The Lone Wolf and the Detective

THE LONE WOLF AND THE DETECTIVE Chapter 9

The sun peeped through the curtains straight onto Callen's face, causing him to squint his eyes as he opened them. The sun was high in the sky, for a moment he tried to gather his bearings. He looked across the room, Deeks laid face down on another bed, dead to the world.

"Deeks, wake up." Callen raised his arm and focused his eyes on his watch. He blinked a few times before the time sunk in. It was noon.

"Deeks," Callen walked over and shoved at him to move.

Marty Deeks groaned, "can't be morning yet, Kens, go back to sleep."

"Deeks, get up NOW!" The detective sat up too quickly, he shook his head to clear it and ruffled his hands through his hair.

"What time..." Deeks looked at his watch, "what?" He stood up and swayed, "whoa."

"Yeah, precisely. This isn't us, Deeks. We're always up early, only sleep for a few hours at the most when on a mission." He pulled his jeans on and his Blundstones.

"You think we were drugged?"

Callen nodded, that was exactly what had crossed his mind. He needed to find Ava and get answers. He trusted her, she was family. He wouldn't make that mistake again. He knocked on Sam and Granger's door, two groans greeted him from the other side. "Wake up."

Callen descended the stairs, his weapon drawn out, he felt betrayed. The house was quiet, there was no sign of Ava or her husband. In fact, Callen tried to remember if he met the husband. He walked through the house until he reached the kitchen. A man sat with his back to him, peeling potatoes.

"Ava and Sal left at dawn."

Callen kept his position in the doorway, his trust for this man was below zero.

"You can lower your weapon, I won't hurt you."

"Who are you? Why are you here?" Callen moved sideways into the kitchen, his eyes never leaving the man.

"So many questions, sit down, let me take a look at you."

The accent was Russian, the hairs on the back of Callen's neck pricked up. His breathing was quick. He could feel the blood pulsate through his body, thumping near his ear drums. Callen obeyed, pulling out a chair, its feet scraping across the wooden floor. "You've had your look, who are you?" Callen studied the man, he was a little older than Ava, he supposed. He stopped peeling and stared back at him.

"I can't see anyone around, maybe Ava left us a note?" Deeks entered the kitchen and halted. Callen held his weapon at the man before him. "Aah, Callen, is this the way to greet a guest? I mean we don't know who he is, he could be family."

"He's yet to identify himself." Callen's voice remained levelled, but he felt anything but calm.

"How rude of me," the man replied, "but not as rude as your friend here, MR?"

"Deeks. Detective Marty Deeks. LAPD."

The man nodded, "a cop. American of course. You think it's wise to wonder into Romania babbling in your home tongue and not be noticed?"

"Well if I knew another language, I would be pleased to use it. But LAPD don't have a reason to use foreign languages, unless it's Spanish. With all the immigrants entering California from the south, the need is getting greater. But I don't see Spanish helping me here."

"No it wouldn't. Do you always speak so much?"

"Don't tell me your another man of few words like my partner here?"

"I don't see the point to waste the energy." The man remained his eyes on Callen. "So you're Callen?"

Callen shrugged, "I don't know, you tell me." Callen had studied the man long enough, he could see the game he was playing. Sussing them out to be who they said they were. Callen was doing the same, although the man had yet to tell them his name. "It seems you now know our names, you've yet to tell us your's."