Seeley Calls the She Wolf

Previous: A Most Vital Call

Bleep Seeley looked at the number on his phone where Katie sent it to him, transferred it, dialed the number. He held it to his ear and waited for it to ring and get picked up.

Summer looked at her phone and picked it up. She hit answer, then speaker as she and Kaine went over her files. “Caldwell Accounting, Summer speaking.”

“Special Agent Booth, your uh… Our mutual friend, Miss Do… Miss McMichael, asked me to give you a call.”

“Ah, yes, Katie…wait…Special Agent?” The voice was incredulous. “Hail Mary, she wasn't kidding.” A pause. “I have reason to believe I am about to be framed for embezzlement by a man named Sean Flannery, do you know who I could speak to if it's not your division?”

“Flannery?” Why does that name ring a bell? “Gimme a sec.” Silent. “Ella?”

Ella's head had already snapped up. “Flannery? I don't know of a Flannery that isn't involved in…things. Dangerous lot. Rivals of the Sheas.” She said pointedly while Summer listened.

Seeley's free hand went through his hair. Well, shit. “Guessing you heard that, Summer?” He put his phone on speaker and laid it on the table since Ella knew about it.

“Yes. The Sheas? Like…mafia Sheas?” She asked, arching a brow at Kaine. Ella slipped an arm around her husband and leaned on him. “The Flannerys were allied with the Carmichaels before they were wiped out.” She said. “Carmichael?” Came Summer's voice. “My sister Winter's sorority big sister was a Carmichael, but she died.” Ella tensed and sighed. “Yes. Gabriella. A shame. I'm sorry for your sister's loss.” She hit the mute button. They could hear Summer but Summer couldn't hear them. “I remember Winter. Sweet girl.” She said, then hit the button again.

This was getting real complicated, real fast. “It's more my wife's thing, but we can take a look into Flannery and see what he's up to. Breathe down his neck, put a little pressure on him, that sort of thing.” Mute. “You're kidding me?” Unmute. “How's that sound?”

Ella shook her head. She wasn't kidding. “I'm thankful you're even listening to me. Thank you.” Summer said. After the usual pleasantries, the call ended. “Winter was…two years behind me? I was her pledge sponsor for the sorority. She'd just come to America a couple years before with her sister.”

“OK, so… Let me get this straight. You know Summer's… Sister. Could she ID you? Does she know you well enough?”

She looked at Seeley. Her contacts still in. “Winter knows an Italian collegiate with a bunch of tattoos and hazel eyes. Good thing about Italians? A lot of us look the same. She's good people. I promise.”

Seeley breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. OK, second thing. Katie’s a Shea, you’re a Carmichael, they’re both… Dead and gone. She wouldn’t know anything, either. What do you know about the Flannerys? Guessing this is a shakedown or something.”

Ella frowned. “What was the first name? I..wasn't paying attention.” She admitted with a light tint to her cheeks.

He dug through his memory. “Sean.” He reached over to brush his fingers over her cheeks. “I know, you have a lot on your mind.”

“Sean…SeanSeanSean.” She mumbled as she leaned into the gentle, reassuring touch of her husband's fingers against her cheek. “Sean…Flannery.” She reached over and opened her work laptop, doing a quick search of her case files. “Oh. Here. Sean Flannery. Recent incident reports…assault and battery, attempted rape against…Summer Caldwell.” She scanned more. Seeley had put her in 'job mode', but she still stayed pressed against him. “Here's another….from last week. Assault with intent to cause grievous bodily harm against…Summer Caldwell.” She clicked the report and pulled up the file photo. Summer's neck, her jaw. And a picture of a..“Ew, gross. Is that…a staple? Says here…oh heavens. In order to get away, victim attacked perp with…a Swingline bookbinding stapler.”

“Good for her!” Even saying that he involuntarily twitched so his thighs came together slightly. “Sound like a real piece of work. Let me get my hands on him, teach him how a real man handles a woman.”

“Wouldn't waste my breath when it could be better served to keeping the knowledge fresh in my memory.” She teased. “But no, he's got a record against women going back a way. The Flannerys are like…the MS-13 of Irish crime families. They make the Sheas look like suburban white boys playing gangster in Harlem.”

He ran his hand through his hair. It wouldn't be the first time he punched an abusive man, and probably wouldn't be the last, knowing his temper. “Between us, we've cleaned up the Carluccis and the Sheas. What's another crime family between husband and wife?”

“You sure you shouldn't be in OC with me?” Ella teased.

“I'm happy with homicide. It takes a delicate touch to deal with families, and I'm not sure Aubrey can manage quite yet. Besides, I still support you when necessary, like you do me.” He poked her nose, then ran his hand through his hair. “Besides, what would they do with two Booths in the same department?”

“Keep us in business by dying of sexy overload?” She laughed. The box was far, far back in the corner now. “But…from his criminal file…guy has a hair-trigger temper. We're going to have to stop this and fast if we want to avoid collateral damage.” She tensed for a split second. But then it was gone. She was keeping it at bay.

He laughed, shaking his head. “I guess. We'll need to find something to catch him on. I know the type. They'll use everything they can to wiggle free, they'll always have a lawyer on hand.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. I'm here.

“If you can't get anything on the puppetmaster, grab the puppet and pull hard enough. We just have to figure out who the puppet is.” Her hand rested over his. I know. I love you.

“Is he the puppetmaster, or the puppet?” He didn't know how deep her files went, nor did he know the family hierarchy. “Does he have kids? Brothers? Sisters? There's always someone in these families. Just apply pressure until… Pop.”

“Flannerys are independent. He's likely the puppeteer on this.” She stiffened at the mention of kids. She was a mob kid…and she'd seen…pressure. Not always from the Feds…

You're a Fed. Daniela Booth.
Your husband is a Fed. Seeley Booth.
You're happy. Gabriella Carmichael is dead.

Breathe.

He gave her shoulder a squeeze, then slipped his hand down, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her against him.

“Sorry.” He knew her history, he hadn’t thought about it in that sense. He occasionally forgot how she’d been brought up in that environment.

“No, it's okay. I grew up in it so it's easy for me to see all the…humanity….involved.” She sighed. “My father…was a bad man. A criminal. But not once did I or my brothers ever think for one second we were anything but loved. Even Big Ange. He loved LA. So much that he held off on killing me. We were mafia…but we were still people too. Look at me when we met. You don't see mob princesses having very bad anxiety attacks in film…”

“No, but you don't see anybody having very bad anxiety attacks in films… Well, not really.” He knew how much that life bugged her. But she had a new one. With him. “You don't have to worry about that except looking in from the outside, now.”

“I know.” She smiled. “I just…I liked Gabi. I didn't like the sword over her…but I liked her. That…I miss being called my name sometimes.” She said tenderly, stroking his cheek. “When I met you…I envisioned Gabriella Lucia Booth.”

“I like Gabi. You're still the same person to me. At least, here, you are. I know things need to be different in public.” He reached up to stroke her hair, running his fingers through the strands. “You're the same person I met in the street… I showed you mine, you showed me yours.”

She smiled then. “You were…my first attempt at actually flirting.” She murmured. “Your smile…that's what got me. And your eyes. I had to try.”

He grinned that cheeky grin on his. “I could tell. You were fine with the guns, then awkward with the questions and small talk.”

“I knew my chances were small. But I had to take them.” She smiled and leaned forward, kissing him softly.

He parted his lips to her kiss, his hand slipping around the back of her neck, holding her against him. If she hadn't taken her chances, this would never have happened. He was glad she grasped the opportunity with both hands.

Ella smiled into his lips a moment before parting hers, her arms wrapping around him. Who would have thought that a mob princess saying “I'll show you mine if you show me yours” to a Fed would have led to the happiest years of her life? Her fingers slid along his back, rubbing adoringly along his shoulders. One arm left, closed her laptop, and then returned.

Work was over.