Chapter Text
“It’s the typical mafia structure as Demarco took over from his father.” Caitlyn leans back in her chair, pen tapping against her lips as she concentrates. Photos on the slideshow keep flashing as she catalogs as many details as possible, listening to her boss’ voice wash over her. “His mother, she looks after many aspects of the business as well.”
“They are an old family.” Another picture flashes up on the screen dating around the 1960s; big beehives, sharp suits. “But they are still operating today. One of the only criminal families left in the city.”
Grayson shut the laptop and motions for the lights to come back on. “We’d like to remove them, and we have some leads, but what we lack is anything concrete.”
She turns to face Caitlyn. “We are opening this up to a few officers. We need something; an idea, anything.”
Caitlyn can hear Marcus shift next to her; feels his agitation and knows that he wants to start something. “We should just storm in there! We have enough for a search warrant!” He exclaims and Caitlyn’s eyes can’t help but flick back to Grayson’s face, stoic as always. Cailtyn's heart fractures a little to see another over-enthusiastic officer wanting to go in guns blazing reflected in the tired lines around Grayson’s mouth.
“No district attorney will write this up for us and we don’t have anything solid enough to go in with.” Grayson slowly moves around the table to lean against the edge. Sometimes, Caitlyn thinks, she does look a little weary. As solid, tried, and true as Grayson tries to project, sometimes it's starting to look a bit cracked around the edges.
Caitlyn’s eyes move from Marcus and she tries to hide how startled she is to find Grayson’s assessing stare on her. "Marcus, give a moment alone with Kirimman.”
Marcus stands abruptly, looking like he’s ready to pitch a fit about something but he finally turns and all but storms out of the room.
Grayson waits until the door clicks behind him. “He wanted to go undercover, but I said no. He's a little…. upset about it.”
Caitlyn waits for Grayson to go on, having a feeling of why she is in the room now. “I’d like you to go instead. You’ve done well on your other undercover missions and while this is a bit more involved, ideally we’d start with you as a lead. Demarco has ramped up his operations over the last few months and we’re worried he might be making some big moves soon. It’s a big task, a big job, but I think you can do it. Are you in?”
There is a moment when Caitlyn is thrown back in time, to that shooting range 6 years ago, when she had retired from her Olympic sharp shooting career and she’d been recruited by Grayson with the same question.
“Yes.” Caitlyn states, trying to hide the thrill of nerves underneath.
“Good.” Grayson turns and opens the laptop again, pulling up another document. “Let’s go over a few more points before we start to create a plan.”
Caitlyn’s brain absorbs the information like a sponge: Demarco’s children, family, other suspected partners, and… “There is another enforcer, a woman. We couldn’t get a lot on her. She’s newer but Demarco seems to love her.”
The blurry pictures fly across the screen: a smiling face, tailored suit, fluffy pink hair crown on the woman's head as she stands in a group. She has a nice smile , Caitlyn thinks passively as Grayson skates past the image and continues describing the other staff at the restaurant that is rumored to be headquarters for Demarco.
“You’re going to go in for dinner. See if you can get an angle. Do they need a waitress? Is there a wife or someone you can make friends with? Then we will assess and make up a plan.”
“By myself?” Caitlyn clarifies.
“Yes,” Grayson slides a folder across the table at her. “You are new in town, and you live down the block…” Caitlyn leans back and takes in the story.
Hours…it had been hours. Sitting with Grayson, going over details, repeating key points, backstory, information about the Demarco family.
Bleary, she walks into the breakroom to get herself a coffee. Slotting the coins into the machine, she leans her head to the cool glass on the front, watching the paper cup drop and the steaming liquid froth up.
Maybe it is the deep end, maybe it is a bit much, but time and time again Caitlyn has bitten off more than she could chew and she’s managed.
She hears the voices in the hallway, down to the right, where she knows upper leadership’s offices are, so she stills as the last of her coffee trickles out. Stepping softly, slowly, just as she had when she would eavesdrop as a child on her parents’ conversations, Caitlyn slots herself between the ancient coffee and snack machines.
“She is really green,” a deputy remarks, not Marcus, not his hotheaded voice, but the other one, the older man.
“I think she can do it.” Grayson replies, cool as ever, slowly turning away from him and striding down the hall.
“Well, if you think so…” his tone stern as it draws closer. Caitlyn tucks herself a bit harder against the old vending machine as she hears both sets of footsteps walk down the hall. Once the echoing stops, she finally slips out from cover.
Picking up her foaming, sugary, instant latte, she thinks, yeah, this one is the deep end for sure.
Caitlyn shouldn’t be jumpy, she’d been prepared (very prepared to be precise). Hours spent with Grayson, getting kitted out with operations, new IDs, a fake apartment around the corner, and… she is still a little nervous and she hates it.
It doesn’t help that the thigh holster she put on keeps riding down her leg. Pausing around the corner from the restaurant, Caitlyn hikes her dress up, the one that is too short for her taste anyway, but barely fits the small firearm along her too long legs, angling her body toward the back to hide what she is doing. Pulling at the strap, she tries to take a few steadying breaths. She isn’t sure how she slips up, but she doesn’t notice the woman walking into the alleyway, nor does she notice her pause to watch her adjust the straps around her thigh.
“Not gonna lie,” the smooth voice announces down the alleyway, “whatever you’re doing, it looks hot as hell.”
Caitlyn just freezes, taking a moment to assess the situation. Gaze flicking up to the voice, it’s the woman, one of Demarco’s enforcers, standing at the mouth of the alleyway and fuck.
Fuck for so many reasons.
Notably, she can’t be fucking this up this quick, but also, fuck, she’s just so hot.
This woman, they didn’t have a name for her in the intel, but fuck. Caitlyn was trying to bury how much she would have always been her type but damn. Her easy smile, the way she carries herself, her eyes gently drift up Caitlyn’s legs like she is already naked and under her, damn it.
Caitlyn reacts faster than her brain can even slot together - and in a way - she is a bit grateful for that.
Drawing her firearm out of the holster she pulls it on the unreasonably hot woman. “Hold it!” She states, trying to make her voice as level as possible.
“Could you just-“ the woman starts and Caitlyn motions for her to move further into the alley, out of the view of the street, feeling her logical brain coming back online to stop the total lesbian panic threating to take over.
“I said, move.” Caitlyn's voice is now hard, even if she isn’t sure what she is doing next but at least she has a hold on what is happening.
“Well, I mean you could not shoot me in the face, there's an idea?” The woman gently steps further into the alley and walks back, as Caitlyn directs her toward the street along the back. She looks like she isn’t sure how to deal with Caitlyn.
“And why not?” Caitlyn asks, trying to lace steel into her voice, pistol in her grip, readying her shot over the sight.
“Well first, if you’re here to kill me you just would have done it. So, I’m guessing you’re a cop?”
Caitlyn stills, ice flowing in her veins. So fast, so fucking fast, how did she blow this fast?
The woman continues, “Okay yeah, so…. I am guessing you want information. This is great for me as I’d love not to die. So how about you tell me what info you’re looking for-“ the woman is so calm and smooth, and Caitlyn has a moment to be a little jealous.
“Why would I think you’d have it?”
“….okay cop, I am guessing, you are in the alleyway, coming in to stake us out, there have been a few over the last few months. How about I help you and-”
“I don’t need-”
“Needing is irrelevant ‘cause I can tell you very soon it will be noticed that I haven’t made it back to the kitchen, so it will be assumed that I am missing. So, when those idiots come looking, I should either be dead, i.e. you shooting me, or we should both be gone.”
“I…” Caitlyn has a moment to appreciate both how badly she has handled all of this and how far this has all gone off the rails in record time.
Footsteps shuffle down the adjoining alleyway, followed by voices in conversation, and the woman looks around for a moment then, “Shit, no time. Option 3?”
“What’s-“ and Caitlyn is cut off.
“This,” the woman states as she grabs Caitlyn by the back of her neck, hand sliding into her hair, switching their positions in display of strength and agility Caitlyn isn’t prepared for.
“What…” Caitlyn falters out.
“Just play along,” The woman whispers hotly into the skin under ear, hand tucking along her waist, goosebumps rising along Cait’s skin without permission as she tries to jerk out of the hold on instinct.
“Just…” she says, pressing her body closer. “Play…” pulling one of Cait’s arms around her back and under her jacket, hiding her firearm. “Along.” Moving to angle her head deeper into the curve of Caitlyn’s neck, slotting into the space between her legs.
And Caitlyn can’t help but shiver, in the hold as well as being pressed lightly against the bricks, the mouth dusting along her skin, hand pressing the firearm into the waistband of her pants. The woman releases her grip along her wrist, as she must be satisfied with how her firearm is concealed. She then runs her fingers, rough and worn from something, Caitlyn can’t help but note, along the bare skin of her inner arm.
Footsteps grow louder until…
“Come on, Six,” one of the men groans. “Boss would kill you if we knew you’d brought your girl over while we’re working.”
Caitlyn looks up to see two men in cheap suits standing along the edge of the alleyway.
The woman's laugh washes against the skin of her neck causing Caitlyn’s nerves to skitter in all the right ways. She must remind herself that she can’t clench her thighs together to relieve some of the ache forming, as the woman’s leg is still between them.
“Well, you can’t blame me for trying,” Six says, drawing her face away from the crook of Caitlyn’s neck, and smirks up at Caitlyn, soft look along her features sends Caitlyn into a surreal moment of wishing, truly, that this was real, and that look was all for her.
It's amazing how much can exist in one’s brain.
Caitlyn realizes that her free hand is just resting against the woman’s - Six, Six, her name is Six - bicep, not in a completely lax or uninterested manor, but damn, her grip shifts on Caitlyn and fuck, she’s so ripped, muscles moving under Caitlyn’s hold. Eyes flying, trying to absorb as much as she can about her as possible, eyes flick over the tattoo that crests her cheek. VI, the roman numerals. Six. She gets the name now.
Gray eyes sliding back to meet hers, softly lidded, looking at her curiously, softly, and Caitlyn can’t help the throb of her traitorous little heart.
“Give me a moment so say goodbye, yeah?” Six says, a slow smile sliding over her incredibly pretty face. “Will ya, gentlemen?” She turns to face to flash a smile and the two men grumble but move back down the alleyway towards the back door.
Six’s attention slithers back and Caitlyn tries not to shrink under the assessing stare.
“Come on, baby,” Six croones gently as she pulls Cailtyn off the wall, still keeping her tucked close. They both glance to see the last man slip into the back doorway, then they walk back towards the mouth of the alley. Six’s mouth gently brushes over her jaw as she turns her in her grasp.
There is a tense few seconds where Caitlyn withdraws her gun from under Six’s jacket and sides it back into the holster, noticing Six’s eyes tracking the moment, then looking away.
For all the planning, Cailyn wasn’t prepared for all of this. But she is smart, she can figure this out –
“Well, we made a bed, we have to lie in it now.” Six breathes out.
“I’m not sure if that is the right metaphor.” Caitlyn almost laughs; all of this so absurd.
Six does, a soft chuckle, as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Okay, okay, let’s just think about this for a moment.”
An informant isn’t a bad idea, if Caitlyn is honest. Especially if Demarco had been aware of the other undercover officers that visited the restaurant. This could give her access to Demarco and hopefully some older information as well.
“How about we do this? I feed you information,” Six continues, folding her hands into her jacket pockets, a posture that she carries much more naturally than the rest of body language is conveying. “And when it comes time for arrests, I have immunity? I am sure your buddies will agree to that.”
Caitlyn can help the eyebrow that shoots up in response. “In what mad world – “
“Well, it’s that or you walk away now, and I say you broke my poor heart to pieces, and you can never come back here again.” Six’s voice is hard along the last words.
Caitlyn scoffs, feeling her hackles rise. “How about – “
“You can’t go back in there now; you have to know that, not without me.” Six sighs, “Listen, you seem nice, and I have… done some things that I could use some help with. So, I will help you, give you whatever information I get and have, but I need you to promise me I’ll be safe.” She cracks her knuckles on her hands as she talks.
Caitlyn is quiet, watching the moment of Six’s hands. The only person she knew had a similar behavior was a friend who was an amateur boxer. They would crack their knuckles and stretch the tendons in the same way.
Six rocks back on her heels, “Give me your phone, you can let me know what you and your boss work out.”
Cailyn draws out her new burner phone and opens it to a contact page, flipping it over for Six to grab. Snatching it up, she makes quick work in adding her number, saving, and handing it back. “I won’t have that on me here, so it might take me a while to get back to you.”
Six takes a step back, sliding her hands into her jacket pockets, looking cool and collected as she turns back towards the back entrance. “Don’t keep a girl waiting.” She grins over her shoulder as she saunters off.
Caitlyn had been sitting in her car for over an hour before she was supposed to meet Grayson, trying to organize her thoughts. Mostly about how she was going to frame everything that just happened.
Bad news: thigh holster caused unreasonably attractive women to hit on her and then she drew her weapon. Good news: information, ready source of it.
Yeah, she did fuck this up a little, but she’s got it sorted now.
Information, good news. Lead with that.
Dragging herself back into the station by the back door, her car tucked against the dumpster in the back, she sneaks past the security guard and into Grayson’s office.
The lights on the floor are out except for the one that’s over Grayson’s desk, with the emergency lights painting the hallways in a zombie apocalypse like glow. Caitlyn barely makes out the Grayson-shaped silhouette in the room as she checks the hallway and slips inside. Settling into the seat, Grayson reaches out and clicks the bulb a few notches higher, bathing the office in a soft amber glow.
“What have you got for me Kirimman?” She asks, in a voice that can only be hers, scraping over Caitlyn’s frayed nerves. The woman she views as a mentor, she looks up to.
Several things slot into Caitlyn’s brain in the space of a few seconds. Things she needs to remind herself off, calming her nerves and organizing her thoughts.
She is a good cop.
She was trusted with this by Grayson.
She might have lost her bearings earlier, but now she has a direction and she has a way forward.
The next thing out of her mouth isn’t wrong. It’s just not what she expected to lead with, not how she thought she’d explain it.
“I’ve got an informant.” Caitlyn tells her, leaning forward and ready to explain her plan.