of course. Victor wasn't loving it at all.

The garage had another bank of security lights inside. Victor was grateful. Without the lights, he never would have been able to see the crazy grin on Mac's face as he pulled out a roll of heavy tape and fixed a template in place on the Director's car.

Victor swore to himself he'd remember that expression, and use the memory to keep himself out of trouble in the future. Mac was crazy sometimes, and no one but Mac denied it.

Mac moved quickly, pumping a thick, yellow mist into the cut-outs, timing something on his watch, then covering the center of the pattern with a narrower pattern of red.

"It dries to the touch in a couple of minutes," Mac explained, pulling the flexible tape off and removing the template. "Come on." Even thought it was like watching a graffiti artist deface a Rembrandt, Victor couldn't resist watching.

Mac fixed the template into place on the other side of the car, checking both sides several times until he was sure he had it positioned right. Then he picked up the homemade pump and handed it to Victor. "Your turn, maestro."

"What?" Victor stared at him. "You're kidding?"

"One for all, and all for one," Mac said smugly. "You're a victim here, too, right? She's playing both of us for fools."

"I'm not sure that's what she's trying to do," Victor said reluctantly.

"Trust me," Mac said solemnly. "She's laughing. I mean, I don't doubt it's a real case, but I'll bet she volunteered us for this one, you know? It's just like her warped sense of humor."

"But the job does need to be done." It was too easy to picture what Mac was saying and Victor didn't doubt that the Director was laughing her head off at them right now. Thinking about it did piss him off. It wasn't that he minded the case, but he did mind her taking the opportunity to take cheap shots and him and his partner while pretending it was all just business. She'd done that a lot lately. Too often.

"So does this one." Mac interrupted Victor's thoughts abruptly. "Get to it, tiger."

"Don't call me that," Victor said automatically. He inspected the pump, figuring out the simple mechanism, then pointed the hose at the car. He hesitated, then he could hear the sound of the Director's laughter in his head. He pushed the plunger and a heavy spray of yellow shot across the car's spotless paint. Victor covered the template cut-outs thoroughly, then applied the second coat of red as soon as Mac gave the signal.

Mac waited until Victor was done, then jumped into action, peeling off the template, folding it carelessly and stuffing it and the capped-off pumps back into his bag. "Okay, let's get out of here."

"What's the rush?" Victor stayed where he was, looking in horrified fascination at the brilliant paint defacing the expensive car.

"Hey, you never hang around once the job's over." Mac grabbed Victor's arm and pulled him toward the door. "More guys have been caught because they couldn't resist stopping to admire their work than any other way, you know?"

"Really?" Victor let Mac hustle him across the floor, trying to remember if he'd had the same experience on the police force.

He looked back and shuddered. The red barely showed in the dim light, but the wavy stripes of yellow paint glowed almost neon.

They were going to die. When the Director saw that, he and Mac were both dead. He didn't even try to pretend that she might not know who was responsible. This trick had Mac's name all over it.

A quick trip down the alley, across a dark and deserted street, and into another alley, and they were at Victor's truck. He stared at it in dismay while Mac waited impatiently for him to unlock the doors. My truck. If that police cruiser had been down this street too, and he assumed they had been, there was no way they would have missed seeing the red truck tucked illegally back into the alley.

"What's the matter?" Mac hissed.

"My truck," Victor explained as he unlocked the doors. "Those patrolmen must have seen it."

"So what?" Mac slid into the seat. "It's not like she's going to turn us in or anything," he pointed out.

"She might." Victor started the engine. He shouldn't be driving with all he'd had to drink, but he didn't trust Mac. "It would be just like her."

"No." Mac shook his head. "She'll want to get us personally. You'll see."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Victor headed the truck toward his apartment, cursing himself for once again letting Mac drag him along on one of his hair-brained schemes.

Mac helped himself to a celebratory drink. "Just think," he said cheerfully. "By the time she finds out about it, we'll be deep undercover and out of reach for weeks."

Victor did think about it and one obvious thing occurred to him. "I think you've achieved the impossible," he said bitterly.

"What's that?"

"You've actually managed to make me glad we have to go on this assignment."

Mac rolled down his window and leaned back. "It's important to enjoy your job."

By the time they got back to Victor's apartment, it was later than either of them had expected. Victor dragged some blankets and a spare pillow out of the closet and tossed them on the couch.

Then he went to take a couple of painkillers and drink a large glass of water, pre-emptive medicine against the hangover he knew was going to be pounding inside his skull when he woke up in four hours. He would have offered Mac some, but the idea that his partner was going to be feeling a lot worse than Victor, was the one bright spot on the horizon right now. Victor slid into bed and turned off the light, almost able to smile at the thought.

Ten seconds later, he heard Mac's voice coming from the living room. "Hey, Vic!"

"Don't talk to me," Victor ordered. "You've done enough damage for one night."

"I just wanted to remind you to enjoy yourself," Mac said.

Victor could hear suppressed laughter in the other man's voice. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"After tonight, you and I are going to be pillow buddies for a few weeks," Mac reminded him. "I'm looking forward to it, too."

"You're a pervert and an asshole," Victor said without any real anger. "You make one move toward my fucking pillow and I'll beat the crap out of you."

"Ooh." Mac gave a falsetto giggle. "I do like 'em butch."

"Mac?"

"Yeah?"

"If you say another word, I'm going to call the Director right now and tell her what you did to her car."

"What I did? You were there too, buddy."

"Who's she going to believe?" Victor asked, yawning. He punched his pillow into shape. "Who do you think she's going to believe?"

If Mac answered the question, Victor didn't hear it. He didn't hear anything until the alarm went off, too loudly and too early the next morning.

Shit. style='font-size: 10.0pt'>Victor started to sit up, then grabbed his head. Fire lanced through his skull, his stomach rolled with an oily, uneasy sensation, and his mouth tasted like he'd been dead for a week. He remembered one thing clearly. No, make that two things. This was Mac's fault, and he hated him for it.

The next thought was a doozy. A dim memory of sleek black paint defaced by glowing yellow lines swam into his head. Victor fell back onto the pillow, suppressing a moan as the movement sent more arrows of misery through him.

Oh, god. What was I thinking? The answer to that was obvious. He hadn't been thinking at all. Mac had all but dared him to go along and, like a sheep to the slaughter, Victor had followed his partner, making what he knew was going to turn out to be the stupidest mistake of his life.

The aroma of coffee wafted through the air. Victor pried his eyes open to see Mac's face, heavy-eyed but still smiling. "Get the hell away from me, you jerk."

"Blaming me are we?" Mac didn't look surprised. He brought the coffee to the bed, waiting until Victor shoved himself up and took the cup. "And after I brought you breakfast in bed and everything." He pulled a bottle of painkillers out of his pocket and handed them to Victor.

"If you think this makes up for anything, you're mistaken," Victor growled. He swallowed three of the pills, washing them down with the hot coffee. "Jesus, what the hell got into me last night?"

"Just boyish high spirits," Mac cooed. At the expression on Victor's face, he backed away. "I'm going to grab a shower. Why don't you drink your coffee?" He stopped in the doorway. "Remember, the good news is we're leaving town today."

"You're not going anywhere. When I get up, I'm going to kill you." Victor took another sip of coffee and closed his eyes.

By the time Mac got out of the shower, Victor had gotten two cups of coffee and a couple of pieces of toast down and he was feeling better. Sort of. He took his own shower and dressed quickly. They hadn't been told to pack and the Director had said she was going to provide everything they'd need, including clothing, so he didn't bother with a bag.

Weapons weren't a problem. He and Mac were both carrying their guns and their usual hold-outs.

Mac was sitting at the breakfast bar, clutching a cup of coffee and staring with loathing at half a piece of toast laying on a paper towel in front of him.

Victor folded the paper over the bread and handed it to his partner, taking the coffee cup. He turned off the pot and washed it and both cups quickly.

"Let's get out of here." He took a last look around the apartment, then grabbed his keys and waited impatiently for Mac. "You can finish eating your breakfast in the car," he added maliciously.

Mac gave him a pathetic look, but without the scotch interfering with his judgement, Victor almost was immune to his partner's bogus tricks.

"Why are you so fucking bright and cheery?" Mac complained. He followed Victor out of the building, stopping to throw the cold toast into the trash. "You drank as much as I did last night."

"More," Victor lied. He ignored the faint throbbing in the back of his head and took a deep breath of the cool, damp morning air. The better Mac thought Victor felt, the worse Mac would feel. That suited Victor perfectly.

He didn't feel quite as smug when they were facing the Director. She came out to meet them, bundled warmly against the misty rain that was starting to fall. The two men, under Dobrinsky's supervision, were loading heavy suitcases into the car that was waiting to take them to the airport.

"Everything you need should be in there, boys," she said. She eyed them both closely. "It appears as though you two took my advice a little too seriously."

"What do you mean?" Victor knew his guilt was spread all over his face.

"When I told you to make a night of it," she explained. "I hadn't actually expected you to go quite this far. You boys seem to be throwing your hearts into this one." She wasn't smiling.

"Really?" Mac wasn't doing much better at pretending to be casual and unconcerned. Last night's bravado had disappeared and Victor could see Mac was as nervous as he was. "How far is that?"

She eyed him closely. "Is there something you boys would like to tell me?" She huddled into her dark coat and frowned at the sky. Victor was surprised when it kept raining, in spite of her disapproval.

"Tell you?" Mac jumped on the question. "What would that be?"

"You tell me," she offered. She looked at Victor. "Either of you have anything to say?"

"Me?" Victor tried a casual smile. "Not a thing." He looked at Mac desperately. "We ready to go?"

"I'm ready." Mac dove for the car door. "If that's all...." He looked at the Director.

She paused for a long, pain-filled moment. "That's all. You can call in, if it's an emergency, remember. Other than that you're on your own."

"Right," Mac said eagerly. "Out of touch. Undercover. Got it." He was in such a hurry he didn't even stop to fight with Victor and Dobrinsky over who was going to drive, just climbed into the closest passenger seat.

"Well," Victor glanced from Dobrinsky to the Director nervously. "I guess we're out of here."

"I guess you are." She gave him a steady look. "Are you certain you don't have anything you want to tell me, Victor?"

"Not a thing," Victor said truthfully. "Nothing at all." He slid into the back seat and Dobrinsky got behind the wheel.

The Director leaned over and smiled into the window. "You boys have a good time. Try to remember that you're on assignment."

The drive to the airport was completed in silence except for a few comments from Dobrinsky, instructing them to rent a car when they got to their destination. He also gave them both bank books showing healthy balances and informed them they'd have to buy everything they needed for the apartment, including furniture.

Dobrinsky not only drove them to the airport, he walked them to the gate and was still standing there when they boarded the plane.

"Did he think we were going to make a run for it?" Mac complained. He always hated being shepherded around by a keeper. Especially when it was Dobrinsky.

"Probably." Victor settled into his seat, wishing that the Agency had sprung for the first class seats with more leg room. "If we didn't have guilty consciences, can you swear we wouldn't have thought about it?"

"My conscience isn't guilty," Mac denied. He thumbed through the flight magazine. "She deserved it."

Victor wasn't quite as sure about that in the clear light of day. "I don't know. She just gives us the assignments, she doesn't make them up."

"We don't know that," Mac said stubbornly. "Anyhow, there are cases and cases. You can't tell me she isn't getting a kick out of this."

The flight attendant came by and offered drinks. Mac leaned across Victor and flirted with her, offering to buy her a drink and asking for a tour of the galley area later. In other words, acting just like Mac.

Victor tried to ignore his partner's behavior but as soon as they were alone again, he decided a reminder might be in order. "In case you've forgotten," he hissed, "we're supposed to be a couple. If you keep coming on to everything in a dress, you're going to blow our cover."

"We're not there yet," Mac objected. "And it's going to be a while before we have a chance to talk to anyone like her again." His eyes admired the flight attendant's figure in the snug blue and white uniform as she swayed by.

"Everyone on this plane is headed toward the same place we are," Victor reminded him. "You don't know we won't be seeing them again." He picked up his own dog-eared copy of the in-flight magazine. "I don't think it's too much to ask that you keep your pants on for a week or so."

"Maybe not for you," Mac sniped.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Victor threw down the magazine, prepared for a fight if that was what Mac wanted.

"I mean maybe some people are happy with a date once every couple of months, but I don't operate that way." Mac's expression dared Victor to argue.

"Oh, is that so?" Victor crossed his arms. "Let me see. The last date you had...correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't it that 'totally gorgeous babe' you met in some bar who tried to take you for two hundred bucks when you got her home?"

"She wasn't the last one," Mac objected. "And anyhow, everyone makes mistakes." He brooded on the incident. "I thought she really liked me, man."

"She liked your wallet," Victor scoffed. He picked up the magazine and checked his watch. Three more hours, with luck.

"You saying that's never happened to you? You've never made a mistake?"

"Not that one," Victor said smugly. He turned a page. "One of the advantages of working Vice is that you learn what to look for. Besides," and he looked at Mac's clothes critically, "I don't go around dressed like some kind of gigolo, either."

"What's wrong with my clothes?" Mac smoothed the lapel on his gray jacket. "These are expensive threads, man."

"Further proof that money can't buy taste."

Mac turned his shoulder and stared out the window, which suited Victor just fine. They were going to have to get along. Hell, they were going to have to pretend to be lovers, but he wasn't any more anxious than his partner to start the charade. As long as Mac didn't make himself conspicuous chasing every attractive woman on the plane, that would be enough.

. . . .

Four hours later, the plane had landed in a place easily twenty degrees warmer than the city they'd left. The sun glowed a brilliant yellow and the air was flavored with a tang of salt that hinted at the nearby ocean. The abrupt change in climate soothed the last of Victor's hangover and even let him be optimistic about the case. It was always possible that his unpredictable partner wouldn't use this assignment, and their comparative isolation, as an excuse to torment Victor. Anything was possible.

Mac had sulked himself back into a good mood, which probably had more to do with being in a new city and the prospect of immediate action than anything else. Victor knew his partner too well to expect him to follow the orders to watch and wait. He didn't have any objection to anything they could do that would shorten their three-week undercover assignment to a few days. Or less.

"Why can't we just move into the apartment?" Mac demanded, steering the car recklessly through traffic.

"Dobrinsky said we'd have to furnish the place," Victor reminded him. "I don't know about you, but I'm not sleeping on the floor for a week while we wait for whatever passes for a delivery service in this place to get around to us on their schedule."

Mac grinned. "What's the matter? Bones getting a little brittle with age?"

"I can still take you any time you're in the mood."

"Take me on maybe. But beat me? I don't think so."

"Pull over there." Victor bit back his first reply and pointed to a flashing red neon Vacancy sign. "According to the map, we should be just a couple of blocks from the address the Director gave us."

Mac jerked the car into an abrupt and illegal left-hand turn and Victor made a mental note to steal the keys to the rental car as soon as his partner turned his back.

"Okay." Mac slid out of the car and stretched. "Let's go see if the honeymoon suite is vacant."

"Would it be possible for you to take this assignment seriously?"

"I am taking it seriously." Mac's expression said otherwise but Victor didn't challenge him. "We want to start off on the right foot, don't we?"

Victor followed him toward the dingy office. "Yeah, well, if you're expecting to be carried over any thresholds, you're in for a big disappointment, buddy."

"Have you no romance in your soul?" Mac demanded. He opened the door and waved Victor in with a flourish. "No respect for tradition?"

"Listen, I've got more romance in my little finger than you do in your entire body." Victor hit the bell on the desk.

"I've got a news flash for you." Mac grinned. "That thing you're doing with your hand every night isn't romance."

"Fuck you," Victor said automatically.

"Ooh, talk dirty to me, baby." Mac batted his eyelashes flirtatiously.

Before Victor could come up with a really good response, a man shuffled in from the back room and leaned on the counter tiredly. "You need something?"

"A million dollars and a private yacht," Mac said promptly.

The desk clerk or whoever he was closed his eyes and shook his head. "Always on my shift," he sighed.

"Shut up," Victor told his partner. "We'd like to rent a room."

"Are you sure?" The clerk looked at Mac bitterly. His expression said it all.

Mac opened his mouth again and Victor kicked him on the shins. "One room," Victor said clearly. "One night, maybe more."

"Right." The clerk fished around under the desk, looking depressed when he was forced to admit he had a room available.

"With a bed," Mac said wickedly. "A nice firm one."

"No pets, no parties, no drinking, no drugs, no loud noises," the clerk told Victor.

"How old are your mattresses?" Mac persisted. "Do you have one of those vibrating ones?"

"Payment in advance," the harassed man said stubbornly. He seemed determined to ignore Mac, which seemed like a good idea. "Every day."

Victor checked them in and accepted two keys, ignoring Mac's continued questions about the decor. Expecting Mac to pass up an opportunity to make cheap jokes was asking the impossible.

Mac dropped the ridiculous act as soon as they were alone in the room. Victor hoped that if he kept ignoring him, Mac would get bored with the game and settle down to work on the case seriously.

They dumped their luggage in the room. Mac insisted on unpacking and changing before they did anything else.

"I didn't get to change this morning," he pointed out. "You may be happy to run around looking like you dressed out of the laundry basket, but I have an image to maintain." He swung one of the suitcases onto the bed, " Anyhow, aren't you curious to see what the Director picked out for us?"

Victor had almost forgotten that part of the arrangement. Now that Mac mentioned it, it occurred to him to wonder why they hadn't just packed their own clothes.

"Well, well, this must be yours." Mac had thrown open one of the cases and was holding up a scrap of white material.

Victor caught it automatically when Mac tossed it to him and held it up, staring at it in disbelief. "What the hell is this?"

"It's a shirt." Mac was going through the rest of the suitcase. "Don't you keep up with fashion? It's the latest thing for the man's man." He gave Victor an evil grin. "You put that on and every guy in the neighborhood is going to be following you with his tongue hanging out."

"It's not a shirt, it's an undershirt." Victor ignored the last half of Mac's speech. "It's half an undershirt," he corrected.

Mac was going through the other suitcases with the reckless efficiency of a man who had searched a lot of luggage. "Beats the hell out of that baggy stuff you wear most of the time, and it's your look for this assignment, sunshine. Get changed."

"What the hell makes you think it's mine?" Victor didn't move.

"Not my size," Mac said cheerfully. "Ahhh...." He held up something that looked like a blue silk tee shirt. "Here's something for me."

He started stripping out of his clothes. "Get changed, so we can get this party on the road."

Victor pawed through the suitcase, looking for something less...weird, but he didn't find anything. Almost nothing in the case was anything he would have bought although he had to admit that the clothes were indistinguishable from what they'd seen on the streets in the neighborhood. The Director's usual efficiency at work. Victor was usually impressed by the Agency's attention to this kind of detail, But that was when he wasn't expected to pour himself into the kind of clothes that were impossible to move comfortably in and designed to reveal as much as possible of the body underneath. He settled on a pair of worn jeans that turned out to be too tight when he pulled them on, and a green pullover that was just as tight.

"You think it would have been too much trouble to get stuff I could actually wear?" Victor tucked in the pullover and buttoned the jeans around it, wondering if he'd be able to sit down.

Mac looked Victor over and leered. "You actually look good, for a change. The earring really makes the outfit."

Mac turned toward the door and Victor grabbed him. Two seconds later, Mac's arm was twisted up between his shoulders and Victor was crushing his face into the wall.

"I think," Victor said into Mac's ear, "that this case is going to be tough enough without you mouthing off at me every five seconds, don't you?"

"Just getting into character," Mac gasped. "Establishing our cover, you know?"

"Save it for when you have an audience," Victor advised. He eased off of Mac's arm and stepped away, alert for retaliation.

Mac glared at him. "You know, I wouldn't have pegged you for a bigot, Victor. I'm a little disappointed in you."

"I'm not a bigot," Victor told him tightly.

"Then lighten up," Mac advised him. "I know you have a serious problem with this assignment, but don't take it out on me."

"I have a problem?" Victor shook his head. "You're the one who's freaking out, not me."

"Bullshit. You've had a bug up your ass ever since you heard about this case." Mac turned away to finish dressing. "It's that cop thing again, isn't it? Gets on your nerves having to pretend to be one of the guys you used to arrest?"

"If that's the kind of cop you think I was...." Victor's temper started to boil over.

Mac waved him to silence, looking annoyed. "You know what I meant. We're stuck with this, okay? Just...just lighten up."

That was so far from the truth that Victor would have laughed, but then he'd have to explain it to Mac. "Let's get this straight. I do not have a problem with this assignment." He looked at Mac suspiciously. "But I was sure you did."

"Well, I don't." Mac gave him a thoughtful look. "Okay, I don't have a problem. You don't have a problem. So why do we have a problem?"

"We always have a problem," Victor reminded him. "I. Don't. Like. You. Remember?"

"Ahhh, you like me." Mac shoved the suitcases onto the floor. "I'm a very likeable kind of guy. You just don't want to admit it."

"Not even on my deathbed." Victor held out his hand. "Keys."

"I'm driving."

"You're not driving," Victor told him. "I want to get to our destination in one piece."

"I'm a good driver," Mac protested. "Why do you guys always act like I'm not a good driver?"

"I'm the one who read the map," Victor reminded him. "I know where we're going."

Mac surrendered the keys. Not cheerfully, but Victor didn't care. Once a week was about all he could take of being a passenger in any car Mac was driving. The way his partner seemed to expect to find a demolition derby at the end of every street was hard on Victor's nerves.

Victor got them to the address on the paper. He made a couple of wrong turns that Mac refrained from commenting on so loudly that his silence was practically shouting, but he got them there.

They pulled up in front of the house and Victor turned off the car.

Mac eyed the building, then the neighborhood. "Interesting."

"Yeah." Victor glanced around. "Interesting." He double-checked their direction, comparing them to the street sign nearby. They were supposed to be at the intersection of Paris Street and Florence Avenue. Right where they were.

Mac peered over the edge of his sunglasses at the building. "It does make a statement."

"Yeah, but who would want to say that?" Victor shook his head in disbelief.

The house was lavender. And studded with the kind of fake architectural detailing that his mother had always called 'gingerbread' with a disapproving sniff. Curlicues around the doors and windows, and hanging from every level of the roof like slabs of multi-colored frosting sliding off of a lopsided cake.

"Are you telling me that we have to live here?" Mac's jaw was hanging open as he took in the full glory of the riot of colors on the decorations.

"That's the plan." As usual, the one thing that gave Victor the strength to accept the situation was the satisfaction of knowing that Mac was hating it.

"I'm hating this," Mac said.

"Aren't we all." Victor opened the car door. "Let's get it over with. Maybe it's not so bad from the inside."

"At least we won't have to look at it from in there." Mac followed him. 'I swear, if we find out that she knew what this place looked like...."

"I think you'd better worry about surviving your last trick before you start planning what else you can do to shorten your life."

They headed up the sidewalk and Victor wondered how far they were from the docks. He could still smell salt in the air and once again he thought he heard seagulls squawking.

"Girls!" A falsetto trill greeted them as Victor reached for the doorbell. From an open window just left of a door, someone waved to them. "You're here about the apartment, right, dears? Give each other a squeeze and I'll be there in a jiffy."

The man disappeared and they could hear faint thumping from somewhere in that room.

"I am hating this," Mac said through gritted teeth.

"Now who's a bigot?" Victor asked quietly.

The door swung open. "Who's a bigot?" the man inside asked cheerfully. He was shorter than Victor and Mac, and considerably wider, and wearing a wildly patterned shirt that managed to be more offensive than his house. "You two come right on in. There's nothing like that in our little neighborhood, I can promise you."

Victor hung back to let Mac go ahead of him, then stepped into the hallway. It was bright with sunshine and the décor had been chosen by someone other than the person who had designed the building's exterior.

"I'm Roland Jeffries. Call me Rollie. So nice to meet you," their host said vaguely. "Let's go on in and sit down. " He walked past them and Victor jumped as he felt a hand trailing across his butt.

Mac snickered and waved Victor in front of him. "Your first conquest," he said with a grin. "I told you those jeans did something for you."

"You know, I'm can tell I'm going to get really tired of telling you to go fuck yourself every five minutes," Victor hissed. "So why don't you just assume I'm saying it and save me the trouble?"

"Hey, I thought we were cool with this." Mac followed him into the living room. He waited until their host had turned around to face them before he reached out and gave Victor's ass a quick pinch.

Victor could feel his hands itching to ball into fists, but he forced himself not to react.

Rollie smiled at both of them approvingly, then patted the couch next to himself. "You come right on over here, you naughty boy."

The invitation was for Mac. Victor smothered his grin and dropped into a chair, out of reach of both men.

"I can tell you boys are going to fit into our little family just fine," Rollie cooed. He gave Mac's arm a squeeze.

"How did you boys hear that we had a vacancy?" Rollie looked at them expectantly.

Victor interrupted whatever improbable story Mac was planning to offer. "We checked around. Some friends of friends. You know how it works."

"Yeah, but we almost had second thoughts," Mac interrupted. "We heard some guys kind of disappeared from around here recently. Is that true?"

Rollie drew himself up and looked insulted. "No one has disappeared from my place," he insisted. "It's a very safe neighborhood."

"We're not saying that it's not, RJ," Mac soothed. Apparently, 'Rollie' was a bit much for him to say. "It was just...it sounded like kind of an unusual sort of thing."

Rollie shrugged. "People do move on without notice sometimes. And I guess not everyone knows why." He looked uncomfortable, but he smiled at both of them brightly. "You know how it is, sweetie pie," he told Mac. "People do like to talk."

"Yeah, I guess they do." Mac smiled at him. "It's nothing. We were just curious."

"Mac's the curious type," Victor said maliciously. "If you give him the chance, he'll have the story of your whole life out of you by the time we sign the lease."

"He's a gossip, is he?" Rollie smiled at Mac fondly. "And why not? What's to be interested in if not our friends, that's what I always say."

Victor leaned back with a smile and prepared to enjoy himself.

In between various nuggets of information about their landlord's private life, Mac eventually got Rollie to share some information about the apartment. The man had clearly taken a liking to Victor's partner, as he demonstrated with occasional squeezes to Mac's arm or pats on his knee. Mac's face alternated between panic and anger.

Victor followed the two of them upstairs to inspect the apartment. Mac's expression, begging for rescue, finally stirred a charitable impulse in him. When they got to the apartment, he stationed himself between Mac and Rollie as they walked from room to room, keeping a casual arm over Mac's shoulders. Deprived of Mac's attention, it didn't take Rollie long to finish the tour.

Negotiations complete, they paid their rent and deposit and were awarded two keys. Rollie came to the door with them and directed them toward the neighborhood business district where, he assured them, they would be able to find furniture and everything else they needed.

Victor could feel Rollie watching them as they made their way back to the car. He unlocked the passenger door and waited for Mac to start climbing in before he reached out and gave his partner's butt a painful tweak.

"Jeez!" Mac jerked and his head hit the edge of the door. "What the hell was that for?"

"What goes around, comes around, buddy." Victor swung the door shut and gave Mac a smug grin.

"Asshole." Mac fastened his seatbelt.

"Just think of it as establishing our cover," Victor advised him.

"This is not a battle you can win," Mac warned him. "Trust me on this one."

"Ramsey, the day I'm worried about threats from you, I'll just give up and retire, okay?" He could practically feel Mac frowning at him.

"I think we need to have a nice, long talk about this assignment," Mac said finally.

"Sure." Victor braked at a stop sign. "Go ahead."

"No." Mac shook his head. "When we get back to the room tonight. I think we need to lay out some guidelines."

"Well, what do you know?" Victor jeered. "Mr. Fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants wants a plan all of a sudden?"

"Just keep your eyes on the road," Mac told him. "We'll talk about it later."

"Sure thing, sweetie pie," Victor said cheerfully.

"I suppose you think that's funny?"

"I do," Victor admitted.

"Go fuck yourself."

"That's my line. Get your own." Victor spotted the parking lot Rollie had described and pulled in.

"Let's get this over with." Mac slammed the car door and looked around. "By the time we finish with this shit, everyone in the neighborhood could have been kidnapped."

"This is part of the case," Victor reminded him. "These are local businesses, and the people working here are who we need to be meeting. That's why we rented unfurnished, remember?"

"I guess so." Mac looked more cheerful. "You take care of the rugs and I'll do the detecting."

"With your usual sledgehammer technique, I don't doubt." Victor shook his head. "This is a fifty-fifty partnership."

"Whatever." Mac followed him toward the store. "As long as we get it over with."

"At least we have money for the part." Victor remembered the comfortable balance in the bank books Dobrinsky had given each of them.

"Sure. We need an infra-red, laser-sighted snooper and it's not in the budget. For tacky suburban furniture, there's all the money in the world."

"This is an urban neighborhood," Victor pointed out. "And buying furniture is part of our cover." He held open the door and motioned Mac into the store ahead of him.

"The Director didn't turn down your dumb snooper because of the price tag. She turned it down because those laser sights are a dead give-away to the bad guys that someone is listening to them. We might as well all wear neon reflector patches and paint targets on our foreheads."

"I hate it when you're logical." Mac headed toward a display of couches and chairs.

"Admit it," Victor insisted. "It was a new toy and you wanted it to play with, right? She told you 'no' and you're still sulking."

"I'll admit one thing." Mac stopped to look at a black leather couch with a heart stopping price tag. "I'm not sorry we gave her car that nice, new paint job."

Victor shuddered at the memory. "Yeah, well, I'm willing to admit that I'm not in as much of a hurry to get back as I might be otherwise."

"She'll get over it." Mac said positively. He moved on to look at another sofa decorated with a tropical blue and orange floral pattern.

"No flowers," Victor insisted.

"I was just wondering who would buy something that ugly," Mac claimed.

"It would go with the house."

"Not at all." Mac shook his head. "It's entirely the wrong shade of blue for that lavender."

"You must be Rollie's new tenants." A bland, professional voice interrupted their discussion.

Mac turned to survey the newcomer. "How did you guess?"

The young man, a dishwater blond in his late twenties, shrugged and smiled. "Even in this neighborhood, lavender houses are a bit unusual." He offered his hand to Mac. "I'm Jack. You guys shopping or just browsing?"

"Buying." Mac shook his hand delicately. "I mean, what you see is what we have. We need simply everything." He was off again.

"Left it all behind?" Jack nodded. His eyes seemed to approve of the silky material that clung to Mac's chest.

Mac rolled his eyes. "You have no idea. I mean, we were so ready for this. We just tossed a few things into a bag and flew on out."

Jack looked understanding. "It's going to be a good change for you."

Mac smiled at Jack. " Do you live around here?"

Victor wondered if Mac had any idea how close to a proposition that question was in this neighborhood. He glanced at his partner's face. Yes, he knew. And he was obviously determined to make the worst possible impression on everyone they met.

Mac leaned close to Jack and smiled again. "We were just wondering where to go and everything. Restaurants, and where the parties are, if you know what I mean."

"I understand." Jack smiled back at him. "If you want to stay in the neighborhood, there are a few good restaurants. And we do have movie theatres, bars, a pretty good gym, and some stores, all pretty much within walking distance in good weather."

"That's great," Victor interrupted. He was tired of Mac's new personality and the case was barely started. And he was tired of being ignored. He glanced around. "Looks like this place is doing okay."

"Business comes and goes." Jack shrugged. "So, you want to start with the living room?"

"To begin with...." Without asking Victor, Mac pointed to a couch and two matching side chairs. "All three of those. And the three tables that are in the display with them. " He looked around and pointed again. "That entertainment center, over there. The one that matches."

"Don't mind me," Victor complained. He didn't care about Mac's choices, but they needed to spend some time here if they were going to get to know the salesman well enough to pump him for information.

"Sweetie." Mac slipped on his sunglasses, then grinned over the tops of the lenses at Victor. "Those are the only choices for our new space. You have to agree with that."

Later, Victor was going to sit down and decide if Mac was more annoying when they were fighting about this case, or when he threw himself into his role with too much enthusiasm.

"I don't like the entertainment center." Victor was determined to take a stand. "There's not enough room for my CD's."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Mac smiled at Jack. "Wrap 'em up."

Jack glanced at Victor and waited. When Victor didn't object, he shrugged and pulled out his order pad, making notes. "Anything else?"

Victor jumped in first this time. "A recliner," he said firmly. "I want a recliner."

Jack led them to the display and waited, making no secret of his appreciation for Mac's tall, lean body.

"How about this?" Mac, unaware of Jack's admiring stare, stretched out on a dark blue chair. He fumbled with the arm and it opened to reveal a cup holder and a pocket for storing a remote control. "Hey! Too cool! If we had two of these, we'd never have to stand up."

"Forget it." Victor pointed to a different chair. "That one goes with the couch. We'll take two of those."

"There's no cup holder," Mac complained, forgetting his self-assumed role.

"You can use a coaster and a table," Victor told him. "It's a chair. Not a womb."

"Hey, a good chair is important," Mac argued. "It requires some thought."

"Since we both know that, given the opportunity, you'd be happy with a folding chair and a card table, why don't you just let me worry about the chairs?"

"You two been together long?" Jack was smiling as he listened to the squabbling.

"No," Victor denied.

"Yes," Mac said at almost the same second.

Jack laughed.

"Depends on how you look at it," Mac said. "Some days, it seems like a long time."

"That's marriage for you." Jack made another note in his book. Victor carefully didn't look at Mac, knowing he'd see the same look of shock that his own face probably wore.

"What next?" Jack looked up.

"Kitchen," Victor said firmly. "I'm going to need some pots and pans."

"We want that coated stuff that just rinses off," Mac said, following Jack toward the corner of the store.

Victor was surprised that Mac even knew such a thing existed. "No way."

"There's always take-out," Mac offered. "And there are restaurants."

Jack and Victor ignored Mac's mumbling as they picked through the kitchenware display. They might be on assignment, but they also might be here for weeks and he didn't intend to get out of practice. He liked to think he was turning out to be a pretty good cook.

'What is so complicated about a few plates?" Mac complained. "Add a fork or two and we're in business, right?"

"He doesn't cook, I take it?" Jack asked.

"No." Victor glanced at his partner. "He just eats."

"What is this? Trouble in paradise?" Rollie's voice broke on the scene cheerfully. "Is that any way to start a honeymoon?"

"We're not on our honeymoon," Victor said carefully.

"Well, you should kiss and make up, anyhow." Rollie giggled. "That's the only good reason for fighting, isn't it?"

"We weren't fighting, RJ," Mac interrupted. He moved over to Rollie and smiled. "Just... debating."

Rollie giggled again. "Did you hear that?" he asked Jack. "I feel like such a stud when he calls me that."

"Shall we move on?" Jack seemed less than interested in the state of Rollie's testosterone.

"Don't tell me." Rollie grabbed Mac's arm and gave it a squeeze. "I'm just in time for the bedroom, aren't I? I have a knack for it."

"This way, gentlemen," Jack said briskly. He headed toward the other corner of the store. "I'm sure we'll have something suitable."

Whether his new attitude of professionalism was supposed to impress Rollie, or whether Jack was more interested in their bedroom arrangements than their living room furniture, Victor wasn't sure.

Predictably, Rollie tagged along. Even more predictably, Mac looked twitchy. Victor could feel another of his partner's over the top outbursts coming on. He made a mental note to stock up on aspirin. And alcohol.

"Now, you must go with the king-sized bed," Rollie insisted, surveying the selection, pointing at one with a heavy oak frame. "The last tenants had one and it fit perfectly into the room."

Bed. style='font-size: 10.0pt'> Singular. "Umm...." Victor started.

"Absolutely," Mac gushed. "I just hate being all cramped up in bed, don't you?" He rolled his eyes and moved out of Victor's reach.

"Well," Rollie giggled reminiscently. "Not all the time, sweetie pie. There's a time and a place, I always say." He gave Mac a coy nudge.

"We want the biggest bed you have," Victor said firmly.

"Ooh!" Rollie looked at Mac and then winked at Victor. "Sounds...athletic."

"And a double dresser," Victor plowed on stubbornly. "That's all."

"Not even a chair?" Rollie looked surprised. "There's plenty of room for a chair. Where are you going to throw things, my dear?"

"Victor doesn't throw things," Mac interrupted. He gave Rollie a confiding smile. "He's a neat freak. A place for everything, you know."

"Well, there's something to be said for that," Rollie suggested. He gave Mac a knowing look.

"Anything else?" Jack was watching Rollie and Mac tolerantly.

"Nothing." Victor pulled out his checkbook. "When can we get the stuff delivered?"

"Let's ring it up and I'll ask." Jack led the way to the cash register and started writing up the order. He accepted Victor's check and ran it through a verification scanner. He also called the warehouse in back of the store and arranged to have the entire order delivered the next afternoon. Maybe there was something to be said for dealing with smaller, local stores. Victor had expected to be told they'd have to wait a week for most of the lavish order.

Victor looked at the receipt when Jack handed it to him and smothered a wince, even though it wasn't his own money. Mac was going to pay for the next truckload.

In spite of Rollie's outrageous suggestions about silk sheets and how cozy a floral pattern looked in a bedroom, they didn't spend much time in the next store.

That done, Rollie tore himself away from them regretfully, saying that he was already late for an appointment. He blew Mac a kiss as he scurried off, telling him that they'd have another nice, long chat when they moved in the next day.

"What was all that about?" Victor demanded as soon as they were alone.

"I was asking him about the neighborhood," Mac said absently. He scanned the sidewalk and the storefronts around them.

So, Mac had remembered the case. "What did you find out?"

"There's a café about a block down that has good food. It's supposed to be open for breakfast and lunch," Mac said. "From what RJ said, it's sort of a gathering place for the neighborhood. Gossip Central, he called it."

"And he'd know." Victor fell into step beside Mac and they headed down the street. "Why do you call him RJ?"

Mac shrugged. "I thought he'd like it."

"He seems to." Victor lost interest in the conversation.

"He says Jack's one of his tenants," Mac volunteered.

"Could be useful." At the moment, Victor couldn't think of how, but you never knew.

He looked around as they walked, memorizing the layout of the stores and watching the people they passed. It always amazed him, the number of people who didn't seem to have jobs during the day and were free to roam around the streets, shopping, eating, or whatever.

"This must be it." Mac stopped outside a door with a black and white 'SO's Food Place' sign.

Victor sniffed. There was an enticing smell of fresh bread and something rich involving tomatoes.

"Wow. If it's half as good as it smells, we're in luck." His stomach complained suddenly, reminding him that he'd eaten nothing all day but two pieces of toast. "I'm starved."

"You always are when it's my turn to pay," Mac complained.

Since it was after two o'clock, finding an empty table wasn't a problem. Mac snagged them a couple of menus and the two men settled in to read the selections.

"Hi." A warm voice interrupted their discussion of the selections. "I'm Eddie."

Victor looked up and blinked. Standing next to the table, wearing a grin, was a vision of young male beauty that was blinding in the clean but drab surroundings. He was blond and definitely stacked, no matter what your gender preference, and he had a friendly, happy face that probably won him as many offers as his phenomenal body. The young man's order pad and pencil proclaimed his function.

"How can I help you?" Eddie smiled at Mac, then gave Victor a much warmer look.

"Do you have a special?" Mac asked, barely noticing Eddie's interest in Victor.

"It's all special." Eddie directed his response to Victor. "And it's all good."

"I'm sure." Victor forced his eyes back to the menu.

"Number two," Mac decided. He handed the menu to Eddie. "And number six. And coffee."

"I'll have the number twelve," Victor said. He waited until Eddie scribbled down the numbers. "And coffee. Black."

"Good choice," Eddie breathed. He gave Victor another glowing smile. "I'll have it up for you right away."

Victor waited for the waiter to get out of earshot before he turned toward his partner. "Not a word," he warned.

"Hey, did I say anything?" Mac started to add something, but Victor's expression discouraged him.

Eddie brought over two glasses of water and he seemed inclined to linger until someone from the kitchen called his name.

"Wonder if that's the cook or the owner?" Mac speculated, watching the muscled blond talking to Eddie.

"Does it matter?"

"Only in terms of getting to know the neighborhood," Mac reminded him.

Another group of late eaters showed up, laughing and talking. Eddie bounced over to meet the newcomers, talking excitedly as he followed them and helped them pull together several tables. Eddie slid into a chair with the group and settled in for the duration.

"I'm glad we got our order in first," Mac said. "I hope he doesn't forget us."

"You won't starve," Victor said absently, although his own stomach was complaining. He watched the laughing group. "They probably live around here," he mentioned. "Any of them could be candidates for whatever it is that's happening."

Mac looked the newcomers over. "I doubt it. Didn't the Director say that all the guys who have disappeared have been between twenty-five and forty? Those guys are all too young."

"True," Victor admitted. He lost interest in Eddie and his friends when the kitchen door swung open and someone loaded with plates headed toward their table.

"Ahhh...food." Mac gave the server a cannibalistic smile that should have frightened him.

It was the same blond surfer type who had been talking with Eddie earlier. Victor noticed that the cook or owner or whoever he was had put on a cleaner apron before appearing in the dining area. It looked as though serving standards were high in the small café.

Almost as high as the cooking standards, he decided, after the first bite. His vegetarian pizza was incredible. The sauce was rich and tasted of fresh tomatoes and the crust was perfectly cooked.

"This is great." Mac took a bite of each item on his two plates in quick succession.

"I don't understand how you can eat like that." Victor shook his head at the display of cholesterol and saturated fats. He had always had a tendency to put on weight, no matter how much he worked out. Mac, on the other hand, ate like a pig and never gained an ounce.

"Metabolism," Mac said indistinctly, through a mouthful of breaded chicken. "I have a very high metabolism." He took a drink of coffee and made a face.

Victor tried his own cup, then shrugged. The food was good enough to let him forgive being served the usual black mud that passed for coffee in restaurants.

The cook, back in his dirtier apron, stuck his head out and called to Eddie who pried himself away from his friends and disappeared into the kitchen reluctantly.

"Suppose they'll fire him for fraternizing with the clientele?" Mac shoved french fries into his mouth, watching the kitchen door and Eddie's abandoned friends.

"Not in a place like this." Victor downed the last of the pizza. "Can't hurt to have staff that's popular with the customers."

"Cute little number, wasn't he?" Mac grinned at him. "Do anything for you?"

"We're on a case." Victor refused to rise to the bait for what felt like the ten thousandth time since he'd met Mac Ramsey. "We're supposed to keep our minds on the job."

"We're supposed to be lovers, too," Mac reminded him. He finished off the french fries. "But that's okay. I'm not the jealous type."

"Bullshit," Victor said.

"What?" Mac looked surprised. "I'm not."

"I've seen you in action, Mac," Victor reminded him. "And she wasn't even your fiancée."

"Li Ann was different." Mac waved aside the example.

"Different, how?" Victor pushed back his plate and decided that the meal was too good to ruin the moment by pouring the so-called coffee on top of it.

Mac pushed the food around on his plate. "Let's not get into that this time," he said finally.

Victor was surprised that Mac was able to pass up a chance for another argument about the main bone of contention between the two of them. "Okay. Truce?"

Mac glanced up. "Truce?"

"While this case lasts," Victor qualified the offer. "Li Ann's off-limits."

Mac nodded. "Truce." He picked up the last of his second sandwich and raised it to his mouth, then froze. "Huh?"

"What is it?" Victor glanced around the room and then stared. Standing next to the kitchen door, talking to Eddie was not one, but two men wearing dirty white aprons over skimpy tank tops. The muscular blond cook was...twins.

"That's weird." Mac was still staring.

"Try to control yourself," Victor advised. "Haven't you ever seen twins before?"

"Both gay?" Mac raised his eyebrows. "Besides, they're not twins. Not quite."

Victor looked again and realized that Mac was right. The two men were the same height, had the same shaggy blond hair and brilliant blue eyes. They also had the same well-developed shoulders and arms that signaled many long hours at a well-equipped gym. Add identical outfits and it took a second look to realize that you weren't seeing double. .

He shook his head. "Gym bodies, the hair, the clothes, the attitudes. It's an age thing or something. They all look that way these days."

Mac finished his sandwich. "You sound like quite the expert."

"Not quite." Victor waved to Eddie. "Let's get out of here."

Eddie hurried back to the table with a beaming smile. "Dessert?"

"No, sorry," Victor smiled at him. "We're full. But the food was great. Tell the...chefs that for us, okay?"

Eddie glanced toward the kitchen and giggled. "Stan and Ollie? They own the place and they know the food is good. But I'll pass it along." He handed Mac the check and turned his attention back to Victor. "You new around here?"

"Just moved in," Victor explained. "This is our first day."

"Maybe you know the place," Mac interrupted. "It's kind of...." He hesitated.

"Must be Rollie's place." Eddie's face lit up.

"You live near there?" Mac seemed unusually interested in Eddie all of a sudden.

"A friend of mine does." Eddie flashed Victor a wink. "Downstairs, in fact."

"Has he lived there long?" Mac probed.

Eddie shrugged. "About a year. Long enough. Rollie is a nice guy."

"Pay the bill," Victor ordered Mac. He smiled at Eddie. "Thanks for everything. Maybe we'll see you around."

"Oh, I'm sure you will." Eddie accepted the money for the bill and a generous tip with an indifferent smile for Mac. "I'll keep a look out for you," he said to Victor.

"Boy, you're Mr. Popularity, today, aren't you?" Mac glanced behind them as he and Victor left the café. "Broken hearts everywhere you go."

"I'm not the one who was giggling in the corners with the landlord," Victor snapped. "I don't think I'm the only one gathering admirers."

"Yeah, I get a fifty-year old interior decorator with no taste, and you get a budding porn star." Mac shook his head. "Maybe I need to try a new look."

"Couldn't hurt." Victor slid on his sunglasses. "Come on. Let's walk around and take a look at the neighborhood."

They walked up and down the streets, memorizing intersections, watching the traffic flow as it grew heavier with what was obviously the area's scaled-down version of "rush hour" traffic. After that, the streets cleared.

"They're probably all home having dinner," Mac suggested. "Let's go back to the motel. We can catch some sleep and then come back out in a couple of hours and see what the night life around here is like."

Getting some rest sounded like a good idea. After their adventure the night before, they'd had time for about four hours of sleep before they'd had to be back at the Agency.

Was that last night? Victor shook his head. It felt like a week since yesterday's meeting in the Director's office.

"Sounds good," Victor agreed. He looked around. "It's this way, I think." They walked a few blocks until they saw the glowing neon sign of the motel.

Mac stopped. "Hey, this is what we need."

Victor looked at the store. "Haven't we had enough to drink in the last twenty-four hours?"

"I thought we'd grab a six-pack to relax with," Mac offered. "My treat."

"Your treat and the Director's money," Victor reminded him. He followed Mac into the liquor store. And the motel rules say 'no drinking,' remember?"

"She owes us," Mac said. He grabbed a cold six-pack from the cooler and paid for it. "You know, I don't think that guy liked us."

"You," Victor corrected. "He didn't like you. He thought you were obnoxious."

"He was a jerk." Mac paid for the beer and led the way back out onto the street.

Victor couldn't figure out any reason Mac had for having taken a dislike to the desk clerk, but Mac always hated it when people refused to play his games.

The sun was beginning to set, and a warm summer twilight was settling in around them. Tempted by some impulse, Victor draped one arm around Mac's shoulders. "Establishing our cover," he said casually, in response to Mac's startled glance. He waited to see what his partner would do.

"There's no one here," Mac objected, but he didn't pull away.

"The walls have ears and all these houses have windows," Victor told him. "Word will get around."

Mac glanced around. "Maybe it will." He slid his arm around Victor's waist and tugged him to a stop. "Guess we'd better make it look good, huh?"

Victor didn't like the gleam in Mac's eyes. He almost always regretted giving in to the temptation to tease his partner. "What are you talking about?"

Mac held out the brown paper bag and Victor took it automatically. A dumb move, because now Mac had both hands free.

Both arms around Victor's waist, Mac leaned close to him with a wicked grin. "Add a little atmosphere, partner. Gotta give the folks something for their money."

"Maybe you think of this assignment as a circus sideshow, but I'm taking it seriously."

"Don't change the subject." Mac stepped closer and Victor could feel the heat of the other man's body. "Maybe we should get in a little practice up front?"

"Fuck you." Victor tried to pull away. "I'm not going to...."

"I don't think we have to go that far. Not right here on the street," Mac assured him, grinning quickly. "Anyhow, I think we should start a little slower." His eyes wandered down Victor's face and lingered on his mouth.

"Like what?" Victor clutched the bag in sweaty fingers and wondered what in the hell his partner was trying to prove.

"How about a kiss?" Mac's arms tightened and his eyes danced as he waited for Victor's response.

"Let go of me," Victor ordered.

"Just a little one," Mac wriggled his eyebrows theatrically. "For our cover, you know?"

Victor stared at him. "You don't really expect me to kiss you?"

Mac pulled him closer. "Well, you can just stand there if you want, but it's not as much fun that way."

Victor made another half-hearted attempt to pull away, telling himself they couldn't get into a fight in the middle of the street.

"Don't you think?" Mac asked. His eyes caught Victor's and held them as the distance between them shrank.

"You know? You kissing me." His mouth brushed Victor's lightly. "Me kissing you. All very professional, of course. Just in the line of duty."

Victor tried to swallow. "I see we can add another item to the list of your criminal pursuits. Professionally speaking."

Mac looked startled, then laughed. To Victor's relief, he also backed off. "Wrong profession, and you know it."

"You always said you were willing to try anything once," Victor countered. "I just figured...."

He tried not to laugh as Mac rolled his eyes. "Come on, let's get going." Victor started down the street again.

"It was worth a shot." Mac fell in beside him cheerfully. "Anyhow, I wanted to know."

"Whether or not you could get on my nerves? Next time don't work so hard at it," Victor told him. "All you really have to do is show up."

Mac made a face. "Well, I guess that answers today's burning question."

"What?"

Mac took the paper bag back and motioned ahead of them to the motel across the street. "Your intentions. I was just checking to see what they were." His expression didn't give anything away.

"If you're worried I'm going to make a pass at you, forget it." Victor moved another foot away from his partner. "You're not my type," he insisted.

"Sure, you say that now, but what about tonight?" Mac clutched his shirtfront and looked suspicious. "How do I know my virtue is safe?"

"Virtue. Right." Victor smiled in spite of himself at Mac's campy behavior. "You haven't had any of that since you were about ten years old."

"Twelve," Mac corrected. "I'm disappointed in you, Vic." He leaned against Victor's shoulder and smiled. "And here I was all ready to spend the night getting chased around the bed."

"Forget it." Victor slid his key into the flimsy lock and jiggled the door open while Mac breathed down the back of his neck.

"You're telling me I don't have to sleep with one eye open?" Mac dumped the beer on the dresser and kicked off his shoes. "It's no trouble. Honestly."

"If you wake up in the middle of the night and find me in bed with you, it's because I'm dreaming that I'm killing you," Victor told him. He flipped on one of the small lamps. "Whatever virtue you might still possess will die with you."

"Now I'm really disappointed in you. You know your problem, Victor?" Mac grabbed a beer and stretched out on the bed with the remote control. "You're just not open to new experiences."

"I offered to strangle you with my bare hands," Victor reminded him.

"That old thing." Mac waved his statement aside. "You've made that same offer a dozen times since we met. Why not try something different?"

"Twenty-one," Victor corrected.

Mac looked startled. "What?"

"I'm counting." Victor took one of the beers, toed off his shoes and collapsed onto the second bed. "Find some news."

While Mac flipped around the channels, Victor's brain worked away at Mac's previous words.

Not open to new experiences. Mac was trying to push Victor's buttons again. Victor took a drink and stared at the television screen.

They watched the news and had a couple of beers each. When they turned off the television, Victor reached over and flipped off the lights before he undressed and slid into bed. He heard Mac's chuckle, but his partner didn't say anything.

Just exactly when he dozed off, Victor wasn't sure, but he woke up around ten o'clock that night feeling better than he had all day. Mac was still asleep and Victor took advantage of the opportunity to grab a shower.

He was digging in the two suitcases that held his clothes, trying to decide what might work for the evening, when Mac spoke up from behind him.

"Nice ass."

"Keep your mouth off my ass." Victor held up a red shirt, then rejected it as too flashy.

"Was I offering?" The bedsprings creaked as Mac sat up.

"You know what I meant." Victor glared over his shoulder. "Keep your eyes off and your mouth shut."

Mac gave him a sleepy grin, looking about sixteen years old. "Just establishing our cover."

"Why don't you take a shower and wake up?" Victor tried to keep his voice from gentling, reminding himself that this innocent-looking cherub was an hardened criminal under a death threat from a powerful Hong Kong crime family.

As always, the memory of Victor's, and Li Ann's, danger, gave Victor a twinge. It didn't matter how he felt about Mac. They were partners. If anyone was going to kill Mac, it might be Victor, but it sure as hell wasn't going to be the Tangs. Mac's family wasn't even on the 'A' list for the job.

Mac stopped behind him and his hands came down on Victor's bare shoulders, heavy and warm.

"Knock it off, Mac," Victor warned, glaring at his partner's reflection in the mirror. Their cover had had enough establishing for one day.

"Relax." Mac's expression was oddly cautious. "I've been thinking about this."

"What? A black eye?"

"No." Mac frowned at him. "We're posing as a couple."

"I remember." Victor didn't move. He was still watching Mac in the mirror.

"It's not going to be very convincing if every time I lay a hand on you, I wind up with a black eye," Mac pointed out.

"We'll worry about that when it happens."

"That's not very professional," Mac argued. "Let's just agree that, for the purposes of this case, we'll...relax around each other."

Victor always hated having to admit that Mac was right. "Yeah. Okay."

"This, for instance," and Mac's hands tightened on Victor's shoulders. "This isn't much, is it?"

"Why do I feel like you're thinking about strangling me yourself?" Victor asked him.

"Not until we finish this case." Mac grinned at him. "New truce?"

"Sure." Victor shifted. "You done now?"

"No." Mac sighed. "You're still doing it."

"I'm not doing anything," Victor denied.

"You're still standing there like you're expecting a knife in your back at any second."

Victor took a look at himself in the mirror. A knife, or.... Mac was right. Again. Damn it. Victor made a conscious effort to relax. A few slow, deep breaths and the tension began to ease from his shoulders and spine.

"See?" Mac looked pleased. "I knew you could do it."

Before Victor could agree, Mac upped the ante. His hands slid down Victor's back, tracing a careful path along Victor's naked skin. Victor could feel every callous, every rough patch on Mac's hands. A shiver of reaction tried to work its way down his spine and he suppressed it.

Victor kept his eyes on the mirror, but it revealed nothing but the same unconcerned expression on Mac's face. Victor took, another deep breath and stayed relaxed.

Mac's hands stopped at Victor's waist, then circled around and pulled Victor back against him. "Still okay?"

Victor wasn't about to admit to any problems. "Sure. Why not?" He could feel the crisp prickle of chest hair against his back. It took concentration to keep his body from betraying any reaction to the loose embrace.

"This too much?" Mac rested his chin on Victor's bare shoulder and Victor could feel the other man's breath against his skin.

"Not a problem." Victor still hadn't moved.

"How about that kiss?" Mac's eyes gleamed wickedly at him from the mirror. "Just for practice."

"Now you're pushing it."

Mac raised his head and stepped back, letting go of him. "Good enough. I'm going to grab a shower. Let's go find something else to eat and then we'll check out the bars, okay?"

"Works for me." Victor waited until Mac disappeared into the bathroom before he stepped away from the concealing edge of the dresser and slid into his jeans. He grabbed a shirt at random, pulling it over his head quickly. He'd been ready to.... No.

It had been an unusually sensible move on his partner's part to establish some ground rules for their behavior. If it had almost gotten out of hand...well, that was Mac.

By the time his partner got back into the room, Victor was sitting on his bed, flipping around the available television channels. He kept his eyes on the television as Mac dressed.

As it turned out, it was anything but a hot party night in the neighborhood.

Mac leaned against the bar in Peter's Place, the sixth on their list of bars to check out. "What is it with these guys? I mean, there is, like, nobody out tonight."

Victor looked around. Not only were the bars they'd visited almost deserted, the few people they'd found weren't interested in talking. They were either involved with their dates or, in one place, listening intently to the off-key efforts of an amateur rock band.

None of them had seemed to be interested in being grilled about the disappearances of some guys they'd never heard of and they lost interest in Mac and Victor as soon as it became obvious that the two of them were only interested in talking.

"You should have worn one of those shirts the Director gave you," Mac said moodily. "We need to attract some attention."

"I should have...." Victor stared at him in disbelief. "I thought I was a little old for that," he said sarcastically. "That's what you thought yesterday."

"Yeah, well, maybe I was wrong." Mac took a drink of his beer and grinned at Victor. "C'mon, I've seen the way some of these guys have been looking at you."

"Are you working on a merit badge for being an asshole or something?" Victor shook his head. "Do you have to spend a certain number of hours acting this way every day? Do you have a quota or something?"

"Don't pretend you haven't noticed." Mac laughed. "The redhead in the last place practically had his tongue hanging out. When you said you were going to the bathroom, I thought he was going to come in his pants."

"You mean he thought I wanted to go in there with him and...." Victor thought about it. Shit. It had been too long since he'd been out this way. Not that that was what they were doing. Exactly. Anyhow, he hadn't noticed anything. "No way."

"Absolute way," Mac insisted. Victor could tell he was trying not to laugh again. "Why did you think I dragged your ass out of there so fast?"

Victor was insulted. "You know, I can take care of myself. Even in this neighborhood."

"I don't doubt it." Mac turned to look around the room again. "But I'm the one who's supposed to be your lover. If you're turning me down, I'm sure as hell not going to let you go dancing in the corners with everyone else who asks."

There had to be a good answer for that, but Victor couldn't think of anything that wouldn't take the conversation some place he didn't want to go.

"Can we get back to the case?"

"Sure." Mac turned and smiled at the bartender. "Hey, buddy, is anything happening around here tonight?"

The man shrugged. "Most everyone has to work tomorrow. Don't get big crowds this time of the week."

Mac drew the bartender into conversation, trying and failing to get him to talk about any strange disappearances in the area.

Victor stood by, half-listening. The rest of his brain was busy not to think about what Mac had just said.

Eventually, Mac gave up on the bartender, and the two men moved to a different bar, and then another.

Victor kept his eyes open. He didn't notice anyone paying him any special attention, but he did notice the number of interested looks that followed his partner through every room.

It was getting late, though, and all around them, people were leaving, presumably going home. Victor and Mac gave up too, around one o'clock. They headed back to the motel, discouraged by their lack of progress.

As he fell asleep, Victor hoped they'd find a neon-lit clue the next day and solve the case. The less time he had to spend pretending to be the gay lover of his not-quite-friend and partner, the simpler his life would be.

. . . .

They slept in the next day, then enjoyed a leisurely breakfast at the brightly lit café, discussing their options for the day.

After they ate, Victor drove them to the grocery store. He should have known better than to take Mac with him.

Mac was patient enough in the meat department, probably because he was looking forward to eating the steaks. The fresh produce section, though, was too much for him.

Victor was able to ignore his partner until he noticed the stares and smiles of everyone around them. He glanced over his shoulder to see what the hell Mac was doing and his heart dropped.

Mac was trailing along about three feet behind him, holding a cucumber up to his mouth and talking into it.

"Boys and girls, we are now approaching the lettuce," Mac said tensely. "The moment of truth approaches. Will it be iceburg, or...romaine? He looks, he squeezes, he compares prices, and...ladies and gentlemen, it is the romaine!"

"Could you give your mouth a rest?" Victor said in disgust.

"Next on today's schedule, boys and girls, we have mushrooms!" Mac continued. "You've got your buttons, you've got your portobellos, you've got your shitakes, and you've got your morels! The tension here is phenomenal! I only wish our listeners could all be here to share this moment with us today!"

Victor walked back to him. "Knock it off." He grabbed for the cucumber and Mac pulled it away. "Could you just...."

Mac stepped back. "Oh my god!" he yelled at the vegetable, "We have an unexpected turn of events in our arena today! Our contestant has left the field of play and commenced an unprovoked attack on the announcer! Unheard of behavior in the civilized sport of grocery shopping as we know it!"

"Okay," Victor refused to laugh. "Okay, I'm done. We can leave."

"Promise?" Mac looked suspicious.

"I promise," Victor assured him. "Just...just put the cucumber down, and we can go."

"I'm taking it with me," Mac insisted. He circled around Victor toward the door. "Don't make me use it again."

"No, I won't." Victor grabbed the cart and followed his partner toward the check-out counter.

They passed a display of cookbooks. Mac glanced away and Victor snagged two of them at random. He ignored Mac's glare and went on to check out.

"You're taking that whole 'get a hobby' memo of the Director's way too seriously," Mac bitched, waiting beside the car.

Victor stuck the last of the groceries in the back seat and climbed into the car for the one-block journey to their new apartment. Mac had insisted on driving them back. "Be careful. There's a dozen eggs in one of those sacks."

"I know that." Mac started the car and headed toward the street. "I was the one standing next to you, getting closer to retirement by the minute while you took an hour to pick out the perfect carton, remember?"

"Fresh ingredients are the key to good cooking," Victor recited. "When the Director asks you what your hobby is, what are you going to tell her?"

"She won't ask," Mac said positively.

"She might. What are you going to say if she does?"

"I'll tell her I'm working out the perfect scheme for breaking Fort Knox," Mac claimed. He pulled the car up next to the curb in front of the lavender house. "There. You and your eggs are here unscrambled."

"Do you ever stop complaining?" Victor grabbed two of the bags and headed toward the door. "Come on. Let's get this stuff in the refrigerator so we can get to work."

"So, you do remember we're on a case?" Mac followed him, still bitching but in a quieter voice. "I was beginning to have my doubts."

"You know, you are never going to get an A for 'plays well with others' on the Director's report card." Victor juggled his bags and got his door key into the lock.

"Were you under the impression that I was trying to?"

It took three trips to get all of the food into the house and up the stairs. Mac seemed to think that his share of the work was done after that point.

"If you're not going to help put this stuff away," Victor suggested, eyeing the small closet that doubled as a pantry, "maybe you can do something else to make yourself useful."

"Like what?" Mac looked bored. "Just shove the stuff in the cabinet and let's go."

"I don't have any tools with me," Victor told him. "And these shelves are about to fall down. Why don't you go see if you can find our landlord and borrow a hammer and some nails from him?"

"I could do that." Mac didn't move until Victor glared at him, then he shoved himself off of the barstool with a sigh.

The chrome and leather stools were the only furniture that had come with the apartment, left behind by the previous tenant. Victor hoped they were sturdy enough to stand up to the kick Mac gave one of them as he left the apartment.

He finished loading up the refrigerator and freezer and waited impatiently for Mac's return.

When the doorbell rang, Victor assumed that his partner had forgotten his key. "I might have known...." he started as he jerked open the door. The rest of the sentence was lost.

"Hi," came the slow, deep drawl. "I'm Franco Vitelli. That's Frankie to everyone around here."

"Uh, I'm Victor." Victor stared. "Can I help you?"

"Rollie said you had some trouble in the kitchen," Frankie said with a smile. "I work off part of my rent by doing maintenance and chores around the building." The tool box in his hand and carpenter's belt around his waist confirmed his story.

"Uh. Really. It's nothing," Victor tried to explain. "All I needed was a hammer and a few nails. I can get it."

"It's no trouble," Frankie assured him. "Can I come in?"

"Oh, sure. Sorry." Victor stood back to let the other man in.

Frankie walked by him and Victor caught a whiff of something warm and smoky, after shave or something that reminded him of a camping trip he'd taken when he was young.

Frankie headed toward the kitchen, fortunately missing the stunned look Victor directed at him. Rollie's maintenance man was taller than Victor's six feet, two inches, with shoulders as broad as a small mountain, tapering into a perfect 'V' down to his waist. His Italian ancestry was announced by the black hair and the black-brown eyes.

"You want to come on in here and give me a hand?" Frankie smiled at him over the low counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. "Might go a little faster with an extra pair of hands."

"Yeah, sure." Victor pulled himself together and returned to the kitchen. "What do you need?"

"I think we'll leave them where they are," Frankie suggested. "Just level them off and put in new braces. That work okay with you?"

"Sure. That's, um, great." Victor stepped over to take another look at the shelves and almost bumped into Frankie, who somehow failed to move away.

"Rollie told me we had some new neighbors," Frankie said softly. "I was kind of hoping to meet you."

"Yeah, I...that is, we just moved in. We're moving in today." Victor was appalled to hear himself practically babbling.

"I hope you like it here." Frankie's eyes wandered over Victor's face speculatively. "It's a friendly place."

"That...sounds great." Victor cleared his throat. "About those shelves...."

"We'd better get to work," Frankie agreed. He gave Victor another smile, his eyes taking in the snug shirt and the tight jeans. "Why don't you step in there and hold the shelves until we get them level, then I'll fix the braces."

"Right." Victor squeezed past Frankie and into the closet, feeling his heart jump when the other man moved in behind him.

"Hold that third one up and I'll let you know when it's level." Frankie's breath brushed against the side of Victor's neck.

Victor grabbed at his concentration and reached up to hold the shelf in place. A second later, Frankie's arms came up around him, brushing his bare shoulder and moving on to put a carpenter's level on the edge of the shelf.

"Up a bit on the left," Frankie murmured.

Victor made the adjustment and wondered if the other man could hear his nervous heartbeat.

"Down. Just a little."

Victor readjusted the shelf and thought about the case. They hadn't found out anything last night, but they'd met quite a few people since they'd arrived and surely....

"That's good," Frankie breathed. "Keep it right there." He shifted and pressed against Victor's back. Victor could feel the pressure from his shoulders down to his hips when Frankie leaned into him.

"Keep it right there," Frankie said. One hand disappeared and came back with a pencil to make two marks on the wall.

"Now we'll level it front to back," Frankie explained. He crowded Victor farther into the small pantry, taking Victor's hands and repositioning them under the shelf. "You raise or lower your hands when I tell you until we get it even."

The more he stood there, the more Victor doubted that it had needed two of them to complete this simple task, but he didn't think he could get the words out of his dry throat, so he obeyed orders.

"That's good," Frankie whispered next to Victor's ear. "Really good. Keep it right there."

Victor kept his eyes on Frankie's hands as they shifted the level around on the shelf.

Two more marks with the pencil and Frankie lifted the shelf out of Victor's hands and laid it against the wall.

"We all done?" Victor waited for Frankie to step back.

"Not quite. There's three more shelves." He could hear the smile in Frankie's voice. "You want to help with those, too?"

Victor had no idea what he was supposed to say. "Sure. Why not?"

Fixing the second shelf was a carbon copy of the first one, except that Victor wasn't able to focus on any of the details of the case. It occurred to him that this might be a good time to interrogate Frankie about what he either knew, or had heard. On the other hand, that conversation might be easier after the job was done.

The second shelf joined the first on the floor. Victor stared down at the next shelf.

Frankie sighed against the back of his neck. "I think you can reach it better if you get down on the floor for this one."

Under the pressure of Frankie's hands on his shoulders, Victor sank to his knees. Frankie stayed on his feet behind him, leaning down over Victor to adjust the level and make the inevitable pencil marks. Rough denim rubbed the back of Victor's head and shoulders.

"Okay," Frankie said finally. "That one's done."

Victor pulled the wooden shelf off of the unsteady braces and leaned it against the wall with the other two shelves.

He felt Frankie settle to his knees behind him, then the familiar pressure of the other man's body against his back. Frankie inched forward until his hips were seated firmly against Victor's ass.

"This one might take a little longer," Frankie told him. "Hope you don't mind."

"I...my....that is, Mac should be back pretty soon," Victor managed to say. "We're...we've got someplace we need to go."

"He's down talking to Rollie," Frankie said comfortably. "He'll be a while." He pulled Victor's hands down under the edge of the shelf.

Victor had to lean down to reach this one, the action pushing his hips into Frankie's lap. He felt a hand against his waist, then the level came back into play and Frankie leaned across him and started adjusting it.

Victor was starting to sweat, doubled over in the small closet with Frankie's body rubbing against him. "How...how's it looking?"

"It's going to take a minute." A heavy hand squeezed his shoulder and then slid down his arm, making tiny adjustments in the position of the shelf. "Hold it right there." The other half of the shelf got the same treatment.

Frankie marked the position with two quick pencil strokes. "Why don't we rest for a minute?" His arms curved around Victor's waist and pulled Victor back against his shoulder.

"What...what are you doing?"

"Making the world's least subtle pass at you," Frankie said. Victor could hear the laugh in his voice. "Maybe I'm being too subtle?"

"No...no, I don't think that's the case." Victor took a deep breath. "Listen...."

Frankie's arms tightened, pulling Victor back closer his body and Victor's traitorous muscles refused to let him pull away, the way he knew he should. He rested there, feeling the strong, steady beat of Frankie's heart against his back and listening to the slow breathing that stirred the hair next to his ear.

Frankie's hand slid down between Victor's legs. "Well?"

Sanity returned in a rush. Victor pulled away and climbed unsteadily to his feet. "Listen, thanks, you know? But I'm already with someone."

"I know." Frankie smiled up at him. "But it never hurts to ask."

"I'm sorry," Victor started.

Frankie waved his apology aside. "No harm done." He smiled up at Victor again. "I guess under the circumstances I'm going to have to finish the last one myself."

"I think so." Victor stepped around the other man and into the kitchen. The air felt at least twenty degrees cooler in the larger room.

"I should be done here in about ten minutes," Frankie told him.

"Good. Good." Victor looked around the kitchen, but there was nothing else he could do there until the shelves were fixed.

He headed toward the bedroom with an odd feeling that he was making an escape, or a mistake. A short while later he was almost through hanging up the things he could unpack, when a cough near the door caught his attention.

Frankie smiled at him from the doorway. "Shelves are all done. I'll let myself out."

"Listen." Victor followed him to the door anyhow. "Thanks for your help and for...well, you know. Everything."

"It was a pleasure," Frankie assured him. His eyes were still smiling an invitation. "And...the offer remains open."

"Uh, yeah. Thanks."

Mac came charging through the door and almost ran into Frankie. "Whoa! Sorry, pal!"

"Um, Frankie. This is Mac, my, uh...." Victor swallowed nervously. "This is Mac. Mac, Frankie came up to fix the shelves."

"Excellent." Mac gave Victor a strange look then turned and offered Frankie his hand. "Good to meet you."

Frankie shook hands. "You, too. I need to be going. You two let me know if I can help with anything else." He gaze lingered on Victor. "Anything at all."

"You okay?" Mac left the door open behind Frankie and frowned at Victor. "Something happen?"

"Not a thing," Victor lied cheerfully.

"You're sure?" Mac eyed him thoughtfully. "You look kind...."

"Tired?" Victor interrupted "Maybe that's because I've been up here doing all the work up here while you were down there having tea or whatever."

"I was working," Mac claimed. "What did you say that guy's name was?"

"Frankie. Why?'

"I don't know." Mac frowned. "He reminds me of someone."

"Any idea who?"

Mac thought for a minute, then his face lit up. "Stallone!"

"Who?"

"Sylvester Stallone," Mac said triumphantly. "You know...before the nose job."

"Sylvester Stallone did not have a nose job," Victor objected.

"Sure he did. It was right after Rocky Two, I think."

"You think so?"

"I know it," Mac said positively. "I think he had his cheeks done, too."

"His cheeks?" Victor didn't believe it. "What can you have done to your cheeks?"

"Lift 'em. You know." Mac pushed up on his face. "Like dis."

"Get out of here. He didn't?"

"Rumor says," Mac said cheerfully. "Anyhow, the furniture van is here. They should be bringing up the first load any time."

"It's about time." Victor went to look down the stairs, wondering if he'd really just had a conversation about plastic surgery with his partner. One thing you could say for Mac...he wasn't boring. Weird, but not boring.

Two burly men were manhandling the sofa up the stairs. Victor stepped out of the way and let them into the apartment, then waved toward one wall when they asked where he wanted it. He didn't have any idea where to put all the stuff they'd picked out, it hadn't occurred to him to wonder while they'd been shopping.

The two men made trip after trip, usually accompanied by an attractive redhead who introduced himself as Rennie and who needed Mac's opinion on the placement of every table and chair. Mac was tired of the game long before his new admirer was through with him.

Victor watched the young man's maneuvering, pleased that Mac was the one in the spotlight this time. After Eddie and then Frankie, he was beginning to wonder if he was wearing some kind of sign on his back or something.

During the confusion, another delivery truck arrived from the linen store and the apartment turned into a total chaos for a while. Finally everything was in and more or less in place and the delivery men, including the helpful Rennie, urged out the door.

"Jeez!" Mac closed the door behind the last person and leaned against it, sighing. "Remind me never to move again."

"It wasn't that bad," Victor contradicted. "Four hours and the whole thing is done."

"It was four hours of complete insanity," Mac countered.

"It's not an improvement to have it dragged out for days. Anyhow, it's your own fault it took so long."

"My fault? How was it my fault?"

"If you hadn't been flirting with that kid that way, they'd have been out of here an hour ago."

"I wasn't flirting with him." Mac glared at him. "I was just being friendly."

"You were coming on to him," Victor insisted. "Like when he wanted you to check the position of the bed."

"So? What's wrong with that?"

"Five times?" Victor grinned. "And why did you have to close the door that last time?"

"He put the sheets on for us. He said he wanted me to see the effect." Mac sulked for a second, then grinned. "Anyhow, that's your fault."

"How do you get that?"

"If you weren't neglecting me," Mac said mournfully, "I wouldn't be so vulnerable to that kind of thing."

"Then you admit you were tempted?" Victor jumped on the statement.

"No, I meant...." Mac threw up his hands. "Forget it."

Round one to the home team, Victor decided with a grin. He headed toward the kitchen. "How about some dinner?"

"How about we eat out?" Mac called after him.

"I'm getting better," Victor told him. "Really. I've been practicing."

"C'mon, Vic, I don't mean to be critical, but...." Mac's voice trailed off unhappily.

"Hamburgers," Victor said defensively. "Just hamburgers."

"You promise?" Mac asked suspiciously. "No weird sauces or anything, right?"

"No weird sauces." Victor pulled the hamburger out of the refrigerator. "We should get a grill for the balcony."

"Yeah, first thing tomorrow." Mac threw himself on the couch and stared around the room. "Why didn't we buy a TV or a stereo or anything?"

"Guess we didn't think of it. We can do it tomorrow."

"Right." Mac stretched out and stared at the ceiling. "We should get some work done, too."

"We could go out," Victor offered. "Look around some more."

"I think we've pretty much exhausted that route," Mac said moodily. He appeared in the kitchen, rummaged in the refrigerator, and pulled out a cold beer. "At least until we meet some more people and know what to ask. And who. You want one?"

"Sure." Victor separated the hamburger. There was a recipe he wanted to try with cracked black pepper, garlic, and burgundy, but he didn't have the nerve to try it with Mac watching. In any case, they hadn't picked up any wine at the liquor store.

By the time the hamburgers were finished and the kitchen cleaned up -- Mac's job although he'd complained bitterly -- they had each finished off their third beer.

Victor stretched out on the couch and stared at the opposite wall. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure why neither of them had thought about a stereo, or a television. The entertainment center along the far wall looked stupid, standing there empty.

Mac came out and handed him another beer, frowning when he saw that Victor had stolen the couch. He dropped into a recliner and sighed. "Well, this is exciting. You got any ideas?"

"What do we know so far?" Victor took a swallow of the fresh beer. "Twenty-three guys gone. We have the addresses for the ones who disappeared from home and we can check those out tomorrow."

"Right. Like that's going to tell us anything the cops or the Agency don't already know."

"It's a start," Victor said patiently. "We can talk to the neighbors. Someone must have heard something. Even if they don't know they heard it, or just didn't want to get involved with the police."

"We need to know what they had in common," Mac suggested. "There has to be something that links them. A club or something."

"Not a bad idea." Victor thought about it. "What kind of club?"

"How should I know?" Mac fiddled with the lever on the recliner until he got the footrest up. "Stamp collecting or something."

"The Agency would have found that." Victor rejected the idea. "There would have been evidence in their apartments or their friends would have known about it."

"Okay, something that doesn't leave a paper trail," Mac said stubbornly. "Something they all did, not something they collected. Interests in common."

"Sports?" Victor suggested. "Maybe jogging or weightlifting. Or camping. That kind of thing?"

"Yeah." Mac frowned. "Rock climbing. Skiing. Roller blading. It could be anything, but something small enough and insignificant enough that both the Agency and the police overlooked it."

"Or too obvious."

"What's that mean?"

"The Purloined Letter," Victor explained. "Edgar Allen Poe. Something hidden in plain sight."

"Jesus." Mac groaned. "It could be anything."

"The Director did say we should assume we have at least three weeks," Victor pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I was hoping that my natural brilliance and your assistance could cut that down to a day or two."

Victor threw one of the sofa pillows at Mac, who caught it full in the face. "Asshole."

"Okay, my brilliance and your experience." Mac seemed to think that was enough of an apology.

Victor was too comfortable on the couch to care. The case was more important, anyhow. "Okay, so we talk to their friends. Find out their hobbies. Their interests. Figure out what the connection is."

"I hate waiting," Mac said restlessly. He kicked the footrest down and stood up. "I want some action, you know?"

"I know." Victor didn't move. "But we don't know where to go. Or what to do. Not yet."

There was a knock at the door.

"You're up," Victor said lazily.

"Jerk." Mac's face brightened. "Maybe it's someone to warn us off."

"Warn us off of what?" Victor shook his head. "We haven't asked enough questions to make a goldfish suspicious, so far. It's the landlord. Or one of the neighbors."

"Complaining about the smell of your cooking." Mac headed toward the door. "Don't get up."

"I wasn't going to."

But Victor was forced to get up a few seconds later, when Mac opened the door and a flood of people poured in. Their landlord was there, as was Frankie with a handshake for Mac and a longer one with a lingering smile for Victor. Eddie, the furniture salesman, Jack, the twins, Victor couldn't remember their names, from the diner, even red-headed Rennie from that afternoon's moving crew.

There were also a bunch of people that Victor couldn't remember having met before and in the confusion, he didn't manage to get many names. There was a Danny, a Richard, a Doug, a Steve, and at least five others. He gave up trying to match names with faces. Maybe Mac was having more luck.

It took a while to sort everything out, especially since most of their guests had arrived with "housewarming" gifts. The gifts were mostly alcohol, although two or three plants showed up from somewhere and found their way to the empty shelves of the entertainment center.

Rollie took charge of the drinks with Eddie's assistance and the rest of the crowd spilled into the living room and took possession of the couch and chairs.

Jack and Rennie took themselves off on a guided tour of the rest of the apartment. Victor hoped that Mac had hidden whatever guns he wasn't currently wearing. Victor's own back-ups were already tucked into the back of the dresser.

Victor and Mac wound up sitting on the sofa with Jack between them at one point. Mac accepted Jack's compliments on how well the furniture he'd picked out went with the apartment.

"Yes, but we had this really great space to work with." Mac waved his arms. "Who would have known?"

Jack nodded. "Rollie never has much trouble renting these places, in spite of the exterior design." He gave them both a smile that hinted at his opinion of lavender buildings decorated with colored confetti gingerbread. He didn't explain why he lived there himself.

"I was surprised, when I saw the inside of the place," Victor admitted.

Jack nodded. "Some nice pieces, too. The stuff in the party room, that's the big room on the first floor, is mostly reproductions, but he has some really great antiques in his own rooms."

"Party room?" Mac leaned forward. "Does he give a lot of parties?"

Victor was interested too. That could be a way to meet the rest of the neighborhood and ask some questions.

Jack smiled. "We don't invite many guys from outside the house. Mostly just the tenants, or former tenants. We get together down there a couple of times a week and..." He shrugged. "Party. Rollie has this theory that we'll get along better if we get drunk together every few days."

"Get along better?" Mac glanced at Victor. "Is there a problem?"

"No." Jack looked surprised, then shrugged. "No, we all get along great. Maybe it works."

"What happened to the guys who lived here before us?" Mac asked bluntly. He seemed to have abandoned his drama queen role entirely. Victor hoped it was a permanent change.

"They moved." Jack smiled at him. "One of them was a model or something. He said that all the work was in New York, so they packed up and moved. I think he wanted to be an actor."

Victor could hear the sarcasm on the last word. "You don't seem to think much of that plan."

"Oh, I don't have anything against actors." Jack grinned. "But...I'd seen Leo acting, you know?"

Mac laughed. "That bad?"

Jack shook his head. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

"At least you know where they are."

Jack looked unconcerned. "I suppose. Not that I need to." He eyed Mac. "There are lots of interesting people still around."

"I mean," Mac said, "not like some of the other guys around here. We've heard that some guys have just...disappeared. No good-bye party, no forwarding address. You know."

"Maybe. I wouldn't know about that." Jack finished off his drink. "Where did you hear it?"

"Someone mentioned it, I think," Mac said vaguely.

Damn style='font-size: 10.0pt'>, this was tough, Victor decided. It was a lot easier to ask questions if you could just flash a badge, or a gun, and everyone knew their part in the proceedings.

"You seem pretty interested in a bunch of people you've never met," Jack said curiously.

He looked almost suspicious. Victor covered the moment with a laugh. "Wait until you know Mac better. He thinks he's Sherlock Holmes. He's always looking for his own mysteries to solve."

Jack found that funny. "You're kidding?" He laughed and shook his head. "Well, everyone should have a hobby."

Victor had a feeling that Mac was about to ask if the missing men, whose existence Jack hadn't even confirmed yet, had hobbies. He interrupted with a question about the gym they'd seen a couple of blocks away and before long, Jack drifted away to get another drink.

No one else was interested in any serious conversation. Eddie disappeared for a while and came back with a radio. Once he turned that on and tuned in a rock and roll station, Victor and Mac were forced to give up trying to pump any of the other guests that night.

The party lasted forever and their guests helped Mac and Victor drink most of the booze before they left.

As things started winding down, Rollie and Rennie insisted on helping to clean up, loading the glasses into the dishwasher, and helping round up the rest of the crew and get them on their way.

When Eddie, the last one to leave, unplugged the radio and disappeared out the door, a welcome silence descended on the apartment.

Mac was collapsed on the couch, finishing off his last drink. By the look of him, he'd been drinking a lot. Victor wasn't as sober as he could have been, either.

"Well," he said after a minute. "That was fun."

Mac shrugged. "I guess."

"It should help the case," Victor reminded him. "We're supposed to blend in, get to know the locals." He pushed himself away from the door and almost stumbled.

"A few too many?" Mac grinned at him and emptied his glass.

"Maybe." Victor stood up straight and made his way across the living room.

"Which brings us to another subject," Mac said abruptly.

Victor didn't feel like fighting, but there was an odd note in Mac's voice. "And, that would be?"

"Bed." Mac looked over at him. "The sleeping arrangements."

Victor had been focused on the idea of the big bed covered with crisp, cool sheets. "Oh."

Mac nodded. "Now, this may seem like a pretty radical suggestion, but I'm a pretty radical kind of guy, remember."

"What is it?"

"We could just share it," Mac offered. "It's a big bed. There's plenty of room."

Victor tried to think about it logically. Either they shared the bed, or they could take turns sleeping on the couch. It was a nice couch, but he didn't intend to wind up there every other day for the next three weeks or however long they were stuck here.

"Works for me." He shrugged. "Shut off the lights before you turn in."

He went on into the bedroom and got undressed. By the time he slid under the blankets, Mac appeared in the doorway.

"Good night." Victor rolled away from the door and closed his eyes.

"Night." Behind him, he could hear the rustle of cloth as Mac undressed, then the bed shook as his partner slid in next to him. There was easily three feet between them.

Victor closed his eyes and waited to fall asleep. They had a lot to do the next day.

. . . .

Breakfast was at the café again, late the next morning. Eddie bounced over to say hello, looking as sunny as if he hadn't been drinking until after two in their apartment the night before.

Victor eyed the lively blond bitterly, remembering a time when he was also able to drink half a dozen people under the table and still function at work the next day. He hadn't had that much to drink the night before, but he still felt...ragged. He was out of practice, he decided. He wasn't that much older than Eddie.

"What are you guys doing today?" Eddie asked. "Not going to work, I can tell."

"No," Victor said quickly. "We've, uh, we've got some savings. Decided to take some time off before we start job-hunting. We thought we'd walk around, get to know the place. You know."

"Sounds like fun," Eddie said jealously. "Wish I didn't have to work." A shout from the kitchen caught his attention. "Oops. You guys have fun." He dropped the check on the table. "Just leave the money on the counter. I'll see you tonight!"

"What's tonight?" Mac asked.

Victor shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe it's party night back at the ranch."

Mac groaned. "No way. We're never going to get any work done."

"We can always tell them you have a headache." Victor shoved his chair back. "What do you say we give the Agency some of our time today?"

For the first four hours, their mission to visit all the apartments where someone had disappeared was not only unproductive, it was boring.

In one building, when the manager found out that they'd rented a place the day before and weren't interested in his vacant apartment, they were chased out with shouts and threats of being billed for 'wasting a man's valuable time with bullshit questions.'

At the next complex, the manager tried to separate them, offering to let Victor read the lease and the building rules while he gave Mac a thorough personal tour of one of his empty apartments.

After that, Mac's enthusiasm for the project started disappearing. At the last address on their list, they got lucky enough to find a group of residents lounging around a small pool behind the office area.

"Hey, guys." Mac leaned over the fence with a friendly smile that was probably mostly the knowledge that they were about done with the useless investigation. "How's it hanging?"

A chorus of giggles and lewd invitations met this remark, but none of it phased Victor's partner.

"We're new around here," Mac said breezily. He unlatched the gate and motioned for Victor to follow him in. "We thought we'd take a tour of the neighborhood and say hello to everyone."

"We're just checking things out," Victor offered, but none of the group seemed to find Mac's statement unusual.

Mac wandered around, shaking hands and introducing himself and Victor trailed along in his wake, trying to look interested.

Mac settled onto the foot of a lounge chair, next to a man who was desperately determined to keep his attention. Mac made himself at home easily, flirting with the crowd in a way that annoyed Victor for no particular reason. As long as his partner was asking questions about the other tenants, Victor kept quiet.

A small crowd gathered and everyone had something to contribute to the conversation until Mac mentioned the rumor that someone had disappeared under unusual circumstances from the building.

Victor interrupted the awkward silence. "Someone kind of mentioned to us that it had happened a few times in the past months. We were wondering if we'd made the right choice. Moving here, you know. We don't want any trouble."

"Oh, there's no trouble," Jonathan, Mac's new friend, assured him. "I guess if someone's already mentioned it, it would be silly to pretend that Donald and Fred just moved out. We don't know what happened but...." He looked worried.

"There isn't any violence," another young man insisted. "I mean, they could have just left."

"Did they pack their clothes, or their personal stuff?" Mac asked.

"No," Jonathan admitted. "But..." He smiled brightly. "But their stuff wasn't much, you know? And Donald said once that he might be getting an inheritance. An aunt or something. Maybe she died and left a lot of money. They wouldn't have needed their old things, then."

"But they would have waited to say good-bye, wouldn't they?" Mac insisted. "I mean, you guys were friends, right?"

"Not really friends," Jonathan said thoughtfully. "I mean, they hadn't lived here for very long, you know? Five or six weeks, I think."

"Did they make any friends? Go to parties?" Mac was pushing now. "Have any hobbies or anything?"

"I don't know." Jonathan looked surprised. "Like I said, I didn't know them very well."

"Anyone else?" Mac looked around. "Any of you guys know them?"

"I don't think anyone did," Jonathan insisted. He sat up and frowned at Mac. "Why? Does it matter?"

"Uh, you'll have to excuse him," Victor said quickly.

"I'm not...." Mac started.

"I should tell you," Victor said with a bland smile at his partner, "that my friend, here, thinks he's some kind of amateur detective or something. The hint of a mystery and he's all over you."

Mac's expression almost made Victor laugh.

"A detective?" Jonathan glanced at each of them, looking surprised.

"Yeah," Victor said. "You have to watch out for him. He'll be measuring your footprints and trying to find out what size underwear you're wearing before you know it."

One of the younger men sidled up to Mac and batted his eyes flirtatiously. "Now that sounds like fun. I'm Adam. You can look at my underwear, if you want."

The crowd laughed and the youngster flashed them a smile before he turned back to Mac. "What do you do with all of those interesting statistics? And can I help?"

"He's exaggerating," Mac said quickly, glaring at his partner. "I'm not really interested in things like that."

His young admirer pouted. "If you decide to start, doll, I want to be at the top of the list."

"Umm...sure. I'll remember that." Mac jumped to his feet and gave everyone a smile. "Listen, it was great to meet you all, you know? Maybe we'll see you around."

"You can be sure of it," Jonathan cooed. He waved goodbye to the two men.

Adam showed an inclination to follow them, but two of his friends grabbed him and dumped him into the pool and Mac and Victor made their escape.

"Could you, like, stop telling people that?" Mac glared at Victor as they started back down the street.

"Could you, like," Victor mocked, "use a little finesse? You showed all the subtlety of an elephant in a china shop back there."

"I did not." Mac defended himself. "We're never going to solve this case if we don't ask questions."

"There are questions and then there's the third-degree," Victor told him. "We're supposed to be civilians, remember? You can't just charge in to it like that. Use a little tact. You've heard of it, right?"

"You know, Vic, you're a jerk."

"You're a bigger one."

They walked on without speaking for another block.

"Is there any place we've missed?" Victor asked.

Mac dug his notes out of his pocket. "There's the gym. They were all members."

"Like everyone else in this neighborhood."

"Except our landlord." Mac grinned at him, his burst of temper forgotten. "I don't think ol' Rollie has lifted a weight besides his own in quite a few years."

"If he was bench-pressing it, that would be saying something. The gym is on the next block," Victor remembered. "We might as well check it out."

They found the gym and once they were inside, Eddie found them.

"Victor! Hi!" He bounced over to the two of them enthusiastically. "You guys here to sign up?"

"We were thinking about it." Victor could see Mac's mocking smile out of the corner of his eyes. "Have to stay in shape, after all."

Eddie nodded. "This is a great place! I come here almost every day after work." He grabbed Victor's arm. "Let me show you around."

"Umm...." Victor gave Mac a pleading look.

"You two kids run along," Mac said. He grinned at Victor. "I'll check with the guy behind the desk and see what he knows."

"Thanks, partner." Victor shot Mac an irritated look. "I'll remember this."

"Vic?" Mac eyed Eddie, then gave Victor a malicious wink. "You be good, now."

Eddie, obviously missing the undercurrents, dragged Victor off chattering happily. He insisted on showing Victor every piece of machinery, as well as the locker room, showers, and the steam room. He also showed a disturbing tendency to snuggle up to Victor every time they stopped walking for a second.

He was as friendly and as enthusiastic as a puppy and Victor didn't have the heart to shove him away. He managed to free himself when someone called to Eddie to come spot for them at one of the benches.

Victor made his way back up to the desk, where Mac handed him a green, temporary membership card for the gym.

"Doug here says these will get us in until the permanent cards arrive."

"Great." Victor eyed the square of cardboard doubtfully. "This isn't going to survive the first trip through the laundry."

Doug smiled. "It doesn't matter. I'm on duty here most of the time and I pretty much know who comes in. If you lose the card or wash it, I'll remember you."

"Excellent." Mac turned to Victor. "How was the tour?"

"Comprehensive." Victor refused to be baited. "You ready to get out of here?"

"Sure." Mac gave Doug a smile. "We'll see you later."

"Did he have anything to say?" Victor waited until they were back on the street before he asked the question. They were headed back toward the apartment for lack of any place better to go.

"Not really." Mac looked puzzled. "Nice enough guy, though. He sold me the memberships, but he didn't seem that thrilled about it."

"He's probably not on commission," Victor pointed out. "Not in a place like that."

"No, but...." Mac shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe I'll figure it out."

"There was nothing interesting in the rest of the place, either," Victor told him. "Another dead end."

"Well, there's something else we haven't tried." Mac nodded back over his shoulder. "The docks are about a mile from here."

"That's outside the radius we were given," Victor objected. "No one's reported anything happening there."

"Yeah, but if I wanted to get rid of some excess bodies, that's where I'd head."

Victor thought about it. "Makes sense. They haven't found any bodies anywhere else."

"We can look around tonight," Mac suggested. "See if there's anything that looks out of place."

Victor checked his watch. "It's just after four. Why don't we go back and get some sleep? If anything's happening there, it's going to be happening late."

"Food." Mac looked stubborn. "We missed lunch."

They decided to call out for pizza. After a stop at the liquor store, and while they waited for the pizza to arrive, they sorted through the clothing that the Director had sent with them, picking out dark materials for their midnight excursion. Then they ate quickly and went to bed, knowing that they'd need the rest.

Victor set the alarm clock for ten o'clock.

Beside him, Mac punched his pillow into shape and settled down with a sigh.

Victor rolled over to face the wall and told his own well-disciplined body to go to sleep.

. . . .

By four o'clock the next morning, they were both discouraged. And tired. They'd made it to the docks by eleven and had spent the last five hours searching the area.

Neither of them had realized just how hard it would be to search an area blocks long, full of locked buildings, every one of which had alert night security guards. Especially when they might not know what they'd found when they found it. If there was anything to find.

After the first twenty buildings, even Mac had lost his enthusiasm for bypassing the comparatively primitive locks and security systems.

"This is a waste of time," he hissed.

"Probably." Victor crouched next to his partner, waiting for the security patrol to make their regular, thirty minute cruise down this street. "Let's just check around outside the rest of these. See if we find anything."

"We don't even know what we're looking for."

"I know. But we're going to look pretty stupid if there is something. What are we going to tell the Director? We got bored and went home early?"

"Okay, okay." Mac leaned out from behind the concealing crates and scanned the street. "They're gone."

They agreed to split up and use the remaining hour of darkness to cover as much of the area as they could.

By the time he got back to the rendezvous point and found Mac already waiting for him, Victor was more than ready to quit.

"This is hopeless." He slid off his gloves, stuffed them into his coat pocket, and headed toward the side street where they'd left the car.

Mac did the same. "That's what I said."

"Hey, this was your idea," Victor reminded him. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Face it. We could have walked right over whatever it was and we wouldn't have known it."

"Again, exactly my point."

"Will you give it a rest?" Victor glared at his partner. "I just want to get home, shower off some of this junk and get some sleep."

"Well, well. What do we have here?" The jeering voice came from behind him and there was an ugly note in it that made Victor's muscles clench.

He and Mac spun around and found themselves facing a small mob. Actually, there were five men in the group, but in the glare of the single streetlight on the corner, any one of them was big enough to cause a lot of damage on his own.

"They look like criminal types, to me," one member of the group offered. He spat on the sidewalk and nudged one of his friends. "Bet they've been down at the docks, looking for something to steal."

"I betcha." That was the original speaker. He eyed them both. "Or a couple of them pansies from Paris Street."

A third man leered at Mac suggestively. "That what you are? A couple of cocksuckers out looking for business?"

Even from ten feet away, Victor could smell the reek of alcohol that hung about the group. "I don't think this is...."

"Lookit." Another man stepped forward. "One of 'ems got a earring. And look at their jeans. We got us a coupla queers who've been spending a lot of time on their knees tonight."

The six men laughed obscenely.

"Actually, I don't know about my friend here," Mac told him, "but I was down here to meet your wife."

Oh, shit. Victor sympathized with Mac's hostility, but he also wished his partner would learn to keep his big mouth shut. They were armed, but there was no way they could explain shooting a group of civilians, no matter how drunk or obnoxious.

"What did you say?" The man who had called them queers glared at Mac, a murderous rage glazing over his eyes.

"I said," Mac said distinctly, "I've been visiting your wife. She said you didn't need to hurry home."

Victor and Mac had an instant to brace themselves before the avalanche hit. The only reason they weren't slaughtered in the first three seconds of the fight was because their attackers were too drunk to stay out of each other's way.

Victor had his hands full for a minute, keeping out of reach of potentially lethal blows from four ham-like fists. A solid kick to the gut slowed one of the men down long enough for Victor to fake the other one into bouncing himself off of a nearby building.

He spared a glance for Mac and cursed. Two of the men were holding his partner while the third one tried to coordinate himself enough to land a crippling blow to Mac's head. So far, Mac had been able to use the guys' condition against them, using his weight to keep them off-balance and keep himself from getting damaged too seriously. He was going to run out of luck pretty soon, though.

Victor slammed one of his assailants to the ground, grabbed a nearby trash can, and dented it with the guy's skull. One down. He shook his hand, wincing at the pain.

Unfortunately, the one left wasn't the one who had been drunk enough and dumb enough to run his head into the wall. By now he had recovered from Victor's kick and was coming back to finish what he and his friend had started.

No time for finesse . Victor dropped to one knee just as the guy reached him, then shoved up, snagging the wrist that was swinging at him with the full force of the man's weight behind it. A touch of just the right leverage and his attacker found himself spinning in a circle, one arm twisted high behind his back. An ugly crack and a shrill yell cut through the sounds of grunts and blows.

Victor released the broken arm and sprinted over to rescue his partner. He reached the trio and grabbed the nearest of Mac's captors, slamming home two solid punches to the gut that sent two more waves of pain through his damaged hands, and a cross to the jaw that rocked the guy's world.

God 'damn' it . Victor felt his hand for broken bones. The guy's skull was solid rock.

Freed of one of his problems, Mac drove the flat of his hand against the other guy's throat. His victim was suddenly much more concerned with breathing that he was with holding Mac still so that the last guy could beat the hell out of him.

Behind him, Victor heard someone stumble to his feet cursing.

"Mac," Victor ducked a wild blow from Mac's remaining assailant.

"Yeah?" Mac moved in, buried a fist solidly in the guy's gut with no noticeable response, and stepped back out of range.

"I know you're enjoying yourself," Victor said, "but I did have my heart set on that shower, you know?"

He risked a glance and saw the man he'd beaned with a garbage can staggering in their direction. He turned to face the new threat, sidestepping a wild rush and kicking the guy into another wall. A few feet away, the man with the broken arm was curled up on the sidewalk whimpering.

"You're saying you think it's time we said our good-byes?" Mac tried a high kick to the stomach. This one slowed the big guy down a little.

"Before the party gets any bigger," Victor warned. Those dock security patrols could be covering this area and he didn't want to wind up spending the rest of the night in a police station.

"Do you want to do the honors?" Mac ducked a roundhouse blow directed at his jaw and tried another kick, this one to a kneecap. He was rewarded with a stagger and a grunt of pain.

"The pleasure's all yours," Victor assured him. "Just don't take all night."

"Five seconds," Mac promised.

In the end, it was closer to fifteen, and almost as many blows, but his final attacker finally dropped to his knees, shaking his head groggily.

"The party's over," Victor said firmly.

"And thanks for inviting us," Mac mocked the tattered group of men sprawled across the sidewalk. "Let's do this again some time soon, okay, guys?"

"Enough," Victor insisted. He grabbed Mac's arm and dragged him down the street at a fast jog. Two corners later, they were back at the rental car and the streets around them were still quiet.

"We'd better get out of here," Victor said. "Before the boys in blue show up and start asking questions."

"Yeah." Mac followed him, his mind obviously back on their previous problem. "What else can we try?"

"We could come back here and finish up tomorrow night," Victor suggested without conviction, unlocking the car. "There are some places we didn't get to."

"Forget it." Mac slid into the passenger seat. "I've had enough of that place."

"Have you ever been checked for attention-deficit disorder?" Victor started the car and headed it back toward their apartment. "We only gave it one night."

"Are you telling me you think we're going to find anything in that mess?" Mac challenged.

"No." Victor shook his head. "It's too obvious. The Agency probably already checked it out and decided it was clean, or the Director would have mentioned it to us."

"Yeah, well, it's too bad you didn't think of that a few hours ago."

"You didn't think of it at all."

"Look, just...forget it."

Victor didn't say anything else until they were close to home. "I don't know what else to try. Except what we did today. Walk around and talk to people."

"I know." Mac slammed his hands into the dash, then winced. "If something would just happen. If someone else disappeared or something, we'd have a fresh lead, at least."

"I don't think we can wish for someone else to get killed just to make our jobs easier." Victor slowed at a stop sign and gave Mac a look.

"I wasn't saying that," Mac objected. "I just mean.... Never mind."

"I know." Victor found a parking place and slid the car into it. "I feel the same way."

They made their way into the house and up the stairs as quietly as they could.

They shared the bathroom, washing off blood and dirt from their hands and faces and checking to see how much was theirs and how much was from the damage they'd done to their attackers.

Victor had a mark on one shoulder and another on his arm. Both of them were going to turn into livid bruises. They both had a few scrapes around the ribs that would heal quickly.

Victor had to browbeat Mac into letting him inspect an ugly knot on the side of Mac's head. It didn't look serious and he decided that the questions that would be asked at a hospital wouldn't be worth being associated with the five casualties they'd left on the sidewalk.

He was sponging up a trickle of blood from the cut when he felt Mac's arms sliding around his waist.

"This is fun." Mac grinned and then winced as the cloth passed over a sore spot. "Are you going to rock me to sleep, later?"

"The only reason I'm helping you with this is because I don't want blood all over the sheets," Victor said. "Don't get carried away." He wasn't in the mood for Mac to try and push his buttons tonight. His hands hurt, his ribs hurt, and he was tired.

"You're not really an impulsive kind of guy, are you, Victor?" Mac's voice was a caress, low and intimate. Victor didn't trust it. "Now, me, I'm the impulsive type, in case you hadn't noticed."

Victor pressed the cloth into the bump on Mac's head and his partner gasped. "Cause and effect, buddy." He told himself that Mac wasn't serious. He couldn't be.

"I think our cover story needs some more work," Mac suggested.

Mac's face was very close to Victor's. Too close. "I think our cover is doing just fine without any more help from you." Victor's mouth was dry, his throat tight. Close enough to kiss. The slightest movement on Victor's part would give him Mac's mouth. His breath was warm against Victor's face, with a hint of something sharp like cloves.

"Are you sure?" Mac's breath brushed his cheek. "Because I'm always willing to go that extra mile for the company, you know?" he said lightly.

Get a grip on yourself . Victor swallowed and looked his partner directly in the eye. "This assignment doesn't change anything between us," he warned.

"Sure it does." Mac smiled, not giving an inch. "And we both know it."

"No." Victor wasn't sure who he was trying to convince. "It doesn't."

"No?" Mac's arms tightened, and they were pressed together from shoulder to hip. "I can think of a few things."

"Like what?" This time the soft rasp of the hair that covered Mac's chest rubbed against Victor's nipples. He hoped that Mac couldn't feel his body's automatic response.

"You remember last week, in the Director's office? When you were trying to claim that you'd had the worst of it in that warehouse?"

That wasn't quite the way Victor remembered the argument. "Yeah? So what?" Victor tried to ignore the sensation of Mac's hard body moving gently against his hips. He told himself it would be smarter just to pretend he didn't feel it. Or that it didn't matter.

"You told me to bite you," Mac reminded him with a grin. "Now, if you repeated that invitation tonight...." His mouth traced the curve of Victor's neck slowly and Victor fought the urge to lean into the touch. "What happens would be different, don't you think?" He made it sound like a dare.

Victor's spine tightened in anticipation. Bite me. He could feel the words hovering on the tip of his tongue. It took an act of will not to say them. "How would that help us with the case?"

"Good question." Mac's eyes gleamed at Victor. "Very good question."

"Why don't we just concentrate on what we have to do to solve the case?" Victor wanted to get away, to get Mac's hands off of him so he could think. "That's all we really need to do, right?"

Mac kissed his cheek. "Lucky for you I have a headache. Or I'd explain to you just how wrong you are."

Victor managed a casual smile. "Get to sleep. If I'm lucky, maybe it's a concussion."

Mac nodded and Victor followed him back to the bedroom. He didn't know if it was reality, or his imagination, that told him Mac was watching as Victor turned his back and undressed. It was a relief when Mac slid into bed beside him and turned out the lights without saying anything else.

Victor stretched his hands, feeling the joints that were going to be sore and swollen by morning. It was good not to have to deal with anything more complicated.

. . . .

They slept late, and Victor woke up remembering their failure at the docks the night before. The pain in his hands and in one shoulder made it hard to forget.

The weather had turned colder and there was a storm blowing in, which didn't make their job any easier. Or more pleasant. On the other hand, it made it them less conspicuous in the jackets that covered the evidence of last night's brawl.

The day was almost a repeat of the day before, except that instead of visiting a specific list of addresses, they made the rounds of some of the stores in the area.

Mac's 'Sherlock Holmes' reputation had already spread around the neighborhood, so no one was surprised by his questions. In fact, most of the people they met were ready to play along with the game.

Victor was surprised to see that Mac was getting more annoyed with every repetition of the joke. Since it had had the side-effect of making everyone they met willing to talk, Victor figured that what had started as a gag had turned into a bonus.

Maybe it was just that Mac was getting tired of hearing that 'the game's afoot' joke that seemed to be the only thing any of these guys could remember about the character.

"Hey, is there a problem?" He tackled Mac on the subject when they were between stores.

"How could there be a problem?" Mac snapped. "I must be the funniest thing to happen around here in the last decade. Where's the problem?"

"I didn't mean it that way." Victor thought about reminding Mac that he had brought it on himself with his clumsy questions, but this didn't seem to be the time to bring it up.

"Sure, you didn't mean it that way." Mac kicked at a piece of trash. "It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye."

"Listen." Victor grabbed his partner and dragged him out of the middle of the sidewalk, pushing him against a building. "I didn't know it would be a problem for you, you know? Hell, you say worse things about me all the time."

Mac stared at him stubbornly. "Not like this. These guys think I'm some kind of idiot."

"Well, you are," Victor said with disgust. A flash of hurt crossed Mac's face, making Victor feel guilty.

He had an inspiration. "Look at it this way. What better cover could we have?"

Mac looked suspicious. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Victor explained, "that if everyone thinks we're running around pretending to be amateur detectives, how many of them would think we're real detectives? I mean, spies. Or, whatever, you see? If there's someone in the neighborhood who's involved in whatever is going on, we'll be the last people he suspects."

Mac shoved Victor's hands away from the front of his shirt. "I still don't think it's funny."

"Look," Victor said gently. "I'm sorry. Really. I didn't know this would happen. When I said it, I was just trying to keep Jack from getting suspicious. And those other guys. I didn't know the whole neighborhood would hear about it."

"I know." Mac looked away. "I don't even know why it's bothering me. We've had dumber cover stories."

"Sure we have," Victor said with relief. "Remember the fish market?"

Mac laughed. "Do I? The sight of you knee-deep in bones and scales, waving that skinny little knife at that big guy was the funniest thing I've ever seen."

"It wasn't that funny," Victor objected. "That guy could have killed both of us. And my gun was jammed."

"Jammed, my ass." Mac grinned at him. "I was there when you cleaned it, remember? It had a fish-eye stuck in it."

"It was disgusting," Victor remembered. "Took me three weeks to get rid of the smell."

"And almost that long to get the gun clean," Mac teased. He was regaining his sense of humor. "Remember how the Director made you sit at the other end of the room for a week?"

"Yeah." Victor was still annoyed about that. After all, she'd sent them in there. She had a hell of a nerve pretending that she objected to a slight fishy smell after what she had put him through. "I owe her for that."

"No you don't." Mac grinned at him. "We took care of it, remember? The night before we left."

Victor remembered the sleek black car defaced by thick streams of red and yellow paint. "Yeah, I guess we did." He smiled reluctantly.

Mac nudged him. "What do you think she did when she saw it?"

"She probably took up voodoo and put a curse on us." Victor looked around and shivered. "Come on. Let's get back to work. Standing out here turning blue with the cold isn't going to help."

The air between them was clearer, but they still came up with almost nothing to help them on the case. There was an agreement that a lot of the men who had disappeared had spent quite a bit of time at the local gym but, as Victor kept reminding Mac, so did everyone else.

Just to be safe, they spent some time at the gym, working out and talking with everyone who had a moment to spare.

By eight o'clock that night, they were home again, just ahead of the cold rain. And fresh out of leads. Again.

Victor busied himself setting up the TV they'd bought and hooking up the VCR. The storm was raging with lightning and thunder overhead, making Victor wonder if he'd get electrocuted before he finished his job. Mac was stretched out on the couch and offered an annoying running commentary on the process. By the time Victor had both machines hooked up and working, he was ready to strangle his partner.

"What is your problem tonight?" He gathered up the boxes and carried them to the kitchen.

"Nothing," Mac said sullenly. "I'm...bored."

"If you can think of anything we should be doing, I'm open to suggestions," Victor told him. He handed Mac a beer. "We've only been here for a couple of days, you know. She told us it could take up to three weeks."

Mac moved his legs over to make room on the couch for Victor. "I know. But I expected...."

"You thought we'd come sailing in here and solve it in forty-eight hours?" Victor sprawled out on the other end of the couch. "Well, to tell the truth, so did I."

Mac's foot nudged his thigh. "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"That Sherlock Holmes thing was a pretty good idea. At least people are talking to us now."

Victor grinned at him. "I only said it to piss you off."

"I know." Mac grinned back. "But it worked anyhow." His toes wriggled against Victor's leg. "Which doesn't mean I don't owe you one. Or, rather, you owe me one."

"Owe you for what?"

"For not telling everyone to call you 'Watson', for one thing," Mac said smugly. "And I want to be paid."

"What do you want?" Victor asked suspiciously.

"A back rub," Mac said promptly.

"In your dreams."

"Seriously." Mac levered himself to a sitting position. "I think I pulled a muscle or something. My left shoulder is killing me."

Victor frowned."When did you do it? Last night?"

"Yeah," Mac admitted. "I landed a little a little harder than I meant to coming out of one of those buildings."

Which explained why he'd been so easily trapped when the two men had grabbed him in the fight. "Should you get it x-rayed?"

"No, I can use it. It's just sore." Mac looked at him hopefully. "Just in case we do see some more action, though, I'd rather not take a chance."

Victor thought about it, but it was sensible enough. "Okay. I think there's some stuff in the bathroom I can use."

"How about firing up the fireplace at the same time?" Mac suggested.

"It's not that cold in here."

"It's cool," Mac insisted. "I don't think the furnace is running."

"Probably not, this late in the year." Actually, a fire sounded like a good idea. The storm raging outside had sucked the heat from their apartment as soon as the sun had set. Victor scrounged through the small stack of wood next to the hearth and laid a fire. By the time he got it burning and turned back to the room, Mac had retrieved a bottle of oil and a couple of towels from the bathroom. He'd also shed most of his clothes and was stretched out in front of the fireplace.

"Hope you don't mind," Mac said casually. "I decided I might as well be comfortable."

"Not a problem." Victor looked around the room helplessly, but there didn't seem to be any reason not to get started.

"You'd better get rid of anything you don't want covered with oil," Mac suggested. "That stuff gets everywhere."

"Yeah, I know." Victor hesitated, then pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside.

"How about a drink?" Mac looked up at him. "Before you get oil all over your hands."

"This isn't a spa," Victor complained. He fixed both of them a drink and handed Mac's to him. "Is there anything else, Madam?"

"No, I think that will do for now." Mac grinned at him. "You're a natural for this."

"Fuck you," Victor said mildly. He might as well get started. He swallowed some of his own drink, then set the glass aside and picked up the bottle of oil.

"I like a nice, steady stroke," Mac suggested. "Start right around the third lumbar region and work your way out from there."

"You know," Victor said, straddling Mac's thighs pointedly. "In this position, I have access to places you do not want this bottle to wind up. I'd suggest you shut up and take what you get."

"It was just a suggestion." He could hear the laugh in Mac's voice. "Any help at all is appreciated."

Victor stared down at his partner's body, the warm firelight flickering across the bare skin of his back and arms. He hadn't touched his partner since they'd arrived. Not the way Mac kept touching him. That evening in the motel, the other night in the bathroom, after the fight. Victor had tried the occasional arm over Mac's shoulders, the kind of thing that would give the impression they were closer than they really were, that was all.

But this, this was different. Victor was worried. It was this case. Here, on their own together, they were being forced to rely on each other in new ways. They didn't have the luxury of Li Ann's presence, or the Director's, to defuse the tension between them.

Sometimes this was like any other neighborhood. Then Victor would turn around and see a couple of guys kissing on a street corner. Or necking casually on a park bench. And all the time, Mac was right next to him, smiling at him or teasing him and touching him.

Victor didn't like the guy. He knew that. Mac had strolled into Victor's life and screwed up the best thing that Victor had ever found. Li Ann. Aside from that, he'd wound up at Victor's side, sharing the new world that Victor had been given by the Agency. Inhabiting it, infesting it, and turning it upside-down.

None of which changed the attraction that persisted in spite of Mac's arrogance, his obnoxious behavior, his underhanded tricks, and everything else. It hung in the air between them, just below the level where they had to acknowledge it. Sublimated with rivalry, mockery, even violence.

Mac had been pushing it since they'd arrived, and now Victor was sitting here with his half-naked partner, about to give him a massage that was, Victor knew, going to lead someplace he wasn't ready to go.

"Hey, I know you're not on a schedule or anything, but can we get started?" The question was oddly tentative, as though Mac understood what was going through Victor's head. This was new for both of them. Maybe Mac felt the strangeness...the danger.

Victor tried to picture his cocky, self-assured partner worrying about future, about taking a step that was going to change everything for both of them. He couldn't see it.

He poured oil into his hand and smoothed it down the length of his partner's back. There was a core of insecurity in Mac that Victor had come to recognize over the past months. A hunger for love and for acceptance that Mac wanted and fought at the same time. He wanted security and when he got it, he did everything he could to escape it.

Victor covered both of his hands with the oil and started the massage, watching for the reaction that would signal he was hitting a knot of tension or pain. At the suggestion of an old girlfriend, Victor had signed up for a massage class, but it had been years since he'd worked on another man.

He leaned into the task, working closer to the pulled muscle, easing the pressure there and stroking across the area. He could feel the heat from the damaged area in his fingers, hear the pain in Mac's hiss when Victor pushed too hard.

Victor gentled his stroke, working around the outside of that area, then rubbing his fingers gently from the center of the pain out, coaxing the sore muscle to relax under his hand.

The tension began to disappear from Mac's back as the muscles unknotted and relaxed. Victor stroked along the spine, working his way down to the base and out to each side in firm, steady strokes. Faint bruises showed here and there and he worked around them.

Mac's small noises of discomfort disappeared and were replaced by the sound of his breath against the floor. Slowly, his breathing came into rhythm with the movements of Victor's hands, a soft inhale and then a long exhale as Victor's hands pushed outward against his spine. His breathing deepened, there were noises that might have been whispered words from time to time.

Victor worked his way up and down Mac's back silently, his eyes tracing the path his hands were taking, memorizing the areas that produced one of the murmured responses and lingering over them.

Outside, the storm grew quieter, but the cool rain kept beating against the windows. The heat from the fire felt good. Victor wished he'd stopped to take off his own jeans so that he could feel the warmth against his bare skin.

Up, to the long neck and the base of the skull, a move that made Mac's head arch into his touch. Victor kept his oily hands out of the thick, brown hair, contenting himself with a gentle stroke around the curve of the throat, his thumbs rubbing at the sensitive area behind each ear. That touch made Mac's neck arch again, produced a soft noise like the purr of a cat.

Victor smiled to himself and started working his way down each long arm. He shifted forward until he was settled just above the curve of Mac's ass, not quite touching but so close he thought he could feel the brush of the cotton underwear against his jeans.

Mac said something quietly and shifted position, his ass coming up and brushing Victor's crotch. Victor froze, his hands wrapped around Mac's biceps, waiting for the surge of sensation to pass. He was hard inside the too-tight jeans, and he wasn't even sure when it had happened. Mac's hips settled back down against the floor and Victor's body followed automatically, keeping the contact between them.

Mac made another noise and Victor turned his attention back to the massage, his hands working down Mac's forearms. He twisted one of Mac's arms behind his back gently, trying to ignore how close the hand was resting to his trapped erection. Victor rubbed the wrist and the palm of the hand, pulling and twisting each long finger, picturing the tension draining out of each digit as he worked. He did the same thing with the other hand, listening to Mac's pleased whisper.

Victor worked his way back up Mac's arms and across the shoulders again, then up and down the spine. Mac's oil-soaked skin gleamed in the firelight. The highlights of muscle glistened in the warm light, inviting Victor's hands to linger.

Victor had a choice. He could continue the massage. Down Mac's legs and then surely the other man would turn over, waiting for Victor to continue the exploration up toward the hardness he knew was now straining against the floor.

"Vic?" Mac spoke, his first distinct sound since this had started.

Victor could hear the arousal thickening his partner's voice, but he also heard the uncertainty that he knew Mac was trying to hide. "Yeah?"

Thunder at the door broke the spell abruptly. "Yoo hoo! Girls!" Victor could identify Rollie's voice, even through the sturdy door. "I know you're in there."

Mac buried his face in his arms and Victor could hear him cursing softly.

Victor stood up, wiping his hands on a towel. He dropped another towel over Mac's body. "You'd better get dressed. You'll need to keep that muscle warm tonight, then it should be okay."

Victor headed toward the door, hearing Mac going into the other room behind him.

"Hi." Victor struggled to get some enthusiasm into his voice. "What's wrong?"

"Not a thing." Rollie breezed into the living room. "Ooh...drinkies." He'd spotted the two glasses on the floor by the fireplace. "My dear, I am parched. Something about the rain, I think. I'm always so thirsty when it rains, aren't you?"

"Yeah, have a seat." Victor sighed. "Can I get you a drink?"

"You most certainly can." Rollie beamed up at him from the couch. "Scotch, with just the teeniest bit of soda and some ice to cool it down."

"Coming right up." Victor grabbed his own glass and refilled it as he mixed Rollie's drink.

"Ooh ...a fire." Rollie smiled at the dying flames with pleasure. "You know, I didn't even think of that but it would be cozy on a night like this, wouldn't it?"

"We just thought we'd try the fireplace out." That was Mac, back from the other room, now wearing a pair of jeans and a heavy sweatshirt.

He sat down, and Victor could feel his eyes watching Victor's face and occasionally wandering over Victor's bare chest. His gaze reminded Victor of the too-obvious bruises. He grabbed his shirt and put it back on, hoping that their nosy landlord wouldn't ask any awkward questions.

"I'll bet you did," Rollie told him archly. He glanced at each of them. "Don't tell me I'm interrupting something? Because I'd be just mortified. If I am, just throw me out, right now. I promise I'll go quietly."

"Not at all," Victor lied automatically. He handed Rollie his drink.

Mac got his own glass and sat down on the couch. "So, what brings you all the way up here on a night like this, RJ?"

"Don't say our rent check bounced," Victor hinted. "Or that we've broken one of the building rules or something."

"Not at all, dear boy." Rollie beamed at both of them. "The fact is, I'm having a little party. Actually, the building is. I like to get everyone together a couple of times a week so we can all socialize together. I always think it helps avoid all those dreadful squabbles and spats that so many boys have with their neighbors."

"Actually," Mac said, "we're kind of tired tonight...."

Rollie giggled. "Oh, not tonight, sweetie pie. I always like to give a little notice before these shindigs. Actually, it's going to be tomorrow."

He shook a playful finger at both of them. "Now, don't say no. You've just moved here and we all know you don't know a soul yet. So you can't have other plans."

"No, we don't have plans," Mac said. His smile looked almost sincere. "Sounds great."

"That's just marvelous, Rollie enthused. "I was thinking around eight. Gives all of the worker bees time to get home from their little jobs and have a civilized bite to eat. We'll be meeting in the party room on the first floor and dress," he said with another giggle, "is quite optional. That is, as casual as you want."

Victor took a deep breath and flashed Rollie a smile. "We'll be there. Count on it."

"That's wonderful," Rollie gushed. "You boys don't have to bring a thing. Refreshments are all provided by the management. It's going to be fun, you'll see."

"I'm sure." Mac finished his drink and stood up. "Can I get you another one, or do you need to be going?"

"My dear, I don't have a thing to do," Rollie confided. "So I'm perfectly at your disposal." He handed Mac his glass. "Another teeny scotch."

Mac knew better than to take Rollie at his word, and he returned with a well-filled glass. He handed Rollie his glass and stopped to put the fireguard in front of the embers dying in the fireplace.

"So, what did you two do today?" Rollie took a sip and smiled happily. "I hear you were out meeting just everyone and asking the most unusual questions."

"Word sure gets around fast," Mac said with a frown.

Victor wondered if his partner was thinking about the teasing he'd been taking for the past couple of days.

"It does," Rollie confided. "You see, ours is such a small little group here. Everyone pretty much knows everyone's business." He eyed Mac flirtatiously over the rim of this glass. "For instance, I'm just devastated that you didn't offer to include me in your underwear survey."

Victor hadn't even known that Mac knew how to blush.

"That was a joke," Mac said awkwardly. He shot Victor a look. "A bad one."

"Really?" Rollie looked disappointed. "Well, it set everyone talking, I can tell you. They all wished they'd thought of it first."

"It was my fault," Victor confessed. "I made a dumb joke. I guess I didn't know everyone would take it seriously."

"Oh, it's not a problem," Rollie assured him. "We all thought it was very clever, I promise you."

"So," Mac leaned back against the couch and took a drink. Victor could tell by the gleam in his partner's eyes that Mac was back at work. "What else did you hear about us?"

"Mostly that you seem to be very interested in some people who don't live here any more," Rollie said. He eyed each of them with unusual seriousness. "Really, I promise you there's nothing at all in the stories. And no one has vanished mysteriously from my little flock. You haven't a thing to worry about."

"We weren't really worried," Victor explained easily. "It just sounded strange, you know? Dozens of guys disappearing and no one knowing where they went or why they left."

"It does sound a bit strange when you put it that way," Rollie admitted. "But I'm sure you understand that even in a friendly little community like ours, there can be jealousies. People don't get along, or decide they would be happier someplace else. And they leave."

"Did the guys who disappeared not get along with anyone in particular?" Mac pounced on the idea.

"Not that I know of." Rollie shrugged archly. "And I'm sure I would have heard about it. I hear just everything."

"So, you don't think there's anything going on?" Mac probed. "You don't think these guys are being taken out of here against their will or anything?"

"Goodness, no!" Rollie looked surprised. "I'll admit I was surprised by a couple of them, but when two boys disappear from home and there's no noise and no fuss, well, you just have to think they got up and walked out on their own, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Rollie was a dead end for information. As gossipy as he was, he was clearly determined not to see anything unusual in the unannounced disappearances of twenty-three men. If he even knew about all of them, which Victor was beginning to doubt.

Rollie stayed for another hour, chattering noisily about the city, the jobs available, advising them on which areas of the city to avoid, and a lot of other information that Victor barely listened to.

Mac closed the door behind Rollie finally, promising one last time that they wouldn't miss the party the next night. He stood there, looking at Victor expectantly.

Victor gathered up the dirty glasses. "I'm going to clean up. You can go on to bed if you want."

Mac didn't say a word. Victor went into the kitchen, listening until he heard Mac going back into the bedroom. He made a production out of washing the three dirty glasses and wiping up the kitchen, lingering there until he was sure his partner would be safely in bed.

The couch invited him as he walked by and Victor gave it a moment's serious thought, but that wouldn't solve the problem.

. . . .

At breakfast the next morning, neither of them referred to what had almost happened.

Mac had been pretending to be asleep by the time Victor had gotten into bed. Victor had lain awake for a long time himself and was awake again early in the morning, sliding out of bed and leaving Mac there, sleeping alone.

When Mac wandered into the kitchen, shower damp, wearing a pair of jeans and carrying a light tee shirt, Victor was cooking breakfast for both of them.

"Eggs okay?" Victor asked casually.

"Sure." Mac yawned and rubbed his face. "And toast."

"The bread's over there," Victor nodded toward the cabinet. "I put the butter out to soften."

"Thanks." Mac fixed his own toast and they ate in silence.

"What should we try today?" Mac swung himself onto one of the stools by the counter and watched Victor cleaning up. "Anyone else you think we should talk to?"

"I don't know." Victor wiped the counter half-heartedly and hung up the dishrag. "I don't have any fucking idea what to do with this case."

"I know how you feel." Mac stood up and started pacing toward the living room. "Maybe we should call the Director. Tell her we want out."

Is that what we want? Victor stared down at his hands. "I don't think she'll let us off that easy."

"Then maybe she knows something else we could try," Mac said impatiently. "Maybe they've come up with some new leads or something."

"She would have figured out how to get the information to us," Victor pointed out. "The Agency is resourceful that way."

"Do you know anything else we can try?" Mac glared at him.

"No," Victor admitted. He thought about it. "Get dressed. We'll get some change at the store down the street and call the Agency from the pay phone."

With a plan in place, no matter how useless, they both started down the street with renewed energy. Yesterday's storm had blown over and the sunshine was brilliant, already promising another hot day.

"They've had a few days to work on it," Mac said optimistically. "They could have found out anything by now. Maybe they're waiting for us to check in."

"It's possible." Victor didn't mention the orders that had stressed not to call unless there was an emergency.

"What's wrong?" The Director's voice was crisp and unconcerned through the phone. At the last second, Mac had refused to make the call, so the receiver was in Victor's sweaty hand.

"Nothing," Victor admitted. "We...we can't find out anything. No one knows anything or no one's talking."

He heard her sigh. "If it was going to be easy, we wouldn't have had to send the two of you in there, Victor."

"I know, but...." He hesitated. "We're not getting anywhere. We don't think this is the right course for this investigation."

"You don't 'think' this is the right way to handle this case?" Her voice came through the receiver coldly. "We don't pay you to 'think'. We pay you to follow orders. And one of those orders, if I'm not mistaken, was NOT to call me unless there was an emergency. Is there an emergency?"

Somehow, Victor didn't think telling her that he and his partner had almost slept together would qualify on her scale.

"No," he said sullenly. "No emergency."

Next to him, Mac rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"So, what's actually happening here is that the two of you got bored and decided to make prank phone calls, isn't it? You two are quite the practical jokers these days, aren't you?"

Victor remembered flames sprouting from the nose of a sleek, black car. He glared at his partner. "This isn't a prank call. We just...don't know what to do next."

"Try following orders. For once. Do what I told you to do. Mingle. Blend in. Get to know people. Wait."

There was a sharp click and a dial tone buzzed angrily in Victor's ear.

"What did she say?"

"She said that we should follow orders. Get to know people and wait." Victor slammed the phone down. "Now what?"

"I don't know." Mac looked discouraged. "If I have to spend one more day interviewing shop clerks, I'm going to go insane."

"I'm with you." Victor wiped his forehead. It was already getting hotter. "So, I guess we just...hang around."

"And hope someone drops the answer in our laps." Mac shook his head again, then his face brightened. "Hey, I know."

"What? You have an idea?"

"How about that last apartment building we visited? They had a pool. We can go back there. I'll bet they'd let us use it."

"How's that going to help us with the case?"

Mac shrugged. "I don't know. But a couple of the missing guys did disappear from there. And those guys were ready to talk when we were there before. Do you have a better idea?"

At Victor's insistence they spent the morning in their apartment making a comprehensive list of everything they'd discovered, which didn't take long, and a list of the people they'd met. They also drew up a list that combined what little information the Agency had given them about the missing men and what they'd learned since moving into the area. As a last resort, they plotted the disappearances on a timeline, marking the couples separately from the individuals.

When they were done, they had used up a lot of paper and didn't know anything they hadn't known when they started.

Finally, Mac rebelled. "Forget it." He pushed back his chair and stood up. "There's nothing here. Whatever the connection is, we don't have it yet."

"If there is a connection," Victor suggested. "If they aren't being snatched at random."

Mac shook his head. "No way. If these creeps, whoever they are, were just grabbing anyone they saw, none of these guys would have disappeared from their apartments."

"That's true." It wasn't much, but it made Victor feel better. There was a connection, and they'd find it.

"I say we hit the pool," Mac said. "Take the afternoon off, catch some sun."

Victor wavered, then gave in. "Why not? We're not doing any good here."

The Agency, or the Director, had thought of everything. They climbed into their swimsuits, pulled jeans and shirts over them and set out for the six block walk to the pool.

As they walked down the street, Victor knew that Mac was doing the same thing he was doing. Scanning the faces of everyone they passed, wondering who would be next or if someone they saw was involved with the scheme, whatever it was.

The talkative Jonathan wasn't at the pool when they got there, which ruined their half-hearted plan to pump the man for anything else he knew about the couple who had disappeared from the building. A couple of other men who remembered them from before were sunning themselves on the deck, though, and they greeted Mac and Victor with enthusiasm.

They spent the afternoon swimming and laying by the pool. No one had much energy with the harsh sunlight beating down on the concrete. Victor dozed from time to time, rousing himself enough for a splash in the comparatively cool water just often enough to keep himself from falling asleep completely.

Mac didn't seem to mind the obvious passes being tossed his direction by a couple of their fellow sunbathers. He wasn't actually flirting with any of his admirers, but he wasn't trying that hard to discourage them, either.

When someone offered to loan Victor their suntan lotion, Mac took possession of the bottle and spread the creamy lotion over Victor's back himself. His touch was both familiar and unfamiliar as Victor's brain made the inevitable comparisons to the night before. He wondered if Mac was thinking about the same thing, or if he was just displaying his usual territorial jealousy.

After a couple more hours of swimming and sunbathing, Victor had had enough. He nudged Mac. "Hey."

"Umm?" Mac raised his sunglasses an inch and looked at him. "Whassup?"

"Let's get out of here," Victor suggested. "We're losing the sun, anyhow."

Mac glanced around the almost deserted pool deck. "I guess we should."

"We have Rollie's party tonight," Victor reminded him. After all the hours in the sun, a quiet evening at home sounded a lot more appealing than a noisy party but he reminded himself that they were supposed to be working.

"That's true." Mac sighed, then heaved himself to his feet. "Let's go."

They dropped their borrowed towels on a chair by the gate and slid back into their clothes.

Walking down the street, Victor spotted a restaurant they hadn't tried yet. "You want to eat?"

"I dunno," Mac said. His voice was still groggy from too much sun. "You hungry?"

"If we're going to be drinking tonight, we need to eat," Victor said firmly. He steered Mac toward the door. "Anyhow, it smells good."

Mac sniffed the air doubtfully, then his face brightened. "Italian? You're right, it smells great."

In the air-conditioned coolness of the restaurant, they both revived enough to enjoy pasta with a spicy sauce and thick, warm breadsticks.

"Lead me to the drinks." Mac pushed back his chair and patted his stomach comfortably. "Nothing's going to make its way past that."

"We hope," Victor told him. "Or else we're both going to have liver problems by the time we get out of here."

"Ahhh, quit complaining," Mac told him. "It could be worse."

"Like how?"

"They could be teetotaling, bible-thumping revivalists," Mac said promptly. "That would be worse."

"That's stupid," Victor said. "Anyhow, maybe we can leave early." He dropped money for the check on the table and they headed home.

"You don't think he meant it, do you?" Mac's voice broke a comfortable silence.

"Who meant what?"

"RJ. When he said that dress was optional. You don't suppose he meant that...." Mac stopped.

"You know, for a sophisticated kind of guy, you get nervous at the weirdest stuff," Victor teased. "Haven't you ever been to a nude beach? It's just like that, but in someone's living room."

"Then you do think he meant it?"

"No," Victor said patiently. "I don't think he meant it. I think he was just telling us to be comfortable."

"I hope so." Mac sighed. "In that case, I'm wearing shorts," he said eventually. "It's still ninety degrees out here."

"Sounds like a good idea," Victor agreed.

Back at the apartment, they took turns showering and digging out something cool to wear. Shorts and the skimpy tank tops the Agency had provided were the coolest choice for the weather.

The party room downstairs was dimly lit and music was playing. It was a soft jazz, Victor noticed with surprise. He'd expected something wilder from Rollie. Disco, or something equally obnoxious.

"You're the first to arrive!" Rollie bustled up to them. "Let's get this party started. What's your poison?"

They both ordered drinks. Victor started to follow Rollie to the makeshift bar, but was stopped by Mac's arm around his waist.

"What?" He looked at his partner, confused.

Mac pulled him closer and whispered in his ear. "Look at this place. It's set up for an orgy!" He looked worried.

"What are you talking about?" Victor glanced around. The floor was scattered with piles of large pillows, rugs, and a couple of oversized bean bag chairs. God knew where Rollie had dug them up, he might have had them for twenty years.

"Look at it," Mac insisted. "I'm telling you, this is a sex party."

Victor turned to accept his drink from Rollie. "Thanks." He hoped that the chubby landlord hadn't heard Mac's remark.

Rollie handed Mac his drink and beamed at both of them. "You two just make yourselves comfortable."

Jack appeared in the doorway and Rollie hurried over to greet him, leaving Mac and Victor alone.

"It's nothing of the sort," Victor said quietly. "It's just casual. That's all."

"Casual, my ass," Mac said. "You just wait."

"Relax, can't you?" Victor gave him a warning look. "It's not an orgy, and you're not the sacrificial lamb, okay? If anything happens, we get up and leave."

"Sure, sure." Mac walked around the room, inspecting everything. "At least maybe we can ask some more questions."

Victor followed him. "I don't think we're going to get much work done tonight." Over by the bar, Jack threw back a shot of something and Rollie poured him another.

A tall blond showed up next. Victor remembered him as Steve, from their welcome party. He smiled and waved at the two men and crossed over to get a drink from Rollie. Jack greeted the newcomer with an enthusiastic hug and the two of them accepted shot glasses of something from Rollie.

"These boys take their parties seriously," Mac said.

As they watched, three more men strolled into the room, one of them dropping a handful of tapes by the tape player and the other two heading straight for the bar.

"Hi." That was Steve, who had come up to shake hands with both of them. "Remember me?"

"Of course." Mac flashed him a brilliant smile. "From the welcoming committee, right?"

Steve laughed. "That's one way to put it. Rollie said we should go up and make you guys feel at home. I kind of thought you'd rather relax and put your feet up after the work of moving in, but anything is an excuse for a party in this house."

"Sure seems that way." Mac laughed with him. "I take it you used to live here?"

"Yeah, a year or so ago. Before I hooked up with Shawn. He's on the road this week, so I'm a bachelor again, temporarily."

Victor wasn't sure what to say. "So, you're out living it up?"

"I'm going to, tonight." Steve smiled at them again. "Starting with another drink."

"You know, the problem with this place is that everyone is so normal," Victor said quietly as Steve walked off. "I mean...I can't picture any of these guys making the kind of enemies we seem to be looking for."

"I know." Mac looked around. "It's weird. I mean...someone hates them, or at least some of them bad enough to sneak into their apartments and kidnap them and take them off to do god knows what to them. But no one here seems to have any idea of anything happening that would explain it. You'd think if there was something that big going down, someone around here would have a clue.

Frankie appeared in the door, the first time Victor had seen the handsome Italian since the day they'd moved in. He waved in response to Rollie's squealed greeting and made his way over to Victor and Mac.

"I'm glad you made it," he said warmly, his eyes lingering on Victor's outfit. "How are you two settling in?"

Victor had a disturbing flash of memory. Frankie's warm body pressed against his back, the steamy heat of the closet, and that same scent of after shave. He swallowed and managed a smile and a handshake.

"We're doing great," Mac told him. "Getting out, meeting people, finding our way around."

Frankie nodded, his eyes still on Victor. "Sounds good. If there's anything I can do, let me know."

Victor managed a smile. "We will. Thanks."

Another squeal from Rollie demanded Frankie's attention and he headed toward the bar.

"You two seem to know each other pretty well." Mac narrowed his eyes and looked at Victor. "Something I should know?"

"He's the guy Rollie sent up to fix the shelves in the kitchen," Victor explained quickly. "You met him. Remember?"

"He'd be a little hard to forget." Mac shot a look at Frankie's back, then another one at Victor. "He still...."

"He doesn't look anything like Sylvester Stallone," Victor said instantly.

"It's the nose," Mac mumbled. He grinned at Victor's expression. "Okay...okay."

"Let's sit here." Mac led the way to a couch at one end of the rough circle of pillows and rugs. "That way we can see everyone. Come on." It was under one of the big ceiling fans that were stirring the slowly cooling air.

Victor looked at the chair doubtfully. They really should mingle or something. Talk with these guys before everyone started getting drunk.

Mac opened his arms with a smile. "Come on down."

Victor sat down uncomfortably. "You know, you really don't have to...."

"Like this," Mac said. He pulled Victor over to lean against him.

Victor's bare shoulder rubbed against the hair on Mac's chest, raising goosebumps on his arm. It was...distracting. "What are you doing?"

"Protecting myself from unwanted sexual overtures?" Mac took a drink. "Establishing our cover? Your choice."

"It's too hot to sit this way," Victor objected. "And besides...."

"You're not that kind of guy?" Mac grinned at him. "Forget it, I know better."

That wasn't what Victor had been going to say, but Mac was in a strange mood tonight. He tried to relax. "We're going to swelter."

"It's cooling off. Just sit still." Mac's hand lingered on Victor's shoulder. "We have to give the right impression. Remember? 'Blend in'? 'Be accepted'?"

We're already accepted. Victor didn't bother to say it out loud. In one way, Mac was right. In another...well, it didn't make that much difference. Not after last night.

Somewhere between the briefing in the Director's office and last night, the rules had changed. Victor couldn't put his finger on exactly how it had happened. Or how the subject had changed from 'if' to 'when'.

"I'm not doing anything," Mac coaxed. His arm slipped around Victor's shoulders, laying warmly across his chest. "I'm just touching you, that's all."

"That's enough." Victor regretted it the second the words left his mouth.

"Enough for what?" Mac's voice was teasing, but there was an edge in it that Victor didn't trust.

"Forget it." Victor looked at Jack and Frankie. "Don't you think we should walk around and talk to some of these guys?"

"You said it would be a waste of time," Mac pointed out, not moving. "Besides, we've talked to them all already. None of them had anything to tell us."

"They why are we here?" Victor stirred uneasily but Mac's arm held him in place.

"We could try having fun," Mac suggested. "Or is that too much to expect?" His free hand crept across Victor's stomach.

Victor pushed it away. "We're not supposed to have fun. We're supposed to work." He held onto that idea firmly.

"You think this isn't work?" Mac sighed and picked up his drink. "Let's keep an eye on these guys. Maybe someone new will come in; someone we haven't talked to yet."

Rollie kept the drinks flowing as Eddie and the two guys Victor still thought of as the twins showed up, along with the red-headed Rennie that Victor remembered from the moving crew and another man named Jake that they hadn't met before. About a minute later, Eddie showed up and his meeting with Jake identified him as the "friend" that Eddie had talked about before.

It was a comfortable group who obviously knew each other well. The party, like the music, was calmer than Victor had expected. There was some laughter and shared jokes, but most of the guys seemed to be happy just to sit and talk with the people around them. Occasionally someone new wandered in and fixed themselves a drink. Most of them made a point of stopping by to say hello to Mac and Victor before settling down to join the quiet party.

The corners of the room were filled with darkness, the only light coming from three soft table lamps. The room felt almost cooler without bright lights. The group sat around, talking and drinking for an hour before the doorbell rang.

Rollie jumped up. "Finally," he said, rolling his eyes. "The caterers are here."

Since the room was well filled with platters of cool fruits, chips, cookies, and other food, Rollie's remark didn't make sense. No one else in the room found the remark unusual. In fact, Jack gave a leisurely round of applause to Rollie's retreating back.

Rollie wasn't carrying anything when he came back. Through the lassitude of a day in the sun and his fourth drink, Victor wondered who had been at the door.

He tipped his head up toward Mac. "Hey."

Mac looked down at him and smiled, his mouth inches from Victor's own. "Yeah?" he asked softly.

"Who do you think was at the door?"

Mac shrugged. "I don't know. Wrong number?"

"You can't get a wrong number unless you're on the phone, dummy."

Rollie came by and refilled their drinks. Victor wanted to ask him the question but wasn't sure how to phrase it.

He started to turn back to Mac and was startled to feel the gentle pressure of his partner's lips against his forehead. "Mac? What are you doing?"

"Establishing our cover," Mac breathed. He mouth worked its way down to Victor's cheek, lingering at the corner of his mouth for a heart stopping second before Mac pulled away and took a sip of his fresh drink. "What were you going to say?"

"Um, nothing." Victor stayed very still and thought about what had just happened. Mac was definitely upping the stakes. He took a drink and wondered what in the hell he could do.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't know how long it had been going on before Frankie brought it to his attention. He became aware that the big man was kneeling in front of the couch, offering something to his partner.

"You okay with this?" Frankie's gaze swept over Victor's body sprawled across Mac's chest. The look in his eyes sparked a shiver of response down Victor's spine.

Okay? style='font-size: 10.0pt'> Victor wondered what he was talking about. It couldn't be Mac. "Yeah, we're okay. Why not?"

"That's good." Frankie's hand rested on Victor's leg. "I've got to go meet a guy. I hope you're still here when I get back."

"Yeah, sure." Victor was glad when Frankie stood up and walked off.

"Are we okay with what?" Victor looked up at his partner and froze, shocked to see the glowing ember in Mac's hand. "What the hell is that?"

"Shhh...." Mac said. He took a long drag off the joint. "What does it look like?"

"Mac," Victor hissed. "That's illegal!"

"So is almost everything we do." Mac smiled at him and offered Victor the joint. "You're the one who told the man it was okay."

Victor refused to take it. "I didn't know what he was talking about."

"Or you thought he was after something else." Mac's eyes glittered.

"Stop being an asshole."

"Take it. And take a hit," Mac said quietly. "They're watching."

"I'm a cop," Victor said through almost motionless lips. "There is no way I'm going to do that."

"You were a cop, you aren't any more," Mac said brutally. He forced the pot into Victor's hand. "And you can't tell me you've never tried it before."

Victor was trapped. Mac was right, some of the others were watching the two of them. And he'd told Frankie it was okay, never mind that he'd misunderstood the man's question.

Victor raised the joint to his mouth and inhaled deeply. This was just one more reason he wanted to get out of the fucking Agency and get his own life back. This job was turning him into the kind of person he should be arresting.

Mac took a drink, then set his glass down and took back the joint. When he passed it to Victor the next time, Victor accepted it without comment. Since no one else came to claim it, they finished it between the two of them. Rollie brought them an ashtray and refilled their drinks.

Through the growing haze of euphoria, Victor managed a smile for their chubby host. "Nice party."

"They usually are." Rollie smiled down at the two of them. "Let me know if you need anything else."

Victor relaxed into Mac's shoulder, not fighting the drug as it took possession of his mind and body. Mac's arm around his ribs felt warm and comfortable.

Eventually he realized Mac was whispering his name. "Hmmm?" Victor turned toward him, feeling the pressure of Mac's mouth nuzzling his cheek. "What?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm great." Victor smiled up at him. "You?"

"Me, too." Mac's arm tightened around his waist. "You comfortable?"

"Mmmhmm.... You feel great." Victor settled his head against the curve of Mac's neck and looked around at the party. There it was again. Mac's scent...a tart sweetness that caught at the back of Victor's throat. He tried not to think about it.

While he wasn't looking, the party had more than doubled in size. People he'd never seen before were sprawled out on the pillows or rugs, smoking and drinking and talking. Here and there, a couple had forgotten the party and was necking passionately. No one seemed to be paying much attention to them.

No one was paying much attention to Mac and Victor, either. Except for Jack who was sitting across from them, staring at Mac.

Mac's hand rubbed his stomach gently. "You feel good, too."

"Thanks." Victor took a drink. Mac hugged him, then his hand slid down to cover the waistband of Victor's shorts. Victor shifted again, trying to find a position that would ease the tight grip of the fabric. He could feel the grin spreading across his partner's face and Mac's hand slid down another inch.

"Got a problem I can help with?" Mac teased in a husky voice.

Twenty feet away, Jack's eyes were watching Mac's every move. And Victor's response.

"Victor," Mac insisted. "Are you paying attention?"

"To what?"

Mac smiled back. "To what's going on." His eyes skimmed Victor's face.

Victor took another drink. "What happened to the guy who was freaking out when he thought this was going to be an orgy?"

"He got stoned." Mac's smile had a nervous edge to it. "And now he's wondering if he's going to get a bullet through his head."

Victor laughed. Suddenly all the times he'd wanted to do just that, put a bullet through his partner, were funny. So did the times when he'd wanted to push the guy out a window or off a bridge or, at the very least, beat the crap out of him. It was all funny.

"Hey, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," Mac said. "But it's a little hard to know how this is going, you know? What do you say?"

"I forgot the question." Victor smiled up at Mac who stared at him for a moment, then grinned back at him.

In seconds, they were both laughing, trying to stay quiet enough to keep everyone from staring at them.

"I'm glad you boys are having fun."

Victor tried to stop laughing as he looked up to see Rollie smiling tipsily down them. "Yeah. We are."

Rollie smiled approvingly. "If I can get you anything, let me know."

"We will." Victor waited until Rollie wandered off again, then nudged his partner. "Hey. Let's get up. Mingle."

"I'm comfortable right here," Mac complained.

"We should meet some of these people," Victor insisted. "Besides, I have to go to the bathroom."

Mac sighed and gave Victor a shove. It wasn't easy, but eventually both of them were back on their feet. Victor hadn't realized how stoned he was until he tried to walk. He headed for the bathroom while Mac went to the bar to refill their drinks.

It took Victor a few minutes to find the bathroom, since he somehow got turned around in the hallway. Once inside, he locked the door and leaned against it, staring out the window. I am seriously stoned, he realized. And more than a little drunk.

He got turned around again, trying to find the party room, and found himself at the door that led to the small yard area that Rollie referred to as, 'my garden.' The idea of some fresh air seemed like a good one.

Victor slipped out the door, pulling it closed behind him and walked into the tiny garden. There was a winding stone path around a small fountain in the middle of the area. The water splashed into the stone bowl with a soothing rhythm. Victor closed his eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the cooling night air.

"I was hoping I'd find you."

Victor spun around and caught himself dizzily, grabbing the trunk of a tree. "Um. Hi."

Frankie was wearing a leather vest open over a crisp white shirt that was unbuttoned down to his belt. And the belt was holding up a pair of tight black leather pants that did amazing things for the man's body. Not that it had needed the help.

Frankie set his glass down and reached across the space separating them. "Come here."

A second later, Victor found himself being cuddled against Frankie's side, the bigger man's arm wrapped protectively around his waist.

"Much better," Frankie murmured. He leaned down and brushed a kiss against Victor's mouth, his lips cool and moist from the drink. "Isn't it?"

A treacherous warmth poured through Victor. He could smell the leather next to his face, a rich, sharp odor that was mixed with sweat and something else.

"Um...I don't think I...." he started weakly.

"Shhh," Frankie said. His arm tightened around Victor's waist. "It's no big deal."

First Mac in the motel room. Now Frankie. Someone was always groping Victor, telling him it was nothing to worry about. And the more often he heard it, the more he wanted to believe it. This was...nothing. It had nothing to do with his real life. No one was here. No one would know.

He shifted position, feeling the strength of one leather-covered thigh pressing between his legs.

"You feel good," Frankie said softly. Victor had to strain to hear him. "Very good."

"Thanks." He stared at Frankie, the other man's size striking him again. It wasn't often that Victor met someone who made him feel...not exactly small, but....

Frankie cupped his hand around Victor's arm, looking at the bruise. "How did you get this?"

"Moving," Victor said instantly. He cleared his throat. "Banged myself up shoving furniture around that day."

Frankie nodded and kissed him again. This time Victor's hand curled against the edge of the vest, holding the thick leather in his palm and brushing the bare skin beneath. Frankie's tongue slid into his mouth and made a lazy circle, then withdrew.

"Two scotch drinkers." Frankie smiled. "We were made for each other."

"No." Victor barely breathed the word, then pushed himself away from Frankie, shaking his head. "No," he said more firmly. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm involved, you know?"

"I know." Frankie was still smiling as he pulled Victor against him again. "But it's always worth asking."

Victor refused to resort to an undignified struggle. That's what he told himself, anyhow.

"It's your decision," Frankie whispered against his ear. His hand slid down to cup Victor's ass. "You know I want to get together with you."

"I noticed." The pressure against his ass slid down to the frayed edge of the cut-offs Victor had put on. Frankie's hand slipped between Victor's thighs and squeezed.

"No." Victor pulled away and managed to get some conviction into his voice this time. "Thanks, anyhow."

Frankie let him go. "The offer stays open."

"I...um...I appreciate it, you know?" Victor headed for the safety of the house and the party, wondering how long he'd been gone.

When he got back to the living room, the chair he and Mac had been sharing was still empty. A look around the room showed him that his partner had been cornered by the persistent Rennie, who was working hard to keep his attention.

As Victor watched, the two of them were joined by Jack. Rennie didn't look happy, but Mac looked relieved. Victor wondered just what the young redhead had been saying to his partner to make Mac so uncomfortable.

It wasn't long before Jack and Rennie were clearly competing for Mac's attention. Victor watched the by-play, laughing to himself at Mac's startled reaction. His admirers were talking over each other and interrupting each other, and Mac's head was turning from side to side like a spectator at a tennis match as he tried to keep up with both conversations.

A minute later, it wasn't quite that funny when Jack slid an arm around Mac's waist. It might not show to Rennie, or even Jack, but Victor could see the instant tension in Mac's back.

He threaded his way through the crowd and touched Mac on the arm. "Hey. What's up?"

Mac's expression cleared and he stepped away from Jack, putting his arm around Victor's shoulders. "Not much. Mingling."

"Right." Victor smiled at both Rennie and Jack, amused by their irritated expressions. "Did you get my drink?"

"Not yet." Mac looked at him, then gave him a brilliant smile. "I think we've had enough."

"Have we?" Victor thought about being annoyed, then gave it up as too much work. "Okay."

"Rennie was telling me about some place downtown he thought we might want to go," Mac said vaguely. "He says they play disco."

Rennie didn't look thrilled and Victor assumed that he hadn't been included in the original invitation. "We're not big disco fans," he told the young man. "Thanks, anyhow."

Rennie shrugged. "It's a party," he sulked. "I thought he might like to see it." He looked from Mac to Victor and shook his head. "Maybe next time."

Victor watched him walk off, wondering how he felt about the way the young man was chasing his partner. Mostly, he decided, it was pretty damned funny.

"We could try it," Mac coaxed, nudging him. "Strobe lights. Silver disco balls. Loud music. Could be fun, for a change."

Victor wondered what the hell his partner was up to. "Maybe." Not in this lifetime, he thought privately.

Mac put his arms around Victor's waist and pulled them together. "We could try it," he repeated, with a grin. "It would be a new experience for you."

"Like jumping out of a plane without a parachute," Victor said vaguely. "Sure, you could do it, but you know you're not going to enjoy it a long time before you actually hit the ground."

Mac snickered. "Is that philosophy? I don't think I've ever heard that before."

"You probably weren't listening. You usually aren't."

Mac nuzzled his ear. "I'm listening."

"Are you about to get out of control?" Victor put his hands on Mac's shoulders and looked at him. "How much have you had to drink?"

Mac thought about it. "Enough to do something stupid. I hope. How about you?"

Jack reappeared and handed each of them a fresh drink. Mac took his and swallowed half of it. "Hey, thanks!"

"My pleasure." Jack smiled at him, then nodded to Victor.

Victor tasted his own drink, wondering if Jack had really expected Mac's lover to just stand by and let Jack and Rennie lay claim to Mac. It was hard to know. Victor wasn't really up on the nuances of this kind of situation.

Next to him, he heard Mac snickering quietly. "What is it?"

"I am, like, so stoned," Mac told him. He grinned at Victor hazily. "It's like the tide, you know? Just suddenly comes over me in waves."

"That's what I thought." It was time for someone to be sensible. Victor backed away until Mac's arms dropped from around him.

Neither of them were going to get any work done and the longer they stayed, the more likely they were to.... He left the thought unfinished, looking around the room for their host.

Eddie's friend, Jake, stopped by to introduce himself. As Mac talked to him, Victor heard that Jake worked for the local phone company. While Mac chatted with Jake, Victor wondered idly if they could get the man to help them by checking records of calls made and received by the missing men. He decided that the Agency would have covered such an obvious approach.

Jake wandered off eventually. Victor spotted Rollie across the room.

"Hey." He nudged Mac. "You ready to get out of here?"

Mac smiled at him lazily. "You think you can make the stairs?"

"I'll manage. "Victor smothered a yawn. "It's time for bed."

Mac smiled again. "Yeah?"

Victor shook his head, then stopped when he realized it made him dizzy. "Sleep. Let's go get some sleep.

"Actually, that does sound like a good idea," Mac admitted. "Let's go."

By the time they made it to the door, Rollie was next to them. "Leaving us? So soon?" He pouted.

"Hey, great party, RJ," Mac said with a smile.

"We had fun," Victor added. "Thanks for inviting us."

"It was my pleasure." Rollie beamed at them, obviously realizing they couldn't be talked into staying. "I'll see you two boys in the morning."

Victor and Mac made their way toward the door, waving at the various people who called out good-byes.

Navigating the stairs was another problem. At one point, Victor thought they were both going to go over on their heads, but they eventually made it to the safety of their apartment.

"Hey." Mac trapped Victor against the door, smiling at him brilliantly. "Fun party, huh?"

"Sure." Mac looked like he might fall down at any second, so Victor held him up. He was grateful for the support of the door himself after the effort of climbing the stairs.

"I don't suppose you want to fool around?" Mac looked wistful.

Victor looked at him. "You are seriously stoned, aren't you?"

Mac wriggled suggestively. "Aren't you?"

Victor pulled closer Mac to him, enjoying the warmth of his partner's body in the cool air. It occurred to him vaguely that it wasn't the best way to discourage Mac, but it felt good. "We're on an assignment," he said carefully. "This isn't some kind of game."

"Hey, I resent that." Mac's voice was muffled against his neck. "I'm real."

"Yeah, I know that." Victor sighed. "And so am I. And we're both going to be real when this case is over."

"Is that what it is?" Mac frowned at him. "You're worrying about what's going to happen when we get back?"

"Someone has to," Victor pointed out.

"We can deal with that when it happens," Mac suggested. He pushed against Victor invitingly. "And deal with what's happening now, now."

Victor felt dizzy. He rested his forehead against Mac's shoulder. "I need...I need to know what's happening," he explained. "I can't just put things into compartments, you know? While we're here, we're like this. And when we get back... what then?"

"You think this is...what? Some kind of situational sex or something?" Mac sounded annoyed. "Is that what you think?"

"It never happened before," Victor said defensively. "You just started this shit since we got here."

"It was happening and we both knew it would be," Mac said. He looked doubtful, then shrugged. "Whatever. Maybe being here does have something to do with it, but it's as much because we're alone as because of where we are, you know. "

"We are alone, aren't we?" Victor buried his face in Mac's neck for a second. Again, he could have sworn he smelled something fresh and sweet, like apples, with a tart bitterness underneath.

"That's right." Mac kissed his neck. "No one's watching us. For the first time, you know?"

And what about Li Ann ? Victor was afraid to ask the question.

"And as far as 'starting it' goes," Mac went on, "are you saying that you haven't been thinking about it?"

"Yes. No." Victor was confused. "Okay, so it's both of us."

Mac nodded, then looked dizzy. He leaned against Victor heavily. "Here we go again."

"Tide coming in?" Victor smiled. "Let's go to bed."

Mac shook his head slightly. "I think you missed your window of opportunity, buddy."

"Sleep," Victor corrected. "Can you make it that far?"

"Can you carry me if I can't?"

"Not a chance."

They clung to each other, navigating the obstacle course of the living room until they reached the bedroom. Victor dropped his clothes where he stood and headed toward the bed. Mac had beat him to it, since he hadn't stopped to undress.

Victor crawled over him toward his own pillow. "You'll sleep better if you take your clothes off."

"I can't," Mac moaned pitifully. "If I move, I'm going to fall off."

Victor noticed Mac's death grip on the pillow. He must have been dizzier than he'd admitted before. Victor tugged at Mac's shorts, grateful that he'd chosen a pair of nylon ones instead of something with a lot of complicated fastenings.

Mac tried to help, kicking out of his shorts and underwear and not objecting when Victor struggled to get him out of his shirt.

Victor tossed Mac's clothes onto the floor, on top of his own, and collapsed onto the bed. That had taken whatever little energy he'd had left.

"If you've changed your mind about fooling around, I'm still in the mood," Mac offered weakly.

Victor looked at him and laughed. "Yeah, sure. Let's do it."

"What?" Mac peered at him over the pillow.

"If you can make it over here," and Victor motioned to the foot of empty space between them, "then, okay."

Mac eyed the space. "Can I have a rain check?"

Victor shook his head. "One time offer only."

"You can be a real asshole when you put your mind to it, Victor."

Victor slid over and gathered up Mac's unresisting body, letting his partner pillow his head on Victor's shoulder.

Mac snuggled up to him comfortably. "Be gentle with me."

"Forget it." Victor smiled. "Get some sleep, dummy."

"I should have known," Mac complained, wrapping his arm around Victor's waist. "You've always got an excuse."

"Is that what you think?" Victor ran a hand down the length of Mac's bare back, letting himself savor the touch of the other man's naked body against his own for the first time.

"Sometimes." Mac yawned hugely and smiled at him. "I'm going to figure out a way, you know."

I want you. It would be easy to say right now, but Victor didn't want to. Not like this. It would be...too easy to make a mistake. Mac stirred in his arms, stretching slowly against Victor's body.

The movement did nothing to distract Victor from the things he'd been trying not to think about for the past few days. "You feel good," he admitted unwillingly.

"Yeah?" Mac smiled at him. "Prove it."

Victor's arm tightened around Mac's back. "How?"

"Kiss me goodnight," Mac demanded.

"I could do that." It would be easy. He wondered if Mac tasted like apples, too.

Mac tipped his face up and Victor reached over to brush a light kiss over his mouth. Mac had other ideas though, and a second later Victor was pinned to the mattress, being kissed with reckless passion. Mac's body pressed against him, shockingly warm and hard and alive. He tasted like smoke and scotch and sex.

"That was good." Mac laughed breathlessly and trapped Victor's head between his hands, biting at his mouth lightly. "I told you so."

Before Victor could object, Mac was kissing him again, his body sliding against Victor's. The hair on his chest rubbed insistently against Victor's nipples and a surge of lust washed through him. The more they touched, the less Victor was able to remember why he'd said no in the first place.

It had had something to do with screwing up their partnership, but with Mac's knee sliding in between his legs, and his teeth nibbling at the pulse that throbbed in Victor's neck, that didn't seem quite as important any more.

"Mac...no." Victor gasped, arching up into the thrust of Mac's hips against his.

"Yes," Mac insisted. "Say it." He claimed Victor's mouth again, his tongue sliding in to tangle with Victor's urgently.

Yes. No. Maybe. Whatever Victor wanted to say, he didn't have the chance.

"Well?" Mac demanded. He nipped at Victor's lower lip. "Say it."

"Yeah, okay," Victor said breathlessly. "Yes."

Mac laughed and kissed him again, forcing his hips against Victor's. "I knew it," he whispered triumphantly. "I told you so."

"Jerk," Victor managed. He grabbed Mac's head and pulled it down for another kiss.

Mac nuzzled his way down Victor's jaw and under his ear, then his body sagged heavily against Victor's. "Umm...shit."

"What?"

"I'm dizzy again," Mac apologized.

Victor held him tightly. "You going to be okay?"

"I don't know." Mac didn't move for a minute, then he eased himself over to lie next to Victor. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Victor pulled Mac back over to rest against his shoulder. The truth was, neither of them were in any condition for that. Not that knowing that prevented a twinge of regret.

"You'll probably never say 'yes' again, will you?" Mac sighed.

"Why don't you wait to worry about that when you can sit up without help?" Victor suggested.

"I'm gonna have to," Mac admitted. He sighed and smiled. "It was a good party, anyhow."

"Yeah, it was." Victor watched as Mac's eyes fluttered shut and his breathing slowed into sleep almost immediately.

He brushed a kiss against Mac's cheek. "Good night, Mac."

. . . .

When Victor woke up the next morning, he was alone in the bed. A hazy inventory revealed a headache, a queasy stomach, and a mouth that tasted like a sewer. Each new hangover seemed to be worse than the last one.

He crawled out of the bed and made his way to the kitchen, hoping that Mac had started the coffee before getting into the shower, but the pot was cold and empty.

Cursing feebly, he started it brewing, then dug out some painkillers and swallowed three of them. By the time Mac was out of the shower, the coffee was ready, so Victor took the largest cup he could find in with him. It occurred to him, standing in the shower, that things might be a little complicated this morning.

The coffee, the water running hot, then cold, then hot again, and the painkillers combined to improve his condition to the point where continuing to live didn't seem like such a bad idea, personal complications aside.

Not to the point where he felt ready to deal with the fallout from the night before, though. He and Mac stumbled over each other in the kitchen, fixing toast, bacon, and eggs. Refusing to meet each other's eyes...and it was when Victor realized that Mac was as nervous as he was that things were suddenly okay again.

"You know...." Victor put his hand on Mac's shoulder and reached past him to get a plate. "This isn't going to be very convincing if one of us gets a black eye every time the other one lays a hand on him."

Mac looked startled, then his face creased into a passable imitation of a smile. "You suggesting we should just...relax?"

Before we go crazy. "We're going to have to.."

"Yeah." Mac shrugged and turned away. "Okay. So, we're okay."

Victor went to stir the eggs, his brain automatically worrying about why Mac was uncomfortable this morning. Had it been the combination of drugs and alcohol the night before, and nothing much more? Pain splintered through Victor's head and he pushed the thought aside. Time enough to worry about that when he, when both of them, were feeling a little less like the end results of a volcanic eruption.

Food helped. They ate the breakfast that Victor had cooked, then made more toast and ate that when they were sure that their stomachs weren't going to rebel against the invasion. Then coffee, and more coffee, until they felt able to face the day.

It was another hot, sticky one, and Victor felt himself starting to wilt the second they left the house.

The two of them spent an hour at the gym in the morning, working out half-heartedly. A couple more hours at the pool were even less useful in terms of gathering information about the case.

Walking home after lunch, Victor had an idea. "Hey. How about the local library?"

"I didn't even know you read books." Mac kicked at a piece of trash on the sidewalk.

Victor ignored the crack. Mac wasn't any more bored than he was. And it was too hot to fight. "No, I mean we could go through the newspaper archives for the past few months. See if there's anything in there we don't know."

"No." Mac looked stubborn. "That kind of stuff is exactly what the Agency is for, you know. They probably had that twerp Nathan down there for weeks reading everything that's been printed in the last year."

"Right." Victor was discouraged. "What do you suggest?"

"Buddy, I am fresh out of ideas."

They walked on in silence. "There's a game on this afternoon," Mac offered. "We could crank up the a/c and just take the afternoon off."

"We took yesterday afternoon off," Victor pointed out.

"So," Mac shrugged. "We're following orders. Blend in. Do nothing."

The fact was, Victor couldn't think of anything they could do that might be more useful. "Do we have any beer left?"

"Yeah, plenty." Mac looked more cheerful. "At least we'll be in, out of the heat."

And alone again , Victor thought.

Contrary to Victor's expectation, Mac didn't start anything when they were back at the apartment. He might have been as tired as Victor after the late night and the heat that was sapping the energy from Victor's body.

It was time for the pre-game show to start. They were relaxing in the air conditioning, Victor in one of the recliners and Mac stretched out on the couch, when someone knocked at the door. Victor went to answer it.

Rennie came in, carrying a six-pack and a paper bag full of chips and crackers. "I don't suppose you guys are planning to watch the game?"

"Actually, we are." Victor took the beer, handing one to their guest. "Grab a chair."

Rennie dumped the food on the coffee table and stretched out in a recliner. "This is great. The air conditioning in my place is out." He glanced at the two of them. "I hope you don't mind, but I left a note on my door for the other guys."

"No problem." Victor nudged Mac over and claimed a spot at his feet. "The more the merrier."

Rennie nodded. "Cool."

"How long's your air been out?" Mac didn't show any inclination to talk to his young admirer, leaving Victor to carry the conversation.

"Since last night." Rennie took a drink. "It was out when I got home. Rollie's getting someone out to look at it today."

Victor almost asked if Frankie couldn't take a look at it, then bit the words back. "Bad day to have it go out."

Mac stirred himself, shaking off whatever he'd been thinking as he stared at the television and smiled at Rennie. "Good party last night."

Rennie's face brightened. "Yeah, it was. I'm glad you showed up."

"Lot of guys there we didn't get to meet," Mac went on. "They live around here?"

"Yeah, they're friends of Rollie's. Most of them used to live here for a while."

Victor was interested. "People move around a lot in the neighborhood?"

"Sometimes." Rennie shrugged. "They move in with someone, or move out. You know."

Another knock at the door interrupted the awkward conversation. Victor kicked Mac gently. "Your turn."

"It's open!" Mac called out.

Victor rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Mac. You could at least stand up."

The door swung open and Jack, Eddie's friend from the night before, stuck his head in. "This where the game party is?"

As the game started, someone who introduced himself as Don, and who Victor remembered from the night they'd moved in, appeared with another guy called Wilson. Even Rollie showed up, turning out to have a surprising enthusiasm for baseball.

The small group sprawled on chairs around the room, watching the game and listening to Rollie' running commentary about the players. He knew the history of every player, from where they'd started playing the game to their batting averages for the last three years. He also knew a lot of malicious gossip that was pretty funny, true or otherwise.

It was during the third inning that Victor realized that he was having a really good time. It was all so normal. Sitting around with a bunch of guys, watching a game on television, drinking beer. It was something he hadn't done since...since before he'd been in prison.

He took a drink of his beer and tried not to think about it, but it was impossible. Victor hadn't known it at the time, but the men he'd known then, the other cops for whom he would have been willing to lay down his life, were setting him up. Getting ready to send him to the loneliness of cold gray stone and a set of bars that were supposed to hold him for the next twenty years.

He would never have believed it at the time. If you'd told him that his partner and his buddies were about to turn on him in the worst way he could imagine, Victor would have refused to accept it.

Just like, he realized, he wouldn't believe it now if anyone told him that Mac and Li Ann were about to do the same thing. You never get any smarter, do you? He glanced over at Mac.

No. No way. Mac might be a criminal. Li Ann, too. But they were loyal. Victor was willing to bet his life on it. Every day.

Another knock on the door interrupted Victor's thoughts. Their other guests greeted the newcomer as Danny and invited him in enthusiastically. Victor remembered the guy both from the party the first night, and from the night before. He'd shown up late with...Victor frowned, someone he couldn't remember.

"Sit up." He nudged Mac. "Give the guy a place to sit."

Mac moved into the middle of the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. Victor dropped an arm around his partner's shoulders and accepted a fresh beer from Danny. The others might have let him down, but Mac wouldn't. Nothing Victor had gone through could make him believe that.

"What's up?" Mac asked quietly. "Something wrong?"

Victor shook his head. "Having a good time?"

"Yeah." Mac relaxed against Victor's shoulder cautiously. "It's a good game."

"It's a good party," Victor offered. "Nice bunch of guys."

"I know." Mac moved closer to him. "Hard to believe that one of them might be...."

"Don't," Victor interrupted. Maybe someone in the room was involved with the disappearances, but he didn't want to believe that. Not more betrayals. "Not now."

Mac nodded and turned his attention back to the game.

The game ended and they sat around replaying the game-winning home run for a few minutes. Just as Victor was beginning to wonder if he should try to find some food for the group, there was a general movement toward the door.

"Thanks for letting us invade your living room," Danny told him with a smile. There was a chorus of agreement.

"No problem." Victor smiled at him. "Any time." He closed the door and looked at Mac. "You hungry?"

"Starved." Mac stood up and stretched.

"I could make us something," Victor offered without enthusiasm.

Mac grinned at him. "Let's go out. On me."

"Sounds good." Victor grabbed his keys and looked around, then turned the air conditioner off. "Let's walk. See if we can find some place new."

They settled on a Chinese restaurant a few blocks away. Not surprisingly, Mac bitched through the entire meal about how bad the food was and lectured on the correct ingredients and preparation for some of his favorite dishes.

"You know," Victor interrupted him finally, dropping money for the check on the table, "for a guy who hates to cook, you sure know a hell of a lot about cooking."

"I know decent food when I get it," Mac complained. "And this wasn't it."

"Couldn't have been that bad." They were back out on the street by now, walking back toward the apartment. "You ate everything they put in front of you."

"That's just good manners," Mac claimed. "I didn't want to offend the cook."

"You don't feel like that when it's me cooking, I notice."

"When you learn to cook, I will." Mac dodged Victor's hand. "Knock it off. It's too hot."

"I wish I'd left the air conditioning on," Victor decided. "It's going to take forever to get the bedroom cooled off."

They were walking by a park, one that they'd seen several times over the past few days. It had been almost deserted when they had seen it before, but tonight it was full of flickering shadows that resolved themselves into people moving through the trees and bushes.

"What do you think they're doing?" Mac watched the moonlit figures with a frown.

"I'd say that's pretty obvious," Victor told him.

Last night's heat almost flared up between them again, then Victor turned away. "It's something to look at," he said casually. "We should walk through."

"Sure." Mac fell into step beside him.

They crossed through the middle of a grassy area. Victor tried not to stare. Or to let his tension show to Mac.

All around them, there were couples, threesomes, even small groups of men, most of who seemed to be having sex. No one seemed to be worried about being seen. Or about the police that Victor hadn't seen since they had entered the neighborhood. Not so much as a patrol car driving down the street.

Victor realized that Mac wasn't beside him any more. He looked around and saw his partner about ten feet behind him. As Victor watched, Mac turned in a slow circle. He seemed to be looking more at the layout of the park than at any of the men walking around it.

Victor looked around as well. There was a gap in their information about the men who hadn't been at home when they had disappeared. It hadn't been possible for the Agency to pinpoint their locations, beyond confirming that they had all been seen last in the neighborhood.

"Hey, buddy." A deep voice interrupted his survey.

Victor turned around to see two men he didn't know standing behind him on the sidewalk. Behind them, Mac had his back turned, looking at something at the other end of the park.

"Um, yeah?" Victor looked between the two men curiously. "What's up?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" One of them smiled and eyed him warmly. "You new around here?"

"Yeah...I...we are," Victor said. "Just moved in a couple of days ago."

The guy nodded and smiled again. His friend slid an arm around his shoulders and gave Victor an unmistakable look. "Lonely?"

"Lonely? Me? No," Victor stammered. "I'm...actually I'm with my buddy there." He nodded toward Mac. "He's, uh, he'll be right here."

"In the meantime, why don't we get to know each other?"

"I'm...I don't think so," Victor said uncomfortably. "Not tonight."

Mac rejoined them, just in time to hear the men propositioning his partner. "Come on, guy," the stranger coaxed. "Why not?"

"How about both of us?" The second stranger added his invitation.

"Hey, no, I don't think so, guys," Victor backed off a step. "But thanks, you know."

Mac moved to stand beside his partner, pulling Victor close to him with an arm around his shoulders. "What's up?"

"These guys were just...." Victor's voice trailed off at Mac's expression.

"We like your friend here," one of the men said boldly. He eyed Mac for a minute. "You're pretty hot, too. You guys want to take a walk?"

"No," Mac said flatly. "We're not interested." There was no mistaking the hostility that flashed across his face.

"No problem." The second of the two men touched his friend on the arm. They both nodded and moved away.

Mac glared at Victor. "Where the hell did they come from?"

"I don't know, I didn't see them walk up."

"I leave you alone for thirty seconds and you get yourself into trouble."

"What trouble?" Victor said defensively. "I said no, that took care of it."

"I can't believe guys like that." Mac looked indignant.

"Jesus, you really are a prude, aren't you?" Victor laughed.

"No, I'm not," Mac said instantly. "I just think there's a time and a place, you know? And the middle of a public park isn't it."

"And what is? Behind locked doors?" Victor mocked. "With the lights out, right? That's a little Victorian for a hip kind of guy like you, isn't it?"

"There are things in life that are better without an audience. Sex is not a spectator sport," Mac said stubbornly.

"Try closing your eyes next time."

Before Mac could figure that one out, or come up with a response, they were interrupted.

"Hey, guys!" The cheerful greeting was from Eddie, who appeared at Victor's elbow wearing a delighted grin.

"What's up?" Victor smiled at the young man.

"Nothing." Eddie shrugged. "Just...you know. Hanging out."

"So are we," Victor lied. "Nice night for a walk. Everyone seems to be out."

Beside him, Mac found that statement worth choking on.

"This place is always crowded in the summer." Eddie fell into step with them. "Sometimes on the weekends, we have parties here."

"Like tonight?" That was Mac, regaining his usual sense of humor.

"No." Eddie dismissed the activity around them with a wave. "Barbecues, you know. During the day."

"Sounds like fun," Victor offered. "Who shows up?"

"Everyone, I guess." Eddie bounced on his toes with enthusiasm. "It's a lot of fun. You guys should come next time."

"I'm sure we will." Any gathering in the neighborhood was worth being checked out.

Victor became aware of an impassioned voice talking loudly somewhere to the right. He glanced through the trees and saw a man spotlighted by the moonlight, standing on top of a picnic table, waving his arms and haranguing a small crowd of men scattered around the table.

"Who's that?" he asked Eddie curiously.

Eddie glanced over at the scene and giggled. "Oh. That's Eric. He shows up here a couple of times a week."

"What's he saying?"

"The usual stuff." Eddie didn't sound interested. "He's trying to get the guys to agree to get saved. He says that if they join his church and confess their sins, God will take away their curse and let them live normal lives."

"You're kidding?" Victor stopped and watched the speaker.

"No." Eddie shook his head. "It's all about having been evil in past lives or something. He says that being gay is a punishment for having worshiped false idols or something."

Peculiar mix of religions. "And no one minds?" The crowd didn't have the look of a mob forming.

"Not really," Eddie assured him. "Eric usually winds up in the bushes with about half a dozen of the guys after he finishes. No one knows what he gets out of making the speeches, but everyone has their thing, you know?"

"Anyone mention that guy before?" Victor nodded toward the speaker and raised his eyebrows at Mac.

"No." Mac peered through the bushes at the crowd. "Interesting character, don't you think?"

This was an 'off' note in the community. Even though Eddie, and everyone else, seemed to accept Eric casually, it was worth checking out.

Mac, with more than his usual subtlety, moved the conversation from Eric, to the missing men. Eddie answered his questions innocently. He'd known most of the missing guys at least by sight. Lots of them, he assured the two men, had eaten at the café sometimes. And he'd seen them at the gym.

Victor even thought to ask, and was disappointed to hear, that the two missing men Eddie had known best didn't ever come to the park. Eddie didn't think they'd known Eric, who was never seen anywhere else and didn't live in the neighborhood. He clearly knew nothing and had no suspicions.

"I guess I'd better get going." The conversation had lapsed after Mac ran out of questions. After a regretful look at Victor, Eddie said good-bye.

"Where are you headed?" Victor felt guilty about the way they'd grilled the young man.

"It's Under night," Eddie explained. He saw their confused expressions and explained. "The Under is a private club over on Venice, next to the Italian restaurant. Once a week they open it to the neighborhood. I'm meeting some guys there."

Victor wanted to ask what kind of club it was, but Mac was already talking. "Hey, that sounds great!" His sudden enthusiasm was suspicious. "You think we could get in?"

"Sure!" Eddie's face lit up. "I mean, you're part of the neighborhood."

"Who's going to be there?" Victor interrupted. "What kind of place is it?"

Eddie shrugged. "You'll see. Most of the guys will be there. It's kind of a tradition during the summer." He smiled at them both. "I'm going home to change. Maybe I'll see you there later?" He sounded hopeful.

"We'll be there," Mac promised him. "Wouldn't miss it."

Eddie waved and took off across the park in the general direction of home.

Once he was out of earshot, Victor turned on his partner. "We don't have time to hang out in bars."

Besides the fact that they should probably do something about investigating Eric, Victor just wasn't ready for another party with his partner. He needed some time to figure things out. Time that seemed to be in short supply on this case. "We should check that guy Eric out, make some kind of plan for where to go next."

"I'd say that's pretty obvious." Mac gave him an odd look. "He said it's a private club. Open to the neighborhood only once a week. If you're looking for someplace the cops might have missed...."

That hadn't occurred to Victor. He thought about it and had to admit that Mac was right. This was exactly the kind of thing that the Director had sent them in here to find out.

"Yeah, okay," he said shortly. "Just remember, we won't be there to party."

"Could you, like, take a pill?" Mac said impatiently. "What is with you all of a sudden?"

"Forget it." Victor headed toward the edge of the park.

"What's wrong?"

"Eddie said the place was over by the Italian restaurant," Victor said, stubbornly ignoring the question. "Let's go check it out."

They walked the three blocks to the club in total silence. At the door, Victor paid the modest cover charge for both of them and they plunged into the noisy room.

Ten seconds later, they were huddled together protectively, their most recent argument forgotten.

"Where the hell are we?" Mac said in disbelief.

Victor looked around. Under the familiar strobe of disco lights and glittering silver balls twinkling with reflected colors, the room was decorated like...a dungeon.

In the indirect lighting that covered the area outside of the dance floor, they could make out whips and chains dangling from every wall. Distant corners held large, complicated wooden or metal machines that Victor did not want to know the uses for.

Half the men around them were dressed in head to toe leather in spite of the heat. The rest of the crowd looked normal by comparison, in spite of the fact that most of them were clad in skimpy running shorts or tight blue jean cutoffs and little else.

Here and there, one of the leather-clad men was followed by an almost naked companion sporting a heavy leather collar around his neck. One young man wore a black leather thong, a matching collar, and a pair of scuffed white tennis shoes. And nothing else. He was standing next to an empty table, looking abandoned and unhappy.

"This is some kind of weird sex club," Mac insisted.

This time Mac was right. They'd stumbled into something a little outside the mainstream. Victor tried to tell himself that a leather club was not automatically a prime suspect in the kidnapping of dozens of attractive, unattached young men, but only part of him believed it.

"If you leave me alone in here, I'm going to hunt you down and kill you," Mac hissed. "Slowly. And painfully."

"Yeah, well, that goes double for you," Victor shot back. He slid his arm around Mac's waist. "If you pull some kind of disappearing act, it will be the last thing you ever do."

They looked around, seeing that they seemed to be the only ones paying attention to the decor.

"Listen." Victor took a deep breath. "This is 'open' night, right? I mean, Eddie said tonight they throw the place open to the neighborhood."

"Which is how we got in," Mac reminded him. "Tell me something I don't already know."

"What I mean is, that's like saying 'amateur night', don't you think? Or just that it's a party." Victor looked at his partner hopefully and waved at the club's decorations. "None of the...other...stuff. Don't you think?"

"You think so?" Mac thought about it and Victor could feel his partner's muscles starting to unknot. "I'm sure you're right. I mean, Eddie didn't look like the SM type, did he?"

"I can't see him in chains and leather, no."

Mac took a deep breath and smiled. "Neither can I. And he said that everyone shows up here on 'open' night, right? I doubt if the entire neighborhood is into kinky sex."

"So, we're cool." Victor dropped his arm and looked around. "Anyhow, we should still stick together."

"Good plan." Mac looked relieved. "I don't know about you, but I could use a drink."

The music dropped from the relentless disco beat to a slower tune and the dance floor thinned out. Most of the dancers headed straight toward the bar.

"Well, that sucks." Mac stared at the four-deep crowd around the bar.

"Our timing could have been better." Victor looked around. "We could check the place out, first."

"Hey, sexy." A deep voice purred in Victor's ear and someone's crotch ground itself against his hip. "You wanna dance?"

Victor jumped and looked around, horrified to see that he'd been picked out by a guy wearing a pair of dirty jeans and a leather jacket, open over a bare chest. The resulting view of the guy's sloppy beer belly spilling over his waistband wasn't going to win the guy many fans.

"Um, no, thanks," he said, starting to move away.

The guy grabbed his arm. "Dance with me, hot stuff. Come on."

"Um, we're...together here, okay?" Mac interrupted. He gave the guy a smile and Victor could see the edge of violence behind it.

"I'm not talking to you," the stranger insisted. He belched explosively. "I wanna dance with your hot buddy, okay?"

"No," Mac said carefully. "It's not okay."

"Whadda ya say?" The guy looked at Victor hopefully. "Wanna dump this punk?"

"No," Victor said firmly. "Like he said, we're together."

"It's just a dance," the man urged. "Just one little dance." He tried to put his arm around Victor's waist.

"Actually, it's my dance." Mac grabbed Victor and dragged him toward the dance floor.

"That was very smooth. For you," Victor offered.

Mac slid his arms around Victor. "He's still there. Dance."

Victor risked a look to the side. The guy was still standing there, frowning at the two of them. "Shit."

"What do you mean, 'for you'?" Mac demanded "I thought I handled it pretty well."

"You could have let me take care of it," Victor pointed out. "I've actually been trained to handle myself in a variety of difficult situations."

"Tell you what," Mac suggested. "Why don't we go back over there, and you show me how you would have handled it?"

"Well...what's done is done." Victor wasn't about to get within grabbing distance of that guy again. "There's no need to make a whole thing out of it. Just don't do it again."

"You might try appreciating the fact that I didn't deck the guy," Mac said.

"I could tell that was your first impulse."

"There's not enough action in this case," Mac complained. He licked Victor's neck, a slow, remarkably lush sensation. "Of course, things do seem to be improving."

Victor could hear the laugh in his voice. For the first time, he let himself consider the fact that he and Mac were wrapped in each other's arms on a public dance floor. This was more or less exactly the kind of situation he'd wanted to avoid.

"Um...Mac?"

"Hmmm?" Mac kissed him lightly, his mouth lingering on Victor's for a long second. "Just so he gets the idea," he explained.

"I can take care of myself," Victor said stubbornly, suppressing the impulse to kiss him back. "First the park, now here. I do not need you stepping in front of me every five minutes."

"Yeah, but I'm supposed to help you." Mac bit Victor's lower lip gently and then moved on to investigate his neck. "Try to keep you away from bad influences and unsuitable companions, you know?"

It would be hard to think of anyone more unsuitable than Mac in this mood. "We're supposed to be working," Victor reminded him for the twentieth time. His pulse jumped as Mac's teeth grazed a sensitive spot. "Not...you know, fooling around and stuff."

"I'm working," Mac assured him. "We're blending in."

"That's not what I'd call it." Victor felt fingers walking up his spine toward the back of his neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their path. "Can you stop that?"

Mac sighed and nipped at Victor's ear. "I take it we've got another problem?"

"More of the same, I'd say." Victor moved back an inch and reminded himself to breathe. "You're the problem."

"I'm not really feeling a lot of emotional support from you here, Victor." Mac's fingers traced the neckline of the skimpy tank top. "Could you try for a little enthusiasm?"

"Not in this reality, or any other one." Victor avoided another nibble.

Mac stroked his neck. "Why don't you kiss me?"

"Because you're already trying to protect me? And I don't want to see how you'll act if this goes any further?

"That's not what I'm doing," Mac objected, but Victor saw the guilt flash across his face. "Anyhow, why don't you want me to help you? That's what partners are for, right?"

"I don't need to be taken care of. Look, you treat me right, and I'll treat you right. It's as simple as that."

"Now that is a plan I can get behind." Mac nuzzled the pulse under Victor's ear. "Me first. When do we start?"

"Don't," Victor moaned, his body arching into Mac's automatically. Victor ignored the parts of him that were voting an enthusiastic yes and told himself that he was not going to be distracted that easily.

Mac kissed along his jaw and was rewarded with another moan. "Jesus, Victor. Knock it off or we're going to get thrown out of here."

"Stop doing that," Victor said desperately. He closed his eyes and tried to count to ten. "I'm just asking for your cooperation, here, not your ass." Okay, so he could have put that better.

And it would have been expecting too much to hope Mac would let it pass. "No?" Mac looked disappointed. "In that case, I don't suppose you're offering me yours, either?"

"You know, you are a seriously disgusting human being."

"Now who's a bigot?"

"I'm not a bigot, and you know it. Which is not saying I'm interested in having sex with you."

"So, you're saying it's not actually my gender you're filing an objection to?"

Does it feel like it? Victor shook his head. "No. It's just everything else about you."

"I'll grow on you," Mac said confidently.

"You haven't up until now."

"I have not yet begun to woo." Mac grinned at him. "Let me start by...."

"By, what?" Victor tried a glare. "I told you, I can handle myself, so if it's something like that again, I am warning you that I'm not...."

"...by letting you get the crap beat out of you by some pot-bellied leather daddy any time you're in the mood," Mac finished smoothly.

Victor shook his head, determined not to weaken. Or to laugh. Or to grab his partner and kiss him senseless, which seemed to be the only way to shut him up.

Mac licked the curve of his neck again, searching for and finding that ultra sensitive point. He bit down and Victor's body responded in spite of himself.

"Definitely the right move," Mac teased. "In case I haven't mentioned it before, that earring really does it for me."

"Remind me to stop wearing it." Victor grabbed a double handful of Mac's shirt and tried to think about the case, about the music, about anything except the way Mac's mouth felt nibbling at his ear.

Mac kissed his neck again, rubbing his face against the smooth skin. "Victor?" There was a pleading note in his voice that melted a path of fire straight down Victor's spine.

"Shut up," Victor hissed, trying to get control of himself.

Mac stroked his neck. "You could kiss me, you know."

"No," Victor insisted weakly. "I am not getting involved with you."

"On the contrary." Victor felt Mac's hand slide down around his hip and pull them closer. "Parts of you are already very involved. The only question now is whether or not you're going to let the rest of yourself join the party."

"We are not going to do this," Victor said through clenched teeth. His body refused to pull away from Mac's stroking hands. He wondered if it was time to admit he was fighting a losing battle.

"You want to bet?" Mac challenged. He smiled. "If you don't do it, I'm going to."

Victor kissed him savagely, somewhere between lust and anger. Mac's mouth opened willingly beneath his and passion burned through Victor. He forgot where they were, overwhelmed by the urge to accept the invitation of Mac's body moving against his.

"Oh, yeah." Mac laughed unsteadily against his neck. "I knew you had it in you." His hands raked along Victor's back and across his shoulders. "I knew it."

"Okay, so you proved your point." Victor kissed his cheek, then worked his way up to one sensitive ear. It was insane to do this here. "You through?"

"Not a chance." Mac's arms tightened around him. "We're just getting started."

"No," Victor swallowed, hard, and shook his head. "That's it."

"You must be joking." Mac leaned toward him and Victor backed away.

"We're in a public place," Victor reminded him.

Mac's grip loosened reluctantly. "We could just...kinda slide out of here and go on home."

"How often do you have to be reminded that we're working? That we have a case?"

"We haven't discovered anything for days," Mac insisted. "What difference is a couple of hours going to make?"

"We won't know that until we try." Victor pulled away. "And we have to wait a week before we can get into this place again, remember? Unless you were thinking of taking out a membership so we can come back tomorrow, let's get back to business."

"Jesus, I hate that work ethic thing of yours." Mac sighed. "Okay. Two hours. And I need a drink."

"That is a plan." Victor led them toward the bar. "I'm buying."

"Now I know we're in an alternate universe," Mac teased, following him. "You're offering to buy the drinks?" His shoulder pressed against Victor warmly as they waited for the bartender's attention.

Two hours. "Jerk," Victor said cheerfully.

Victor ordered and paid for the drinks and the two of them carved out some space against the bar where they could watch the room.

"We should take a walk around," Mac suggested. "You never know."

"Good idea." Victor took a sip of his drink. "Let's finish these first."

"Okay." Mac's eyes scanned the room, looking for anything that looked out of place, and Victor did the same thing. Although it occurred to him to wonder if either of them would know what qualified as 'out of place' here.

Before they got any further, they heard someone calling their names over the music. Victor looked around and saw Rennie and Frankie threading their way toward them from the door.

Victor took another drink and looked away. Shit.

"Hi guys." That was Rennie, who offered Victor a smile and then stationed himself in front of Mac pointedly.

"Um. Hi." Victor smiled at the two newcomers impartially, torn between wishing Mac would do something, make some possessive gesture, and hoping that he wouldn't notice Frankie's continued interest.

While Victor had been trying to weigh his options, Rennie had been talking to Mac in a low, excited voice. Now he turned to Victor with a smile. "I'm going to borrow Mac for a while. It turns out that he hasn't had a tour of the place yet, so I'm going to do the honors."

Victor glanced at Mac, seeing the uneasiness behind the bland smile. "Mac?"

"Sounds like a good idea." Frankie interrupted before Mac could say anything. He smiled at Rennie. "I'll keep Victor company while you two take a look around."

Somehow, Mac was being towed off by Rennie two seconds later and Frankie was settling into Mac's deserted space against the bar. And Victor's body, still hyper-sensitive from Mac's teasing, was responding to the man's sexual appeal.

"I'm glad to see you," Frankie said simply. He accepted a drink from the bartender, who didn't seem to expect any payment.

The exchange made Victor curious. "Yeah. Well, someone told us this was the place to be tonight."

Frankie nodded. "Pretty much everyone shows up here for these parties. I'm glad you found out about it. I should have told you myself."

"Not a problem. We're here." Someone jostled Victor's arm and he barely saved the second half of his drink.

"Gets pretty crowded in here this late." Frankie smiled at him warmly. "By the way, I have another offer for you."

Uh oh. style='font-size: 10.0pt'>At that moment, Victor felt someone's arm sliding around his waist. He turned to see Mac back at his side, without Rennie. "What happened to...."

Mac shrugged. "He met an old boyfriend or something." There was a lie in his voice, but this wasn't the time to ask about it. "What are you guys up to?"

"I was just talking to Victor about helping me on a job," Frankie said easily.

"What kind of job?" Mac pulled Victor to stand in front of him, resting his chin casually on Victor's shoulder.

"I'm doing some work at the gym, replacing a bunch of shelves in the locker room, installing some in the office, a couple of things like that." Frankie's eyes glinted with amusement. "It's a two-man job and I noticed in your apartment the other day that Victor is pretty good with his hands. I thought he might like to help and earn a little extra money at the same time."

Remembering what had happened the last time Frankie had decided he needed help with a 'two man job', Victor started to refuse.

Mac, unaware of his partner's tension, broke in first. "That sounds like a great idea. I'm sure Vic would enjoy it." He hugged Victor. "And we can always use a little extra money, right, Vic?"

"That's settled, then." Frankie gave Victor a smile. "I'll see you at the gym at nine tomorrow."

Before Victor could come up with a good excuse, Frankie said good-bye and left.

"Let's get out of here." Victor pulled away from Mac and headed toward the door.

Once outside, he turned on his partner furiously. "You know, I can talk for myself. I've been doing it for years." He headed down the sidewalk toward home.

"I thought you were going to turn him down." Mac looked surprised. "We need to do anything we can to get in good with these guys. It sounded like a good idea, especially since Rennie told me that Frankie is one of the owners of the bar. He probably knows a lot about what's going on around here. What's the problem?"

"Nothing." Victor absorbed that knowledge. That explained why Frankie hadn't been expected to pay for his drink. And why he was so comfortable in his surroundings. He probably spent a lot of time there.

"Why do you think he has to do carpentry in his spare time if he owns that place?" Victor wondered. "It was packed tonight. Must be making a mint."

He and Victor looked at each other, both remembering the same thing. Frankie, showing up at their door that first day. Claiming he'd been sent to do some work in the apartment. Could it be that simple?

"That's something you can try to find out tomorrow," Mac suggested. His eyes narrowed and he grabbed Victor's arm. "Was he hitting on you?

"That's none of your business," Victor told him. "I can take care of myself." This time, his voice didn't leave any room for argument.

Mac dragged him to a stop. "He's probably a suspect, you know," he said hotly. "Why in the hell are you getting involved with him?"

"I'm not," Victor snapped. "I was just talking to the guy."

"Sure you were." Mac glared at him furiously. "That's what it looks like."

"What the hell does that mean?" Victor wondered what Mac had seen. "It was your idea for me to work with him, remember?"

"Victor." Mac sounded concerned. "That guys owns an leather bar, you know? Are you sure you want to...."

"I don't have much choice, do I?" Victor interrupted. "Thanks to you."

"I said you'd help the guy build some shelves," Mac objected. He climbed the stairs next to Victor. "I didn't volunteer you for anything else."

"He's not going to try anything in the middle of the gym, Mac." Victor fumbled for his keys. "It's a public place."

Back at the apartment, Victor unlocked the door and headed straight to the kitchen for a drink. He stood by the small kitchen table, staring out at the darkness.

After a few quiet minutes, he heard Mac come up behind him. Mac's hands came up to rest on Victor's waist lightly. "Victor?"

"We're not having sex," Victor said flatly. He turned to face Mac. "I don't know what the hell we're doing here, or why it's happening, but all this can do is screw things up for us on this case."

"It can if that's what you want it to do." Mac wasn't angry. He looked...defeated. "I guess it's pretty obvious that's what you want."

"It's not what I want," Victor said, wondering if it were true. "But that's what it's doing. It's messing things up." Messing me up.

"Okay. Your call." Mac shrugged and left the kitchen as quietly as he'd entered.

Victor didn't know what he had expected, but it wasn't this. Mac, being Mac, should have argued. Demanded. Pushed aside Victor's objections and insisted.

Victor felt a hot rush of guilt. He wanted Mac. And, if it didn't work out, he wanted it to be Mac's fault. It was a cheap trick to pull on the other man, assuming that Mac would be willing to bulldoze over Victor's objections and...what? Force himself on his partner?

Victor wondered how in the hell he'd gotten so screwed up. He sighed and headed to the living room.

Mac was sprawled on the couch, flipping around the TV channels.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?"" Victor decided to explain about Frankie. "The thing is...."

"Hey, it's no big deal." Mac flashed Victor an insincere smile.

Victor looked at Mac's unreceptive face and tried again. "Listen. Let me explain."

Mac interrupted him smoothly. "Don't worry about it. I was just trying to get your goat. I guess it worked."

"I didn't mean it the way it sounded," Victor insisted. "It's just that I was...."

Mac flipped off the television and threw down the remote. "I told you. Forget it." He stood up. "I think I need some fresh air."

Victor stood in the middle of the floor and watched his partner leave the apartment.

It wasn't that he wasn't attracted to Mac. Victor was honest enough with himself to be able to admit that. It was that he was also attracted to Frankie. Even to Eddie. And Victor had no idea if what he felt for Mac was any different.

It was just too weird to be plunged into a situation where the part of his life he'd always kept private was so open. Victor couldn't cope with the sudden change and he didn't have Mac's ability to just roll with whatever life threw his way.

He sat down and turned on the television. After sitting through two and a half hours of the worst movie he'd ever seen, he gave up and went to bed. When he fell asleep, he was still alone and he had no idea when his partner was going to come back.

When changed to if the next day, when Victor woke up looking at Mac's empty pillow. He laid there and stared at the ceiling, admitting to himself that he was worried.

Mac had a talent for getting himself into tough situations. And recently, he'd been able to rely on either Victor or Li Ann to help bail him out.

He headed toward the kitchen to make some coffee and was stopped by the sight of his partner, sound asleep on the couch.

God damn it. Victor's worry was instantly replaced by anger. Where in the hell had Mac been for half the night? It had been after one when Victor had gone to bed and he knew Mac had still been out. It was a hell of a stunt to pull in the middle of a case.

He stomped past Mac's sleeping body and into the kitchen, where he put on a pot of coffee and started making breakfast.

A few minutes later, he could hear Mac stirring around in the living room, then the sound of the shower running in the bathroom.

By the time Mac appeared in the kitchen, Victor had his temper more or less under control. They sat down to eat breakfast in silence.

"What time did you get in last night?" Victor handed Mac a cup of coffee.

Mac shrugged. "I don't know. Around two, I guess."

Victor nodded and poured himself more coffee. "Where were you?"

"Does it matter?" Mac stood up. "I'll handle this mess. You'd better get dressed. You're supposed to meet Frankie in half an hour."

Victor accepted Mac's unusual offer to clean the kitchen and went to get a shower.

Standing under the spray of hot water, he wondered again where Mac had gone the night before. Back to the bar? The park?

Victor dressed and left the apartment without another word to his partner. Mac could do any damned thing he wanted.

At the gym, maybe Frankie could sense the mood Victor was in or maybe his mind was on something else, but he was all business this morning.

The two of them started in the locker room and repaired the battered shelves with none of the sexual innuendo and teasing that the same job had inspired in Victor's apartment.

It wasn't until they moved into the office that Victor had the first hint of something odd happening. And then it had nothing to do with Frankie.

It was Doug, the gym manager, who aroused his curiosity. Victor also remembered that Mac had felt something odd about Doug the first day they'd visited the gym.

Today, the young gym manager insisted on hanging around in the office, even when he was obviously in the way of the men he was paying by the hour. When Frankie managed to drive him off, Doug kept reappearing every couple of minutes.

"Does he think we're going to steal something?" Victor asked Frankie. "Why doesn't he just take the money or whatever it is out with him?"

"I don't know," Frankie admitted. "They don't keep any money here. After you sign up the first time, all the money is mailed to a different address. I'm not sure what Doug's problem is. I've done some work here a couple of times before and he's always kind of nervous."

Victor nodded. "Tell me," he said casually. "Why do you do this?" He motioned in front of them at the half-finished job. "Someone told us you own that bar, so it can't be the money."

Frankie smiled at him cheerfully. "You'd be surprised what the overhead is in a place like that. Besides, I'm only part-owner. By the time you divide what profits there are up four ways, there's not much left."

Victor wondered if he really wanted to know what kind of expenses there were associated with a leather bar. "So, you need the extra money?"

"The money's useful," Frankie admitted. "And I like working with my hands. It's better than sitting in an office somewhere, pushing papers around."

"I hear you, there." Victor had never understood how anyone could spend their life that way.

Frankie's attention was back on the job at hand, so Victor let the conversation drop.

From then on, he kept his eyes open when Doug popped into the office, trying to figure out what it was that the young man was protecting. All he could tell was that it was somewhere on the desk.

They were done with the job before Frankie let the subject get personal again. "Victor," he said, packing his tools away carefully. "I know there's something wrong between you and Mac."

He stopped Victor's automatic objection, holding his hand up to silence him. "It's none of my business and maybe the two of you will work it out. But I want to make sure you know that I am interested in you. It wasn't just an impulse at the party that night. Or the other time."

"Look, Frankie, I don't...."

"If it doesn't work out," Frankie said clearly. "I just wanted you to know you have someplace to go."

He picked up his toolbox and gave Victor a warm smile. "You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know."

He left the office, leaving Victor to follow him more slowly. When he tried to think about Frankie's offer, Mac's face was all he could see.

Doug was hovering just outside the office door, making Victor glad he hadn't tried to stay behind for a quick search. He wasn't really paying attention when the young man darted past him into the office. The sound of a lock clicking into place grabbed him, though.

That was...odd. Very much so in a gym where the lockers didn't even lock. Of everything they'd seen since they got here, this came the closest to something really suspicious.

Victor pushed aside his personal problems and hurried home. By the time he burst into the apartment, his disagreement with Mac was forgotten.

"Listen, you remember Doug?" he said excitedly.

Mac looked up from where he was cleaning his guns. "The guy at the gym?"

"Yeah. You remember you thought there was something weird about the guy?"

Mac frowned. "I remember. Nothing specific, just kind of a feeling." He sat up. "What is it? What happened?"

Victor explained quickly. It wasn't much, but it was definitely peculiar in the friendly community they had gotten used to. And it was far and away the best lead they'd had since they'd arrived.

After discussion, they agreed on a plan. Victor showered again and changed, and the two men headed toward the café across from the gym. Eddie, with plenty of time on his hands, was very willing to answer questions about Doug.

"He's nice," was Eddie's first assessment. "You know. Always going out of his way for people." He thought for a moment. "Like, one time, I forgot my bag when I left the gym. Doug dropped it off at my house that night. He wouldn't even stay for a drink, even though me and my friends asked him to. He's a really nice guy, you know? He does stuff like that for a lot of people."

A handful of people showed up demanding lunch and Eddie had to go back to work. Victor and Mac stayed stubbornly at their table, keeping an eye on the front of the gym. They weren't sure what else to do.

They could go in, of course, but it wasn't likely that Doug would do anything, if he was doing anything he shouldn't, in full view of the members. And for the two of them to spend the next six hours in the gym might warn Doug that he was being watched.

They'd been there for a couple of hours when Mac spotted Doug leaving the gym and standing at a pay phone nearby. He made a short call, then dropped a manila envelope into corner mailbox.

"That's odd." Victor frowned. "He's got a phone in the office and another at the front desk."

"The postman stopped in while I was at the desk that first day," Mac offered. "There's no reason Doug would have to take his mail outside."

They looked at each other and smiled. Maybe it was related to their case and maybe it wasn't. But it was something, and that was all that counted in this dead-end case.

"Did you see anything on the desk?" Mac insisted an hour later when they'd about exhausted speculation on what Doug might have mailed. "Anything like that envelope? An address?"

"I told you, no," Victor told him. "I was working, remember? Besides that, Doug was in and out of there every thirty seconds. I didn't see anything. Just that whatever it was he was twitching about, it was on the desk."

"The computer," Mac burst out. "There was a computer, right?"

"Right."

"We'll do it tonight," Mac said triumphantly. "We need to break in, hack the computer, and see what's there."

"Just like that?" Victor frowned at him. "We just hack his computer, no problem?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"He's not going to keep anything incriminating on a computer sitting in the middle of his desk," Victor objected.

"He'll have some kind of primitive security on it," Mac assumed. "But he probably figures it's safe enough. I mean, this neighborhood isn't exactly a showcase for tight security, you know? Besides, there must be something in the office. Look how nervous he was to have you guys in there."

"You're probably right," Victor agreed reluctantly. While Mac tried to get into the computer, he'd use the time to search the desk for more traditional information. Like incriminating pieces of paper.

They spent the rest of the day in surveillance, with one of them inside the gym most of the time and the other outside in case Doug left again. Nothing else happened except that they both had proof that the gym was a very popular place for most of the neighborhood.

Victor was glad that they'd had to split up. Now that he knew what to say, they needed to talk. But he hadn't changed his mind about it being a bad idea to do it in the middle of an assignment.

By the time they were back in the apartment, getting ready for that night's mission, they were both focused on the job at hand.

Mac had torn down both of his guns and was cleaning them carefully. Victor had finished his own weapons earlier, now he was getting together the other things they might need for the night. Dark, non-reflective clothes. Gloves. Lock picks. Flashlights. Extra clips for the guns, although he didn't expect to use them.

In the background, the television played another baseball game quietly. They both watched the game as they got ready to go. They had voted against trying to sleep this time. What they had planned for the gym wasn't as strenuous as their visit to the docks. They should be in and out of the empty building in a couple of hours.

During commercials, they speculated on what they might find as the gym, and on what the connection might between the gym and the disappearances.

It was oddly domestic. Victor found himself smiling at the casual familiarity of the scene that would have looked so strange to anyone else.

Victor finished his share of the work and sat down on the couch. Actions were supposed to speak louder than words, right?

Mac was seated on the floor in front of him, focused on wiping the excess oil from one of his guns. Victor slid forward until he had Mac's body framed between his knees. "You about done there?"

"Getting closer," Mac said absently.

The curve of Mac's neck under the light turtleneck caught Victor's attention. He traced it with his finger, then eased the fabric out of the way and ran his mouth across the arch. There was a whiff of soap that almost covered up Mac's personal scent, but the clean sweetness was there, in his hair and on his skin.

"I'm kinda busy here, Vic."

"Sure. No problem." Victor worked his way around and behind one ear, nipping gently at the point of the jaw tucked behind the soft flesh.

Mac's hands stopped moving and he leaned into the touch. "Victor?"

"Mmmm?" It didn't take much of a stretch to cover most of the side of Mac's neck. Victor tasted the skin, feeling the sharp prickles of unshaven hair rasping against his tongue.

"Did I...uh...miss something along the line?"

Victor slid his hands over Mac's shoulders and down his chest, remembering what the other man's naked body had felt like pressed against his. "I don't think so."

Mac's head turned, pressing his cheek against Victor's mouth. "Just checking."

The curve of Mac's lips was just out of reach. Victor pulled Mac back against his leg, tipping his head up so Victor could reach his mouth for a slow, deep kiss. Warmth poured through him in a heavy flood, pooling and centering between his legs.

"Not that I'm objecting or anything," Mac offered, "but your timing kind of sucks."

"Yeah. I know." Victor kissed him again, feeling the tension easing from Mac's neck as he relaxed into the embrace. "I want you." It was surprisingly easy to say all of a sudden. "Okay?"

Mac wiped his hands and turned to face Victor. "Very okay." His eyes searched Victor's face. "We could always go in tomorrow."

They couldn't, and they both knew it. Victor looked at him. There was room, there on the floor between the couch and the table. A touch, and Mac would be there beneath him, arms and legs tangled around Victor's body.

Victor leaned back and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I just wanted you to know."

Mac reached up to kiss him briefly. "Yeah, you should have. I just wish..."

"Better luck next time, right?" Victor smiled awkwardly.

Mac stared at him for a second, then a grin split his face. "In about two hours."

"Yeah?" Victor smiled back, feeling a surge of warmth again. "You think so?"

"I know so," Mac told him, still grinning.

"I guess it's a date." Victor touched his cheek, then stood up. "Get finished," he ordered. "It's almost time to go."

"Is it my fault I'm not done?"

Victor heard the laughter in Mac's voice, so he didn't bother to answer.

It was almost eleven by the time they found themselves skulking down the almost empty streets to the gym. Breaking into the building itself was child's play. Even the heavier lock on the office door barely slowed them down.

Once they were inside, Mac re-locked the door and then turned on the lights. The office didn't have any windows, and the faint gleam of light under the door would shine only into the dark building.

Victor rifled the desk efficiently, using his training to look at each pile of documents and then replace them exactly where he'd found them.

Next to him, Mac announced that he'd found a series of locked files on the computer. It wasn't long before he was cursing because he couldn't break the security.

Victor looked at Mac's intent face. He liked his partner best this way. Intent. Focused. Alive with the challenge of the job at hand.

He reached out to touch him, then a faint scraping noise caught his attention. He stopped Mac's fingers clicking on the keyboard with tap on the shoulder.

They both listened.

"Car," Mac said suddenly. "Parking outside."

Fortunately, they'd had a lot of practice at this. It was the work of seconds to put everything back where they'd found it, switch off the office light, and re-lock the door with them on the outside.

A nearby laundry cart gave them a place to hide. They watched around the corner as Doug, lighting his way with a flashlight, came across the gym floor and unlocked the office door. He disappeared inside and they could see the light of the flashlight playing across the room.

"You think he saw us come in?" Mac's voice was an almost soundless whisper in Victor's ear.

Victor shook his head. "No way," he mouthed back. "Or he'd have been in here fifteen minutes ago."

Mac nodded. A few seconds later, Doug came back out of the office, carrying another manila envelope. He locked the door behind him, re-crossed the gym floor, and disappeared outside.

"Whatever we were looking for, I think it just walked out of here," Mac suggested.

"I think you're right." Victor stood up. "Come on." He led the way to the exit door.

They listened, waiting until they heard the car start up and pull away from the building before they pushed open the door.

"Damn it!" Mac's curse was heartfelt and way too loud for a couple of guys supposed to be on a clandestine mission.

"Keep it down, Mac," Victor warned. He scanned the area and was relieved to see that it was deserted.

The two men were completely alone.

"Damn it!" Victor swore.

He and Mac headed for the middle of the street. A quick look revealed their quarry's tail lights shrinking out of sight to the right.

The two of them took off at a dead run, using what they'd learned about the neighborhood over the past few days to cut through yards and alleys, trying to close the gap between them and Doug.

"Why didn't you bring the car?" Mac gasped.

"Me!" Victor glared at his partner and almost tripped over a curb. "Why the hell didn't you think of it?"

"I can't think of everything." Mac bounced off of the top of a trash can, setting a nearby dog barking at the noise. He grabbed the top of a wooden fence and swing himself over.

Victor followed him, almost missing the edge and barely saving himself from falling on his ass as he tumbled down the other side.

He caught up to Mac. "You don't think of anything. Extra guns, ammo, lock picks. I always have to pack for both of us."

"Save your breath, Victor. You're going to need it."

They caught sight of Doug's car slowing at a stop light and ran closer to the buildings to keep out of his sight.

"One of us should go get the car," Mac suggested. "While the other one keeps him in sight."

"And then how are we supposed to find each other?" Victor panted.

Mac shook his head and kept running. They were less than half a block behind Doug's motionless car.

"Why didn't we bring cell phones?" Mac slowed down to stay behind their target. "Then we could call each other."

"Because you didn't think of it," Victor said bitterly.

A city bus pulled up to the curb just ahead of them.

"Get on," Victor said. He led the way to the bus and they jumped on ahead of the closing doors.

Mac dragged out coins for the fare and they crowded together in a front seat, their eyes glued to Doug's car as the light turned green.

The car pulled straight through the intersection and the bus pulled into traffic not far behind it.

"Where do you think he's headed?" Mac said quietly.

The car moved left and the two men tensed until they saw that Doug had just been giving room to a bicyclist.

Three blocks later, the bus slowed and pulled up to another curb. Doug's car kept moving.

No one got on or off but the driver paused at the stop long enough for Victor to wonder if he'd have to forcibly restrain Mac from jumping off and continuing the chase on foot.

"What's he waiting for?" Mac snarled. He glared at the back of the driver's unsuspecting head.

The door swung closed and the bus lumbered back into traffic with a squeal of brakes.

Victor could feel Mac silently willing the driver to speed up. When the bus picked up speed, taking advantage of a lull in traffic, Victor nudged his partner.

"Breathe. Or you're going to pass out," he whispered.

Mac kept his fixed eyes on Doug's distant tail lights again. A traffic light flickered from green to yellow and a second later Doug's tail lights flashed bright red.

Ma sighed and leaned back, then jumped up. "Come on."

Victor followed, waiting while Mac argued with the bus driver about opening the doors between stops. Mac finally shoved a ten dollar bill into the guy's hand. That did the trick.

Mac bounded off the bus and Victor followed more slowly. A glance at Doug's car thirty feet away made him hope that the gym manager wasn't looking in his rear view mirror at that moment.

"We can't keep up with him on foot," Victor argued as Mac headed for the sidewalk.

"We can as long as he's in this neighborhood," Mac insisted. "There's a traffic light on every block and he's bound to hit at least half of them red."

"What do you expect us to do? Run down the sidewalk chasing him? Oh, yeah. That's really inconspicuous." Victor jumped out of the way of a bicyclist and almost knocked his partner down.

Mac braced him until Victor caught his balance. "All we have to do is walk fast." The light turned green and Mac took off.

Victor jogged along next to him. "This is not a walk. People are staring at us!" It was the clothes. Head-to-toe black, with gloves and hoods, would have looked odd on almost any street, much less the urban shopping area they were running through.

"So what?" Mac looked annoyed. "You should be used to that by now."

Victor gave some thought to tripping him. It might be worth losing Doug to see Mac take a header into the concrete for that remark.

Victor dodged a skateboarder. "He's going to see us," he threatened.

"We'll have to take that chance." Mac hesitated at a curb, then they sprinted out into traffic and to the other side of the street. A chorus of angry horns followed them.

They ran a couple of blocks in silence, saving their breath.

Ahead of them, Victor could see the lights and traffic thinning out. "This way," he ordered, swerving to the left.

The cab driver looked frightened to see two black-clad men fall panting into his vacant back seat.

"Go!" Victor gasped.

The guy turned on the car, staring over his shoulder at them suspiciously. "Where?"

"Drive!" Mac almost screamed. He dragged a twenty out of his pocket and threw it on the seat next to the driver. "Move, damn it!"

The cab swung wildly into traffic, throwing both men against the door. "Where are we going?" The man sounded panicked.

"Follow that car," Mac told him. "There's another twenty in it for you if you don't lose him."

"Which car?"

They sat up and looked around. None of the tail lights ahead of them were the ones they'd been following.

"Shit!" Mac slammed his fist against the seat. "We lost him."

"No." Victor grabbed his arm. "There. There he is." He pointed ahead of them to where a distant set of lights was turning right.

"Two blocks," Victor told the driver. "Then turn right. We'll tell you after that."

Mac leaned against the front seat, ignoring the driver's nervous twitch.

Victor ignored it, too. The guy was being well-paid to put up with a little weirdness. He was lucky Mac hadn't taken the wheel himself. Then there would have been something to be afraid of.

"There!" Mac pointed. "He's turning left."

"That's the highway," the driver said timidly.

"Take it," Victor ordered.

Their frightened chauffeur sped up and made it through a yellow light at the last intersection, then swung the car onto the ramp.

"Faster," Mac said dangerously.

The car lurched ahead and onto the highway.

Mac forced the driver to weave through traffic until they were only a few cars behind their quarry, then he let the terrified man relax for a few minutes.

One, two, three miles later, Doug moved into the exit lane.

"Get off here," Mac demanded.

The cab jerked over onto the exit ramp. Now they were only one car behind their unsuspecting leader.

"Where the hell are we?" Victor looked around the deserted streets.

"Edge of Sea Terrace." The driver gulped and shot a look at him in the rear view mirror.

Mac nudged Victor. "Rollie told me about this place," he whispered. "Most expensive area in town."

Victor whistled softly. "Little Doug is keeping very nice company. Who do you suppose he knows out here?"

The cab stopped at a red light. Before Mac could browbeat the driver into running it, they saw Doug stop at a gas station across the street. He parked the car, got out, and made his way to a pay phone.

While Mac and Victor were watching Doug dial his call, the frightened cab driver acted. In one movement, he turned off the engine, jerked the keys out of the ignition, and jumped out into the street. "Get out of my cab!"

Victor admired the way the terrified man had gathered the courage to confront them. It could have been suicidal, of course, if they'd been whatever kind of criminals he suspected, but it still showed guts.

Mac started to go over the seat after the guy and Victor grabbed his arm. He threw a handful of bills onto the front seat and dragged his protesting partner onto the shadowed sidewalk next to the street.

Mac yanked his arm free. "What in the hell did you do that for?" he protested as the cab took off, tires squealing.

Across the street, Doug looked up and watched it drive past.

"What did you want to do?" Victor demanded. "Start a fight with the guy and attract the attention of everyone within a mile? We'll be lucky if he doesn't report us."

"Now we're on foot again," Mac pointed out sullenly.

"Something tells me we won't have far to go." This didn't look like the kind of area you just drove through on the way to somewhere else. Doug's destination had to be close.

The object of the chase hung up the phone and got back into his car. They waited until he was back on the road, headed away from them, then ran across the street.

Victor forced his impatient partner to walk by the gas station, conscious of the eyes of the bored attendants. After that, they broke into a run again. It was easier than Victor had expected to catch up with Doug. He was driving slowly, either obeying the posted limit, or just enjoying the neighborhood.

"On television, the cab drivers like to be told to 'follow that car'," Mac complained once.

Victor ignored him and kept jogging.

Doug had gone about ten blocks, more than enough to make Victor regret the vanished cab, when he slowed down and turned left into a private drive.

Fifteen feet into the lushly landscaped drive, the car slowed to a stop in front of heavy, metal gates. From the protection of the bushes, they watched Doug speak into a hidden intercom. There was a pause, then white floodlights flared into brilliance across the driveway and the heavy gates slid back just far enough for the car to squeeze in between them.

Victor could feel Mac tensing to sprint the distance to the gates, and he held him back.

"Look." He got Mac's attention and pointed to the security cameras covering every inch of the entry. "We'll never make it.

The floodlights stayed on until Doug's car cleared the gates then they disappeared as abruptly as they'd appeared.

"Now what?" Victor kept his voice low, in case the area was also wired for sound.

"Now we search the perimeter," Mac said briskly. He didn't seem to have the same concern. "Look for a weak spot."

"I'm right behind you." Victor followed as Mac picked his way through the dense shrubbery toward the stone wall.

They surveyed the defenses. The wall was easily seven feet high. Not an impossible height, but the tangle of ugly barbed wire three feet thick that topped it was a different story. The trees had been pruned back on the side next to the stone, so no overhanging branches offered an easy path across the lethal wire.

"Come on." Mac motioned and they started working down the length of the wall.

It went on and on. Victor wondered who in the hell could afford to own this much land in the middle of this kind of neighborhood.

"Aha!" Mac's triumphant whisper interrupted his speculations.

Just ahead of them, a casualty of the storm two nights before, a heavy limb had been blown off one tree and sideways across the barbed wire defense.

"Perfect." Mac looked as smug as though he'd arranged for the accident personally.

"Just climb up there and check out the other side of the wall." Victor wasn't in the mood.

"You don't want to do the honors?" Mac grinned at Victor's tired glare. "Okay, then. See you on the other side."

Victor waited for Mac to climb the tree and scan the terrain. When his partner jumped from the fallen limb down behind the wall, Victor assumed that the way was clear and he followed. He hit the ground on the other side harder than he'd expected, and he knelt there, looking around.

The barren expanse of lawn was deserted except for the two of them. Mac was stretched out on the soft turf a couple of feet away, smiling up at the stars.

"Taking a nap?" Victor asked sarcastically. He climbed to his feet and brushed himself off. "Let's go check out the house."

Mac followed him, still smiling. "This place is a dream. No electronics, no guards, not even any dogs."

"Which suggests there's nothing to guard," Victor told him. "And nothing to hide." He took a quiet, personal second to promise himself he would never again set up a night mission without getting some sleep first. Until now, they had been running on adrenaline, but that would only take him so far.

Closer to the house, there were enough decorative trees and bushes to give them a minimum of cover.

"Shall we?" Mac peered through an open curtain into a brightly lit room.

Victor sighed and handed him the lock picks they'd used to break into the gym.

Mac worked the lock slowly and Victor knew his partner was listening for the sound, or the feel, of a hidden lock being tripped.

The French window swung open with silent grace. The two men froze, but no shrill of alarms broke the night silence.

Mac took a close look at the lock, then stuck his head inside the window and looked at the wall on each side.

He frowned at Victor. "No electronics," he repeated. "No infrared sensors, no silent alarm, no nothing."

"Makes our job easier." Victor gave him a shove.

Mac didn't move. "I don't like it. How many houses do you think there are in this neighborhood that don't have dogs or alarms? Or, both?"

Victor thought about it. Mac's criminal instincts about this kind of thing were pretty reliable. "What do you think it is?"

"I don't know." Mac shook his head, took another look at the window, then shrugged. "Whatever it is, it's too late now."

Victor shot a glance back at the wall and then at the house. "Damn it," he swore.

"What?"

"How are we going to get out?"

Mac stared across at the seven foot wall. "We'll think of something."

"Let's hope we're not in a hurry." Victor sighed. "Okay, we've come this far. Let's do it."

They stepped through the window, nerves tight.

Nothing happened.

Mac shrugged again and locked the window neatly behind them. "Might as well make ourselves at home."

They crept through the eerily silent house. Everywhere they looked, they saw thick carpet, heavy furniture, and expensive artwork.

"If I was still working...." Mac fingered a small silver statuette thoughtfully.

Victor took it away from him and put it back on the table. "You are working. You're just not allowed to steal things any more."

"Not without orders, anyhow." Mac gave the piece of brass a regretful look and they moved on.

At Mac's suggestion, they searched for a stairway leading down. It made sense that if anything was going on in the poorly defended house, it would be down where it wouldn't easily be seen.

They didn't find a stairway, but they did find a modern and well-equipped laboratory. There were locked scientific sample cases and some glass-fronted refrigerators, also locked. Neither of them understood the notations on the row after row of test tube samples. That kind of thing had always been Li Ann's area.

Victor thought some of the symbols had to do with blood types. Mac said that others were tissue samples. He also said they could be biological warfare samples. Victor didn't put too much faith in either guess. That was as far as they got in trying to figure out what they might be looking at.

At the end of that hallway, once they left the lab, they found something else interesting. Behind a heavy, metal door was a lavish home theatre set-up. Complete with about fifty padded, theatre seats.

It was when they noticed that every seat was equipped with webbed restraints that both Mac and Victor were convinced they'd stumbled into the answer to their case. Exactly what that answer was, neither of them knew.

Mac tugged on one of the restraints and looked around. "You know what we need to do?"

Victor looked up. "Get into the projection room and figure out just what kind of movies they're showing that are so bad they have to tie their guests to the chairs?"

Mac grinned. "You read my mind, buddy. Let's go."

The stairs leading up were a lot more accessible than the stairs to the still-theoretical basement. They were right next to the theatre entrance.

The projection room was just as easy to find. Unfortunately, it was locked. Even more unfortunately, this lock showed no inclination to give way to the lock picks they were carrying.

"Why didn't you bring the bigger set of picks?" Mac complained, wrestling with the stubborn lock.

"Don't start that again." Victor touched Mac's arm. "Listen."

The faint sound of voices, the first they'd heard, came to them from somewhere down the hallway.

"Should we go eavesdrop?"

Victor shook his head, still listening. "They're headed this way."

They looked around but the locked projection room was the only door in sight except for the one they'd just come through.

Victor hit the door to the stairs an instant before Mac reached it. They slid through and let it close soundlessly behind them.

Down the stairs and through that door. The voices got louder the second before the door closed, telling them that whoever it was, they were also coming down the stairs.

Mac grabbed Victor's arm and dragged him back into the theatre. They chose the row farthest from the door and crawled into the center of it, throwing themselves on their backs and pulling out their guns.

At the other end of the room, the door clicked open.

"What do you think?" It was a deep, gravelly voice. "Seventy-five thousand for the standard fittings and worth every penny."

A softer voice said something Victor didn't catch.

Mac kicked him gently. When Victor looked over, Mac mouthed, "Doug."

Victor nodded and went back to listening. The first speaker was older, that was all he could tell so far.

"Of course," said the louder voice. "The custom work cost a bit more." There was a harsh laugh.

Doug asked a question and again, Victor couldn't understand the words.

"Next week," the older man said. He laughed again and this time the sound sent a chill down Victor's spine. "Not until next week."

Victor heard the door click shut and the voices became muffled, disappearing as the two men moved away.

After the silence had gone unbroken for a few minutes, Mac spoke. "What do you think?"

"I think this qualifies as an emergency," Victor said firmly. He peeked over the edge of the seats, then stood up. "Let's get out of here."

"We haven't found the guys yet," Mac objected.

Victor tucked away his gun. "We don't even know if they're here. They probably aren't, or there would be security, don't you think?"

"That's true." Mac followed him to the door. "We should do something, though."

"I agree." Victor checked the hallway. It was empty. He led the way back toward the room they'd used to enter the house.

"What do you suggest?"

They climbed out the French window and Mac locked it behind them again.

"We call the Director, let her know what we've found." Victor headed for the wall. "We tell her that, whatever it is, it doesn't seem to be happening until next week."

"Okay." Mac stopped to survey the stone and wire barrier.

"Then," Victor continued, "we come back in here tomorrow night with some better equipment and we take this place apart."

"Now that is what I call a plan!" Mac said enthusiastically.

"Of course, that's always assuming we manage to get out of here," Victor finished.

"I have a plan for that," Mac offered.

"It's about time you did some of the thinking." Victor looked at his partner. "What is it?"

Three minutes later, he had vaulted up from Mac's back and was sprawled out over the broken branch, trying not to let the barbed wire puncture him through his jacket and jeans. Mac was dangling at the end of his outstretched arms, putting a painful strain on Victor's shoulders as he dragged himself up and onto the comparative safety of the branch.

"Get off of me." Victor waited until Mac's weight shifted. "I think you dislocated both of my shoulders."

"Stop complaining." Mac eased over and dropped to the ground on the street side of the wall. "We got out, didn't we?" he called up quietly.

Victor experimented with moving his arms. It hurt, but they were both still working. It took some effort, but he managed to get off of the branch and onto the ground beside his partner without breaking his neck. He led the way toward the street and they headed back in the direction of the gas station.

Mac nudged him. "Wanna race?"

"Get away from me." Victor rubbed his left shoulder, wondering if it had always had that bump right there.

"Victor?"

Beside him, he could see Mac bracing himself. "Yeah?"

"Remember that the next time I ask you if you want to be on top." Mac broke into a run and managed to avoid Victor's grab by a bare inch.

They were at the gas station before Victor caught him and by then Victor was too winded for revenge.

"You are such a jerk, sometimes." Victor shoved his partner aside and dialed the number. He fed change into the machine until the connection was made. A complicated series of numbers put him through to the Director's voice mail and Victor explained both their findings and their plan, then hung up.

Another phone call with the last of Mac's change got them a cab. They waited for it in silence, their earlier burst of adrenaline seeping away and leaving them both exhausted.

In the cab, they stayed quiet, neither of them willing to discuss what they'd seen in front of the cab driver.

They passed back over the highway, then toward the same urban shopping area, now deserted, that they'd gone through earlier.

Victor ignored Mac's nudge until his partner repeated it with whisper. "Victor!"

"What?"

"How much money have you got?"

Victor searched his pockets and found a few crumpled bills. Mac took them from his hand and added them to the pile he was already holding. A glance at the cab's meter showed them both that they were going to be walking before long.

They both sat there, eyes glued on the meter at it approached the total they had to spend.

"Um," Victor told the driver. "Why don't you go ahead and let us out here?"

"Right here?" The man looked surprised. "It's only about half a mile to the address you gave me. Are you sure?"

"Yeah, we're sure," Victor insisted, and the driver shrugged and pulled over. They got out and started walking.

"Why do you think he's doing it?" They were back in the apartment before Mac spoke again.

"I don't know. We don't even know what they're doing yet."

Or if the men we were sent to find are still alive. Neither of them had to say it, the thought was there, in front of both of them.

In spite of the hour, Victor headed to the kitchen for a beer, his mind worrying over the problem. They hadn't found a basement, so the missing men could be at the house. The lack of security worried him. If the owner was holding twenty-three presumably unwilling prisoners, surely he would have needed guards? Unless the security wherever they were being held was something very special.

Mac followed him into the kitchen, then just stood there behind him. Waiting? Victor turned to face him.

"Why did you kiss me, earlier?" Mac asked patiently.

"Because I wanted to." Victor winced at the stupidity of the remark. "Because I was wrong, before." he added, looking Mac in the eye.

Mac frowned. "Wrong about what?"

"About...a lot of things. What I wanted. What was happening. That it would screw things up."

"Are we okay now?" Mac asked hopefully.

"Yeah." Victor wrapped his arms around Mac's waist and pulled them together again. "We're okay."

"That's good." Mac grinned half-heartedly. "Because you've been driving me crazy, you know?"

"Right." Victor smiled back at him. "Like you didn't have every other guy in the neighborhood standing in line."

"I'm the monogamous type," Mac said lightly. "Focused, you know."

"You're obsessive," Victor corrected. He ran his hands up the long planes of Mac's back, feeling the play of muscle beneath the soft shirt.

"Is there any possibility that this relationship is going to move from talking to sex in the near future?"

"A remote one." Victor smiled at him. "If you play your cards right."

"The way I see it...." Mac took his arm and pulled Victor toward the door. "Location is key in these situations, right? I mean, look around you. It's a kitchen. Not really a room associated with romance, okay?"

"No?" Victor followed the tug on his arm easily, smiling." Wait until you taste my Coq au Vin."

"Please. Don't talk about your cooking." Mac smiled and backed toward the bedroom. "It will spoil the mood."

"Insulting me isn't guaranteed to improve it," Victor pointed out. He glanced at the chair directly behind Mac and the other man stepped around it.

"Insulting you and telling the truth about your cooking isn't quite the same thing." Mac tugged him into the bedroom and toward the bed. "The two subjects aren't connected."

"Ahhh..." Victor nodded. "I see. Well, thank you for pointing that out to me. I'll try to remember it the next time you throw two hours worth of work down the disposal."

"Work with me here, Victor," Mac ordered.

"Talk less," Victor suggested. "Act more."

"That I can do." Mac leaned forward and kissed him.

Victor slid his arms around Mac's waist and kissed him back, enjoying the slow measurement of each other's responses as their mouths battled gently for dominance.

"Very nice," Mac murmured. He fingered Victor's shirt. "So, how do you want to do this? Should we get undressed and get into bed? Or do you want to kind of...undress each other as we go?"

"I don't know." For the first time, Victor felt a kind of awkwardness. "I hadn't really thought about it."

"What do you usually do?" Mac insisted.

"I don't know," Victor repeated. "I mean, it's not an exact science, you know?"

"Oh." Mac nodded. "Then just, kind of however the mood strikes you?"

"Yeah. I guess so."

"Well, that's not very much help."

"I can't believe this." Victor pulled away. "You aren't telling me that you can't have sex without a plan?"

"No, nothing like that," Mac objected. "I was just trying to figure out what we should do first."

"Jesus." Victor turned away. "Well, I'm not in the mood any more."

"Victor!" Mac grabbed his arm. "Look, I'm sorry, okay?"

"I did say you were talking too much."

"I know. I'll shut up, I promise." Mac tugged at his arm. "Really."

"Not another word," Victor warned.

"I promise," Mac repeated.

Victor gathered Mac back into his arms. "You can make requests," he offered. "Or...you know, noises, if that's your thing."

"Right." Mac nodded. "Requests. Noises."

"No more questions."

"I swear." Mac grinned at him.

Victor started to kiss him, then stopped and sighed. "I am completely out of the mood."

"Victor, come on."

Victor pushed him away. "Not another word." He gave Mac a warning look. "Take your clothes off and get into bed."

A minute later, they were laying on the bed, staring at each other.

Another minute passed, and neither of them moved.

"This is all your fault, you know," Victor said.

Mac didn't move a muscle. Victor relented and slid over to put his arm around him. "It doesn't have to be complicated. Just...stop talking."

Mac nodded.

"That's better." Victor pushed Mac onto his back and ran a finger along his jaw, conscious of Mac's eyes watching him every second.

He traced the arc of one ear, then down Mac's neck and slowly down his chest. He combed his fingers through the lush spread of hair across the chest, enjoying the prickly rasp against his fingertips. Mac shivered slightly when the exploring fingers grazed one nipple. Victor tested each of them, enjoying the response each touch generated. His own body twitched in sympathy, understanding the sensation.

The lean warmth of Mac's ribs were next. Victor smoothed his hand across them, feeling the gentle rise and fall of the other man's breathing. His hand swept past the concave hollow of the hip and across one long thigh. Under his touch, Mac's muscles tightened, and relaxed unsteadily.

The heaviness of Mac's growing erection was matched by the heat between Victor's legs. Victor pressed his hips against Mac's thigh.

"There's nothing in the rules against moving," he said. Mac's legs shifted and parted, inviting an exploration of the dark hollow between them. Victor's hand dipped into the shadow, stroking the tender skin until Mac's hips were pushing restlessly against the touch.

Victor propped himself up on one arm and repeated the careful exploration, his hand gradually moving back up Mac's body to his neck. By the time his fingers probed the hollow of Mac's neck, Victor could feel the pulse throbbing erratically beneath the skin.

"Are you a little more relaxed, now?"

Mac kept his lips pressed together.

Victor smiled. "You can answer a direct question. Just...don't get carried away."

"Don't stop." Mac pushed against Victor's hand.

Well, that was an answer. Victor kissed him again, slowly and deeply, taking his time. This what he had waited for. What they had both been waiting for.

"You could touch me," Victor suggested.

Mac's hands were on Victor instantly, moving across his chest, down his sides, up to grip his shoulders and pull him down across Mac for another kiss. Mac's mouth was sweet and sharp, he tasted just the way he smelled. Incredible.

The feel of Mac's body twisting and moving beneath his hardened Victor's cock. Mac's erection was trapped against his and every twist or arch of Mac's hips and back created a wave of sensation that begged for more.

They kissed again, their earlier care getting lost in the growing hunger between them. Victor felt Mac's hands on his hips, pushing, lifting, until Victor slid between Mac's thighs and one long leg wrapped itself around his waist.

Victor shuddered and thrust against the hot skin. His hands gripped Mac's shoulders with bruising force. "Is that a request?" he panted against the other man's mouth.

Mac's hands clenched in his hair, pulling Victor's head back. Slick wetness punctuated with achingly sharp bites worked across his neck until Victor was moaning and thrusting his hips against Mac's body relentlessly. A last bite, sharp enough to pierce the skin, Victor was certain, and he leaned into the incredible pleasure of it, his hips working helplessly in rhythm with the urgent sucking.

Victor fell into another kiss, his mouth taking revenge for the hungry ache in his neck and his cock. His arms locked Mac's body in place as Victor's hips drove his cock hard against the yielding flesh of Mac's stomach.

Mac tore his mouth free. "Victor," he panted. "Wait."

"No." Victor reclaimed his mouth, his body moving almost out of control as Mac convulsed beneath him.

"C'mon," Mac pushed at his shoulders. "I want to touch you. Taste you."

Taste you . Victor's body hovered on the edge of no return. He forced himself up and off of Mac's body, his nerves screaming in protest when the pressure he craved was removed.

Mac had only an instant's warning before Victor's mouth descended on his cock. A slow, hungry lick from head to base, and then Victor nuzzled and sucked the heavy sac until Mac was jerking and whimpering with need.

Victor lapped the thick base, his tongue finding and tracing the vein that twisted beneath the skin. He sucked it ruthlessly, his mouth slowly working toward the flaring crown. With every inch he gained, Mac's body shuddered and the pulse under Victor's tongue throbbed and raced.

He could see the other man's hands twisted savagely in the blankets, tearing helplessly at the thick fabric as his body strained up to meet Victor's searching mouth. Another slow, teasing lick, and Victor's mouth closed over the swollen head.

Above him, Mac cried out and his hands closed heavily on Victor's head. A burning thrust, and another, and Victor's mouth filled with the bitter salt of Mac's orgasm.

Mac's body shivered under the stroking of Victor's tongue until Mac forced him away. Their arms tangled as Mac pulled him up for a long kiss.

One strong hand forced itself between them and the haze of Victor's arousal thickened as something hot and hard pumped his cock. The pressure tightened and eased and tightened again, jerking him slowly, then fast enough to make him cry out, his body trembling on the edge for a few heart stopping seconds.

On and on, hard and fast and slow and tight until every nerve in his body was focused on the burning ache. His hips thrust mindlessly into the heat. A warm, slick touch stroked and probed, measuring his response as the pressure built. A lance of fire flared up at the base of his spine and then there was nothing but the endless eruption of orgasm sucking through him.

Victor finally had to pull away from the touch. His arms gave way and he collapsed across Mac's body, panting heavily.

It took a few seconds before he had the energy to push himself off and let the other man breathe. "Sorry," he whispered.

Mac rolled to face him. "I'm not." His face was smug and his eyes had a heavy, sated glow that made Victor want to make love to him all over again..

Victor managed a smile. "Me, neither."

They curled up together in the center of the bed, Victor's head pillowed comfortably on Mac's shoulder, his arm around the other man's waist.

Uncharacteristically, Mac didn't seem to have anything else to say. When Victor looked at him, that same smile still curved Mac's mouth as his eyes were closing in sleep.

The sight made Victor aware of his own exhaustion. He yawned and settled back down.

Maybe they'd talk about it tomorrow.

Maybe they wouldn't need to.

. . . .

Waking up the next morning was a gradual process. Maybe that was because, technically speaking, it wasn't morning any more.

Victor didn't know what time they'd finally gone to sleep, but it couldn't have been before four. Keeping that in mind, the fact that they slept well past noon didn't seem quite as surprising.

Mac was stirring as Victor slid out of bed, so he gave his...lover...a brief kiss. A shower and two cups of dark, hot coffee were all Victor needed to convince him that it was going to be a good day. But then...he'd suspected it would be, the second he woke up and found Mac curled up warmly against his back.

"So, what are the odds of ditching work for an hour and going to find someplace really decent for breakfast?" Mac stole a kiss, and Victor's coffee cup, and climbed onto a barstool.

Victor was tempted. He went to the kitchen and poured Mac a cup of coffee, taking his own back.

"We'd better not," he decided finally. "Considering how little we actually understand about whatever it is that's happening, we should keep an eye on Doug again today."

"Yeah, you're right. I am really getting tired of that café, though."

Victor had to agree. The food was good, but the menu was limited. "I could fix us something here."

Mac opened his mouth, then snapped it shut and looked away, fumbling on the counter for his coffee cup. He almost knocked it sideways and the hot liquid splashed onto his hand.

"Jeez!" Mac snatched his hand back and sucked on the burned fingers, glaring at the cup.

"Next time, just say it," Victor told him, smothering a laugh. "I wouldn't want you to kill yourself trying to be polite."

Mac gave him a grin. "Don't say I didn't make the effort. Shall we go?"

The café was still half full of its regular lunch crowd. Mac and Victor took a table near a wall and, as soon as one of the tables near the front window opened up, dove over to claim it.

From there, they could see the front of the gym without making it obvious that they were watching it.

They ordered, then ate slowly, spending as much time as possible over the process. Victor even forced himself to drink two cups of the thick, black coffee, to give them an excuse to linger for a while. The attentive Eddie was either sick, or he was having a rare day off, so they were served by...either Stan or Ollie, Victor hadn't figured out which was which yet. Either way, the man didn't seem to care how long they sat there, which was a relief.

Victor watched Mac's hands as his partner fiddled restlessly with the salt shaker, then the packets of sugar and other things sitting on the table.

Eventually, he reached over and pressed Mac's hands against the surface. "Surveillance is really not your strong point, is it?"

Mac turned his hands over and slid them against Victor's, smiling at him. "It's boring."

"Think about something else," Victor suggested. That was a mistake.

Mac gave him a slow smile. "How about we go back to the apartment and take a nap?"

Victor couldn't help smiling back. "This is a stake-out. It doesn't work if we can't actually see the place we're staking out, you know. Just...relax. You're obsessing again."

"I'm not obsessive, I'm focused," Mac corrected. "I'm at my best when I work on one problem at a time."

"I'm going to do you a favor and assume you're not referring to me."

"Maybe I am." Mac eyed him thoughtfully. "You want to talk about it?"

"About what? Last night?"

"No. Not exactly. I meant...." Mac shrugged. "Whatever it was with Frankie.

So, he had been noticing. "There wasn't anything."

"You aren't as good a liar as you think you are, Vic."

Victor started shredding his napkin slowly. "Yeah. Okay."

"So?" Mac leaned back and watched him. "What was it?"

"It wasn't...." Victor shrugged. "I mean, it was practically nothing. He kissed me a couple of times. Asked me out. You know."

"You liked him?"

"I don't know." Victor shrugged again. "I mean...I didn't really know the guy."

"I'm assuming that means you didn't know he was the owner of a leather bar and that you'd probably wind up wearing a thong and polishing his boots on your first date." Mac grinned wickedly at Victor's expression.

"Jerk."

"What was it about him?"

Victor tried to remember, but there didn't seem to be anything specific. "Nothing, really. It was...he was just so persistent, you know? He seemed to know just what he was doing. What he wanted."

"And that was easier than figuring out for yourself what you wanted?" Sometimes Mac showed a scary ability to read Victor's mind.

"Something like that, I guess." It had been exactly that, Victor knew. He'd known it since the last time he'd seen Frankie, in the gym.

"I see." Mac fiddled with his glass. "What was I doing wrong?"

"Nothing," Victor said instantly. "It was just that...he wasn't complicated. With you...it was complicated."

"It would have been a lot easier if you'd just said 'yes' in the first place," Mac complained.

"How do you figure that?"

"Well, for one thing, we'd have had the past few days to figure stuff out," Mac pointed out. "And for another, if we'd been...together, maybe he wouldn't have been so persistent."

"Or your buddies. Jack, Rennie, Jonathan, Rollie, and who else?" Victor reminded him.

Mac grinned suddenly. "Jealous?"

"Juvenile, Ramsey. Very immature."

"It was worth a shot. Since I was having trouble getting the idea across to you any other way."

"What?" Victor raised his eyebrows. "You thought all you had to do was ask and I'd fall all over you?"

"Of course not." Mac sighed. "But I could tell there was something going on between you and that guy. That night at the party, when he came back and you were out of the room. He took off after you like the two of you had arranged it."

Victor remembered something else. "Whose fault is that?"

"You're not going to pretend that this has been my fault," Mac started furiously. "I've been trying to tell you since we got here...."

"Not that." Victor couldn't help laughing. "I mean the thing with Frankie."

"I must have missed something when we turned the page."

"He thought you were knocking me around," Victor told him, enjoying Mac's surprised expression. "The bruises."

"Jesus." Mac looked uneasy. "You know, that guy is really big. I hope you told him the truth."

"I told him I got them moving furniture."

Mac looked relieved. "That's good."

"It would have been, if he'd believed me," Victor apologized.

"What?" Mac gave him a pleading look. "C'mon, Victor. You have to explain it to him. That guy could take me apart without breathing hard."

"I don't think I can convince him." Victor shook his head. "Your only hope is for us to finish this case and get the hell out of here before he sees you again."

"Victor!" Mac started to panic, then took a look at Victor's expression. "You asshole."

Victor laughed. "I can't believe you. You took three guys on at once the other night! What do you think he's going to be able to do to you that they couldn't do?"

"They were drunk," Mac pointed out. "And I didn't 'take them on', they took me on."

"You started it. At least, you asked for it."

"You were making it up, weren't you?"

"Not exactly." Victor shrugged. "I don't think he's going to do anything about it, though."

"This is not good," Mac said. "I mean, we have a job to do here, right? We don't have time to be fooling around, getting into arguments with the locals, you know?"

"Oh, now you're worried about the job?" Victor laughed again. "Very commendable. Are you asking me to jump in and protect you from the bad man?"

Mac started to say something, then grinned and shook his head. "Okay, forget it. Just remember to send flowers to the funeral."

A couple of hours later, they were the only customers left in the café. Doug had made one trip out to the phone for a brief call, but he didn't make a mail drop.

Victor checked the clock on the wall. It was almost three. "You know, this place closes in a few minutes," he told Mac. "We're going to have to find someplace else to hang out."

"I know." Mac frowned. "Well, before we do anything else, we should probably try to call the Director again."

Stan, or Ollie, gave them some change and they stationed themselves at Doug's favorite pay phone outside the gym.

Victor made Mac make the call this time. When the connection went through, he reached voice-mail again. He left a brief message that they were just following up on their previous call, and gave the number, saying that they would be there for the next hour if she wanted to call them.

Neither of them could imagine any circumstances under which the Agency wouldn't be able to get the message to her, but the hour passed and the phone didn't ring.

"What do you think?" They'd given it an extra five minutes, just to be safe, but Mac's patience was at an end. He'd been pacing the length of the street for the past thirty minutes. Victor hadn't bothered to point out how conspicuous it made them. Mac knew it. He just wasn't any good at keeping still.

"Well...." Victor gave it some thought. "She didn't leave us a message to stay clear, so I guess we go ahead with the plan."

"When should we go in?"

"Just after dark," Victor decided. "As soon as we can get into the neighborhood without attracting attention. As a matter of fact, we'd probably better drive over and leave the car somewhere, so we'll have transportation out of there when we need it." In a hurry, was understood.

"We're going to need a few things," Mac said thoughtfully. "I mean, we don't have the Agency handing us what we want, right?"

"What kind of things?"

Mac looked around. "The kind of stuff we can probably get from a pawn shop. And a hardware store. Come on."

It was an obvious decision to drive to a different neighborhood to do their shopping. Just in case they were stuck in town after tonight's expedition, they didn't want any casual questioning linking them to the equipment they were buying.

Victor knew what they could do with two tire irons, and a length of nylon rope. Even the handcuffs they picked out at the pawnshop made sense. The heavy piece of black tarp that Mac selected at a sporting goods store was harder to understand. So was the folding aluminum footstool.

"The wall," Mac explained briefly, stowing their purchases in the trunk of the car. "If they've fixed that branch, we're going to need some kind of protection to get over the wire.

"And the footstool?"

Mac grinned at him. "That's so I don't have to spend the next month listening to you complain about how I dislocated your shoulders again."

"What you mean to say," Victor corrected, "is that you figured out I was going to make you go first this time and you didn't think you were up to it."

They'd spread their purchases out over several stores and it had taken quite a while to get everything they both thought they might need for the night.

Mac looked around. "Should we go back and watch the gym, or can we get some dinner?"

"Let's eat. I doubt if Doug's going to be doing any more mailings this time of the night."

They found a restaurant and ordered dinner.

"What do you suppose was in the envelopes?" Victor picked the tomatoes out of his salad, shoving them to the side of the plate.

"I don't know. Information on guys in the neighborhood?"

"What would he know about them?"

"Hard to say. Anything that happened, or that he overheard in the gym, I guess."

Victor thought about it. There was something in the back of his mind.... "Got it!" he said suddenly.

The waiter showed up with their entrees and removed the half-eaten salads.

"What?" Mac leaned toward him. "You thought of something?"

"It was something Eddie said, that day we were in the café, watching the gym," Victor said. "He said that Doug had dropped off his gym bag when Eddie forgot it."

"Yeah? So?"

"He said that Doug did that kind of thing for a lot of guys," Victor reminded him.

Mac nodded slowly. "Right. So...he had access to the guys. At home."

"Right. Those guys who disappeared from their apartments. There was no sign of forced entries. The only way that could have happened is if they opened the door to someone."

"But nothing was missing," Mac remembered with excitement. "Our notes said it. Most of the time, the guys' wallets and stuff were still there."

"But in almost every case, their keys were missing. So...Doug, the friendly guy from the gym shows up at the door and...what?"

"Lures them outside," Mac said simply. "It could have been almost anything. A dead battery on his car, maybe. They would have offered to jump it for him."

"So, they'd have taken their keys out, but nothing else," Victor said triumphantly.

They smiled at each other, savoring the feeling of rightness that the explanation had.

Mac's face fell. "Yeah, but why?"

That was right. They knew how, now. Or at least they had a plausible theory. But the motive behind the crimes was still a mystery.

"Why was he doing it?" Victor shook his head. "We won't know that until we get our hands on him."

"Or until tonight," Mac suggested. "We might find something."

Victor checked his watch. "We'd better get back."

By the time they drove back to the apartment and changed, it was time to leave for Sea Edge Terrace. It wasn't quite full dark, but it would be by the time they found an inconspicuous place to park the rental car in the neighborhood and took a few minutes to look over the property again.

Finally they were able to start with the real business of the evening. The broken branch still leaned against the wire barrier at the top of the wall, but they used Mac's footstool and tarp anyhow. Victor would have taken a bullet before he would have admitted how much easier it was to get over the wall this time.

Again, there were no guards in sight. The house looked just like it had the night before. An occasional light shining across the deserted lawn where curtains hadn't been pulled against the darkness of the night. Other lights glowing dimly from behind thick coverings.

They entered through the same window they'd used before and retraced their steps through the house. A quick look through the lab showed that nothing seemed to have changed, or have been moved, since their last visit.

This time, as they worked their way down toward the theatre door, Mac noticed a difference in the color of the paneling on one wall. It took only a few seconds to confirm that there was a hidden door, but they couldn't figure out how to trip the secret catch that had to be concealed nearby.

A sudden sound of voices almost stopped Victor's heart, before Mac grabbed his arm and pulled him into the theatre. Once again, they crouched down between the rows of seats, waiting.

The voices grew louder as the men passed the theatre door. Mac and Victor looked at each other and shook their heads. Not the same men they'd listened to the night before.

The sound faded abruptly. Victor was just deciding that it might be safe to listen at the theatre door, when Mac took the decision out of his hands, pulling open the door cautiously and sticking his head out into the hallway.

Victor followed him with a muffled curse when Mac disappeared through the door. One of these days, his partner was going to get killed, taking off that way without waiting for his backup.

Once in the hallway, he could see what had captured Mac's attention. The panel stood open. The other men, whoever they had been, had obviously gone down the stairs revealed by the open door.

Mac raised his eyebrows and nodded toward the door. Well? he mouthed soundlessly.

Victor checked his gun and nodded. This was it. They could both feel it.

The stairs were thickly carpeted, making it simple to ease their way down and around the curve at the bottom.

Once there, they both froze in shock.

A long, well-lit hallway stretched out before them. On either side, heavy doors separated what could only be cells. They were solid, probably steel, with small mesh panels at eye level that allowed those on the inside to look out. Or guards to look in, and check on the condition of the prisoners.

Looking at the cells, Victor felt a wash of pure, red rage. Cells. Cages. He never doubted what they'd find inside. Twenty-three missing gay men from the Paris Street community.

Mac nudged him impatiently. When he had Victor's attention, he pointed down the hall, drawing Victor's eyes to an open door.

Victor nodded, then pushed Mac aside so he could take point this time. Whoever it was, whatever they were doing, he was going to put a stop to it.

They risked taking a peek inside several cells as they worked their way down the hall. In each of them, a single man was laying on a bare bed, either sleeping or drugged.

The tension in Mac's jaw told Victor that they were both remembering the same thing. The utter helplessness of being imprisoned, which was bad enough without adding drugs and whatever else this group was up to into the mix.

They could hear voices from inside the open cell. As they crept closer to the door, Victor strained his ears to hear the casual conversation.

There was a metal squeak, and one voice told someone to hold the damned thing still, won't you?

Victor looked at Mac. Mac nodded and stepped forward slowly, just until he could see inside the cell. It was risky, but they needed to know what was going on. He stayed there for a second, then rejoined Victor.

"They've got some kind of wheeled stretcher or something," he breathed almost soundlessly into Victor's ear. "Putting the guy on it."

They moved closer. Now they were no more than a foot from the open door. Victor started bracing himself for the attack.

They heard a low burst of laughter, and then the drugged captive mumbling some question.

"It's movie time, bud," one of the guards said, his voice shockingly loud suddenly.

Some kind of complaint form the prisoner.

Another voice laughed roughly and answered. "You'll learn to like it. If you know what's good for you. And if you want to get out of here."

Mac and Victor frowned at each other. If there was a way the prisoners could be freed, then this set-up wasn't most of the things they'd imagined. Which didn't mean that it was anything that should be allowed to keep happening.

Mac held up three fingers and Victor nodded again. As usual, Mac cheated, diving toward the open door a second before the countdown ended.

By the time Victor came in after him, there wasn't much for him to do but move the stretcher with its strapped-down captive out of the way.

Both guards were dressed in uniform. Dark brown pants and lighter shirts. They weren't carrying guns, but each of them had a black jack and what looked like a stunner, or a taser, hanging from a belt at his waist. Mac wasn't giving them time to remember their weapons.

He feinted from side to side, then grabbed one guard and slammed him against the floor. A quick spin out of the way of a roundhouse punch from the other, and he had the guy's arm twisted behind his back and his head in perfect position for ramming against the concrete wall. His first victim dragged himself to his feet and started for Mac again. A high kick to the chest slowed him down enough for a few blows to the head to drop him again.

It took only a minute to tie and gag both men. An inspection of the hallway revealed that the doors were operated from an electronic panel at one end. Victor figured out how to unlock all the doors, except the one holding the guards.

Mac checked a few of the other prisoners. "The rest of these guys seem to be okay, too, but they're all drugged."

Victor shrugged. "We'll have to come back for them later."

The man on the stretcher tried to sit up, then fell back against the padded surface, mumbling to himself.

"Let's put sleeping beauty in with one of the other guys," Mac suggested.

"Right. And untie him," Victor ordered.

They shoved the stretcher into the first room, then Victor untied the restraints while Mac destroyed the electronic panel that controlled the doors. Whatever happened, the people in charge of this prison, or laboratory, or whatever it was, were going to have to find a new way to lock up their guinea pigs.

"I hope he doesn't fall off and crack open his head." Victor checked the man they'd rescued a final time before he and Mac headed back up the stairs.

"Look at it this way," Mac advised. "Whatever happens, it has to be better than what these assholes have been doing to him.

Back on the first floor, they both headed automatically for the stairs leading up to the next level. Their first stop was the projection room.

This time, Mac had a better set of lock picks with him and he had the door open in less than thirty seconds.

"Look for the volume control," Victor suggested as they figured out how to get the equipment rolling.

"Why?" Mac punched a button and the projector lit up, humming to itself peacefully.

"So we can turn the sound down," Victor said patiently. "We don't want anyone to hear us."

"You know," Mac said thoughtfully, "maybe we do." He looked at Victor. "If Mohamet can't find the mountain...."

"Then the Pied Piper will call the mountain to Mohamet?"

"That's an appalling mix of metaphor and myth."

"Can you do better on the spur of the moment?"

"Let's get the movie started." Mac checked his gun. "It's time we got this party rolling."

Once they got the tape started, it was...disappointing. In fact, it reminded Victor of the guy Eric's speeches in the park. The content was different, but the message was the same. Homosexuality was an evil curse. The difference was that the video they were watching didn't offer God as the cure. Instead, it used a peculiar combination of hypnotic speeches and flashing images that were barely on the screen before they changed, making it difficult to figure out what any one picture was supposed to show.

After a couple of minutes, Mac turned off the machine. "Is it some kind of brainwashing?"

"No, not exactly. It's...." Victor frowned at the blank screen, then made a connection. "It's a deprogramming tape." He nodded. "I saw a talk on this when I was still on the force. They showed a clip of an hour of one of those cult deprogramming programs. It was a lot like this."

"Deprogramming?" Mac said in disbelief. "You mean, whoever is running this setup thinks they can deprogram the guys they have locked up downstairs?"

"Sure looks that way." Victor shrugged. "It's not the dumbest thing anyone believes about homosexuality," he pointed out.

"Yeah, but...a cult?" Mac shook his head. "These guys are crazy," he said positively.

"We already knew that." Victor touched his arm and pointed. In the now quiet theatre below, four shadowy figures were creeping from the doors at the back toward the front of the room.

"Looks like someone accepted our invitation," Mac said with satisfaction.

"I don't think so. If they'd heard us, they'd be up here," Victor said. "They'd know that whoever was running the equipment had to be in the projection room."

"So, they're up to something else?"

"They probably expected to hear noise," Victor realized. "Those guards were saying something about 'movie time', remember?"

"Doesn't matter." Mac checked his gun again. "If they aren't us, they must be them. And them is the enemy, right?"

"You get weirder every day." Victor followed him as Mac took off for the stairs at a fast, quiet lope. They had to get to the theatre before whoever that was disappeared.

Mac stopped at the bottom of the stairs, one hand on the door knob. He leaned over and gave Victor a quick kiss. "I'm probably delirious."

"Keep your mind on what we're doing," Victor told him. He smiled at his partner. "There's time for that later."

"In our line of work, you never know."

Even the door's soundproofing couldn't hide the sound of shouts from the hallway on the other side.

"See what I mean?" They both stepped to one side, and Mac eased the door open. Far down at the other end of the hall, a group of black-clad figures were herding a smaller group of men dressed like guards toward an unseen room.

Every few seconds, one of the guards would try to make a break for it, which accounted for the noises they'd heard as two or more of the black-clad figures jumped the guy and forced him back into the pack.

Mac nudged Victor. "Hey. That guy on the left. The tall one. Isn't that Dobrinsky?"

Victor searched the group, one figure catching his eyes. "Sure looks like him."

They watched for a minute. "Looks like the Agency believed us," Mac said.

"Yeah." Victor watched as the struggling group disappeared into a room, or down another corridor. If he remembered the layout of the place right, they were headed for the front door.

"We should go join the fun," Mac suggested.

"We have our own fun and games, remember? The guys in the theatre?" Victor pushed past him and out the door.

"Right. We'd better go round them up before they disappear."

"And you want to be able to tell Dobrinsky he missed a few of them, right?"

Mac grinned at him. "It does add to the moment." He grabbed the handle to the theater. "Ready?"

Victor nodded. "Let's do it."

By unspoken agreement, they didn't burst into the theatre. Instead, they slid in through the partly opened door as quietly as they could.

At the other end of the room, almost lost in the shadows, they could see an elderly man and a couple of guards. Doug was there too, struggling with a door that had been hidden behind a heavy curtain.

"Party time," Mac said softly.

They sprinted toward the four men and were almost on them before the inattentive guards realized that they'd been discovered.

Doug didn't show any sign that he wanted to join the fight, so Mac and Victor each took on one of the guards. They were well-trained, but no match for the whirlwind attack.

Thirty seconds later, it was all over. The guards lay unconscious on the floor and Mac and Victor had Doug and the elderly man at gunpoint.

Mac tossed Doug the unused handcuffs. "Would you like to do the honors?" He motioned with his gun toward the still figures on the floor.

Hand shaking, Doug put the cuffs around the wrists of the unconscious guards. Victor checked them, then stood up. "We can send someone back after them," he told Mac.

"Right." Mac waved his gun toward the door. "Shall we?"

They drove their two reluctant captives out of the room and down the hallway to where the other Agency people were holding the other prisoners.

Victor didn't miss the note of glee in Mac's voice when he told Dobrinsky, 'we picked up the ones that got away from you'.

Dobrinsky gave Mac a hard look, but he sent four of his people down to recover the two guards.

"Congratulations, boys." They turned and found the Director watching them from a few feet away. "It looks as though you solved our little mystery."

"And it didn't take three weeks," Mac said. "Aren't you sorry you underestimated us?"

The Director gave him a long look. "Would that be possible?"

Victor elbowed Mac into silence. "Okay," he said, "but we still don't have the faintest idea what it is we've found, you know? I mean, what's going on here?"

"Our gang leader," she said cynically, nodding toward the elderly man they had found in the theatre, "is one Mr. Ralph. J. Symon. Mr. Symon comes from a family with what I believe is referred to as 'old money.' Unfortunately, the family's mental stability didn't match their financial status."

"What does that mean?" Victor asked patiently. She always told these stories in her own way, as though she begrudged sharing any of the details, and as though she'd stop talking the second they stopped demanding information.

"There is a history of...eccentricity in the family," she explained. "We had thought that Ralph Symon was an exception, but it appears that we were wrong."

"Are you telling us that the Agency keeps files on private families?" Mac asked in disbelief. "That you've been spying on these people?"

She looked at him. "We," and Victor heard the stress on the pronoun, "keep files on anyone who is likely to become a problem. People with a great deal of money, and a great deal of time on their hands, frequently come to the Agency's attention for one reason or another." She headed toward the front door, with Mac and Victor following.

"Can we cut to the chase?" Victor asked impatiently. "What was going on here?"

"Ralph Symon had a son," she explained, leading the way to her car. "As it happens, Ralph Junior and his lover, a man named Michel, were on their way to a party one night. There was an accident. Neither of them survived."

"And...." Victor waited.

"The entire event seems to have trigged Daddy's inherited instability." She waited for one of them to open the car door for her. Victor did, and she slid in, waving to them to follow her.

Dobrinsky appeared from somewhere and took his place behind the wheel. He seemed to know where they were going. He started the engine and headed the car toward the open gates.

"Our rental car is about two blocks down," Mac said helpfully.

"Someone is returning it for you," the Director said. "We're catching a plane in forty-five minutes."

"What about all our stuff?" Mac demanded.

Victor kept himself from looking at his partner. He'd expected...they'd both expected to have the rest of the night together.

"Someone will take care of it," she said indifferently. "Was there something in the apartment that you were particularly attached to?"

"Well, no." Mac looked confused.

Victor pulled himself together and covered for Mac. "Forget it. How about Symon?"

"Oh, yes." The Director leaned back and sighed. "Mr. Symon."

"We got to the point where he was crazy," Mac said helpfully.

She shot him a look and Mac shut up. Victor wished he had that knack. He'd have to practice.

"Mr. Symon," she continued, "decided that, had his son not been gay, he would not have been on that particular road that particular night, and the accident wouldn't have happened. In short, he decided that his son's sexuality caused the auto accident."

"You're kidding." It wasn't really a question, Victor had heard stranger things.

"It became...his mission in life, to prevent a similar fate from occurring to any other promising young man. To that end, he set up the laboratory and the theatre in this house. With the help of one or two unscrupulous doctors, he was trying visual-auditory re-training enhanced with a unique combination of pharmacological stimulants and depressants."

"They doped them up and showed them bad movies," Mac interpreted. "Right?"

She looked annoyed. "If you prefer. Anyhow, it was a novel approach. Quite useless, of course."

"So he wasn't actually interested in hurting the guys, right?" Victor asked. "He just wanted to reprogram them? Re-direct them or whatever?"

"Exactly."

"There was another guy," Victor remembered. "Eric or something." He described what they'd seen in the park.

The Director nodded. "We'll have him checked out, but it's more than likely a coincidence. Our information doesn't suggest that Mr. Symon placed much faith in the Church. I would be very surprised if that young man is connected to the case."

They rode on in silence for a while.

"What about Doug?" Mac asked suddenly. "What was his connection to all of this? Money?"

"I'm not certain yet, but I don't believe his motives were financial." She frowned slightly. "It was reported that Doug is a long-time friend of the family. I would suspect that he was, quite hopelessly, in love with Ralph, Jr.

"It's possible that by assisting Junior's father, he had some idea that he was being loyal to the dead man." She shrugged. "Or, he was simply so embittered when the man he loved chose someone else, that he was working with Ralph Senior, out of some twisted desire for revenge."

"Is there anything else we should know?" Victor asked.

"I want both of you in my office, after we land," she said firmly. "I'll be wanting your full reports on this assignment. After that...well, Li Ann is still unavailable, but I'm sure I can find a case that isn't too complicated for the two of you to handle alone."

Boarding the plane, for once Victor had reason to be grateful that the Agency didn't believe in pampering its agents. The Director and Dobrinsky stretched out in the luxury of First Class, while he and Mac were seated together in a row farther back in the plane.

The flight was only about half-full, which gave them the privacy they needed to talk. Which was good, because as soon as the turmoil of boarding was over and the plane was safely in the air, Mac nudged him sharply.

"Victor!" he said.

Victor slid off the headphones and looked at him. "What?"

"We have to get away from them and get back to your place, as soon as we land," Mac said urgently.

"It's just a meeting. We'll be done in no time."

"Don't you remember? I left the solvent there. To clean up her car."

Oh my god. "Jesus." Victor had completely forgotten the prank they'd pulled before they left town. "She said, 'as soon as we land'," he reminded Mac.

"We'll offer to take a cab or something," Mac said quickly. "Tell her we want to pick up your truck so we can get home later."

Victor thought about it. "It might work."

"It had better, or we're both dead."

From somewhere toward the front of the plane, a baby wailed unhappily.

I know just how he feels. Victor stared out the window and tried to stay calm.

The rest of the flight was endless. The instant the warning lights were off, both men were out of their seats, headed toward the front of the plane.

They got trapped behind a woman struggling with a baby seat, an oversized diaper bag, and an infant. When Victor, in sheer desperation, offered to carry part of her burden, she looked at him as though he'd offered to kidnap the fussy infant and bumped her way slowly toward the exit.

Dobrinsky was waiting for them in the terminal. The Director had disappeared, and he was typically uninformative, telling them only that she would meet them at the office.

"Hey, Dobrinsky, buddy." Mac leaned over the seat and smiled at the stoic driver. "Can you do us a little favor?"

"No."

Victor kicked his partner on the shin to shut him up.

"Listen, can you drop me off at my place?" he asked Dobrinsky.. "I want to pick up my truck so I can get home later."

"Sorry. That's not in my orders." Dobrinsky didn't look sorry, but he never did when he was saying no.

"Look," Mac coaxed. "You don't want to have to drive us home later, do you?" He grinned. "I know you don't want to drive me home."

"I won't be." That seemed to be Dobrinsky's final word on the subject. He refused to say another word for the rest of the drive.

He dropped them off at the entrance and the car pulled away before they made it to the door. There was no point in waiting to make sure they followed their orders. Where the Agency was located, there was no place else to go.

"We're going to die," Mac predicted pessimistically.

"You should have thought of that before," Victor said bitterly. "Then we wouldn't be in this mess."

"At least if we had the solvent with us," Mac went on, ignoring him, "we could get the stuff cleaned off. She might see the funny side of it, then."

"She'll see the funny side of it when she's killed us both and she's using our tanned hides to wax what's left of her car."

They were getting close to her office door.

"She can't kill us." Mac was obviously looking for a non-existent bright side. "If she does that, she'll never get her car cleaned up."

"She might decide it's worth it to be rid of us."

They heard a voice from inside the partly open door. Victor touched Mac on the arm, and they both stopped to listen.

"No, they still haven't figured out who it was. The Iranian ambassador still insists that it must have been politically motivated."

Mac and Victor looked at each other, and shrugged. Nothing connected to their recent assignment.

The Director spoke again. "No, they haven't been able to clean it off. The garage was insured, of course. But the Agency is willing to purchase the Ambassador a new car, so we can have his current one to use in our investigation. It's extremely unlikely that there's any terrorist connection, but we do intend to check all the possibilities."

Oh, shit. Warning bells were going off in Victor's head so loudly that he thought he'd shouted the words.

Victor leaned over, grabbing Mac's collar. "It...it wasn't her car?" he stammered.

"This is an interesting twist, isn't it?" Mac looked almost as sick as Victor felt right now.

Victor's hands closed around his partner's throat. "It wasn't her car. You picked out the wrong damned car! What are we going to do now?"

"How the hell should I know?" Mac gasped. He pried Victor's fingers loose. "Stop that. I'm trying to think, here."

We're going to die. Victor was sure of it. "I could kill you."

"If you don't shut up and let me think, she'll do it for you."

"Think fast." Victor looked at Mac's panicked face. He glanced around the deserted hallway, then risked an arm around his partner's shoulders. "Hey," he said softly.

"Yeah?"

"We're armed," Victor reminded him. "I figure the odds of getting out of here in one piece have to be at least 50-50, don't you think?"

Mac grinned, then looked regretful. "Victor, I'm...."

Victor stopped him with a quick kiss. "Shut up. I can take care of myself, remember?"

"Yeah, but who's going to take care of me?" Mac said mournfully.

"Come in, gentlemen." That was the Director from inside the office, obviously aware that they were eavesdropping outside her door. Victor held the door and forced Mac to enter the room ahead of him.

"My apologies for the delay gentlemen." She stood up and walked toward the table, motioning them to their usual seats.

Mac moved to sit down. "Deny everything," he said to Victor out of the side of his mouth.

That's it? That's what he calls a plan? Victor wanted to kill him again.

Never again, he promised himself. He was never again going to follow Mac into this kind of trouble. If he had a choice, it would be easier to get shot.

The Director smiled. "It's nice to have you back, boys. I believe I have just the case for you."

****

The End