Once upon a time--there was a world where things were topsy-turvy. In this world, a cold and ruthless MacGyver was the top assassin for Homicide International Trust. In this world, a bright and somewhat honorable Murdoc worked for his good friend Peter Thornton, head of the Department of External Services.
In this world, someone was going to get killed--
By
The St. Charles hotel, San Francisco CA Sunday, May 11th, 3:03 AM
Rose carefully slid her bare feet along the ledge of the fifteenth floor, keeping her balance and listening to the howl of the wind around her. Moving inch by inch, she rounded the corner, and by the time she reached the window it was just after three in the morning. The faint traffic had moved on, leaving the city below in comparative quiet. One of her black-gloved hands managed to reach the beveled glass window and press it inward; it swung into the room without a sound. Rose smiled, grateful that she'd studied his habits enough to be able to count on the little things like the window being left open. She waited cautiously for a moment, then dropped to a low crouch and slid forward.
Carefully, quietly she slunk in over the windowsill, listening with every fiber of her being. No sounds echoed out except for the whistle of the wind, and the gentle sounds of the building creaking and settling. When Rose reached the bedroom doorway, she risked a quick peek at the slumbering figure on the bed within. A faint snore reassured her and she rose up, stepping over to her victim confidently, one hand raised, the inhaler ready.
She swiftly darted forward, flicking back the bedspread, but the soft cluster of pillows that greeted her made her start; Rose turned just as someone lunged, knocking her onto the bed. Her assailant yanked her arm behind her back and pinned her down under his hard muscular body.
"Naughty, Rose--" a voice purred in her ear. She glared up into MacGyver's cruelly amused eyes. He gave another wrench to her arm, she whimpered, dropping the inhaler; it tumbled off the edge of the bed and onto the thick carpet. For a long moment she glared at the bare chested man on top of her, both of them breathing raggedly. She could feel the animal heat of him through her thin black cotton clothes. With deliberate slowness, he rolled off of her, still keeping a viselike grip on the arm pinned under her back.
"What gave it away?" she demanded in resignation. He chuckled again, his smile glinting in the bright moonlight that was spilling into the room.
"Think hard, rookie--what did you hear?"
"Nothing."
"That alone should tell you--"
"--That you oiled the hinge to the window and set a silent alarm--" she finished, disgusted at her oversight. He nodded, and released her; Rose rubbed her wrist absently. Mac propped himself up on one elbow, not bothering to turn on the light as she sat up.
"The inhaler is a good choice," he admitted grudgingly. "Curare?"
"Vaporized digitalis--it field-tested really well in Paris," she told him brightly as she collected the little canister from the floor and slid it into a pocket. He smiled indulgently, the teacher with his favorite student.
"And your backup?"
From a strap on her forearm, Rose flicked out an eight inch silver needle and balanced it on her fingertips.
"Ear probe," Rose hesitantly admitted with a frown.
"Messy and possibly traceable."
"Quieter than the sig sauer," she countered hopefully, looking over at him. MacGyver sat up, straddling the corner of the bed, brushing a hand over the leg of his black silk pajama pants. He shook his head regretfully, but Rose could see a gleam in his eye.
"Nikolai would let it go, but--you know *me* better than that, Rose--" he growled. She bit her full lower lip, knowing full well what was coming. He crooked a finger at her.
"I'm wai-ting--"
Reluctantly, she reached for the drawstring of the pants, and undid them, letting them slide to the floor. She stepped out of them, and slowly walked towards Mac, tugging the front of the cotton blouse down to cover herself, barely. He sighed.
"Three, Tyro--one for the window, one for the ear probe--"
"--And the last one?" she muttered sulkily, stretching herself across his lap, trying to balance her stomach on his muscled thighs; the sensually warm weight of her nearly made MacGyver groan, but he merely jerked her arm up between her shoulder blades to pin her down again. His free hand lightly glided over her bare bottom in a ticklish caress.
"Oh that one . . . simply because I'm a bastard," he admitted, his voice a tiny bit hoarse. Rose let her head hang down, bit her lips and closed her eyes tightly, waiting for the pain. He could sense her trepidation. For a long moment, Mac gazed over the luscious sight of her narrow waist and curvy round bottom before him.
The first blow came, stinging and hard as his broad palm smacked down brutally on her round rump; she jumped but said nothing as she drew in a deep breath.
"Check windows--" came his harsh command.
A second smack, almost directly on top of the first renewed the fiery pain and Rose whimpered, but the iron grip of his hand on her wrist tightened to hold her down. She could feel the hot straining silk of Mac's pajamas against her stomach and wriggled a tiny bit.
"Untraceable backup choices--" he muttered unevenly as Rose slithered against him. She gave a tiny groan of her own, but it changed nothing. The third smack came down even harder than the other two; tears welled in her eyes.
"Submit to my . . . commands," he growled in a tone so deep she shuddered. Rose tasted a tiny bit of blood in her mouth. He released her wrist and Rose slowly began to push herself up off his thighs.
"Yes sir--" she mumbled, longing to rub her bottom, but not daring to, not when his eyes were locked on hers glittering and dangerous in the moonlight.
"You have an ass like a perfect peach--get it out of my reach before I do something at least one of us is going to regret--" he ordered, pointing to the window. Rose nodded, and reached for her pants, but Mac beat her to them and put a foot on her fingers, pressing hard enough to make her wince.
"No."
"But, but--fifteen feet up on a hotel window ledge, *pantless*?" she wailed. He nodded, a merciless smile dimpling his handsome face.
"Consider it a practical exercise in improvisation," he commented as he herded her over to the sill. She leaped up gracefully, but pouted. Mac caught her chin in his hand and yanked her face down into a kiss--hot, full and demanding submission. Rose shuddered when he wetly broke it off.
"Good night, Tyro--"
He slammed the glass and locked it behind her.
*** *** ***
1214 Seaview Drive, La Jolla CA Tuesday May 13th 10:32 AM
"Pay attention!"
MacGyver tossed the dossiers onto the polished marble counter of the sunny kitchen. Startled, Rose looked up from the tall glass of pineapple juice she was drinking after her yoga workout. She glanced behind her worriedly.
"They're not dead," Mac impatiently informed her, "Your Rotweillers are just full of steak and Sominex--" He was dressed in a light grey summer weight suit with a black silk shirt, the cut impeccable. Dark wire rim sunglasses hid his eyes and his hair was lightly spiked. Rose glanced down at her old blue dance unitard and sighed, wishing that it wasn't so threadbare. Mac cleared his throat warningly and Rose sat up straighter.
"Nikolai has just handed me a major assignment. Work with me, and this will be your chance to move up."
Giving a tiny nod, Rose lifted her chin and Mac continued.
"This is our target--" he pointed to a photo, "And this is our obstacle," he pointed at the second photo. Rose leaned forward and picked up both pictures, studying the first one intently.
It was of a portly balding man with a no nonsense expression on his face. His entire demeanor was of a leader used to giving orders and having them followed to the letter. Rose traced one nail over his face, noting his features carefully.
"Peter Thornton," MacGyver recited. "Impressive military career, ten years behind the scenes at the CIA, currently unmarried. He's been sleeping with his secretary for the past five years. Interests include golf, fly fishing and Tom Clancy novels."
"Sounds unexceptional--" she ventured timidly. Mac nodded, pleased at her assessment.
"On his own, Thornton would rate no more than a four on the difficulty scale. However, there are two factors that boost him to a nine. One is his expertise our line of work--the man runs the government sanctioned version of HIT."
"DXS--Really?" Impressed, Rose looked again at his bulldog features while Mac deftly snagged her glass of juice, the heavy Rolex oyster watch on his wrist glinting in the light.
"Really. The other element is this man--" With a hard flick of his manicured nails, Mac snapped the other photo before sipping the juice, to Rose's annoyance.
"That was *mine*--"
"*Was*--" he replied loftily.
Rose glanced over the second picture with a stir of interest. The man was younger than Thornton, with wavy hair the color of mahogany and luminous dark eyes. Strong lines bracketed his mouth, and the slightly sardonic expression on his face intrigued her.
"Sebastian Murdoc, Thornton's golden boy and first line of defense. A jack-of-all-trades with bombs, computers, and practically anything mechanical or electrical. Worked in the British Commandos for the UK, immigrated to the US where Thornton hired him about seven years ago. Unmarried, but not involved at the moment. Hobbies include photography, cooking and music."
"A bodyguard?"
"Not by definition, but it's a safe bet that wherever Thornton goes, Murdoc is close at hand." Finishing the juice, Mac set the glass down and leaned on the counter, intently scrutinizing his apprentice.
"In one week, Peter Thornton is going to Aspen Colorado, ostensibly for a ski vacation. In reality he's there to meet with a nuclear scientist and arrange for her research to be transferred to DXS safekeeping. Something about a controversial process--" he waved a hand dismissingly, "--fusion or something, but that's not important. What *is* of interest is that he's never seen the scientist."
"And you want *me* to take her place?" Rose guessed with a tiny frown. Mac nodded, gratified with her perception.
"Yes. With the real Doctor Parker-Fillmore locked away, we can manipulate the situation to our complete advantage and frame her later."
"I see. When was she grabbed?"
"Two thirty this morning; Dalton has her securely confined in Vancouver. Here are some shots of the drab little lab rat--" He fished three more photos out of his pocket and set them down, then stepped behind his protégé and looked over her shoulder while Rose made her assessment.
"Hmmmm similar bone structure, so I won't need any prosthetics . . . Lord, who sold her on that terrible shade of lipstick! Ugh! Looks like I'll need brown contacts, some horn rim glasses--"
"--A dye job," Mac added, nuzzling his nose in her auburn tresses. She sighed heavily, trying not to react to his nearness.
"--A dye job. How tall?"
"An inch or two taller--wear heels." Mac smiled, straightening up. "Once you're Dr. Parker-Fillmore we'll discuss strategies."
"I--" she hesitated then rushed on, "I had a date planned tonight--"
MacGyver shook his head, thrusting his hands deep in his pockets.
"Ramon Munoz? I'm afraid not, my sweet. There's been an accident. Fatal."
"Another one?" she glared.
"It's just not safe for men to date you. On the bright side, I've already sent flowers--"
*** *** ***
DXS Central Offices, Undisclosed location, CA Tuesday, May 13th 11:22 AM
Peter Thornton frowned at the man leaning over the desk. His impatience boiled to the surface, but before he could say a word, Murdoc flashed a disarming grin.
"Have I ever steered you wrong, Peter?"
"More times than I care to count," he rumbled back, but his words had no real malice to them, and Murdoc chuckled. He looked cool and relaxed in dress khakis and a button down shirt with the sleeves pushed up on his forearms. Thornton wore a full three-piece suit and a bemused expression.
"Trust me, if Doctor Parker-Fillmore *has* succeeded in a working theorem for verifiable cold fusion, she's going to be a very tempting target for a lot of different groups--the oil industry, the conglomerate corporations, the nuclear commission--this is a very big deal."
"I *can't* sanction a kidnapping, Murdoc, even if it's for her own good," came the wry reply. "She's already agreed to give us the information--"
"Peter! It's not kidnapping, it's protective custody, darling. Keeping her bony lab-coated ass from being snatched by agents with dubious intentions."
"--And having it snatched instead by agents with patriotic and noble intentions--" Thornton replied with a perfectly straight face.
"But of course!" his voice dropping into a more solemn tone, Murdoc added, "Seriously Peter, until the information's in our hands, Doctor Parker-Fillmore is a sitting duck. Can we move the meeting up at the very least?"
"From Monday next week to Friday this week? We can try--" Thornton hit his desk intercom. "Helen, come in."
The door locks sounded the clear signal.
The long and elegant beauty strolled in, settling on the chair near the door, her smoky eyes locked on Thornton, who gave her a scrutinizing look.
"See if you can change the meeting at Aspen from Monday to Friday."
"Same accommodations, Mr. Thornton?" the tiny insinuation in her tone would have been missed by anyone else; Murdoc hid his grin.
"Precisely the same ones. Thank you, Helen," he gave her a nod and turned back to the man leaning over his desk. "There--does that alleviate some of your concern?"
"It's a good start," Murdoc sighed. "Now I'm off to scout ahead and see about getting our old maid a safe house."
Murdoc left the office, the steel doors gliding shut behind him to join once more into a solid wall of metal. He sauntered over to the glass desk where Helen sat, typing at a sleek computer.
"The same accommodations--you *did* mean what I thought you meant, didn't you, my gorgeous Helen?" He leered playfully at her. A small smile crossed her lovely mouth, but she said nothing.
"I'm dying here, Angel! What sort of satisfaction can Thornton give you that I can't? I'm younger, handsomer, certainly more virile--"
"He's hung like a horse and he loves me," she replied simply. Murdoc rolled his eyes, but his defeated grin was endearing all the same.
"Ah well, I guess I can't compete with the love, anyway--"
*** *** ***
1755 Altamont Crest Apt 4, Santa Fe New Mexico Thursday May 15th 6:11 PM
"What do you mean the meeting's been moved up to *tomorrow?*" Rose paced through Doctor Parker-Fillmore's apartment in agitation. MacGyver sat in the only clean spot on the living room sofa and watched her.
"Obviously Thornton's been told how important the good doctor's work is--" he deduced, looking with distaste at an ancient wedding photo on the table near his elbow. In it, a frumpy young woman in a cheap wedding gown and a geeky nerd in a leftover prom tux were nervously standing. They both wore thick glasses, and looked as if the headlights of an oncoming truck had frozen them to the spot. With a moue of revulsion, Mac took the photo and laid it face down on the table. Rose clattered into the kitchen.
"Oh God! This woman is such a pain in the ass! She's a divorcee who's come out as a lesbian, has a voice like a squeaky toy and does absolutely nothing fun in her entire life. She lives, breathes and eats nuclear physics, MacGyver! All of these books, these papers and files--it's all work and no play. I'd be happy if she had one lousy Harlequin romance!"
"I think she did--once," Mac glanced at the downturned photo for a moment before rising. "So--you've briefed yourself on her work?"
"Enough to get by for an hour, maybe two perhaps--" she returned with a sheaf of papers and a plane ticket. "But I hope I don't run into any real scientists--how do I look?"
MacGyver gave her critical scrutiny as he stood up and slowly circled around her, noting the frumpy green two-piece dress suit. Rose had her dyed hair up in a severe bun, and heavy tortoiseshell glasses sat on her face, magnifying her brown contact lenses.
"Skirt needs to be shorter. Let some tendrils down with your hair-- you need some makeup too--not a lot, but enough to make you attractive. Pink lipstick--something slightly frosted."
"But that's not what this Parker woman's like," Rose protested.
"Think distraction, Rose. DXS may know she's gay, but I want Murdoc's first impression of you to throw him completely off balance." Nimbly he slid a hand up the back of her thigh and under her skirt as he stepped closer. Rose swallowed hard.
"No panty hose, Tyro-- wear thigh high stockings, " Mac breathed in her ear, "Make sure he sees them--fall into his lap if you must. Perfume?"
"S-she has a bunch of really crappy Avon stuff--"
"Shalimar I think--something sure to be noticed," his fingers continued to stroke her thigh lightly, moving up the sensitive under curve of her bottom, toying with the edge of her panties.
"Have y-you taken care of her estranged lover, that Detective Murphy?" Rose asked breathlessly. Mac gave a regretful sigh and slowly withdrew his hand.
"Murphy's on my 'to kill' list for this afternoon--her brakes are going to fail. Pack and catch your plane--I'll be at the Hotel Jerome in Suite six. I expect you to rendezvous with me for a final check prior to meeting with Thornton and his trained monkey."
"Why am I focusing on Murdoc anyway, Sir? If the target is Thornton--" she ventured softly. Mac gave the question thoughtful consideration before replying.
"Because if you tried to get close to the head of DXS, Murdoc would turn up the scrutiny on you like a slide under a microscope. But by putting your formidable charms on the task of seducing *him*, Murdoc will be sufficiently distracted to take his attention off Thornton long enough for me to strike."
"I see," Rose looked down at her scuffed pumps and asked very softly, "Am I to sleep with him?"
"No!" came the impatient response as MacGyver glared at her. "Absolutely not!"
"But it might be necessary--"
"Not as long as you're under me," he growled. "Seduction is part of the job, but sex is unprofessional, Tyro. Start sleeping with the targets and you'll end up like Nikki."
Rose's eyes widened in fear; Mac nodded grimly, then softened his tone as he added, "Let's not mention it again, all right? Just give me the opening I need to take Thornton out."
*** *** ***
Aspen Marriott, room 818 Aspen Colorado, Friday May 16th 1: 49 PM
"She's due in ten minutes. Booker's got a secure location just outside the city, so once we explain the situation to her, we can move--" Murdoc explained cheerily. Thornton's expression wasn't at all pleasant; he gave the other man a cool stare.
"I told you I can't sanction a kidnapping--"
"Protective custody--if she agrees, Peter. Just chill for God's sake. You don't have to do a damned thing."
"That's what worries me. What if she doesn't *want* to go?"
"I think between you and I we should be able to convince her of the gravity of this, old boy. How hard can it be to sweep a dyke spinster off her Oxfords?"
The difficulty was dramatically illustrated when a knock on the door sounded out and Murdoc rose to let her in. Upon seeing her, neither Thornton nor Murdoc could speak for a long moment; Murdoc recovered first enough to mutter in an undertone to his boss:
"*This* is a spinster?"
The question was rhetorical and in any case, Thornton couldn't have answered it anyway. Certainly the woman peeping them through thick lenses was enough to give lycanthropy to a monk: gorgeously curvy figure, even in a dowdy green suit; masses of coffee-colored hair piled up in a loose bun; huge brown eyes; porcelain skin, pouty luscious lips and a model's legs. She gave a tiny cough.
"Mister Peter Thornton?" she managed in a breathless little girl's voice. Murdoc shook his head.
"No my dear, he is--and you are--?"
"Doctor Penelope Parker-Fillmore. I was instructed to meet a Mr. Thornton and I was concerned that I had arrived at the wrong room in error, but it's gratifying to see that I am indeed in the correct place," she rushed. Murdoc gave her a smile.
"As are we, Doctor Parker-Fillmore. Please come in and join us--"
He gave a courtly wave and she smiled timidly at Murdoc, pushing her glasses up by the nosepiece as she brushed by to follow Thornton, trailing the scent of Shalimar. As she reached the doorway of the room, she stumbled, falling to the carpet with a squeak. The edge of her skirt slid up, revealing her slim legs all the way up to their white lacy thigh high stockings. Murdoc choked back a tiny gasp of his own and bent to help her up before Thornton was even aware that she'd tumbled.
"Oh my *goodness*--I guess it's a good thing I wasn't working with the isotopes when I did that--" Rose gave a girlish chuckle as she took Murdoc's hand and got up again, smoothing down her skirt. Thornton gave a sigh and gestured to a seat in the living room area. Daintily, Rose settled onto one end of the sofa and Murdoc on the other.
"Doctor Parker-Fillmore, I'm Peter Thornton, and this is Sebastian Murdoc," Thornton intoned. "We appreciate your coming to this meeting, and share your concerns regarding your research."
"Thank you Mr. Thornton. I realized how catalytic this data will be to the energy systems of the future, and knew that necessary steps needed to be taken to preserve it. Currently I have all the pertinent data memorized, with a backup securely locked away."
"Well rest assured that not only are you in the right place, but also that you're doing the right thing," Thornton tried to encourage her with a smile. "I value what you're doing."
"I in turn appreciate your concerns. Since the process of transfer may take some time, I assume you'll have some sort of facilities for me to work with--a computer, someone to take dictation, that sort of thing?"
Peter looked at Murdoc, who cleared his throat and smiled ingratiatingly as he laced his fingers together.
"Actually Doctor Parker-Fillmore, we'd rather hoped to take you to a more secure environment to accomplish all this. It would be much more productive to avoid the distractions of Aspen altogether--"
Rose knew Mac could hear all this through the small bug imbedded in the top button of her suit. The tiny speaker was hidden in the earpiece of her glasses. His voice came through to her, and she was aware that his telescope was probably focused on the window as well.
"Argue--you're here for a vacation, you need the chance to grieve for your dead lover--" he prompted softly.
"Actually, Mister Murdoc--"
"Just Murdoc. Or Sebastian, please," he dimpled a smile at her.
"Murdoc--I really must insist on staying here. I'm overdue for a vacation as it is, and because of some tragedy in . . ." she hesitated and managed a bit of catch in her throat, " . . . in my personal life, it's essential that I have a chance to relax. Choosing Aspen wasn't a whim, gentlemen. I intend on turning over my research to you, but I also intend on doing so at my own pace."
Thornton gave Murdoc a smug look; the other man returned it with a sour expression that nearly made Rose laugh. To avoid that, she glanced out the window, idly wondering which building MacGyver was set up in to watch them.
"We can certainly respect your parameters, Doctor Parker-Fillmore," Thornton acquiesced. "But do to the very nature of your research, you may be in jeopardy by staying in a public place. For safety's sake, I would feel better if you held yourself within the security protocols we prefer."
"Which would be--?" She rose up off the sofa.
"An escort in the day, and a guard at your door at night."
Rose waited; Mac mulled it over and told her through the earpiece,
"Perfect. Tell him you'd prefer his company or Murdoc's--keep close to them any way you can."
She paced across the room, hips shifting just enough to be alluring. Rose hid her smile, knowing both men were watching her with an added element of attraction. She spun and spoke, her voice crisp.
"Oh very well--I suppose I can endure the constant company of either or both of you gentlemen for the duration of my visit," she sighed, letting her chest heave a tiny bit. The response was gratifying; Thornton nodded and Murdoc smiled broadly.
"That sounds workable, doctor. I'm sure Sebastian would be willing to accompany you for the rest of today."
"If you must. I've checked into my hotel, and had planned on a quiet afternoon on the slopes, so I sincerely hope you have the necessary skill to ski along with me, Murdoc," she breathed, trying to sound both impatient and charming. It seemed to have succeeded; Murdoc nodded.
"Hardly a problem, Doctor Parker-Fillmore--I think you'll find my performance *quite* satisfactory--on the slopes."
Rose gave a small smile and cleared her throat again.
"Well, if you gentlemen will excuse me a moment while I powder my nose--" She turned and sailed to the bathroom. After locking the door, she spoke softly into the button.
"All right, so now I have a little shadow, Mac--what's next?"
"Go skiing, Tyro. I packed you an adorable snowsuit, and there are skis in your name already at the run. I'll have the chance to set Thornton up while you're gone. And keep that Limey lecher at arm's length--you're a lesbian in case you forgot," he rebuked her.
In the meantime, Thornton was having a muttered discussion with Murdoc in the other room.
"Look, we've managed to reach a compromise that will work, Murdoc--don't put it in jeopardy just because your libido is kicking in," Thornton rumbled. The other man shook his head, a sardonic smile on his handsome face.
"Oh I've got no problem with the arrangement, Peter, but don't you think it's odd that she's so--" he searched for an exact explanation of his disquiet; Thornton jumped in.
"--Good looking for a lab-coated, bony-assed dyke scientist, to use your exact words? Frankly, I couldn't care less what she looks like, if she delivers the goods. I'd take the cold fusion modus operandi from a Rhesus monkey in drag without blinking an eye as long as it was the real thing. Now if you don't mind, I've got to contact Helen and the concierge about setting up a workroom on this floor."
*** *** ***
Rose pushed off, sailing down the slope with a degree of comfortable expertise that made others look at her admiringly. She wore an Italian designed snowsuit, white with black and silver highlights. Her hair was loosely tucked in a scarf, and she kept the glasses on under her goggles.
"Oh the man is unloseable! We've done all three runs and he's still on my tail--" she complained breathlessly into her button. Mac chuckled in her ear.
"You read the Murdoc file, Rose--he's persistent in a lot of things. Right now I'm arranging to have Thornton have a fatal heart attack sometime late tonight, so you may want to invite yourself to dinner with him. Dalton's moved the real Parker-Fillmore just outside the city limits."
Rose rolled her eyes as Murdoc cheerfully slid alongside her, his form excellent.
"Perhaps we should call it an afternoon, doctor--" he called to her. "Looks like more snow is on the way, and I'm sure Thornton has your workstation set up by now."
"Yes, I suppose we should," Rose agreed reluctantly. They both skied on in perfect tandem, reaching the bottom of the hill within a few minutes. Rose stopped and pulled her goggles off to tuck them in her pocket; Murdoc reached over playfully and plucked her glasses from her nose.
"Excuse me?"
Trying not to panic, Rose shot him an evil glare, but he merely smiled at her.
"Pity to hide such lovely eyes--" he murmured. Rose made a grab to get her glasses back, leaning forward awkwardly on the skis. She went too far, and toppled over, taking Murdoc with her; they landed together in a tangled heap in the snow. Rose had enough presence of mind to snatch the horn rims back, but it was difficult to stay focused with the unexpected weight of Murdoc now on top of her.
"Well this is a pretty pickle, Penny Parker-Fillmore," he teased, making no move to get up as he looked down in her face. Rose put her hands on his shoulders and shoved.
"Get *off* me!"
"Then let me untwist my ski--" came his amused reply. With a little more struggling, they managed to shift until Murdoc freed his left ski. Rose experienced a twinge of panic when she realized how good his lean hard body felt on hers; she tried to stop wriggling but it was more difficult than she realized.
"Damned lacings are caught--just a moment--" Deftly, Murdoc flipped a switchblade out and sliced through the caught straps, then unhooked the bindings on his other ski. Rose heaved a sigh of relief and pushed her way up on her elbows, praying that Mac wasn't listening in at the moment.
"I certainly hope this isn't the microcosmic example of your body guarding skill, Murdoc."
"Oh contraire, Doctor--this was just my blind good luck. I never realized nuclear scientists were so wonderfully--upholstered," he teased, brown eyes twinkling. Rose, completely unused to flirting, went pink and scrambled up to her skis. She sailed off to the end of the run, leaving Murdoc to smile and stride after her, skis slung over his shoulder.
*** *** ***
Renaissance, Aspen Colorado, Friday, May 16th 9:52 PM
The main dining room of the Renaissance was crowded with late diners and glamorous jet setters. Nervously, Rose looked at the other three people at the table with her: Murdoc, cool and elegant in a black turtleneck and tan sports jacket, Thornton in his blue three-piece suit, and his secretary, Ms Balfour, quietly stunning in a white linen Chanel dress. Rose glanced down at her simple black dress and sighed. The sleeves were long and the neckline modest, but the back was bare, and she didn't like the way Murdoc was eyeing her.
Mac told her he'd meet up with her here, and had urged her to play along with his improvisation--she bit her lip, wondering who he would be--the busboy? A tourist?
"I'm sorry, did you want dessert, Doctor?" came Thornton's question. The tone he used told her he'd asked at least once before, and she shook her head apologetically.
"I'm sorry--I've been a bit pre-occupied, " she admitted. Murdoc looked smug, and she knew he was taking the credit for that. Ms Balfour smiled, faintly amused.
"Oh my gracious--Penny? Penny Parker-Fillmore?" came a husky voice from behind her. She turned, and was suddenly grateful that the group at the table couldn't see her reaction as Mac looked down at her and smiled enchantingly. Rose sucked in a sharp breath.
He was stunning. His blonde pageboy was neatly curled, and his muted mauve lipstick matched the polish on his long nails. The Christian Dior black pants and crystal studded over jacket he wore gave his long legs and height an added dimension of glamour. A filmy black scarf around his throat hid his Adam's apple, and a faint trace of Joy perfume drifted around him. Rose blinked.
"It's Iva Johnson, remember darling? Murphy's old criminal justice professor? I was truly sorry to hear about her--you must be sooo upset--" swiftly Mac's hands wrapped around hers, and Rose found herself nodding. Graciously Mac looked at the others at the table and smiled gently at them.
"I apologize for interrupting your dinner, but I'm an old friend of--"' Mac paused awkwardly and smiled again, "--a mutual friend. May I speak with Penny for a moment?"
"Of course--" Thornton agreed, looking at Murdoc with a shrug. Rose let herself be steered through the room and over around the corner to the bar, where Mac quickly found them a booth with smoked glass walls. They sat across from each other at the tiny table, Rose still staring at him.
"Like it? Iva's one of the best I do," Mac admitted with a small smile, toying with one of his earrings. "She's gotten me into some of the best social circles on the east coast."
"You're gorgeous," Rose admitted admiringly. "For a man in drag of course."
"Of course. Now listen up--in ten minutes, Peter Thornton and his secretary are going up to his room. I want you to go to the workstation they've set up for you and stall--type in whatever you want, just stay there and keep Murdoc with you for at least two hours. I've doctored Thornton's heart medication and rerouted the phone lines in their two rooms so once he's having his attack she won't be able to get emergency help. It's vital that you keep Murdoc from checking in on them."
Rose looked uneasy. MacGyver gave her a pointed stare.
"He's pretty sharp--" she ventured.
"He's thinking with his prick," Mac scoffed, "Don't tell me that little slap and tickle on the slopes wasn't his way of groping you."
"You heard that?"
"I *saw* that--"'' came the hissed response. "Knee him next time."
Rose pulled back and pursed her mouth. She crossed her arms and drew in a deep breath.
"Why?"
"Why? Because he's a lecherous moron with all the subtlety of an unflushed toilet," came the irritated reply. Rose shook her head.
"You're jealous."
"Jealous?" Mac gave her an astounded look, but at the heart of it was a tiny hint of guilt. She pressed on, a small smile on her full lips.
"I should have realized it--it's taken me long enough to catch on, hasn't it, sir? You want all the credit for this kill--"
A startled expression crossed MacGyver's feminine face; he arched an eyebrow at her and Rose sighed, still clueless.
"Well damn it, I'm good at this too you know--"
"Later, Tyro. Murdoc's coming over here to check on you, so let's just take a moment to reconfirm your sexual orientation, shall we?" Mac shifted around the table to pin Rose against the glass wall and dropped his mauve mouth on her pink one. Helplessly Rose responded, lips opening to his warm questing tongue. She barely heard Murdoc's approach and annoyed cough as the kiss went on. Finally, when Mac broke it off, she dizzily looked up.
"Excuse me--" Murdoc managed in a faintly chilly voice. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
"Oh dear, I must apologize--sometimes my hormones do get the better of me," Mac murmured as he fished in his purse for a mirror and checked his lipstick. Rose felt the hot blush run across her face and down her throat, but she stood up and met Murdoc's gaze.
"Yes?" she managed in a haughty tone. Murdoc shrugged elegantly.
"Now that you've played, doctor, perhaps it's time to get to work? We have your workstation set up and ready to go, if you're done here--" He avoided MacGyver's gaze and looked at his watch instead.
Mac smirked, and patted Rose's hand.
"Oh Penny--we simply must get together soon, for Murphy's sake--" he practically purred. Still slightly disoriented, Rose nodded, and began to follow Murdoc as Mac watched them go, a gleam in his eyes.
"You needn't to give me the cold shoulder, Mister Murdoc--you knew damned well I'm a lesbian--" Rose snapped as the two of them stepped into the elevator. Murdoc rolled his eyes and shoved his hands deep in his pockets.
"You didn't look like a lesbian, you looked like Ms Johnson's dessert, Doctor--or is it traditional to tongue wrestle with old friends as a means of coping with grief?" he retorted. Rose flushed again, and pushed up her glasses.
"Look--I agreed to turn over my research to the DXS. I agreed to follow your security protocols. I even agreed to do all this during my vacation, so I'll thank you not to throw your snide little judgments about my personal life in my face," she managed to let her voice waver a little, and it was enough to make Murdoc drop his gaze to his shoes.
"Fine," he sighed. "You're right, and I apologize for stepping over the line here. It's just rather difficult to reconcile your alternative lifestyle."
"Try being married to Dexter Fillmore for a year--" Rose snorted, earning a quick grin from Murdoc. They got off on the eighth floor and he steered them to room 812, unlocking it and ushering her in. She looked around at the set up approvingly and cracked her knuckles.
"Time for a little work on viable fusion. Let's get started, shall we?"
Aspen Marriott, Room 818, May 17th 12:21 AM
Peter Thornton looked at his watch, and drew a deep breath. Beside him in the bed, Helen Balfour lay sleeping, her tiny diaphanous peignoir barely closed over her luscious body. He shifted to kiss her, and the sudden knifing pain hit him squarely in the chest, radiating down his arms. He gasped. Sleepily Helen stirred, waking more fully as Pete slumped onto her shoulder, his eyes glazed.
"Oh God, Peter, darling--? " she eased him down as he tried to breathe.
"Heart--" he managed to choke out, a little drool running out the corner of his mouth. Helen snatched the bedside phone up, dialing 911 swiftly. The phone buzzed for a moment, and after two clicks, a voice came on the line.
"Aspen County 911, what is the nature of your emergency please?" came a slightly bored voice.
"A heart attack. In room eight eighteen of the Marriott hotel--" she pleaded, trying to keep the phone pinned between her shoulder and ear while at the same time trying to tend to Pete.
"Yes ma'am. Please stay on the line while we send a crew to your location," Mac's voice commanded.
Pete gasped again, his entire body tensing as another wave of intense pain hit. Helen dropped the phone and climbed over the covers to him, holding him close, tearfully looking into his face. He took her hand in his, squeezing it hard . . .
"It *is* theoretically possible that fusion occurs randomly in nature all the time, Murdoc--it's just we are unaware of it, or unable to see it in it's microscopic content--" Rose argued, her fingers flying over the keyboard. So far her research was paying off and she at least sounded the part, she conceded to herself. "Considering the extremes of temperature on every planet in the solar system, including our own, we have the potential here and overlook it every day--"
Rose was interrupted by a loud cry from somewhere down the hall; both she and Murdoc looked up at the sound. Murdoc moved to the door and glanced back at her.
"Stay put--" he ordered. Rose gave a nod. He left the room, and she swung into action. Swiftly, she stepped out onto the balcony and threw her high heels over to the bushes below. Then Rose climbed over the edge of the balcony, reaching down with her bare toes to the terrace railing for the room below 812 . Carefully, she entered the darkened room 712 and began pulling off her clothes, heading for the shower.
Swiftly, always keeping a mental clock in her head, she washed the brown dye out of her hair, bringing it back to her natural deep red. A Marriott's maid uniform was laid out on the bed; she put it on, stuffed towels around the middle to bulk herself out and worked her feet into battered sneakers. Rose swiftly rolled her hair into a bun, and slapped on heavy makeup. The housekeeping cart Mac had left for her was in the middle of the room, and Rose slowly trundled it out, pushing it to the elevator at the far end of the hall. By her best guess, twenty minutes had passed. She listened. Up above there was the sound of frantic activity, and she pushed the button for the 8th floor. Before she got out trundling the handcart ahead of herself, she hit every button on the panel.
The eighth floor was in a complete uproar. Guests were milling around in the hall trying to see what was going on, an emergency crew was trying to wheel a sheeted gurney out, and all the walkie-talkies and radios elevated the noise level. Rose spotted hotel security talking to Murdoc, who had his arms around a hysterical Helen Balfour.
Slowly Rose pushed the cart down the hall, keeping her attention on the doors and her head down. When she reached room 812, she slowly opened it, and shoved the cart in. It rolled into the room to bump against the computer table. Rose closed the door and went back to the end of the hall and took the stairs, swiftly flying down them to the ground floor. She left through the fire exit, not worrying about the alarm, which would only add to the general confusion, and made her way to the parking lot.
The Jaguar was there; she climbed into the back, sliding on the velour seat and catching her breath in the dark.
"Without a hitch?" came the question from the driver's seat. She nodded. The big car carefully moved out, heading back to the Hotel Jerome while Rose changed in the back seat. By then time they pulled into the valet parking lane, she was in a pink sequined cocktail dress. Mac, no longer in drag and wearing a tuxedo, climbed out of the driver's seat, tossing the keys nonchalantly to the valet. He took her arm and they entered the hotel, riding up in the elevator to the suite floor. Number six was at the end of the hall.
Rose stepped in, luxuriating in the sumptuousness of it all. A full room service steak dinner for two was waiting in the dining area. Soft music circled the room, lit candles flickered, and the scent of fresh flowers drifted past her nose.
"We'll be holing up for a day?" she asked. MacGyver stepped into her line of vision, a small smile on his face.
"And a night--since Murdoc's going to check all the outgoing flights it behooves us to stay put for a while," he murmured. Rose nodded sagely, and looked over his shoulder at the open bedroom door. The grey and white satin sheets on the king sized four poster bed gleamed in the candlelight. She shot her mentor a look and strolled to the doorway brazenly. He followed her.
"Hungry?"
"Oh you could say I've worked up an appetite--" he breathed into her face. She could see the hard blaze of lust in his eyes, and felt the hot throb of response between her thighs. The tingle of adrenaline still in her system heightened her trembling. She lifted her mouth to his.
Mac's kiss was deep and thorough, as his warm tongue demanded her submission. Moaning, Rose tasted champagne on his lips. With a soft bump, she slumped back against the edge of the door, catching her breath as he stepped closer, arms encircling her small waist.
"S-Sir?"
"Mmmm--yes?" They spun through the door stumbling through the room to fall across the silky white quilt on the bed. Rose slid her hands to the buttons of MacGyver's shirt, undoing them as he watched her. She tugged the sleeves up, and something clicked.
Mac shot a glance at his right wrist. A cold cuff encircled it, hooking him to one of the posts of the bed. Rose smiled, straddling his waist, a smug smile on her face.
"Let's see who the Tyro really is," she announced, licking her lips.
Mac looked stunned; the turnabout had come so quickly, so unexpectedly. The warm weight of her on his stomach kept him from sitting up. He yanked his arm uselessly and was rewarded with the clattering rattle of metal on wood. Rose giggled.
"Plan ahead. Isn't that what you keep telling me?"
"You little bitch--" he started to hiss, but she leaned down and kissed him; he felt his mouth traitorously open to hers again in a dizzying clash of hot, wet tongues. Mac was panting when they broke apart, and Rose sighed happily. With grace, she clambered off of him and went to shut the door, then stood next to the bed, looking down at him.
"Authority is addictive. I can see that now," she moved to undo his bulging trousers, but his free hand clamped onto hers tightly. She pouted.
"Let me go," he demanded icily. Rose let her free hand rub the tight fabric, caress the long straining ridge before shaking her head, hair tumbling free.
"I'm afraid not. It won't be as much fun if I have to gag you as well." She said it lightly, but there was a gleam in her eye that worried Mac. He lay back for a moment to consider his options. If he could get a leg around her somehow . . .
Rose didn't give him much time to think. Quickly, she wriggled out of her dress and slithered onto the bed, letting her body glide over Mac's legs. He glared down the length of himself at her, his free hand touching her hair.
"I won't underestimate you again," he warned, suddenly aching more than ever for her. She freed his cock, sliding her hand over it while he moaned. Down came the trousers, trapping his legs. He growled, realizing she'd done it deliberately, but Rose merely smiled.
"Rose--" He barely managed to get the words about as her hot wet mouth slid over this throbbing shaft. Leisurely, she wrapped a gifted tongue around him, feeling his hard thigh muscles tense up under her full breasts.
A trickle of sweat rolled down the side of his face. The slick stroking of Rose's mouth made his hips buck, made him bite his lips in frustrated pleasure. The bed began to creak. He drew in a sharp breath as a hand slid up his stomach to his chest, tweaking a rock-hard nipple.
"Oh yesss--"he managed to reply through dry lips. Rose was doing amazing things, unbelievable things with his cock and Mac didn't think he could handle it a moment longer. He tried to grab a handful of her hair, but she twisted out of his reach.
"Bloody hell, woman! I'm . . ." Rose lifted her head and her blue eyes were glowing with delight.
"--*Not* in charge of this situation," she pointed out softly. With feline grace, she slid up the length of his body, pressing kisses along the way. Mac's pulse accelerated as she licked his throat. Playfully she tousled his hair. He moaned.
"So handsome, so untouchable, " Rose sighed. She took his free hand and pressed it between her long thighs; Mac let his fingers dance through the wet gossamer of her fur as she nibbled his collarbone.
"I *want* you," he hoarsely admitted through clenched teeth. "I want you right *now*."
"What's the magic word?"
"What!" Mac couldn't believe this. She propped herself up on one elbow and looked down into his face. He bit his lips, but Rose kissed them, and he groaned.
" . . .Please . . ." came his soft whisper.
"Again?"
"Please--" Even as he said it, she moved to straddle him, guiding his swollen shaft against her warm wetness. His free hand gripped her thigh as she rose up on her knees. Rose wriggled as she slid down the length of his cock. As he gasped, she groaned, bracing herself against his chest with her small hands. Mac thrust again, and again, lost in mindless searing pleasure as she bounced on him, fragrant hair cascading over her shoulders. Mac felt the fiery surge of his orgasm rock through him and he shuddered, gripping Rose's hip hard. She wailed softly, her own spasms rocking her small frame.
She collapsed on him, breathing heavily. Mac stroked her hair as she rested her head on his chest.
"Rose? " came his soft and peaceful voice. She started, and reached up to the cuff, dialing a number. It fell away from the post, and Mac wrapped both arms around her.
"*You* are a dangerous, obscenely clever little bitch," he murmured sweetly into her hair.
"Sir?" She yawned, cuddling up closer.
"Good girl. Keep it up, sweetheart," came his sleepy reply as he too, drifted off.
Epilogue
DXS Central Offices, Undisclosed location, CA, May 26th 11:22 AM
Murdoc looked at the letter unbelievingly. He shifted in the chair, unwilling to acknowledge it was his now, and not Pete's as he read over the note once more.
Dear Sebastian,
By now you must be aware that Thornton's death was not due to natural causes. All I can say is that he should have never given Connie such a generous divorce settlement and so much time to nurse her wounded pride and anger. Enclosed with this note please find the back up copy of Doctor Parker-Fillmore's research--she's as much a victim as Thornton was, and I hope her little ride in the housekeeping cart wasn't too upsetting. Finally, trust your instincts--you made it quite difficult for me to play a lesbian!
R.
END