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Luminescent moonlight drapes the dock in hues of dim blue- poetically appropriate for the twinge of sadness she feels tonight. Deputy Nora Williams sits at the end of the dark boardwalk, feet hanging over as she flips a coin in her hand repeatedly. Crisp air nips at her skin and harsh waves lap at the shore, but she doesn’t notice any of it.
It has been months since she began this case. It all started with a bit of drug trafficking and escalated to massive organized crime wrapped up in the friendly package of a church. But she knows Eden’s Gate is more than just an oddball cult. Nora’s been investigating their leaders for long enough to realize that. In fact, they’ve been a thorn in her side since she first heard their names.
She should be mad at them of all people.
But she’s not.
Jacob Seed, the eldest, runs the recruitment for Eden’s Gate: the mob, not the cult. He seems to care less about his brother’s religious side and sticks to training and vetting workers to handle the brutal reality of business- anything from the bodyguards that protect his siblings to the drug runners and weapon traders.
She got too close.
Of course she did. She’s good at her job- at least she realizes that. Jacob and his Chosen paid her a visit. She won a few bruises, a couple days locked up at their warehouse, and a personal meeting with Joseph, only to be released with all her belongings, weapons included.
The sound of heels clicking on the wooden boardwalk come from behind her. It’s the type that only expensive business shoes would make, and she’s almost positive she knows who it is.
She should’ve expected him.
Maybe she did.
This dock is technically on his property, after all. She can lie to herself all she wants and say she didn’t know or that this is a protest of rebellion against him, but what’s the use?
“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Deputy?” his voice is smooth and charming- always the charismatic one.
Nora first met John Seed in a church; one elaborately made to look old, as if Eden’s Gate wasn’t fairly new. Their main church was filled with draping linen and stained glass windows depicting things she knew weren’t in the traditional Bible. She came there to question him, and he greeted them enthusiastically, his own visage represented in a panel behind him.
He’s been a constant bother since then, but constant nonetheless. Perhaps that’s why his presence has become so calming- something she avoids doting on for too long. Being the lawyer of Eden’s Gate and an influential figure in the city, she’s dealt with him often in a game of cat and mouse where she tries to find ways to arrest his family and he tries to charm her. Into doing what, she isn’t exactly sure. Though she has a few ideas of what he wants, ideas that linger in the back of her mind late at night, she’s unsure why he’s become so intrigued with her.
Or why she’s let him.
But she doesn’t feel like participating in this today. So, she focuses on the coin in her hands, fidgeting with it to give her something to do.
She can hear John huff before lowering himself to sit next to her. Her muscles stiffen at the sudden close proximity. It looks odd, really, to see a man in such an expensive suit, complete with a designer jacket and scarf, sit on the edge of a pier. She tries not to stare, but she can’t help but look into his ocean eyes. Why must someone evil be blessed with such beauty?
John stares back with his regular intensity, something she’s had to get used to. But his eyes lock onto the bruise on her cheek triggering the wrinkles between his eyebrows with the way he always scrunches them together.
“What happened to you?” he asks, raising a hand to touch her before she flinches away.
“You don’t know?” she says bitterly. Maybe the Seeds communicate less than she thought.
“May I? I won’t hurt you.” he tries slower this time, as if to avoid scaring a spooked animal.
She shouldn’t let him touch her. Especially like this. One quick movement and he could snap her neck, but if Eden’s Gate wanted her dead, she would be by now. So she goes against all logic and lets him.
He cups her cheek as he runs his thumb over the mark. His hands are soft and warm against her skin, though she knows they’re more callused than most lawyers’. Just another reminder of whatever other illegal activities he’s participating in and how much this shouldn’t be affecting her. Maybe it’s just because no one has touched her gently in so long, but if it weren’t for the cover of night, she’s sure he would be able to see how flustered she feels.
When John finally retracts his hand, she begins to explain “Big brother Jacob got ahold of me.” He shifts uncomfortably. “Guess Joseph wanted to talk- or negotiate. Whatever.”
“I didn’t know.”
“And what would you have done if you did? Come join them and lecture me?” she says sarcastically, though her voice is filled with venom.
The reality is if John was there it would likely be for a different purpose. Everyone knows he tattoos the new initiates of the mob, but rumors fly around that he’s in charge of information extraction too. She doesn’t touch that topic though.
“Do tell me what’s on your mind, Deputy. It’s not like you to keep your bitterness to yourself.” he jests, though she can hear a hint of bitterness in his own words.
“For three days I sat in a fucking cage, and he knew! And our wonderful FBI investigator didn't send anyone to help me.”
“What?” his fist clenches into a tight ball as he looks at her with shock in his eyes. He knows exactly who she's talking about, and beyond being responsible for her safety, the investigator in question is her father. Though, John is no stranger to familial neglect from what she knows. Maybe that's why it makes him angry.
The look of utter dismissal on his face as she walked through the doors of the precinct, battered and exhausted but triumphant with the information she had gained. If it weren’t for the misfortune that organized crime must be investigated by the FBI, she wouldn’t even be working with him. Yet, her dad had to be one they sent to oversee the project; Whitehorse and the team couldn’t do anything if they wanted to.
At the pit of her stomach, she feels how stupid it is to think she could do anything to gain his approval. She doesn’t even like him. But she figured out where Jacob’s warehouse was and with warrants, they could’ve stormed in there to collect evidence, but all she got when she revealed her kidnapping and location was an apathetic ‘I know’.
For some, their daughter being held by mobsters for a few days would be a horrifying circumstance; but for him, the job always comes first. Holding off longer would get them more information to take down the whole organization, he said. He wouldn’t risk anything to save her.
“He doesn’t give a shit. I don’t know why I try.” she huffs. John’s expression softens in a way she hasn’t quite seen before. Of course, she’s never opened up to him like this before, either. “I’ve been working my ass off my whole life to become an investigator and he blocks every chance I get to join the FBI! Nothing I do is ever good enough for that absolute asshole. I could have been killed-”
“You wouldn’t.” John interrupts.
“He didn’t know that. Even if I wasn’t his daughter, he should care more than-” you, she thinks. Nora looks at John slowly- the spark of kindness in his eyes as he gazes at her with familiarity, like he sees something he knows in her.
John lets silence fall between them before he responds. “When I was a child my parents were religious fanatics- they beat the shit out of me for anything. Even doing nothing. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized I didn’t need to try and please them anymore…They had a horrible accident after that.”
“John.” She shoots him a skeptical look “I’m not going to murder my dad.”
He smirks at her. “No? What I’m trying to say is you don’t owe him anything. You're better than that, my dear. Perhaps it’s for the best. There are surely better uses of your talents than wasting them on an organization filled with decrepit halfwits.”
The pet name sends shivers down her spine. Though not the first time he’s used it, it’s begun to feel less smarmy and more genuine. And while his sentiment is sweet sentiment, and sweet is an odd word to use to describe John, it’s not that simple.
She huffs cynically before snapping her fingers as she speaks. “Like this my job- my future is gone and I’m in a whole lot of hot water for the shit I’ve pulled recently.”
“Well I do know a good lawyer that could fix that for you” he offers with a toothy grin.
“Are you suggesting I use a mob lawyer to keep my FBI agent father from getting me fired?”
“It’s a good rebellion if I’ve ever heard of one.”
Nora throws her head back in laughter joined by John. His genuine laughter makes her smile stick around long after they’ve quieted down. The sound of sloshing water fills the space between them, and he looks at her like she really matters to him.
Like he cares.
She sighs softly and redirects her thoughts, away from the tumultuous emotions of fondness and melancholy for the reality that divides them.
“What am I doing here? I should be working on arresting you, and you should be- well- not participating in whatever this is.”
“So you admit there is something between us?” he chides.
“That’s absolutely not what I meant and you know it, John Seed!”
“I’m sure I could change your mind. You never did respond to my offer to take you out for dinner.”
“You know I could lose my job for this alone?” she scoffs “I’m supposed to be the righteous cop. What you do…”
John huffs indignantly “It’s cute you still believe in good guys, justice, and all that crap they probably taught you in cop school.” He gestures loosely “Resist it all you want, Deputy, but you’ll see the truth soon enough; There is no good fight, only the lesser evil. And that might not be who you think.”
Nora looks at him “What do you mean?”
“You’ll see soon enough. Just don’t trust everyone with a badge, hm?” he coos as if the statement were meant to be comforting. John gets up, extending a hand to her.
It’s tempting to call the offer uncharacteristic, but she doesn’t really know John at all, does she? His ominous words don’t make her eager to break this barrier of physical touch for a second time that night, even if just for a moment. She glances at his hand and back up to him.
“Come on, now. I have to go home- have a meeting with Joseph. And it’s cold out. You should get some rest.”
Part of her wonders if they’re being watched or if one of his people will follow her home. John shakes his hand at Nora to hurry her, bringing her away from her worries. She reaches up for him reluctantly. His grip is firm, but not abrasive as he helps her up.
“Your hands are frigid, darling.” he says. She jerks her hand away before he can reach a second to cover hers, no matter how tempting it is to accept his warmth. His expression immediately turns downtrodden.
“I’m fine. Thank you.” Nora responds quietly.
The pair walk the length of the doc in silence, only the click of their shoes and splash of waves filling the air. John glances at her periodically but mostly keeps his eyes downcast, hands shoved in his pockets, suddenly silenced by her subtle denial. It’s not like him to give up like this. She’s used to his constant push and pull. It’s even become so tolerable that the absence of it makes her feel bad. He seems deep in thought, pondering something.
Once they reach the alley and it is time to part, John turns to her. He unwraps the scarf from his neck. In one quick step, he closes the space between them. Nora stiffens at the sudden closeness, but he’s gentle, lightly securing the blue fabric around her neck.
It’s softer than anything she’s ever owned- likely cashmere. She shouldn’t be surprised, really. This is John after all. It’s already warm and smells of his cologne. And it’s comforting. She hates to admit it, but Nora can feel her shoulders relax and her heart speed up from the kind gesture.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Nora. I promise.” John says softly, the pain in his eyes as they walked suddenly makes sense; he doesn’t want to scare her- doesn’t want to be the ‘bad guy’, not to her at least. He reaches up slowly to cup her cheek, thumb caressing her softly. At worst, it might be some elaborate trick to bring her guard down, at best he has a delusional crush. But she can’t stop herself from leaning into his touch, her hand reaching to cover his as butterflies fill her stomach and her heart clenches at just how wrong this is.
She tries to sound strong and dismissive as usual, but her voice comes out just above a whisper. “I want to believe you. I really do.”