Codename: Kryptonite

Chapter Fifteen

Agent Mission Log Entry:

I had no trouble being pissed off at POTUS for feeding me false intel to save his friend. Upon finding out, I realized that my mission here could quite possibly be a moot issue. Everyone knows that Fate can be a tricky bitch. So many things in one's life depends on the right chain of circumstances, and one little thing could change the entire fabric of one's life. My POTUS claimed that the loss of his friend was what sent him into politics. So, what does that mean for this time line?

Yeah, I had no trouble being pissed at POTUS.....until I actually met his friend.

With his mind still on the woman he'd walked away from, Jon made his way back to the kitchen. What was it about this woman that got under his skin and scraped every nerve ending completely raw? He hated not being in control of the situation.

Control. It might as well be his middle name. In fact, he would prefer it to the one his parents had given him. At least it was a little more him, than Francis. The guys ribbed him unmercifully about his "control issues", but he knew that they didn't want it any other way. His bandmates were more than happy to let him handle the business side of things so that they could just enjoy playing music.

He refilled his coffee cup and smiled at Janet. She had made two plates of steaming scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, and even some wheat toast. A large glass of orange juice sat by each plate on the breakfast bar. Jon climbed up on a bar stool, thanking Janet and telling her how good everything smelled, all the while he was wondering where Gabriella was.

When Jon walked away from her, Gabriella slumped against the wall. With her breathing ragged and a roaring in her ears caused by the intense pounding of her heart, she admonished herself for losing her perspective. She couldn't continue to let him take her mind off her mission, however enjoyable the distraction might be.

POTUS had tried to warn her. She wanted to kick herself for ignoring him. She'd been sure that she could protect him, capture the assassin, in short save the day, all without ever thinking of him as a man.

She'd been so damn arrogant.

Forcing herself to take deep, even breaths, Gabby murmured her old mantra, "Mission first, mission last. Mind always on the mission."

She was still whispering the words to herself, when the scratch of a key in a lock and the click of a dead bolt turning echoed through the entryway and living room. Moving quickly, she jerked her Sig from the holster around her ankle, chambering a round as she moved silently and quickly from the hallway across the living room toward the entryway.

********************

For some unexplainable reason, Richie had woke far earlier than was his norm. He'd had breakfast with his mom before heading into the City to see Jon. After the revelations of yesterday, he decided Jon might just need a laugh or two today, and he was prepared to play the clown for his friend's amusement. Just like always.

Hell, they might even get some work done on that project they'd been talking about for so long, a complete re-vamp of some of their biggest hits. It was a risky endeavor, but as artists it would be truly rewarding. But, they were having trouble finding time to work on the project. With Jon working out the details to buy the AFL football team that he wanted so bad he could taste it, and the movie offers that kept coming in, and even his philanthropic endeavors, it was hard finding time to work on a pet-project that no one else thought would work out. Even though they'd pushed most of the work for the box-set off on Obie, there were still little details that kept Jon's fingers in that pie as well.

Richie had accepted a long time ago that Jon was a workaholic. He wasn't happy unless he was doing something. Anything.

It was just after 9am when he arrived at Jon's apartment building. He waved to Vincent, the security guy behind the desk, as he crossed the lobby, jingling his keys and whistling softly to himself.

He was still whistling when he opened the front door of Jon's penthouse and stepped inside. He pushed the door closed while taking the first of two steps that would take him around the short wall and into the living room.

The whistle died on a slow whoosh of air, when he came face to face with a gorgeous woman with long chocolate brown hair in a loose braid that hung over her right shoulder, where the neck of her baggy t-shirt left the creamy skin bare as it barely clung to her shoulder bone. There was a stern look on her face and a dangerous glint in her eye, but it was the hand gun pointed at his chest that had his full attention.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he told her quickly, with his hands in front of him in a defensive gesture. "Kidd?" he called out, before he again spoke to the woman with the gun. "Darlin', I assure you, I come in peace." His eyes darted around the room, before calling out again, "Kidd?" There was just a little more desperation in his voice than there had been the last time.