Adrift by Homeric

John has relaxed into a light doze when his cell-phone wakes him up. He answers it quickly, before it can awaken the girl asleep on the bed. Stretching his cramped limbs, he slides off the chair he'd been sleeping in and pads into the kitchen. It's so early that dawn is just a promise on the horizon and the neon glow of his phone makes him squint.

"Good Morning Harold," he says, stifling a yawn.

"And to you, Mr Reese. I trust your young charge is comfortable." John glances over towards the bed. Jacey is a small lump of blonde hair and blankets, snoring softly.

"Sleeping like a baby. Any info on the Starlight Motel?"

"As a matter of fact there is." Finch sounds tired, John wouldn't be surprised if his employer had been working through the night. "Although there are several establishments with the same moniker in the city only the one in Brownsville seemed to fit the criteria. I've run the financials and came up with something rather interesting. While on paper the establishment is owned by a Mr Clarke, the gentleman himself wasn't the one paying for the substantial renovations that were undergone a year ago."

"And who was?" Reese thinks that he has an idea, but Finch gets uppity when he doesn't get to pull the metaphorical Scooby Doo style mask off the real criminal so he doesn't say it out loud.

"A construction firm by the name of Pittis. Very small; from the state of the tax records I would say that most of the jobs were done cash in hand, but it's been disguised creatively. It's registered in the name of a Mrs Caroline Craig."

"You think that she's in on the prostitution ring?"

"Doubtful, Mr Reese," Harold says wryly. "The woman died in two thousand and six. She did have a son however who goes by her married name."

"That wouldn't be Kent by any chance?" John keeps an eye on Jacey. She hasn't stirred but he knows that she's awake and listening by the irregularity of her breathing.

"Indeed. He was the sole heir and is apparently using his late mother as a smoke-screen for some of his less salubrious activities. It's going to take time to access his financials â€“ he's a very clever man. On paper he's clean, but there are links to shell companies all of whom have re-routed their financial assets to the Cayman Islands. Even with my resources it's going to be next to impossible to implicate him in anything."

"We've got pictures of him soliciting an underaged girl. If Carter or Fusco have grounds for a search warrant then we might be able to shut this down right now. He's got to have records somewhere, " John points out.

"We've got pictures of an underaged girl who happened to have been in Kent's car and in his building. He's quite capable of bribing the chauffeur to say that she was his entertainment for the night and got greedy when she found out who his employer was. Put Miss Brundett on the stand and his defence team will tear her apart."

Reese sighs, but from the beginning of the case he hadn't expected that it would be something that could be tied up nice and neatly by going through the proper law enforcement channels. "I'm going to need the address of the motel, Finch. There's probably other girls stashed there."

"And if there are?"

"I'll think of something. Jacey can't stay here â€“ any ideas?"

"She's booked into the Paramount Hotel under the name Jane Bennet. The room is paid for for two weeks, by then I should have organized something more permanent. A friend by the name Starla Kowalzki will be visiting her at noon to discuss her options and how to legally contact her siblings."

"You have a lot of friends don't you, Harold." John can't help but smile.

The voice at the end of the line is utterly deadpan. "Of course I do, Mr Reese. I am after all charm incarnate. I'm bringing up the blueprints of the Motel and looking into the staff records. Don't move in until I've got something you can use. Keep in contact, Detective Carter may shoot me if you don't turn up for her Thanksgiving meal."

Reese doesn't answer before cancelling the call, but he does make sure that the ear-bud he uses to communicate with is functioning. Finch is right, he's pretty much going in blind and being well armed will only get you so far if you don't have a potential plan B.

"John?" Jacey has gotten off the bed and is watching him uncertainly. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine. " He gives her a smile that she tentatively returns. "Go and clean-up and change while I make breakfast. I've got a new place for you to stay for a while and we should leave soon."

The light goes out of her eyes as quickly as a candle flame being extinguished.

"No. No, Jacey," John crosses the distance between them in a few long strides. "It's a hotel where you will be safe, just for a couple of weeks. Just you there, you keep the key and don't let anyone in, even me if you don't want to."

The war behind her large blue eyes is obvious. To believe or not to believe that was the question. Whatever she sees in his own face is sincere enough to convince her and she gives a small nod.

"Okay."

"Okay." John tucks a tangled strand of blonde hair back from her face. "There's a comb in the bathroom. You might want to use it."

"Says the man who looks like a hedgehog." She gives a little laugh and heads off to shower, closing the door behind her. Going back into the kitchen John puts a couple of slices of bread in the toaster and scowls at his reflection in the glass front of the microwave. Hedgehog? He thinks, patting his ruffled hair flat. He'd better not let Finch or Joss ever hear that or he'd never live it down.

After they've both eaten Jacey packs her new clothing into their plastic bags and John showers, dresses casually, and puts several smoke bombs, a couple of grenades and his Glock in a duffel bag. He thinks that he earns points with her for letting her choose the music in the car â€“ some generic pop crap, and she definitely earns points with him for playing the sweet young niece being looked after by her over-protective uncle when they check into the hotel. Reese promises to check in later, she in turn promises not to do anything stupid and to call him on the burner phone that he gives her if she's in trouble. When he tells her about the woman coming to help her see her family again she hugs him so tightly that his ribs protest.

With Jacey safe in the hotel promising to obey his strict instructions to only open the door to him or Mrs Kowalzki, Reese debates what to do next. He's got to go by the library to collect a few things and taking a look at the blueprints of the Starlight Motel was probably a good idea. Finch had given him the basic outlay of the place verbally, but it was better to actually see for himself the ins and outs of the motel. His life had been saved before by knowing where a strategically placed grenade could be tossed or a fire door located.

It's still early though. Pimps weren't usually known for being early risers â€“ whatever happened at the Starlight Motel probably wouldn't get going until at least mid-day, and Finch might well have better intel by then. Oh who are you kidding? John asks himself. Parking the car a couple of blocks from Carter's apartment he orders a couple of coffees and and an Apple Danish from a little coffee shop and takes them into the park. Settling onto a bench he looks at his watch and waits.

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Jocelyn Carter isn't really one for exercise. She knows a few people who can put the bounce into being a gym bunny without being boring and only nibbling on lettuce leaves, but for her the idea of getting sweaty with a lot of strange people and paying for the privilege does not appeal. She's a cop though however and so neither does the idea of losing a suspect because she wasn't fit enough to chase him down. If she's honest she also acknowledges that she's not so lacking in vanity that going up a dress size isn't a big deal either.

So jogging it is. Half an hour around the park before breakfast when there aren't many people around and there's only the pounding of her feet to keep her company. Although she's always alert to danger it's a chance to let her muscles do the work and clear her head of anything that is bothering her: difficult cases, Taylor's college fund, sexy men in nice suits...

Settling into an easy rhythm, she breathes in the smell of the autumn air and pushes herself a little faster. When she hears her name called she almost crashes into a tree, she's so concentrated on running.

"Good morning Detective Carter." The husky voice is slightly amused and very familiar. For her part Joss is too out of breath to respond with a witty come-back even if she could think of one. Instead she rests her hands upon her knees and does not give Reese the satisfaction of looking at him. Once she's recovered herself somewhat, she glares at the man sat on the bench.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Actually I've brought you breakfast." His cool gray eyes sweep over her appraisingly and Joss straightens her spine. Alright she's sweaty, wearing an over sized T-shirt and her hair is squashed into an unflattering pony-tail but she's still not going to be embarrassed. Even if John is sprawled on the bench dressed in dark jeans, a t-shirt that isn't quite tight enough and a leather jacket looking like the very definition of sin. When he offers her a coffee she gives in sulkily.

"Isn't there something about being beware of Greeks bearing gifts?"

"I'm not Greek," he points out mildly. "Besides the only Trojan Horses around are the ones Finch uses with his computers."

"Smart-ass." When he gives her an Apple Danish, still slightly warm, she pulls it apart and gives him half. "I don't like eating on my own."

John doesn't seem to mind. He eats faster than she does, but messier. There are flakes of pastry on his shirt by the time he's finished and a smudge of apple by the side of his mouth.

"You've missed a bit." Joss gestures towards his cheek. When he swipes ineffectually with his wrist, she sighs and reaches out, cleaning away the apple goo and holding it up to him. "You're way worse than Taylor. Maybe I've still got some bibs you could borrow."

He responds by licking the applesauce off her finger. His tongue is slow, soft and warm and Carter swallows hard. From the intense look in John's eyes that isn't what he'd like to be licking and she presses her knees together firmly so as not to squirm on the cold wooden bench. At least her blush could be mistaken for being flushed from her run, she thinks when he lets her hand go.

"Do you know anything about a man called Grayson Kent?" Reese asks with calm, professional interest.

It takes a moment for her to gather her wits. She should be used to his flirting by now, but seriously, what the hell was that?

"The lawyer?" Carter tries to shut off her libido and go into cop mode. "He's an immoral ass, but then whaddyou expect, he's a lawyer." She shrugs. "Why, what have you got on him?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I'll let you know as soon as I have something concrete. Enjoy your breakfast Detective Carter â€“ I look forward to Thanksgiving."

When he gets up and gives her a quick, boyish smile she doesn't follow. There are security cameras at the end of the path and it wouldn't do to be caught on camera with him.

She's not going to make him a Thanksgiving meal, she's going to serve him up as the main course. Dismembered so that he fits in the oven. Taylor would forgive her eventually.

When she gets home she changes the shower setting, washes off and doesn't feel guilty when Taylor yelps at the unexpected coldness of the water a few minutes later.