Fleur Di Lis

NEW YORK

Something wasn't right.

 Rik checked his cell for what seemed like the millionth time since he woke up this morning.  He'd hardly slept last night, waiting for a phone call from Nicki to get her out of the lions' den that she walked into.  He'd had a bad feeling about the whole plan to begin with; from the moment he stepped foot into the apartment, to seeing Nathaniel Carey, to meeting his creepy brother...  An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach that didn't dissipate. 

The fact that Nicki didn't even show up for her shift made him worry all the more. 

Where the hell was she? 

"Donovan," the booming tenor of the Captain Mulhaney's voice jolted Rik from his disturbing reverie, and he rose to his feet.  He noticed the two FBI agents standing at the Captain's door, heads buried in a manila folder that the captain distracted them with.

"Captain," Rik greeted, shaking the older gentleman's hand.  He'd always held the older officer in high regard; he'd trained him when he joined the precinct, he mentored him through his detective training...  Even coached him through the teething problems with Nicki.  He was more of a father figure to Rik than his own father had been.

"How's things?"  The older man asked, folding his beefy arms over his bulging gut.  The man was one doughnut away from a heart attack, yet he had the stealth of a man half his age.

Rik nodded.  He knew he was referring to the operation that he allowed Nicki and Rik to stay on whilst the FBI chased their own tail.  "They're good, sir."

"That so?"  Mulhaney smirked knowingly.  "So, if that's the case then why hasn't Detective Armstrong showed for her shift?"

Rik stared at the older cop, feeling very much like a mischievous schoolboy being caught by the headmaster.  Shit.  He'd forgotten how intuitive the captain actually was; despite spending most of his days holed up in the office divulging in Krispy Kremes, the captain knew more about the occurrences in his precinct than he let on.

And, it was that intuition that had landed Rik in the shitstorm he was now faced with. 

"Walk me to the coffee machine, Donovan," Mulhaney suggested airily, guiding him down the corridor.  Rik walked with him, aware of the butterflies that fluttered nervously in his stomach, mixing with the feeling of unease that hadn't lifted since he saw Nicki being driven away in the glossy black limo last night.  

It wasn't until the door of the cafeteria closed that Mulhaney's entire demeanour changed.  His fists settled themselves on his bulging hips, his beady eyes glaring at Rik.  Rik stared back, noticing that the vein in the middle of the old guy's forehead was starting to protrude dangerously.

"What the fuck is going on here, Donovan?"  He growled.  "Tell me everything."

So, he did.  Rik told the old man everything that happened from the moment he and Nicki left the station, to the masquerade, to not hearing from her this morning.  The relief of airing his concerns to someone else was staggering; he felt like a huge lead weight had been lifted from his shoulders.  He cared about Nicki -- of course he did -- but sometimes...  It was nice to air his concerns about her to someone who knew her as well as he did. 

And knew how pig-headed she was. 

"So, you haven't heard from her since the ball?" 

Rik shook his head.  "I've tried her cell, but it's off.  She never leaves it off, Cap'n.  Never."

"Well, I suggest you do your damndest to get her back," Mulhaney snarled.  "Because, if I lose one of my best cops because of her stubbornness, it's on you, Donovan.  Find her and bring her back so I can kick her ass."

Rik nodded once as the old man stormed out, and slumped against the wall, exhaling loudly.  Damn it, Nicki.  Once again, he had to cover her ass by putting his own on the line and risk being on paperwork duty until the foreseeable.  Rik had lost count with the amount of times that he'd had to do that over the years.  

But, would he change it? 

Nah.

The vibration in his pocket made him straighten up.  He dug in his pocket for his cell and frowned at the number, confused.  Who the hell does he know in Williamsburg?  He let out a heavy sigh and pressed the green button before holding it to his ear.

"Donovan."

                                                                                  ***

The glossy black Impala pulled up outside the pretty townhouses that were a common sight in Brooklyn's suburban streets.  Rik exited the car, squinting up at the building as the morning sun burned his eyes.  It had been two days since he'd heard from Nicki, and the unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach was beginning to make him feel nauseous.  The fear in his partner's voice when he spoke to her the other day was enough to make him want to take her from wherever the hell she was right now and take her home.  But, she said this was bigger than the both of them; he had to trust her judgment.  She'd been right in the past; he had no doubt that she was right again. 

It didn't stop him from worrying about her.

And, it didn't stop the captain from wanting Rik's head on a plate if Nicki didn't come back unscathed.

Rik hurried up the steps and slid past the door as a resident exited the building, and took the steps up to the third floor, where Nicki's apartment was.  Though everything seemed to be in order, Rik's instinct told him to take out his firearm and click off the safety as he neared his partner's front door.  Whatever was behind the door, Rik was certain he wasn't going to like.  He tried the door knob, and the unsettling feeling intensified when the door opened easily.  Nicki never left her door unlocked.  

What the hell is going on here? 

He pushed the door open, and his eyes scanned the wreckage that was in front of him.  There'd been a scuffle in here; that much was obvious.  A bad one.  Shards of glass and ceramic were scattered across the floor, and there were a splatters of blood that Rik hoped didn't belong to Nicki.  He also noticed that the window in front of him was broken; whatever happened here must have been interrupted and the perpetrators -- most likely Bax's guys, given what Nicki had told him -- had made a run for it.

So, where the hell were they now?  And, what were they looking for in Nicki's apartment? 

Suddenly, the force of a blunt object connecting with the back of his head sent him crashing to the ground, and all he saw was a pair of black polished shoes before the world turned black...