Danny entered the lobby and found it crowded with blue uniforms. The highest ranking officer there, a sergeant, noticed Danny and Larabee. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to wait outside."
Danny felt a surge of panic as he remembered how he always kept his badge in the inside pocked of his suit jacket. And that was back in Martin's apartment, along with his overnight bag.
"That's okay. We're both Federal Officers." Larabee said, showing his badge and ID to the sergeant. "Danny's with the FBI, and his badge is upstairs in the apartment. Show him your ID, Danny."
Feeling grateful to Larabee for his quick action, Danny pulled out his driver's license. He should have felt some relief when the police officer nodded, accepting the identification and obviously believing Larabee. But there was no way to feel relief when he was clueless as to what was going on inside the building.
"What's going on?" Larabee asked.
"We got a call reporting a gun being fired. The caller wasn't too clear on if it was on the fourth or fifth floor. Once we get a few more officers here, we'll be heading to both floors for a door to door sweep. Hopefully it'll be a false alarm, but…Agent Taylor, wait…"
Danny rushed up the stairs with only one thing on his mind. Martin lived on the fourth floor, and he had a gun and wasn't in the best state of mind at the moment. Danny feared that he'd get into Martin's apartment and find his partner on the floor, bleeding or dead. "Please God, don't let him be dead."
Danny's heart was pounding loudly in his ears, and the sound of his footsteps seemed to echo in the stairwell, quickly synching up with his heart beat. It wasn't until he reached Martin's door that Danny realized that Larabee had come running up the stairs after him.
"Danny, stop and think before you go barging inside," Larabee said as Danny fumbled with Martin's door key.
"I am thinking, Chris. I'm thinking that Martin's been through Hell this weekend, and was drunker than I've ever seen him. He probably hasn't gotten all of that out of his system, and then we were…and he's got a gun in there…and damn this key!"
Danny was breathing hard by then, mostly from his sprint up four flights of stairs, but also from fear. Larabee pushed him aside and took the key. "Martin wouldn't eat his gun," he said, his voice firm. With a twist, Larabee had the lock undone, and this time he was the one being pushed aside as Danny forced his way past him and into the apartment.
It was mostly dark inside, with the only light coming from the bathroom, just as it had been before. Where was Martin? Oh, God, where was Martin? Dropping his bag of take-out onto the nearest surface, Danny headed toward the closed bedroom door, his stomach doing flips as he anticipated what he'd find on the other side.
Martin had quickly fallen asleep, but found himself jerking awake. He sat up in the bed, cocking his head to one side as he listened for something out of the ordinary. There had to have been some reason why he'd awoken so suddenly, and since he couldn't remember dreaming, he figured that it had to have been a noise of some kind. But when the only thing that Martin could hear was the normal hum of the city outside his windows, he decided that it must have been something trivial, such as a car alarm going off, or someone shouting out in the hallway the way Danny had been doing earlier.
Martin frowned. Maybe Danny was back and it was his pounding on the door that had awakened him? If so, then that was yet one more reason for Martin to be pissed off with the guy. Well, if it was Danny out there creating a scene, then Martin wanted no part of it. He reached over and grabbed his music player out of the nightstand drawer, then put on the small earphones. He turned on the player, and as the sounds of his favorite band filled his ears, he curled back down under the covers and closed his eyes, determined to not lose this round with his partner.
Martin had just reached that place between being awake and drifting off to sleep when he was once more rudely awakened. Only this time, instead of being awakened by an unidentifiable noise, Martin found himself being grabbed and hauled into an upright position.
Needless to say, this caused a jolt of panic mixed with fear to run through him, and as he opened his eyes, he had no idea who he'd be looking at. Would it be someone there to rob him or someone out to kidnap him? All he knew was that he wasn't sure if his father would let Jack run the investigation, or if he'd take control of it until Martin was either home safe or dead.
With that thought in mind, Martin was surprised to see Danny there in front of him, looking more scared than Martin had ever seen him look. Danny had Martin by the biceps, and he was speaking, but Martin couldn't hear him.
"What the fuck?" Martin tried to free himself, but the more he struggled, the tighter Danny's grip became. "Let go of me."
Danny's eyes were flitting over Martin's body, and came to a stop at Martin's ear. Danny's grip eased off then, and Martin wasted no time in freeing his right arm and removing the ear buds. "What the Hell is wrong with you?"
"Where's your gun?" Danny asked, his face still pale and his breathing sounding labored to Martin's ears. When Martin didn't answer, Danny once more grabbed his arms, shaking him and aggravating his not quite gone headache. "Where. Is. Your. Gun?"
As Martin tried to answer, he found himself thinking that Danny was asking a good question, because he had no idea where his gun was. "I don't know. Wherever you or Jack put it when you put me to bed, I guess. Why? Danny, what's wrong?"
Danny moved quickly, leaving the bedroom at a near run. Martin remained seated on the bed, rubbing his upper arms and wondering how long it would take for the bruises to appear. And he had no doubt at all that there'd be bruising. He'd been held before with less pressure and had the bruises to show for it.
When Danny didn't immediately return, Martin got to his feet and left the bedroom. The first thing he noticed was that the lights were on in the living room. The second thing he noticed was that Chris was there, too, watching Danny as he knelt by an overnight bag a few feet from the front door. Danny had the bag open and was yanking clothing out of it, muttering to himself in Spanish.
Martin eased over beside Chris. "What's going on?"
"Someone called 911 to report hearing a shot in the building, either on this floor or the one above it," Chris evenly replied, although his gaze never left Danny.
Martin frowned. That must have been the sound that had awakened him before. But he still didn't understand Danny shaking him awake and demanding to know where his gun was, unless Danny suspected that someone had broken in and stolen his weapon.
"So, my door was open or something?" Martin asked. That would explain how they'd gotten back inside, and also why Danny was so panicked. Having ones service weapon stolen and then used during the commission of a crime was a big fear in law enforcement circles, right behind having some perp get the drop on you.
Chris finally looked at him, shaking his head. "No."
"Got it!" Danny shouted and he eased himself into a sitting position on the floor, Martin's Glock in his hand.
"Good." Martin walked over to Danny and reached down, waiting for him to give him the weapon. "I'll go and lock it away."
"I don't think that's a good idea right now," Danny said, holding the gun close to his body. "Maybe after dinner."
"It's my weapon, Danny, hand it over." Martin didn't understand Danny's reluctance to give him the gun. It obviously hadn't been stolen, so if someone had fired a gun in his building, then they hadn't used his gun. "And isn't that your bag? What's my gun doing in your bag?"
"I took it from you when we left the hotel for the airport. Your badge, too." Danny said. "It just didn't seem safe to let someone as drunk as you were to be armed."
Martin couldn't really argue with that logic. But he'd slept all that off and wanted to put his gun under lock and key. "Well, I'm sober now, so give it here so I can lock it up."
"After dinner," Danny repeated, and he turned his head to look at Chris for a moment, and he looked back up at Martin. "We brought Thai back. You hungry?"
Martin wasn't sure if the confused feeling that he had was due to his lingering headache or to the fact that Danny was acting strangely. And that was putting it nicely. Danny had said 'we', which implied that he and Chris had gone out and gotten the food together. Martin looked over at Chris, who simply smiled and offered no additional explanation.
Martin returned his gaze to Danny, his mind still working to find the missing pieces from this scene. Danny had awoken him, looking scared…there was something wrong there aside from Danny's fear. Then it hit Martin. They'd come back into the apartment when he knew that the door had locked after he'd pushed them into the hallway. He couldn't remember using the security chain, but since they were standing in his living room, it was pretty obvious that he'd overlooked that important step. That meant that they had either picked his lock, which he knew Danny could do, or Danny had his keys. A quick glance around the living room didn't reveal the keys, so Martin decided to go with the latter option.
Martin walked over to the door and reached for the knob. "Yes, I'm hungry. Thank you for bringing food, but I can make my own. Now take yours and leave." He pulled the door open and then waited for Danny to get to his feet and for he and Chris to leave again. "And you can leave my gun and keys behind."
Neither man moved, although they were looking at him. Or rather, past him. Martin turned slightly and looked into the hallway. A uniformed police officer stood there, looking from the gun-wielding Danny to Martin and then back again, his own hand hovering near his service revolver.
"Is everything all right here, sir?" the officer asked.
Martin was so tempted to say that things were not okay, and then let the chips fall where they may, but he held his tongue. He really wanted to see how Danny was going to explain himself to the officer in light of the fact that someone from the building had called to report hearing a gunshot.
Danny looked from the officer to Martin, the look in his eyes clearly beseeching Martin to do something to help him out. Maybe, if he wasn't pissed off with Danny, Martin might have given in to that silent request. But, considering that Martin was still slightly pissed at both Danny and Chris, he wasn't feeling too generous right then.
Martin looked back at the officer. "I really can't say, officer. According to him," Martin waved his hand in Danny's general direction, "I'm probably still too drunk to be trusted, so I don't think you can take my word on much of anything. But I can tell you that I was in bed, minding my own business and trying to take a nap when I found myself being shaken awake by the man on the floor. He was most interested in the location of my weapon, which he's holding. And yes, I'm legally entitled to carry it." Martin smiled at the officer and extended his hand, "Special Agent Martin Fitzgerald, FBI."
Martin knew that he'd have to produce his badge, identification and gun registration and license, but that was a small price to pay considering all of the entertainment and satisfaction that he was going to get out of watching Danny and Chris being grilled by the cops.
"I see." The officer looked to one side and motioned to someone to come over to where he was. Then he stepped into the apartment, putting himself between Martin and the other two men. Seconds later, another officer appeared in the doorway, nodding once at Martin before giving Danny an appraising look. It was a look that Martin knew all too well, where you gauged just how dangerous someone could be to you and those around you. It gave him a rush of satisfaction to see Danny put under that kind of microscope.
Now that his back up had arrived, the first officer gave his full attention to Danny. "Put the weapon on the floor and back away from it slowly."
Danny chuffed in what Martin thought must be annoyance, but he did as instructed. Chris, meanwhile, was still standing there, grinning. The officer picked up the gun and smelled it. "It hasn't been fired recently," he told the other officer. "Why don't you take these two into the hallway. I'll interview Agent Fitzgerald."
"Right." The other officer motioned to Danny and Chris. "Come on. We can wait at the stairwell."
"Look, there's obviously a misunderstanding here. I'm also an FBI Agent, and I work with Martin," Danny said as he scrambled to his feet. "When I heard that someone had reported a gun being fired on this floor, I feared that Martin had done something drastic, which is why I was insistent on finding his weapon and securing it. Chris and I just arrived a few minutes ago. He's also a Federal Agent, with the ATF. Chris Larabee."
The first officer looked at Danny and Chris, then back to Martin and then back to Danny, disbelief on his features. It was that moment when Martin remembered that he was shirtless, and had neglected to put a bandage on his bite wound before taking his nap. No wonder the cops were looking at them all a bit oddly. Martin had to hold back his own grin at that. If they only knew how he'd gotten all of those marks, they'd be falling all over themselves to get away.
"We'll go over that, sir. Now, please step into the hallway with Officer Turner."
Danny looked as if he wanted to argue some more, and Chris had lost that amused look and was instead looking a bit angry, but they both followed Officer Turner into the hallway. Once they were out of the apartment, the first officer closed the door.
He looked intently at Martin. "I'm Officer Olds. Now that they're gone, we can talk. Did they hurt you?"
Martin shook his head, "No. This…" he motioned toward his own body, "…mostly happened last week and this weekend. You're going to want to see my badge and other papers, correct?"
The police officer kept looking intently at him, then nodded as he seemed to accept Martin's explanation. It had only been half a lie, so Martin thought he'd probably pulled it off. "I'll need to see your badge, some identification, and the papers for your weapon."
"Right." Martin stepped over to Danny's overnight bag and looked inside. Since Danny had nearly emptied the bag, his badge was clearly visible near the bottom. Martin pulled it out and handed it to the officer.
"My paperwork and driver's license are in the bedroom. I'll be right back."
It didn't take long for Martin to find the other items, and he also took the time to pull on a fresh T-shirt. Officer Olds seemed satisfied that all was well with Martin and his weapon, but not as satisfied that Martin was all right and that Danny and Chris, separately or together, had not hurt him.
Part Twenty-three