All Hands On Deck

“Her?”

Both Root and Shaw said at the same time. Both sets of eyes went wide with surprise. They turned to each other with scrunched up faces then back in the direction of the door.

Root quickly dug into her shorts pocket and pulled out her phone. She typed fast, her phone pairing with Joan’s phone before she got too far away. Shaw watched Root for a moment before realizing she was still sitting on her lap, she moved to disentangle herself from Root, but the hacker’s one arm held on tighter to her waist.

“Root…” Shaw said in a low growl, but she stopped trying to move away.

Root put the phone on top of the toilet paper dispenser and wrapped both her arms around Shaw again. Shaw kept her hands firmly planted on each side of the stall; she let Root have her cheesy hug. Queso from both of their shirts, arms, and other body parts smeared together and got even stickier to the touch.

Shaw rolled her eyes and slowly lifted her legs; she pulled Root’s arms from her waist and dismounted from Root’s lap. Root took this opportunity to run her hands along Shaw’s ass as she stood up. She immediately missed the heat and electricity of Shaw sitting on her lap and easier access to her cheese-flavored neck.

They stood up and shared a look, still confused about what they’d heard.

“Joan?” asked Shaw with a scrunched up and completely baffled look on her face. The cheese all over her hair and face just added to her confused messy appearance.

“Who is Joan that she can talk that way about Samaritan?” Root wondered out loud. She started scrolling through Joan’s phone.

“Is she like Samaritan’s boss or something?” asked Shaw, shaking her head. “She can’t be over Greer?”

“Her?” Both Root and Shaw asked in unison.

“Well, she is annoying enough.” Root scrolled through Joan’s phone but let out a frustrated sigh. “The Machine can’t seem to access much of anything on Joan’s phone, but it does have the GPS locator turned on, so we’ll know where she’s headed.”

“We need to follow her right now. If she’s meeting someone from Samaritan in forty-five minutes, we need to be there,” Shaw pushed open the bathroom stall door and went to the sink to wash cheese off her hands.

“True, except I’m not going with queso in my hair,” Root followed Shaw out and tried to wash some queso off her hands and face. “Let’s go shower.”

“Separately,” Shaw shot back to Root.

Root ran her eyes up and down Shaw’s body and then bit her lower lip.

“Root,” Shaw said in a serious tone, even as her body betrayed her, “No. We gotta hurry.” She felt flushed and wondered if some of the queso had slipped down into her underwear. Then shook her head, knowing it was just her lower region reaction from straddling Root’s hips.

Root pressed up against the back of Shaw’s body, Shaw then turned around to face Root, and her lips captured in a heated kiss. Shaw reciprocated immediately. After letting herself indulge in a minute, Shaw pulled away, biting Root’s lower lip in the process.

“Okay, fine. No hands below the waist,” Shaw pointed a finger at Root, who, in return, smirked back.

Root opened her mouth to object.

“No, hands below the waist until we find out what’s going on with Joan and how she’s working with Samaritan. And how many times I can shoot her,” Shaw had a super serious look on her face as she crossed her arms against her chest and put some physical distance between her and Root. “No, other appendages either. No legs, no mouths.”

Shaw knew it would be best to shower separately, yet she also just wanted to see Root naked again.

“What about…” Root smiled at Shaw and moved closer.

“No,” Shaw stayed firm although all she wanted was a long, hot, naked shower with Root. Sure for the sex, but also to get all the queso washed off her body. The cheese was hardening and giving kind of a crusty outer shell to their clothes and hair. “On second thought, solo showers.”

“You can zip ties my hands together,” Root teased as Shaw didn’t move away and let Root push her up against near the door.

“That means I have to shampoo your hair, no way.”

Root gave a little pout face to Shaw, who shook her head.

Shaw headed for the door to exit the bathroom, then quickly turned around to Root. “Joan is meeting with someone from Samaritan, and I’m not missing my chance to take that troll down.”

Their shower was surprisingly quick, and Root managed to keep her hands to herself. It was Shaw that broke their no hands below the waist rule. Shaw’s hands wandered south of the waistline under the guise of washing queso off of Root. Root was pretty sure she hadn’t gotten queso down there, but she appreciated the effort Shaw took to clean that sensitive area. She didn’t just use her hands; she used her mouth, too.

Root had a smug grin the whole time getting dressed so they could follow Joan. Her whole body vibrated from the shower and her intense cleaning by Shaw. She could still feel Shaw’s hands and mouth all over her body. The hacker was pleasantly happy that Shaw had broken her own rule to make sure she was ‘clean’ of queso. Although, when Root slipped her thigh in between Shaw’s legs, the Machine alerted her of new information. She pulled away from Shaw, which got a huffy retort from her petite primary asset until Root told her what the Machine had just relied to her.

They had a new number, and it appeared Joan was heading to the same place.

Root and Shaw called the guys and told them. They all decided the best course of action right now was for Root and Shaw to follow Joan, and then call for back up immediately if the situation looked bigger then they could handle. The guys, along with Zoe, were going to search Joan’s room and quiz Tinswell on how well she knew her scheming, annoying assistant.

The Machine alerted them that Joan had gotten into a taxi and was heading into the city. Root and Shaw hurried and commandeered a resort vehicle to pursue Joan.

“I’m so ready to shoot Joan finally,” Shaw said as she drove, getting directions via the Machine from Root. She sped through the streets, trying to catch up to Joan’s taxi.

“How’s your leg?” asked Root, concerned.

“It would have been better without queso. It’s fine,” said a very stoic Shaw.

Shaw was a little mad at herself for losing control in the shower. Abstaining from sex with Root wasn’t helping her distance herself, so she decided that she should just have a lot of sex with Root and make herself tired of it, like eating too many donuts. She had a nice buildup going herself before the Machine interrupted them once again. She hoped this whole Joan business could be wrapped up quickly. Shoot Joan in the kneecap with a silencer then dump her off at the police station. Done. Back to plan Naked Root Sex Overload. Or she thought it’s a mission now, a top-secret mission.

Root and Shaw followed the directions to Joan, which lead them to a local bar. They sat in the car before heading in.

“Shaw, you stay out here and check the perimeter. We don’t want to get ambushed,” Root said while scanning the parking lot area for anything suspicious. “I’ll go inside and see if I can have eyes on Joan.”

Shaw didn’t like this plan, yet she did know they needed to split up to gauge the situation fully. They had no idea how many Samaritan operatives Joan might be meeting or if the bar was a front for some kind of Samaritan facility. She watched Root enter the bar and positioned her earwig, connecting to Root immediately.

“Root, I’m stationed outside in the car. What now?” Shaw asked over the comm links.

“The Machine doesn’t know exactly what we’re looking for, so you’ll have to tell us both exactly what you see,” Root discreetly said as she walked into the local bar and found a booth in the back to observe the whole scene.

“I spy surfboards. So probably a lot of surfers here,” Shaw said in an almost bored tone. “Wait, there are some guys breaking into some nicer cars in the lot.”

Shaw quietly got of the car and moved closer to where the car thieves were trying to break into a fancy Range Rover. She swiftly and quickly took the three guys out despite her leg wound. She zip tied all of them to a bicycle rack up near the front.

“Next time you’re all seeing other half wants me to break up a car theft gang of guys, a little heads up would be great,” Shaw said in a sarcastic tone. She walked back to the borrowed resort car to wait.

“She knows you can handle yourself,” Root said with a smile in her voice.

Just then, Root caught sight of Joan sitting at the bar. Joan was looking into her phone and talking. Root realized she was Skyping with someone. Root discreetly used a menu to mask her face to watch the assistant more closely.

“I’ve got eyes on Joan now. The syncing isn’t working for some reason,” Root said, annoyed. “I’m going to move closer so I can hear at least one side of the conversation. Joan is Skyping with someone.”

Root very gracefully, like a ballerina floating across a stage, moved closer to Joan without the assistant paying any attention. Then again, Joan was completely focused on her phone; she was hunched over the device and holding it close to her face.

“Don’t get to close,” Shaw said quickly, she gripped the steering wheel tightly, scanning the parking lot once again.

Root slowly walked over to the other side of the bar to approach an angle that wouldn’t Joan see directly. She got close enough to hear a little of the conversation.

“You’ve been doing this game for years; no one is better than you. Right? Isn’t that right? You…only you…you,” Joan talked into her phone camera. “Only you can take down…”

Root had trouble hearing the last word. “She might have said take down security? Or Samaritan? Or sassafras?” The hacker pursed her lips, deep in thought as she tried to decode Joan’s conversation.

“Let me just shoot her now,” Shaw said over the comm links, she was getting pretty antsy in the car.

“We still don’t know if she’s the perpetrator or who the victim is yet,” Root said, teasing her favorite primary asset. “Or if they’re connected at all?”

“You’re joking. It’s Joan. She almost tried to kiss you, Root. And me. Should I continue? She’s super annoying. She’s the perp,” Shaw sighed heavily and loudly.

Root loved hearing Shaw in her ear. She smiled as she said, “We all make mistakes.”

Shaw pinched her nose bridge in between her eyes in frustration.

“Like when she interrupted your thank you massage?” Shaw shot back to Root, hoping to get a raise.

“I’m going to move closer to hear better since the phone syncing is cutting out for some reason,” Root said as she inched even closer to Joan.

“Okay, so just to confirm, you’re saying I can’t shoot Joan yet?” Shaw wanted to double-check.

“Stay the course, Sameen,” Root’s smile was evident in her voice.

“Fine. Just remember I told you so when this all goes pear-shaped,” Shaw replied in her most cynical tone.

Joan was so engrossed in her Skype call that she was completely oblivious that Root was only one barstool over from her.

“She also appears to be reading a magazine while Skyping…” Root trailed over, looking over her shoulder, discreetly at Joan. “No, it’s a Sudoku puzzle book,” she replied very quietly.

“Wow, that’s worse.” Shaw snorted. “Isn’t this place kind of a singles bar?”

“The Machine did say there are a lot of hookups here,” Root continued to watch Joan Skype and work on her Sudoku puzzle book while sipping a glass of white wine.

After a few silent minutes of nothing happening, Shaw’s voice came back and tickled Root’s ear.

“Root, order me a hamburger to go,” Shaw said in a rather bored tone.

“You just ate,” Root said with a smirk in her voice.

“You’re not protein. You’re like a pixy stick.”

“So, you’re saying I’m the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted?” Root blushed deeply with a huge wattage smile on her face; Shaw admitting to sexy times over the comm links had been one of her fantasies for a while.

“Yeah, sure, Root.” Shaw shook her head. Now she wanted a pixy stick and a burger. If she had too many Root pixy sticks, she wondered if it would rot out her vagina.

Shaw wondered how long this Skype call with Samaritan would last, what could that ninny Joan be talking about for so long over the phone. She looked up to the front to see the gang of car thieves getting antsy and trying to break free of their zip ties.

“Root, why can’t the Machine access Joan’s phone?” Shaw asked, annoyed.

“Okay, it looks like it’s finally gained access. She’s patching us through so we can hear now,” Root said while noticing that Joan had her phone nearly pressed up against her face and making kissing faces towards the camera. Root watched with a bewildered look on her face. Bewildered mixed in with disgust.

Joan’s voice finally was heard over both Root and Shaw’s comm links.

“I don’t know yet. I’m still watching them. They’re both the hottest women I’ve ever seen, but there is something off about them. Sammy was so heroic when she saved me,” Joan said with a dreamy look on her face.

Shaw’s eyes widened; she couldn’t believe Joan was talking about her, specifically to Samaritan?

The syncing went out again and back to static; they couldn’t hear the Skype call again.

Root was alarmed, too. She was done watching and waiting. She was going to see whom Joan was talking to and, if it was Greer, she was going to flip him off. She walked up to Joan and leaned over her shoulder to look at her phone.

“Are you talking to Samaritan right now?” Root accused Joan, catching the woman completely off guard; she almost fell off her bar stool.

“Subtle,” Shaw said very sarcastically into Root’s ear.

“Sam! Why are you here?” Joan asked, confused, looking Root up and down. “Did you want to see say, Hi? He loves people.”

“So, you are with Samaritan?” Root asked she thought maybe Joan would be dumb enough just to spill it right now.

“What? I just wanted to talk, get a drink, and see him. I miss him so much,” Joan said in a whiny voice.

Root squinted her eyes, her face full of abhorrence.

“Are you talking about Greer?” Root thought she might start gagging if Joan was having some kind of clandestine affair with the shriveled old man commandeering Samaritan. Or perhaps Greer was Samaritan’s whipping boy, either way, if the revelation headed in that direction Root thought she might hurl in this singles bar.

“Who? I’m talking about my baby Sam,” Joan’s face changed, and a genuine smile spread across her dour features.

“Baby? Sam?” Root was so confused.

“Look at him,” Joan gushed while she showed Root her phone. “He’s all ready for bed. I miss him so much.”

Root saw a big, fluffy dog in flannel pajamas on Joan’s Skype session. She smiled despite herself; it was a damn cute dog.

“How do you know about Samaritan?” Asked Joan to Root very confused.

Root’s eyes widened. She realized they had been wrong and froze. She tried to come up with something fast. “Doesn’t he have his own Instagram?”

“He does!” Joan exclaimed quite excitedly. “As you know from his Insta bio, I named him Samaritan because he’s such a good boy. He saved save some kittens when he just a puppy.”

Root turned her head and whispered to Shaw. “Stand down. Stand down, false alarm.”

“What do you mean, false alarm? She was talking to Samaritan,” Shaw said in a super-serious tone.

“Yes, Samaritan…her dog. I’m sending a pic,” Root whispered while Joan continued talking to her canine love, the hacker took a photo of Joan’s screen to send to Shaw.

“Why in the hell is the dog in pajamas?” Asked an angry Shaw.

“That’s your first question?” Root whispered back as not to be heard by Joan, yet highly amused at Shaw’s angry tone. She made a mental note to dress Bear up sometime in the future.

“I think she’s still working with Samaritan if she’s forcing her dog to wear human clothes,” Shaw grumbled. “I’m going to shoot her.”

“Sameen, hold on. We still don’t know why there’s a number here. And I’m guessing now it’s just a happy coincidence that Joan is at this same location,” Root said quietly, Joan was still very occupied cooing over her dog Samaritan. “That’s why the Machine didn’t invade her privacy and alert us sooner of the other Samaritan…the helpful dog.”

“It’s only happy if Joan gets shot,” Shaw growled back. “I’m not in the mood for Ms. Joan Lonely-heart,” Shaw wanted to get Root back to the hatch or the resort room; hopefully, the rest of the team was occupied with more research or something so they could have a few hours. She wouldn’t mind some repeats from last night or this morning or in the shower. She wanted to see just how flexible the hacker truly was.

Root turned her head away from Joan and said in a low voice, “Shaw, just give me a few minutes.” She wanted nothing more to get Shaw alone and naked, yet she kind of felt a pang of sadness, watching Joan sitting alone at the bar. She knew what loneliness looked like versus just enjoying time alone. She asked the Machine to help her.

Root sat down firmly on the barstool next to Joan. The assistant had ended her Skype session with her dog and now looked even sadder while sipping her drink and tapping a pencil against her Sudoku puzzle book.

“So Joan, you came here to drink, play Sudoku and visit with your dog via Skype?” Root put on her best people-friendly face.

“Ugh, it sounds so pathetic doesn’t. I just get so jealous of all the happy couples. And even the unhappy ones like you and John.” Joan cast her eyes down at the bar.

“Why do you think John and I are unhappy?” Root was surprised; she thought she was a better actor. She blamed her fake hubby for lack of chemistry and performance issues.

“I don’t feel like I connect with anyone, like ever. I just want someone to do stupid exercises with…someone to curl up with on the couch and binge…someone to cook breakfast for...someone who looks at me like Sammy looks at you…someone to smother with kisses and hugs…” Joan kept word vomiting all her wishful requests and desires for a future partner.

“Wait…what?” Root was totally shocked that Shaw might look at her differently than Bear or a sandwich.

“What did that toad say?” Shaw snapped to Root.

Joan looked up into Root’s eyes and said in the most sincere voice Root had heard the assistant use.

“I’ve gotten really bitter. I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole. I just can’t ever seem to meet anyone. I try and be interesting…I snapchatter with filters…I tweet with shows…I lead a young adult book club….joined a softball team…” Joan paused on the verge of tears. “I’m like really woke too, I went on the Women’s March.”

“Root!” Shaw whispered shouted. “What is going on? Is she having a breakdown?”

Before Root could lean away to answer Shaw, a man approached them at the bar. Root handed Joan a bar napkin to blow her nose and pat her tear-soaked eyes. Root looked over at the man who just walked up to them very suspiciously.

“Can I buy you, ladies, a drink?” said the man with a plastic smile plastered across his face. His teeth were blinding white, too much unsavory cologne wafted in the air as he got closer, and he was wearing Ed Hardy jeans.

Root turned to look at Joan to see if she could get some kind of signal whether the assistant would like this guy or not. Slowly, Joan nodded her head and blew her nose on the napkin again.

“Sure, why not,” Root said, trying to sound casual instead of snarky.

“Well, don’t get too excited there lady. I was just being nice,” the man said defensively, picking up on the chilly tone in Root’s voice.

This guy set Root off; he sounded condescending and, even worse, he looked and acted entitled. Also, the jeans were obnoxious.

“Actually, I don’t think you were being nice,” Root replied and gave the man one of her most deadly glares. “You have ulterior motives, so you weren’t just being nice.” The hacker said in a tone so cold it was dripping with icicles while accentuating the word nice to hammer her point across to the jerk. Then Root did her best Miranda Priestly, “That’s all.”

The man turned around and left them alone with his tail between his legs.

Shaw snorted. “If looks could kill, you shot his ass a few times with two guns blazing,” high praise from the petite primary asset.

Shaw admitted she did love seeing Root handle two guns at one time. And taking down asshat guys was also fun.

Root smiled; she knew Shaw had to be inside the bar somewhere now watching them. Obviously, either bored out of her mind or hungry.

“Little help here, please?” Root asked into her phone camera, discreetly out of sight of Joan.

“Root, what are you doing?” Shaw asked, watching Root talk to the Machine while Joan sipped her wine.

“Asking if the Machine can check Tinder to see if there is a match in here for Joan,” Root said in a low voice over the comm links to Shaw.

“Yeah, that seems like a good use of the Machine’s time - matchmaking for an annoying lovelorn single,” Shaw let out a heavy frustrated sigh.

“I think the Machine is a pretty good matchmaker,” Root said as she did her non-wink to the camera.

Another guy approached Root and Joan. The Machine had alerted Root; this man was not a match for Joan, and he was an all-around asshole. The three exchanged a few words, then things escalated very quickly, and right before the guy was going to try and punch Root, he fell forward suddenly unconscious and slammed his face into the bar. When he slid down to the ground, Shaw was behind him, grinning.

“Sammy! What are you doing here?” asked Joan, very surprised. “You saved me once again!” Joan’s face beamed as she looked at Shaw.

“I texted her; it’s girls night out, right?” Root smiled warmly to Joan. And then she smiled even more warmly at Shaw.

“What fun!” Joan turned to face Shaw. “Thanks for knocking that guy out, he was such a douche.” Joan then hugged Shaw, who did not return the affection.

“I need a burger and scotch,” deadpanned Shaw as she walked up to the bar and stood on the other side of Root, she pulled out the menu and looked it over.

Joan watched as Root’s eyes were glued to Shaw, the assistant just smirked.

One of the bartenders, a tan, muscular, modelesque, local with gorgeous, dark hair and beautiful tattoos on her shoulders and forearms waltzed up with a grin on her face and stared at Root, Shaw, and Joan.

“What I can I do for you, ladies?” The stunning, statuesque bartender asked while smiling at all three women.

All three women were a little awestruck by the beauty, posture, and the smooth timber of the bartender’s voice; she looked like she walked out of the Themyscira neighborhood of Hawaii. All three women were momentarily frozen.

Shaw shook her head, then blurted out. “Can I get a burger and scotch, please,” She didn’t want to lose her chance to order something before Root came up with some possibly silly ass plan involving the bartender. She could see the brain wheels working in the hacker’s head, or more accurately Root’s CPU and RAM portion lighting up.

The bartender moved over to the bar computer and typed in Shaw’s order into the system while she kept on eye on the three women, specifically the one with puffy eyes nursing a white wine. She noticed the other two women were obviously a couple, as she had watched the shorter one watch, the taller one from the moment she entered the bar. Those two only had intense (somewhat scary) eyes for each other, the bartender thought. She walked back over to the three women to deliver Shaw’s scotch.

“Hi, I’m Sam. This Sammy,” Root put her hand on Shaw’s forearm and left it there, in a very proprietary way. “And this is Joan.” Root emphasized and enunciated Joan’s name; if the bartender didn’t pick up the cue, then it was a hard pass.

“Hi, I’m Keahi,” the bartender reached out her smooth, muscled arm to shake Root’s hand, then Shaw and then Joan; she let her hand linger on the assistant’s hand.

“That’s a beautiful name. What does it mean?” Root asked, smiling at the gorgeous bartender. It was a regular smile, though, not a Shaw smile.

Root left her hand on Shaw’s arm; she started rubbing slow circles and was shocked the petite primary asset hadn’t pushed her away yet. Root thought she would like to see Keahi and Joan together, but more specifically, she hoped to be leaving soon so she could give Shaw a thorough cleaning like she got in the shower before coming to the bar.

“Root…” Shaw growled to the hacker, “…don’t overdo it. You’re the wingman, not the pick-upper.” Shaw dropped her hand, slid it over to Root’s warm, tanned thigh, and pinched her hard. Since they were both wearing their island attire of shorts and mixed-matched t-shirts with tank tops, she was willing to bet the pinch hurt a lot more on bare skin.

Root couldn’t help a huge wattage smile spread across her face. Shaw sounded jealous or angry. Or both. Probably just angry since she was pretty sure Shaw didn’t do jealousy. The pinch was hard and good, a great motivator for hurrying up this meet and greet.

“It means flame,” Keahi said with an engaging smile, and even though Root asked the question, the bartender was only staring at Joan.

Joan was speechless; she just sat there, gawking at Keahi. Root and Shaw slowly inched further down the bar away from the two women.

“She kind of looks like Moana’s hot super buff older sister,” Shaw said to Root, watching the bartender and Joan slowly start to interact with each other.

Shaw nudged Root to a booth in the back of the bar so she could eat her recently delivered burger and scotch in peace away from Joan and her new potential ‘too smoking hot for Joan’ date. Root smiled and followed to the booth. They sat with an appropriate distance between them, the appropriate distance for two straight, married women. There was a comfortable silence while Shaw ate. Root continued to watch everyone coming and going around in the bar, still very unclear on what kind of irrelevant thing might be going on in the bar tonight. After Shaw was done eating, she joined Root in scanning the room.

Root’s continued looking around the room for any threat. Her eyes landed on Shaw again, who had one hand resting on her uninjured leg under the table and the other hand wrapped around the glass of scotch. Root reached out and slowly ran her hand down Shaw’s forearm then very gradually interlaced their fingers together on top of Shaw’s leg. Shaw accepted Root’s hand and sat there, staring down at their intertwined hands. The long, delicate fingers in her more calloused, rough hands; Shaw thought to herself that keyboards are definitely kinder to hands in some ways more than fighting.

Shaw didn’t know how Root could make hand holding hardcore foreplay, yet she did. The petite primary asset felt a huge wave of desire shoot through her body. Her stomach felt all warm, and she felt sweaty all of a sudden. She didn’t think that burger was all that, so it had to be Root related instead. She had heard the expression before ‘weak in the knees’ and thought it sounded ridiculous, yet here she was glad she was sitting down. If you had told her a year ago a tall, lanky, completely nerdy computer hacker would have her so flustered sexually in a public place with just silly ass hand-holding, she would have shot that person or threw them through a glass window.

Root didn’t know how to describe just touching Shaw’s hand. Even the slightest touches seemed to light up all her senses like blinds being opened in a darkened room. Shaw’s skin was so warm and, despite some rough areas, was so very soft. The feeling came over her like walking into a hot shower on a cold morning, the feeling of never wanting to leave that warm, wet, blissful place.

Then Root started rubbing her thumb back and forth over Shaw’s hand. Shaw lifted her eyes up to stare into Root’s eyes. Her eyes then went lower to focus on Root’s lips, and the hacker’s eyes followed suit. They stared longingly at each other’s lips, momentarily forgetting they were in a public setting undercover. Root sucked in her lower lip into her mouth and ran her tongue across the length; Shaw watched this action laser-focused; she inhaled a deep breath.

Joan and Keahi were happily talking at the bar when Root and Shaw caught their attention. They both watched the intense women for a minute. The two women at the booth thought they were discreet, yet it was obvious they were holding hands underneath the table and about to lunge for each other’s lips.

Joan whispered to Keahi, “If they don’t kiss soon, I think I’ll spontaneously combust.”

Suddenly, the front doors to the bar swung open violently, and four men barged in, one guy with long, wind blow hair walked out in the front, clearly the leader of the gang. They headed straight to the pool tables were a group of big, muscular guys wearing long board shorts and tank tops were playing.

“Hey! We told you this wasn’t over!” The long blonde haired leader guy yelled to the group of pool players. “This is our turf. You can’t surf here.”

The angriest looking guy from the pool players group shouted back, “We can surf anywhere we want.” He puffed out his chest and stared back then, intruding group of guys. Then the other pool player guys moved to stand next to their leader. The other group of guys moved closer, two lines of guys faced off against each other. It looked like the set up for a deadly game of Red Rover.

Before anyone knew what happened, a full-on surf turf bar brawl erupted, and everything from chairs, tables, and fists flew.

Root and Shaw jumped out of the booth and sprung into action, Shaw a little slower than usual due to her leg injury. They both cross the room knocking out troublemakers in different ways. Keahi jumped in too, she grabbed a pool stick and started whacking guys left and right. Shaw flipped one guy over and then grabbed a chair and smashed it across another guy’s face. Root moved quickly and smoothly through the bar tasing a few guys, watching them fall down on the ground convulsing with a slight grin. Most of the guys got knocked out fast before any of the bystanders got hurt; the three women working together cleared the floor very efficiently and quickly. Root and Shaw went to work on zip tying all of the gang members to the pool tables. Keahi walked back over to the bar and checked on an older man hunched down on the floor. Joan stood up slowly from her hiding place behind a few bar stools.

Before anyone could fully catch their breath from the big brawl fight, the front door swung open again, and yet another guy busted in. This guy was different, though; he had a gun. None of the other guys had guns; this guy was a bigger threat, and more clearly, either the number or was here to kill the number. The gunman scanned the bar, pointing the gun at everyone until he landed on his target, Keahi. He stood still for a moment staring at Keahi as she helped the older bar patron to his feet.

“Keahi! I warned you!” The gunman yelled as he aimed solely at Keahi, about to open fire on her.

Joan, standing at the further end of the bar, saw his line of target and screamed. She launched into action and ran towards Keahi. Joan shielded Keahi just as the bullet targeted for the bartender hit Joan’s leg. The assistant collapsed onto the floor in an overly dramatic fashion, screeching in such high tones it was ear piercing.

Shaw catapulted over to the gunman, grabbed the gun, and then shot the guy in the leg. He shouted out in pain and whined very loudly several variations of ‘Dude, dude, dude, dude’ in a surfer drawl while curled up in a fetal position.

“Karma dude,” Shaw said deadpan to the whiny bad gunman on the floor.

“So...the number situation solved,” Root smiled unabashedly and adoringly at Shaw.

*****

The police and the paramedics came and took care of everything. Thankfully, the bullet grazed Joan’s leg and didn’t cause any lasting damage. Joan and Shaw were twinsies now with leg injuries; the assistant pointed out to the grumpy petite primary asset.

Keahi noticed Shaw’s leg injury and offered some assistance since the petite primary asset declined a check-up by the paramedics. Shaw did let the bartender take a look; it might have had something to do with Keahi looking like she was a muscular Amazon doctor.

As Keahi bandaged up Shaw, she locked eyes with her.

“The Hawaiian word for health is ‘ola’ and it also means ‘life’. Hawaiians believe you can’t have health without life, so you can’t have a life without health.” Keahi gave Shaw a warm smile as she finished bandaging up her leg. “This Hawaiian poultice will help the wound heal faster.”

Shaw looked down at her leg; she was impressed with Keahi’s work.

“Do you a Hawaiian poultice for libidos? Like stopping one or destroying it?” Shaw asked as she glanced over to Root, talking with Joan, propped up in a booth with her leg cushioned in a chair.

“Stopping one of the most wondrous feelings of syncing your primal sexual desires? Feeling all your senses on fire because a certain someone is near you.” Keahi gave Shaw a hard stare with a cocky smirk. “Now that’s a first, most people want to jump-start their libido, not stop them.”

“I think the humidity here has amped up my libido.” Root smiled over her shoulder to her, and Shaw’s stomach felt warm like she’d gulped a glass of top-shelf scotch. “And not in general, just for certain annoying people.”

Keahi smiled at Shaw, patted her shoulder in a comforting acknowledgment, and then walked over to where Root and Joan were sitting. Root stood up, and Keahi took her seat next to Joan. The bartender smiled very warmly at the slightly injured assistant who, in return beamed high voltage heart eyes. Root waltzed over to Shaw smirking the whole time she sat next to her petite primary asset. Root looked over the new leg dressing on Shaw’s leg.

“So I guess Keahi was the number. The irrelevant numbers here are…” Shaw searched for a word as she looked around the bar. Sure it had been a messy scene, but at least the whole thing was done pretty quickly, unlike some of their long, drawn-out, confusing cases in New York.

“A breath of fresh air?” Root threw out an option.

“Easy.”

“You know what else is easy?” Root asked while biting her lower lip and running her eyes all over Shaw’s body.

The petite primary asset had pulled her hair out of her ponytail and ran her fingers through it, which was undoing Root faster by the minute.

“Yeah…that’s Yeah. that’s why I kept trying to push you through the door,” Shaw stared blankly at Root, then a small smug grin pulled at the corners of her lips. “These two will be fine, let’s go.” She nodded in the direction of Joan and Keahi.

“They do seem to be hitting it off,” Root looked over them, quite proud of her matchmaking.

“Are you two leaving?” Keah called over to them. “I can give everyone a ride back to the resort.”

“Yes, we need to get back…to our husbands,” Root had a really hard time saying the word husbands. She scrunched up her nose at the word too.

Shaw gritted her teeth. “Yes, I’m sure John and Lionel are wondering where we are.” She couldn’t have said this in a more dead monotone voice. This mission seemed to be going on for a year or more. Not that she minded except for the silly ass therapy sessions and pretending to be married to Fusco.

“I’m sure Dr. Tinswell is wondering where I am. We had another session scheduled tonight,” Joan said while slowly trying to stand up with Keahi’s help.

“What the hell, how many more asinine sessions are left?” Shaw blurted out before stopping herself as she stormed out of the bar, followed by Root.

“Those two are married to dudes?” With a shocked expression on her face, Keahi asked Joan. The assistant just nodded to the bartender and rolled her eyes.

*****

“Lydia! Lydia!” Joan shouted as soon as Keahi carried her into the resort lobby, and she spotted her boss.

The painkillers the paramedics had given Joan for the graze on her leg had taken full effect on the car ride back to the hotel. She wasn’t as fun as Shaw blitzed out on painkillers and much to everyone’s annoyance; she was twice as loud.

Tinswell looked up from talking to Fred and Betty to watch her assistant being carried into the room by a tall, gorgeous, muscular woman with such ease and grace.

“Joan, what happened? Where have you been?” Tinswell looked at Joan’s bandaged look. “Are you injured?”

“I am!” Joan said excitedly. “I got shot! This has been the best night of my life!” Joan stared at Keahi with a warm, dopey smile and ran her hands through the bartender’s dark, silk hair.

Shaw sighed; she leaned into Root, “It was just a graze.” Shaw was disappointed and irritated at the assistant for describing her injury inaccurately.

“Let her have it,” Root squeezed Shaw’s arm, stared at the petite primary asset’s profile, and then nodded to Keahi.

Root and Shaw walked into the lobby resort behind them and then watched as Tinswell, Joan and Keahi walked further into the resort.

Reese and Fusco walked up to Root and Shaw; they stood side by side their fake wives. The two women looked like they had been in a bar fight.

“So I take it, that Joan wasn’t with Samaritan?” asked Reese in a deadpan tone.

“Well, she was…except it turned out that her Samaritan was a Goldendoodle,” Root said with a shrug.