Blank: Chapter 9

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DISCLAIMER: Most of these characters are not mine at all, but they are memorable. Thank you, Mr. Marlowe. The others? Yeah, they're mine

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1:45 a.m. on April 17, 2012 at the Castles Complex in Sausalito, California

"From your greeting, I am going to make the assumption that I do not need to tell you the purpose of this call, Richard," Sam Carlos offers by way of greeting. His use of Castle's first name is not lost on Richard Castle.

"He wants this to work out," Castle tells himself silently, and closes his eyes for a second or two as he answers.

"Well, if it has to do with a Cynthia Romaines, then yes, we are on the same page," Castle offers.

"Are we Richard?" Sam asks, and Castle can tell it is a legitimate question, not a threatening one. "You think we are on the same page?"

"I think so, Sam," Castle replies. "We have many women here who come here under a wide and varied range of circumstances . . . although I do wish that Mrs. Romaines did not come here as a widow."

"Point taken," Carlos responds, and once again Castle is surprised by the tone and candor of this conversation – at least so far.

"While I did not order the death of Mr. Romaines," Carlos begins, "I do admit that Frankie's boys do tend to get a little too aggressive at times. I have refrained from reigning them in – so to speak – because if I must choose between a tentative man or an aggressive man, in most cases I will take the latter. Particularly when collections are in order."

Sam Carlos pauses, taken aback by the chuckling sound he hears on the other end of the phone.

"As I come from the east coast, that has to be the most sophisticated way to sound very casual about a bit of leg-breaking," Castle half-smiles against himself – bringing a quizzical look from Kate Beckett, who stands next to him.

"I suppose it does sound casual," Carlos admits. "But in the end, this is my money that your newest guest holds onto. Gambling is a two-way agreement . . . a game of chance. One that I play constantly. Sometimes I win. When I win, I expect to be paid. Sometimes I lose. When I lose, I willingly pay. This is just fair, no?"

"No, you're right on that point, my friend," Castle agrees.

Kate is now sitting in the chair, he hands rustling through dark locks of hair, shaking her head at the scene before her. The man she loves is standing there having a casual conversation with a notorious criminal mastermind about a woman who has just been widowed indirectly by said mastermind . . . and yet she harbors no ill feelings toward the man. This realization bothers her greatly.

Castle – for his part – truly does understand Sam's perspective. Perhaps it is his east coast upbringing. Perhaps it is the fact that over the past few years he has interacted with the seedier side of New York City enough times to understand both sides of this equation. Regardless, Castle is a realist. He knows this is just business. If someone owes a debt, they should pay it. Whether legal or not, Castle himself has done enough gambling to know that anyone who gambles is taking a risk with their money, and their life if they don't pay up. So, he cannot in good faith hold it against Sam Carlos that the man wants his money. It is this mindset that plays in his head as he listens to Sam continue.

"So, Richard – someone playing this game without the money – that person is a liar. That person is a thief. You will notice, Richard, that I do many things in this city that are certainly illegal – but I am not a liar, and I do not tolerate thieves."

"Why not?" Castle asks, and again, Carlos takes no affront at the question. He knows this man well enough now to understand it is just his naturally curious nature.

For his part, it truly is natural curiosity for Richard Castle. When he considers all that he knows about Sam Carlos, he cannot shake the thought that the leader of a criminal organization who does not tolerate prostitution, liars or thieves – yet commits murder – well, somehow this just sounds highly incongruent.

"Because a man who will lie to someone will eventually lie to me," Carlos tells him. "Someone who will rob from a person will eventually rob from me. I may as well put a bullet in him now."

The logic is warped, of course. But then again, not really. For Sam Carlos, a sociology and philosophy major – this is simple Humanities 101.

Sam Carlos – on the other hand – understands the likely mental state of the woman in Castle's facility, and the likelihood that she was unaware or unagreeable to the debt her husband created. But in the end, it doesn't matter – Sam cannot allow such a precedent to be set, and Castle understands this.

"Believe me, I understand your point of view, Sam," Castle decides quickly. "You are owed money. You should get your money – a deal is a deal. I've done enough gambling to know that much. But right at this very moment, with a woman who has just gone through what is likely the most traumatic moments of her life, I just can't . . . I won't just walk in there and ask her for . . . how much are we talking about?"

"Twenty-five thousand dollars," Carlos replies. He smiles as he hears Castle exhaling his breath with a whistle. He also notes the change of wording that his new friend uses. The change from "can't" to "won't" is not lost on him.

"I do understand the likely mental state of Mrs. Romaines, Richard," Carlos continues. "Furthermore, I am well aware of the likelihood that she was unaware – or at least highly unagreeable – to the debt her late husband created. But in the end, it doesn't matter. I cannot allow any adverse precedent to be set."

"No, I imagine that you cannot," Castle agrees. "So, this is your phone call. What do you suggest? We both know that you hold the leverage right now," Castle asks, as an idea begins to percolate inside his head.

"And yet, despite this leverage you speak of, I can tell from your voice, you have something in mind?" Carlos asks, but it isn't really a question.

"Give me a little time," Castle tells him, making his request. "Let her get settled, let her get her mind together. She just lost her husband, Sam. Kate and I were there. We saw –"

"You and Kate were where?" Carlos asks, the change in his voice apparent.

"At the Romaines' house," Castle replies. "After the fact. She had called the complex here as a battered wife, looking for asylum. We granted that. When we went to do the pickup . . . well, when our man went to do the pickup, that's when he noticed the carnage left at her house. And she wasn't there. So he called us. Kate and I got there as soon as we could."

"I understand," Carlos responds, with a nod of his head.

"We saw the aftermath, Sam," Castle continues. "It was brutal. Blood everywhere in her living room. It is not an image that she is going to likely ever forget. Give her a little time."

"How much time are we talking about, Richard?" Carlos asks, intrigued with how this conversation has gone. In truth, he was highly worried about the direction this little talk – along with numerous friendships – would go.

"You tell me," Castle replies. "As I said, I'm not exactly well-leveraged here, Sam."

Once again, Sam Carlos marvels and appreciates his new friend's mindset and honesty.

"Call me back in a week, Richard," Carlos decides. "Tell me how she is doing. Then we will talk . . . about payment."

"Thank you, my friend," Castle replies, the affection genuine. "And you said twenty-five thousand?"

"Yes," Carlos responds with a single word.

"Let's do breakfast later today – at a reasonable hour given how late it is already," Castle offers. "I will advance you half. Twelve thousand five hundred."

"That is entirely unnecessary, Richard," a surprised Sam Carlos counters. "We already have an agreement in –"

"In principle, I understand," Castle finishes the thought for him. "But as we both know – this is business. And as you said – you cannot make exceptions. Set a precedent. I know enough to know that something like that can come back to haunt you."

Once again, Sam Carlos is smiling – at the honesty and the candor of the ex-author. Yes, this conversation could have gone very, very differently.

"I have to say, I appreciate your mindset, Mr. Castle," Carlos tells him.

"Oh, we're back to Mr. Castle now?" Castle chuckles, and Sam Carlos joins him in their little joke.

"Let us just say that this conversation went much more smoothly than I had dared imagine, and leave it at that," Carlos tells him.

"Truth be told, I kind of almost had a wee bit of a heart attack when I saw your incoming call," Castle laughs.

"Well, we certainly can't have that," Carlos tells him, taking on a more serious tone. "At least not until we get you a better antidote."

Unbeknownst to the mobster, his simple statement has re-opened a can of worms for Richard Castle. With the door cracked, Castle pushes forward.

"You know, since we are being so nice and civil with each other," Castle interrupts, "I have to ask you, Sam. And I don't really know how to ask this. It's something that has been bothering me, it has been troubling me for the past two –"

"Rick, no!" Kate interrupts, now standing. She knows where this conversation is going to go. Nothing good can come of this conversation. She quickly takes the phone away from Castle, walking quickly toward the window away from the man she loves.

"Hi Sam," she begins. "Forget what you just heard. Rick is just –"

"Ah, Beckster," Sam greets her, bringing a smile to her face. It doesn't last long.

"You know I don't forget anything," he tells Kate. "And I know exactly what is bugging my friend next to you."

"Really?" Kate asks, somewhat surprised.

"He is thinking about the Councilman, is he not?" Carlos asks.

"Well . . . well, yes, yes he is, Sam – but don't –"

"And he is wondering why – given who I am and given the things that I do – he is wondering why the Councilman has not paid a price for his transgressions against the city, against forty-nine women . . . against him," Carlos continues.

Kate is quiet for a couple of seconds, now quite astonished at the new direction this phone call has taken.

"Yes," she offers as a single answer.

"And what makes you think he has not paid a very staggering price?" Carlos asks. He disconnects the call before she can respond. She stands next to the window, staring at the phone for a brief instant. She turns and almost bumps into Castle, who has quietly come up behind her.

"What did he say?" Castle asks.

She stares at him for a second or two, then glances out the window.

"He strongly inferred that Councilman Barry Adams has paid a terrible price for what he did. To those women," she tells him. Then she turns back to face him.

'To you," she concludes.

A raised eyebrow is all he gives her for the moment. He is ready to ask another question when she beats him to the punch.

"Did I hear you say you are going to pay him twelve thousand dollars?" she asks, an incredulous look painted across her face.

"Twelve thousand and five hundred dollars to be exact," he replies.

"Are you sure that is . . . wise?" she asks.

"It won't be the first time I have paid off someone in order to get what we want, babe," he tells her. "A hundred thousand dollars back in New York to Dick Coonan comes to mind."

Her mind takes her back to the payment that he made – that he was willing to make – for her when they were still on uncertain footing, still figuring this thing out . . . long before either realized what was really brewing between them.

"I suppose you're right," she admits.

"I won't ask Cynthia for that kind of money right now," he continues. "And who knows what her mindset is going to be toward paying that back anytime soon anyway. If I have to pay the rest, I have to pay the rest."

"That's incredibly generous and magnanimous of you, babe – even for you," she tells him, ever amazed at his generosity.

"Not really," he surprises her. "It's more pragmatic than anything else. Sam cannot allow someone to withhold money from him. He just can't. I understand that. Something like that gets out. Then people try him. They test him. They try to take advantage of him. You think he has a scorched earth kind of reputation now? I cannot even imagine what he would be willing to do to erase a misperception about him."

She shudders at the thought, agreeing with him once again as the door opens, as Dr. Samantha Peraza and Dawn Harrison walk in first, followed by Cynthia Romaines. Both notice that the woman, although flustered, is looking much better than earlier.

"We just finished processing Mrs. Romaines in," the doctor tells the duo. "Dawn will be taking her to her quarters in just a moment. She just wanted a cup of coffee."

"Do you mind if I come in?" Mrs. Romaines asks, glancing around the room nervously.

Castle nods his head, offering a small smile to the still-distraught woman.

"Not at all, Cynthia," he replies affably. "Until you decide otherwise, this is your home. I hope you will like the place. You will be safe here, I promise you."

"I believe you," is her simple reply. Given what she has gone through, and what she knows about this place, it is the most honest answer she can give.

He turns back to Kate, as both face the window staring outside. Both are still lost in the phone conversation that has just finished with Sam Carlos, when a cup of hot coffee slips between the still-jittery fingers of Cynthia Romaines, and shatters on the floor with a loud noise.

Kate Beckett hears it before she sees it. She hears the soft gurgling noise in the back of his throat, as the accidental and surprising sound of the shattering cup hauntingly does its work . . . and Richard Castle falls slowly to the ground, unconscious on his feet, barely caught by Kate before hitting the ground. Dawn Harrison is by their side immediately, limping faster than she ought to help him lay him down gently.

"No!" Dawn whispers, a despondent look on her face, while a now terrified Cynthia Romaines looks on, not understanding what has happened.

Dawn and Kate lays him softly down, and the tears are coming quickly now, as Kate realizes that two weeks of memories are now gone.

More than that – memories of a certain phone call – and a certain agreement – are now gone. It takes no time for her to make up her mind.

"You have him for a minute?" she asks Dawn, who nods her head while stifling a sob of her own.

Kate is dialing the phone number before she can even think about it. It only gets two rings before he answers.

"Katie. Twice in one night?" Sam asks.

"Sam, we have a problem," she tells him, and Sam Carlos realizes sadly that his night is still not over yet.

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A/N: I apologize for the long delay. Hospice is here now with my father-in-law. Life just keeps getting more interesting by the day. I hope to have the next chapter up soon.