After watching Carol's cab as it glided away, supposedly bearing her home, Merle's emotions trotted through two stages. At first annoyance which quickly ramped up to a low-burning, dangerous rage. He knew he had to say his goodbyes. Put on that polite front. All smiles and handshakes and business.

As he stalked back to the table, he toyed with his phone, his fingers sliding over the cool smooth surface. He knew exactly what to do. Who to call. His problem solver. Shane. Oh yes. Shane would get to the bottom of this little story.

Merle couldn't help but smile. The rage cooled to a low, still dangerous, simmer.

Rejoining his father, Merle made a show of nodding politely as Carol's father droned on about some inane thing concerning his latest jet design.

Merle's mind kept wandering to back to Carol and how stunning she was in that damned outfit. She was fucking perfect. Those shoes he had sent her. He was thrilled she had worn them. Merle always loved how Carol's eyes gave that spark when he tried to rattle her. Fiery little thing. He could only imagine how she was in bed. All class and proper in public but behind closed doors, well…he could only dream. He'd be damned if his slacker of a little brother would get to find out. Daryl. Always coasting along, whether it was taking artsy photos or wearing fancy clothes designed by some dandy that probably couldn't even speak English. Bullshit.

The mention of his name snapped him back to the restaurant. His father was pointedly staring at him, eyebrow cocked in his classic trademark show of annoyance, awaiting a response. "You alright son?"

Merle offered a half smile. "Sorry. I need to get back. It's been a long day. It's getting late and my meal isn't sitting right." Merle offered a tight apologetic smile before turning to Anthony and offering his hand. "It was a pleasure." Merle was vaguely aware of Anthony talking but he was already walking away, his fingers closing around his phone.

Once seated in his limo, away from prying eyes, Merle scrolled through the contacts on his phone. It had been a while since he needed to dial this number, second divorce as he could recall. He hoped his assistant had not taken it upon himself to "tidy" up Merle's contact list and do some deleting. Merle's lips flicked in a smile when he found the number he was looking for. Shane Walsh. Merle's secret weapon.

Shane had the knack of finding out secrets. Skeletons in the closet, dirty secrets. Anything a respectable person might not want out in the open, Shane could bring them out into the ugly light of day.

Merle and Shane's relationship spanned perhaps a decade. Merle wasn't privy to Shane's trade secrets, but he always delivered. Usually pretty quickly. Shane was the reason if you decide to go against Merle, you came up on the losing end, a fact Merle's ex-wives knew all too well.

Merle was also all too aware that if Shane so desired, a few of Merle's dirty little secrets could come out to play. To keep Shane's loyalty Merle paid incredibly well. Merle had once hinted that if Shane decided to double cross, well, Shane might just disappear. Now Merle probably wouldn't go that far…probably.

So far it had worked. They had an uneasy alliance.

Some may say it was fighting dirty but in Merle's mind whatever it took to win, no matter how low or underhanded, was a necessity. He didn't get where he was by playing "nice" in the sand box. That was always Daryl's problem, being the nice guy. Nice guys didn't get the girl. Nice guys finished last, didn't they?

Merle dialed the number, and smiled as Shane answered before the third ring.

"Yeah." Shane's voice sounded as if he had been sleeping.

Merle did not even go through the formality of bothersome pleasantries. He only barked a brusque "I need some information on my brother. Might be nothing but I want to know what he's been up to these past few months. Make it a year. Where he goes. Who he sees. Socializes with. Where he works."

Shane said nothing only responding with an occasional "Umm hmmm" or "Got it" during Merle's tirade.

When Merle was done with his laundry list of wants regarding Daryl, Shane lazily responded, "Okay, now all I need is an email he's using and his cell number. I'll dig around a bit but I should have a pretty good idea what your bro has been up to by Saturday. Roughly anyway. The nitty gritty details sometimes take longer to reveal themselves. Family squabble? He after your money or something?"

Merle paused a moment before responding, "Or something. You get me decent, usable information by Saturday, I'll double what I usually pay you. Hell, triple."

There was only a stunned silence on the other end. Finally Shane laughed. "No problem. Piece of cake. I'll be in touch." The line went dead.

Merle leaned back, finally somewhat at ease. Glancing at his phone, his eyes happened on Carol's name. He knew he told her he would have his assistant check on her. He wondered if she was home safe. He really hoped so. He hoped what he had seen between his brother and Carol was nothing. Just his imagination.

Perhaps later Merle would make the call himself. Merle doubted she would respond but he wanted her to know he cared for her wellbeing.

As the cab pulled away, Carol safely in the back seat, she felt like she was going to come apart. It was as if her blood were replaced with champagne; the bubbles tingling and bouncing through her body, shimmering and effervescent. She felt giddy and heady.

She could still feel him. Still taste him. She wanted him there beside her so badly, it actually hurt. She knew it was completely ridiculous but it was like she left part of herself back there with him.

Her phone chirped. Her stomach gave a fluttery tingle when she saw it was him. Let me know the instant you make it home.

She couldn't help but smile at his concern and protectiveness. She certainly could take care of herself. Yes, she would have preferred calling her driver but she hated to disturb him so late. The cab ride was a short one. She'd be okay.

Smiling she typed in response, I'll be fine. She paused for a moment before adding: Perhaps you should have come along to make sure I got home okay if you are so concerned. She wasn't one for those silly emojis but added a winking one to let him know she was gently teasing him. Tones were easily misinterpreted over text messages.

Don't tempt me, beautiful. It was followed by the devil emoji. Then: Stay safe.

Carol hugged herself in the backseat with a grin that refused to leave. Texting like a love-struck teenager.

Of course she couldn't help but remember what had happened the last time she was in the back of a cab with Daryl and what that had led to. Stop it. The cabbie is going to think you are nuts. Settle yourself. Daryl was right. Your head is fuzzed up and you are not thinking straight.

Luckily for Carol the driver was paying her no mind, concentrating in changing lanes cursing a blue streak in what sounded to be Russian as he cut in front of a bus. She was the least of his worries at the moment.

She knew this whole situation was downright insane. Common sense kept trying to regain some semblance of control but her heart staunchly refused to allow it entry into its rose-tinted bubble.

Let me have this moment. Let me savor this.

As the cab drew closer to her home, reality and common sense grew more insistent. She couldn't tell Michonne that was for certain. She hated hiding things from her friend but she didn't need a lecture on the why not's, how could you's, and how it would never work. It was a shame because she really wanted to gush over this with somebody. It felt strange keeping it inside. She had shared everything with Michonne. She just couldn't share this. Not now. Not yet.

Carol knew things were stacked in a precarious tower against them as it was. It reminded her of that game she played when she and Michonne were at school. She couldn't remember the name but it involved removing one block of wood carefully from the bottom, placing it on top of the stack praying the as the game went on the tower didn't collapse on you.

She would have to tell Glenn if things moved further along. Hell, Glenn had already busted her when she and Daryl had been talking outside of The Little Owl. She had been able to cook up a plausible lie quickly enough. A lie that had since morphed into a truth since she would indeed be having Daryl working as a photographer. She knew Glenn had not been entirely convinced. He was too perceptive. Keen. That's why he had been her assistant for the past two years. His bullshit detector was sublime.

She'd meet with him first thing in the morning. She had the feeling Glen actually might be a good ally in this whole debacle.

Now the block to be placed at the top of her tower was the Maggie/Beth situation. Carol might be able to keep Daryl's true line of work hidden from Glen, not indefinitely but for the time being. Maggie though. Maggie was a whole other situation. Even though Maggie was estranged from Beth at the current moment, Carol was sure somehow and some way it would eventually come out that Daryl was an escort.

Carol had no sense of Beth's personality, she really wasn't in Carol's social sphere. Was Beth a spiteful person? Jealous? In the worst case scenario, Carol could see barbs being slung. Or not.

Carol shook her head. Perhaps she was projecting Merle's way of thinking onto this situation.

Merle.

That was another big problem. Carol knew he was angry. He was probably stewing like a spoiled toddler that had his favorite toy put up and out of reach. When Merle got angry, he was dangerous. He WAS spiteful. He had ruined more than one reputation of people he had once supposedly cared about.

Part of her was still shocked he let her slip away so easily. Again, too easily. Like a cat toys with a mouse, letting it think it is home free before that cage of needle sharp claws comes slamming down, erasing all hope of escape.

Carol knew Merle. If she was going to have anything with Daryl, she was going to have to up her game and play as dirty Merle, staying two, no three, steps ahead.

As the cab glided to a stop in front of her building, Carol's phone chirped, alerting her of yet another text. She knew it was him before she looked. Daryl's message was short and to the point, "Home yet?"

"Just got in. Home safe." She wanted to mention again how much she wished he had joined her but of course didn't. Her fingers trembled as it was typing that brief response.

The doorman gave a polite tip of his hat as he opened her door.

Carol's phone cheerily chirped yet again.

Her stomach tingled pleasantly at the anticipation of perhaps another flirty response only this time it was not from Daryl. This time it was Merle. From his private personal number. It wasn't his assistant checking in as he had assured her when they parted ways.

Merle's text was a simple and to the point, "Did you make it home?"

Funny how Daryl's similar message exuded warmth and concern. Merle's was terse and proprietary.

Carol chewed her lip nervously. So here it was going on 3:00 a.m. and he was up. This was proof he was stewing. He had said he would have his assistant call to check on her. Merle obviously didn't trust them with the task. Or he was too nosey to wait.

She knew better than to respond. She would wait until the morning. No sense on letting him know SHE was still awake and about. No sense on throwing gasoline on the ember of his suspicion on what was going on between her and Daryl. Going with that stacking tower game analogy here was another piece to select and place at the top, praying her tower wouldn't collapse around her.

Daryl had kissed many women, paid and not, and he had to say that kiss he shared with Carol ranked right up there as the best. He took great pleasure replaying it in his head during his cab ride home. His artist's eye had captured and memorized every detail, no matter how small. That lovely dress, daring and sexy and on her body sublime. And of course those shoes. He hoped she would keep them. They might come in handy later.

He bounced up the steps to his apartment two at a time.

The fact she was willing to wait for him. To let him do this one last assignment. For some reason her gentle confidence convinced him that this meeting with Andrea to go over the particulars would be a piece of cake. Hell, Daryl would give this his all. End his "career" on a high note. Daryl knew it was wise to never burn bridges, no matter if he didn't think he would need it in the future. You never knew. Best to end things civil. Keep those options open.

For what it was worth Daryl liked Andrea. He really did. She was tough but she was fair. She had always taken good care of him and all of her escorts. She ran a tight ship and kept them safe. He was very curious how Andrea had gotten wound up with this Mr. Hershel Green. Daryl was sure it was an interesting story, but was wise enough not to bring it up. If Andrea would happen to volunteer the tale, fine, but he wasn't pushing it.

In any event, tomorrow would be interesting.

It was late as hell but Daryl found himself too wound up to sleep. Perhaps a hot shower was in order.

He lazily peeled off his clothing, dropping each article haphazardly as he made the way to the bath, hissing as his feet touched the cold slate floor. The timer for the heater was set for 6:00 a.m., so the floor was like ice. Wincing Daryl jumped into the shower.

He put the water as hot as he could stand it. As the stall clouded with steam, once again Daryl's thoughts wandered back to Carol. Replaying their conversation. And that dress and shoes.

She made him feel like a teenager, made his blood sing. Run hot.

Just like that she was there with him and just like that his cock twitched to life, surging hungrily.

Daryl squeezed a generous dollop of Kiehl's Orange Spice bath gel into his palm

Might as well.

Taking his length firmly in hand, he began to stroke slow and teasing. As he braced his free hand on the smooth black marble he let his mind play, bringing Carol there with him in the water and steam.

He imagined her blue eyes shining with desire and perhaps a bit of lust as she caressed him with hands soft, sure, and gentle. Her beautiful silver hair darkened by the water. Would she be shy or would she take control? His cock jumped at the thought. Daryl increased the pressure, pausing at the head to circle and tease the sensitive area before gliding his fist back down the shaft now slick with lather.

He imagined her lips parted with want. The panting breaths she had taken as he had licked and teased her pussy came back to him now. She had tasted so fucking good. Daryl gave a slight whimper as he remembered her delicious flavor. Hell, he could taste it now. He couldn't wait to savor it again.

Daryl bit his lower lip as he began to pump harder. The warm scent of oranges and clove filled the shower. He was tipping close to the edge.

Panting he took his free hand and gently pulled and fondled at his balls, holding them down tight almost to the point of pain, a delicious counterpoint to the pleasure his soapy hand was lavishing on his cock. He allowed one soap-slicked finger to wander back to tease his asshole to laze and linger slowly tantalizing the sensitive, tight opening. It was the final tantalizing piece of the puzzle that pushed him over the edge.

"Fuck! Carol…..fuck…yes!" Daryl was usually pretty quiet when he took care of himself, but he just couldn't restrain himself. Streams of his seed splatted thickly onto the black marble.

The orgasm was so forceful he almost went down in the stall. His ragged panting roared in his ears. Finally collecting himself, he gave a contended lazy smile as he rinsed himself clean (his cock was certainly clean after all that gel). Making sure the evidence of his solo adventure was handily rinsed down the drain, he once again stepped onto the damned freezing floor, snagging a thick towel to dry himself off.

The shower (and orgasm) had done its trick. Daryl found himself yawning widely. Bed was the next order of business.

Slipping between the cool sheets (wishing beyond all wishes that Carol was there with him) Daryl's final thoughts, fuzzed with the onset of sleep, were of Carol. Hoping against hope that she would indeed wait for him.

He only had to get through a few more days but it might was well be years.