Author's Note: This fic is a What If. A year ago, a few friends of mine and I ran across a ficlet with a Barricade/Maggie pairing. As we Mun those characters on the Survival Earth board, we couldn't help but think "Is that possible from our POV?" So, I set out to explore the pairing of the two and this...admittedly dark ride came about. It's not a fairy tale. It's not a happy one-shot. It's dark, it's mature, and it's brutal. If you do not like these themes, I implore you to hit the back button and don't read on. But if you do like such, then please, carry on.

Indecent: unacceptable and offensive to accepted standards, especially in sexual matters

There were a lot of wonderful things Maggie Madsen was thankful for in this world. A plush job with cushy employment security, her health, pricey shoes she had a fondness for, and her quick wits. Oh and she wasn't in jail. That always put a little pep into her step. What she wasn't thankful for was the shitty transit system that continually let her down.

She'd never owned her own car, which would have been a waste when she spent so much of her time indoors lurking in front of a computer screen. Worrying about getting home at the end of the day ranked up there with lunch. She'd worry about those when she had to. By the time her brain said enough is enough, the day was late, far later than closing hours for the average joe, and she'd spent the entire day deep in data mining tool applications. She loved her job but sometimes it ate up her life.

As much as she enjoyed her profession…at odd moments her mind would muse over the alien virus she couldn't seem to forget. It had been so thrilling and surreal: studying lines of code that actually was a foreign language. On a planetary scale.

The Defense Secretary had been impressed by her "two man" team. Glen, for all his hermetic tendencies, was brilliant and while his methods were unorthodox and highly illegal at most times, he was an asset and a hero who had helped the government when it was being swiftly brought to it's knees. Which is the only reason they were not rotting in a cell.

And rightly so. It's not every woman what can hold off a robot out for blood while in stilettos.

Unfortunately those skills did not help her now when she was stuck waiting for a taxi. After charging into the road after a taxi yielded nothing but a cramped ankle from her cinched boots, she gave up on the city's pitiful means of transport. Public buses were not her style and neither did the monorail or subway offer much of a lure for her. She had far too much "homework" stored in her flash drives to work on at her apartment. If something untoward happened to those and she lost the information she'd be in mucho trouble.

Blowing her bangs out of her eyes with a huff, she slung her purse strap onto her shoulder and set off up the street. There were approximately seven city blocks back to her little abode. She wouldn't walk all of them, couldn't in those four inch heels she was sporting but a few blocks into the cool night wouldn't kill her. This section of the city was tame for the most part and there was always a police officer around the corner if she had real cause for alarm.

I took on a mini robot dervish, I think I can handle walking two blocks.

The dusk air was chill against her bare legs but the steady walking rhythm kept her body warmed up enough to where she wasn't uncomfortable. Already she was thinking about her plans for the evening. She would get home, change into a scruffy pair of pajamas she'd had since business school, and sit at the kitchen table working through the algorithms applied in her work.

The night was quiet, and even if it wasn't, she wouldn't have noted the men or women on the sidewalk. Too busy picking over the structure of code, not the life around her. Which is why she missed the growing rumble behind her. Liquid black pooled beside her making her jerk to the right, away from the road. A cop car, sinister under the flickering light overhead, despite the familiar markings of law enforcement.

She hadn't done anything wrong and the thought of jaywalking in those heels was out of the question. Not that there was a lot of traffic on the street at the moment. Still, she wasn't dressed trashy so could not be mistaken for a harlot, especially in this section of town. All these thoughts were running through her mind in a systematic checklist when the passenger window rolled down on her side. Despite the sallow light above her, she couldn't see that far into the interior of the car without stepping closer. One simply did not ignore the police.

"Evening, officer. Is there something wrong?"

She kept her voice neutral and her posture straight. Maggie was attractive, she wasn't blind to this knowledge. Even in the world of codes and scientific mathematical jargon, beauty was valued. When her wits didn't get her places, her looks did. Likely she was just getting a stern warning about being out alone at night, but it didn't hurt to have sympathy on her side because she had a fair face.

The response was not expected. "Maggie Madsen. PhD in Physical Science, Business, and Math. Slaving away on binary codes, ignorant of the organic world around her. Her fifteen minutes of importance granted after decoding an alien virus."

To put it simply, she was at a loss. Who the hell was this cop and how did he know so much about her? Her involvement with the Department of Defense was classified as all matters involving the NBE's had been deemed necessary. Every surviving human had signed a non-disclosure agreement and given another stern warning to keep quiet.

Foundering where she stood, Maggie drew herself up to her full height and kept her voice calm, "Who are you?" She was neither going to confirm or deny anything he said.

Ignoring the question, the man inside the car shifted minutely. He sounded more amused than anything, his voice docile, "What draws you into the cyber world? An aversion to the real world or a search for structure and rules?"

This was not a normal police officer. No cop she'd ever ran across analyzed her while she stood on a street corner. The situation was so surreal, Maggie took a step back away from the car and turned to walk away.

"This is strange and I'm not talking to you about my life. I don't even know you." A quiet part of her shuddered at the thought of someone knowing much about her personal life. She knew how easy it was to access information on anything, Glen had shown her the wonders in that particular field.

The clicking on her heeled boots against the walkway set a harsh cadence to the rumbling purr of the engine as the car followed her and still that maddening dulcet tone coaxed at her from the side. "I know of you, Maggie Madsen. Your work, your dedication." Here the tone grew slightly deeper, "How this form of government used your help then cuffed you to the side with a threat for your silence. So much for loyalty, hm?" The driver chuckled darkly, like it was all some grand joke.

She was looking at anything but the car, her pace never faltering. The words the driver spoke were puzzling and unsettling. Pointedly aimed to be so for some reason. To throw her off? Test her? Why was he saying such things to her and what was his interest in her? How did he know about her? She echoed that question to him, eyes darting to the two-toned mustang then back to the path ahead.

"Still haven't put it all together, despite the hints. Did you decode the virus by sheer, moronic luck? Focus, Madsen. Why would I know such convoluted truths about you and the one-time prostitution of yourself to the Department of Defense?"

Frowning at the car and heavily shadowed driver, she stopped and crossed her arms. The tone and derision she could overlook. So many times had she ran across men and women alike in her profession who cut with their words and supposed superior intellect. Through dogged determination she always showed them wrong and proved her worth. No, his attitude didn't phase her but his words bit deep into her metaphorical skin.

No one would say anything. Especially Glen. Not with what's being held over our heads. And Glen and his family have a horrible relationship with the police. I don't know anyone else that would know so much about my life and the virus. Not unless they were involved or government. But he's not speaking like any official. They don't have a sense of humor. So if he's not involved with the secretary of defense or the FBI, but knows of the virus and obvious threat to National Security he would have to be…

She stared at the Saleen, startled like a deer at the implication of her thoughts. A sudden rev of the well honed engine preceded the voice that practically purred to her. "Do the ends finally meet, Madsen?"

No. No, no, no. This is impossible. There's no way one of THEM would be here and unnoticed. But, her mind reminded her, there was a war fought in two separate places and the average citizen is none the wiser…hiding in plain sight is easy when we're oblivious.

"Why?" The question barely carried past her lips as she studied it, him. The car that wasn't a car. As to what she was asking of him, at the moment she wasn't sure. Why here? Why now? Why me? Why, why, why?

Instead of answering, the passenger door clicked open and swung towards her. "Get in."

The weirdness of the situation spooked her like a skittish foal. She wouldn't pretend that she wasn't curious about the NBE's but her involvement with them ended in the dam. It wasn't her place to deal with them. She had neither the learning or the security clearance to interact with alien beings. Shaking her head she stepped back from the car and temptation to sink further into the mystique he was offering. "Ah no. You're one of them. Out of the question."

There was no pause, just a smooth rumble of the machine. "Yes, I am. But is this necessarily a bad thing?"

Indeed, was it a bad thing? She had no way of knowing if he was offering nothing more than the chance to speak one-on-one, trading views from both races. What she knew of these beings could fill a thimble. But her one time encounter had been thrilling in the way of a horror movie. Shifting her weight to her other foot with a slight roll of her hips, Maggie tried not to let her unease show. The urge to cross her arms defensively across her middle was almost overwhelming while she stood under this machine's scrutiny.

Breaking through her internal conflict of interests, he spoke again, "How quickly did you leap to the chance to work with your government for the promise of nothing in return but the taste of something larger than yourself? And now you throw away an experience the like of which none of your fellow flesh creatures will ever have in their limited life spans…"

He was digging at her reserve and she knew it but couldn't help the curiosity that blossomed like a sickened flower in her mind. But could she be so foolish? Right, climb into one of them and for what? Idle curiosity? She, as a mere citizen was not supposed to know anything about them. And she wouldn't have if not for a twist of fate and timing. But here, now she was being offered something more. Oh, she did want to know all about them and that curious language of theirs. Well aware was Maggie that while her mind was limited to this carbon body, their minds were machines steeped in cool logic. They had infinite wisdom next to her PhD's. How tempting…

Paralyzed by indecision, Maggie plucked at the strap to her purse. What goaded her next was the voice that had seemed softer before, now with an edge of impatience coloring the tone with a metallic edge. "Get in, or walk away. I won't ask again."

She almost did walk away. Her foot slid along the path and her weight shifted forward to carry her back to her apartment, to her sane and safe life. But her mind, that devious matter lurking behind her pretty face, reveled in the memory of the virus. The sheer crippling power of it, the fluidity and ease in which it wreaked havoc.

The engine revved again and he pulled away from the curb, away from her and her internal flailing indecision. Grimacing at herself, him, the whole situation she couldn't walk away from, she stalked after him with her hand raised as if to hail a taxi.

"Wait!"

He made her follow for two more steps before stopping and flinging open the door, almost hitting her. The last flicker of doubt evaporated under a flare of irritation. The bastard was toying with her like a stupid kid. Smoothing her skirt against her legs, she ducked into the offered opening and tucked her legs inside, mindful of her heels against the interior. Smoothing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, she realized she was sitting inside a sentient car and didn't even know his name. And the driver from before was gone, the inside spotless and empty, smelling like a brand new and unused car.

"You know my name, but never told me yours." There, the invitation was out and she didn't have to pose annoying questions as he was obviously impatient. Tampering the little worm of doubt curling in her stomach, she waited for his response.

"Very astute of you."

How…annoying. She had to close her mouth to not say anything to him along the lines of a reprimand. So he thought he was being coy. Who cares? She would wait him out with patience.

Once all of her limbs were inside, the door swung shut without her help. From everywhere in the interior the voice, roughened by proximity or some hidden feeling, grated out, "Barricade."

His name was not a name. It was an obstruction, a force and coupled with the metallic grind that was his vocalization, Maggie's doubts returned full force. She'd made a mistake! This was not right, he wasn't right. The attitude, the finessing, all used against her now didn't seem coyness. He'd handled her.

The clicking locks had the finality of a hammer striking a bullet and couldn't stop her hand from reaching for the door handle. Far too late for that as evidenced by them peeling away from the corner with a squall of rubber on asphalt.

Trying to keep the rapid flitter of her heart under control, she licked her lips and wracked her brain. How do I get out of this? What does he want with me? Any questions she volleyed at him would be met with that disdain and ignored or twisted around. She knew this with the same sick intensity that she knew he did not have a joy ride in mind.

The roads he traveled did not lead to her apartment, but she hadn't expected them to. They led to a seedier section of town that had her shifting uneasily in the hard, leather seats. Not even in a cop car did she feel safe here, especially this one…

"Nervous, Madsen?"

She was beginning to hate that hard voice that peeled away at her insides and looked for everything that made her feel defenseless. Oh, why had she gotten inside? Smoothing her skirt over her legs, she looked out the side window and feigned calm, "What do you want me to say?"

"Left to your own devices, I'm sure you will say what you want." He sounded ornery about that. His entire attitude toward her seemed to be growing worse by the second. The front he had presented to her was just that, a guise she'd been to silly headed to see for what it was.

Whenever they passed anyone on the sidewalk, they shrank away from the familiar markings of law enforcement. A hooker melted into the shadows of the night away from the lamp she had been displaying her worn body under. Maggie felt a flicker of pity for the woman.

Idling at the corner, the Interceptor seemed to be regarding the area and her with a heavy intensity that she could almost feel. Again her fingers crept for the door handle but she stopped herself from trying to fling open the door. It would have been foolish to try and possibly would have angered him.

Pulling away from the corner with a healthy snarl of the engine, Barricade drove them deeper down the dirty side streets where no sane person of Maggie's status should be. She kept still in the seat but her eyes swept the surrounding area with apprehension. Through the curtain of her blond hair, her gaze took in the looming buildings, most abandoned or just settled in desolation. This was an avenue of broken glass and shattered lives. This was a straight line to hell he was driving her down.

In the middle of the road, which could very well be the perfect center of the alley he stopped and idled as quietly as the V8 could. The purr of his engine bounced off the walls and sounded like thunder to her overly keen senses. She wanted out of him, out of there, and to be away from this maddening sound. Instead of showing the fluttering trepidation, she calmly sat and waited for him to make the next move.

The metallic wrench of his voice in the gloom made her jump, "Take off your clothes."

Flabbergasted, she could only stare at his dashboard in silent denial. How could this be happening? She didn't want to be tossed out, without her clothes, in the darkened streets here of all places. She would become another statistic.

Clutching at her skirt like he was going to pull it off of her, Maggie shook her head, "No…I couldn't."

"This is not a request, Maggie." She flinched when he used her name with such familiarity, formality dropped just for the occasion.

Scrounging up pitiful resources to argue against him she fought to keep her voice from climbing an octave. "But why?"

"If you can prostitute yourself for your country, then you can return the favor to me. This is a lesson, sweetling."

Her heart felt like it had climbed into her throat to lodge and beat out a sickening rhythm to the evening. The thought of removing her clothes and having her skin touching the…interior of this sentient car made her insides squirm. Licking her trembling lips, she rasped out, "Don't make me do this."

"Now."

So many unspoken threats were jammed into that order. There was no hint of violence, it was broadcasted loud and clear. They both knew what he was, though she had no inkling of what he could do. The unknown was a better persuader then the known facts and first hand accounts with his "brethren". Cheeks tinting a soft rose in the sallow glow of the street lamp, Maggie reached for her shirt with shaking fingers.

Her thought pattern was a broken staccato of why's and silent pleas for this evening to end. Her skin wasn't even exposed and already she felt cheap. Maggie knew cheap, knew the approximate value of anything at a glance as only a life spent scrimping and saving could garner such a talent. Barricade was not cheap. In actions, body frame, or words. She was not inferior either, but he was making her so.

Unbuttoning the white shirt and easing it down her shoulders was agony for her. The thin material wasn't armor and offered no physical protection but it stripped away her mental defenses leaving the skin raw and cold. She balked at removing her bra, the lacey article offering a paltry amount of coverage. The city shorts followed, sliding over her shaking thighs. When she had to lean against him to lever herself up to free the pants from her hips, she half expected him to say something to her but he was silent throughout. That too joined the shirt on the floorboard with her purse.

The air was cold on her breasts when she loosened the small clasps and let the garment fall to her lap. Covering herself with one arm, she laid that aside too with a small, mournful look. Only one small scrap of lace kept her from complete humiliation. Here, she stopped, a delicate hand tipped with manicured nails hovered over her most intimate area nestled between her thighs. She mustered as much dignity as she could despite feeling so small, "Please, let me keep this."

Barely was the plea past her lips when the snarl of the engine, of him, filled the alleyway with the healthy whine of a super-tuned V8 making her cringe into herself on the seat. Once generous warning was all she was getting and she wasn't stupid enough to over look the gesture for what it was. Tears burned in her throat and sinuses but she wouldn't give him that reward, she wouldn't let him see her cry. Breath catching in pent-up remorse, she pushed herself back against the soft leather and slowly slid off the small pair of panties till they too piled neatly on the floorboards with the rest of her clothing.

Sitting completely bare on the bucket seats, Maggie looked out the side window and concentrated on breathing calmly when all she wanted was to run away from this mess. She dreaded what could come next and when he spoke, his rough voice filling the interior of the car, she jerked at the baritone, "Touch yourself."

All fear, all thoughts stopped at a dead stand still as the world threatened to crush her because she was not hearing him properly. He couldn't, just couldn't be asking that. "W-what?"

"You are trying my limited patience, fleshling…" Even though he purred the words, there was that awful malevolent intent threaded through the sentence. And still she had trouble doing as he asked. It was against her very nature, it was against everything sane and wholesome, it was wrong!

Perhaps if she stalled… "How should I touch myself?" The words burned hot and bitter in her throat.

Abruptly the seat slammed back, causing her to cry out in pure panic as her view altered from the brick building outside to the interior roof. She hugged herself, nails digging into her arms and refused to shake in fear, absolutely refused. Too afraid of what he would do next, since it was obvious he had control inside, she loosened her clenched fingers and ran a hand sloppily over her chest.

"For one so used to whoring herself out for her "country", you are not worth the money printed on paper." He sounded so amused, engine rumbling in what could be mistaken as a chuckle that had her teeth on edge in helpless frustration. She deigned not to reply, nothing she said would make this any better. Her spirits sank further when he said, "But do go on."

Forcing every thought, nuance of emotion from herself, she slipped a hand over her chest again, skirting just shy of her breasts with each pass. Her hand would dip as low as her navel before trailing back up to her sternum. If she closed her eyes and ignored the scent of clean leather, the sound of idling engine, the cramped feel of the interior, the touches were almost soothing and familiar.

Slowly the touches turned softer across her skin as she evened her breathing and focused inward. The dip, sway, and swirl of her fingertips over her skin felt nice and she didn't think of the wretched state she was in, but the warmth of her skin, the tan glow. Turning her face up, through her closed eyes she could sense the light from the streetlamp overhead but the sullen ambience was changed to peach behind her eyelids. Focusing so intensely on this tiny moment of inner peace, she missed the engine shutting off until the faint purring vibrations stopped underneath her. The golden mood faded to black and she was afraid once more. Her hands stopped roaming as she lay half on her side facing the door and freedom that was entirely too far away and fragile.

"Go on."

I don't want to…

Maggie breathed out slowly and willed her hands to keep moving though she couldn't recapture that small moment of peace she'd had. Her own hands felt foreign to her and her breathe stuttered at the next order, "Lower."

She'd had not hopes this would end well when he'd asked her to take her clothes off but going on was like plunging a knife deeper into her insides. Prickly disgust and dread pooled in her chest pressing thickly against her lungs. As ordered, her hands moved lower, brushing over her hips and navel, skirting over her thighs with a tiny scratch of her fingernails.

Chuckling, soft amusement in that guttural, raw voice Barricade said, "So coy when we know what you are. Those hands have taken pleasure across your flesh before; don't be modest for me. Tease yourself, touch, finger-fuck yourself into a frenzy. Let yourself go, Maggie. It'll be our little secret." Her fingernails dug into her thighs as he continued with that coaxing lilt that did not fit his voice quite right, and yet did, "Because if you don't, I will rip you to pieces and discard you in the dirty streets."

Biting back a sudden sob that bubbled in her throat, she whimpered inaudibly and forced that biting injustice of it all down. She'd do as he said, but she wouldn't break for him, wouldn't cower like a kicked dog. He wanted her to feel like trash, but she'd show him. She was not cheap, or dirty, or nothing-no matter the hold he temporarily had over her. She would not be ashamed.

Fingers dipped inward and she teased herself mechanically for him, the practiced movements bringing no pleasure whatsoever at first. Every nuance of arousal died quickly as she tried to bring herself to excitement but the mind balked even if the body was willing. The faint purring of the engine returned, sinking into her bones through the seat and she thought that if she lived, she'd never be able to feel or smell leather without growing sick. Settling back further into the backrest, she tried harder to get this over with, get this done. Appease the beast and I can leave…

In her focused intent, her body surprised her by pulling a small gasp from her tightly clenched mouth when her thumb circled just right in a small stroke. It was now she realized how harsh her breathing had grown, how taught her body had become, tension shuddering through her thighs and hips. Eyes fluttering open, her fingers still immediately as a shadow fell against the wall beside the car. Cheeks already growing warm from the attentions put upon herself, she watched with outright horror as a man, some vagrant stumbled down the alleyway so very close to the car and the windows. Her hand was still tucked between her legs, the other poised under a breast delicately and this stranger was not even a foot away, peering into the car as he moved by.

Before she could remove her hands from her flesh in humiliation, his voice purred right in her ear, like a lover, "He can't see you."

She jerked her head around so hard to look behind her that her hair fell over her face in a twisted curtain. Nothing about the interior had changed. But how had he moved so close, whispered into her ear? She could have sworn she had felt the caress of words across her skin…Why was he being so deceptively soft to her now?

A small rev of the engine was a sign to continue and her hands continued their motions, trying to coax feeling back into the delicate skin. It was so much easier to continue this sick game when her eyes were shut tight. Hand grasping at the seat, nails digging into the plush leather, she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut. I'm not here. I'm far away. Not here, not here. Not like this.

Again that maddening voice growled in her ear making the hairs along the nape of her neck stand up, "Don't ignore me. Open your eyes."

Shuddering, she pushed her face away from the seat and opened her eyes, flushing deeply in shame for the first time. She was aroused and hated the quivering tension building inside. Hated that her body wanted to reach it's peak, that familiar bolt of feeling that cleaved every doubt, every negative feeling in two and made the body and brain forget themselves.

Jerking her hips at the slow buildup, a movement she couldn't help, Maggie's eyes watered and streams of shameful tears slid down her cheeks. She couldn't pretend not be humiliated by this. He was privy to one of the most innermost secrets a woman had of herself. He was learning everything about her, how her body quivered with each caress, the liquid arch of her back, the roll of her hips, the breathy sound of pent up need. Things he should not know.

It was so quiet in the Saleen, like all focus was on her. The only sound was a faint purring raising in susurrations, a faint creaking of metal on tense metal, the slick-wet slide of flesh, and her mewling breath. She was begging for something she wasn't even sure of anymore. Leniency, mercy, hope, release of all kinds?

Shuddering in shame and revulsion, Maggie climaxed with a harsh jerk, back arching and her hips bucking into her own hand. Mouth poised is a small moue of shock as the nerves sent a small pulse of pure pleasure through her body from her center out; she wished she could concentrate on that carnal delight and forget about where she was, why she'd been forced to do this. Instead of feeling sated, hollowness followed the tingling as it faded from her limbs. Her cheeks were damp and tears dripped from her chin onto the leather seats as she sat up and hugged herself; one bitter sob forced out.

Barricade shuddered around her, engine turning over briefly as a wash of electrical pulse flared inside and out, through her. She jerked and scrambled back in the seat at the sensation, so utterly foreign and unwelcome to her. Begging was all she had left, but even now she couldn't. She asked, "Please. Let me go."

He sounded strained for just the faintest of moments, like he too had been brought to a limit, before his voice regained it's monstrous baritone of razor blades and steel, "Strip away all your clothes, all y our defenses, all your pride and this is what is left. Mindless animals."

Drawing herself up, lower lip trembling in indignation, fear, loathing-all were coursing under her flushed skin. She said with as much force as she could muster, "You can't break me. Fuck you."

They both knew she wasn't speaking about her fragile body. The silence lay heavy between them as she waited for a snarl of anger, a warning growl, something to herald her death as he ripped her apart. He finally reacted. Rocking back on his tires, he laughed. It was harsh, like an electric line dancing across metal in a rasp-but it was still a laugh. No mistaking the gesture.

"That, you already did, Miss Madsen."

Oh so aware of her nudity and the dampness between her legs, the cool leather under her, all a never ending reminder of her shame. She still held herself up straight, spine erect. "Not so different, then. If you're drawing off the weaker, for your kinks. But I am not mindless prey."

Her mind was running through a gambit of what she couldn't and could say to him. What he would use and what he could exploit. Pride was a defense but also a target. Confidence built was easily a lure to attack when it could be used as a shield. Playing this verbal and mental dance with him, she slowly pushed away the humiliation to pick over later in the dark of night when his voice grated across her skin like a phantom touch, shredding her senses and leaving them raw and exposed. Then she would hurt.

"I am far more then you'll ever be, maggot. Put your clothing back on and get out." He sounded trite over her now. He'd had his fun and she wasn't going to argue with him about what he was.

Fumbling into her clothes, she gritted her teeth as her panties slid over her moist thighs and shoved the rest of the coverings on; could not get the clothes on fast enough. How long would she have to wait to be able to meet her own reflection, bare fleshed, in front of a mirror without finding a hint of cowed humiliation? All because of him.

The door was unlocked and she scrambled out, heels sliding in the wet street. No matter the location, the questionable people around, the danger, anything was better than being near him. Before she could flee from his side, an arm reached out of the car and grabbed her wrist in a bruising grip. She screamed and stumbled, looking at…at the driver from before, sitting in the passenger seat of the police interceptor. Red eyes, glowing like human eyes shouldn't, watched her amusedly with predatory mischief.

"Don't let me catch you around this neighborhood again, Miss Madsen." A lingering caress of his thumb over her pulse point and then he was gone. The man fading into nothingness as the car pulled away with a harsh squall of the tires.