NCIS and all of its wonderful characters – no they don't belong to me. Sigh, they never will. Some of them do belong to each other, though, don't you agree?

Wake Up and Smell the Coffee (sequel to Sawdust and Gunpowder) – Boundaries get crossed and bridges get burned. Will Abby and Gibbs ever get on the same page?

Seriously, this sequel will not make much sense unless you read the original story (Sawdust and Gunpowder).

Rating – T for now – soon will be M. Not for kiddos. Really.

FWandFS (Fair Winds and Following Seas): Second Fanfic in this Fandom. Have written others as FeliciaMaplewood for Scarecrow and Mrs. King…Yes, I am dating myself by admitting that.

Chapter 1 Rule 27

A low wolf whistle cut through the tension in the room as Gibbs was patted down for arms. "She's a hot piece, old man. Nice goin', I bet she really…"the thug's voice dwindled off as he caught a chill stare from steely blue eyes. The old man looked like he'd use his guts for garters if he didn't shut up.

Abby pretended not to hear as she looked out the arched palladian window over the well groomed gardens below. At the end of the long gravel drive, she could see the steel gates and the guardhouse. Somewhere beyond that, she knew, Ziva and Tony were watching out for them. She pulled Gibbs leather jacket tighter around her, as if chilled. Normally it would have been Ziva in her place, but the other agents were known quantities now. Somehow Tony had persuaded Gibbs that she would be ideal for this mission. She only hoped she could carry it off.

"Paulie, show some respect!" His boss berated him. Mikhail Ostepenchevko was too well-groomed as if he were trying to live down his roots. The tailored suit and oppressive cologne couldn't counteract the scar down one cheek and the merciless eyes. No matter how you dressed him, Mikhail was a thug. A killer for hire, he was their prime suspect in the murders of Petty Officer Curtis, and four former residents of the estate they were visiting.

"Sorry, Mr. Campanula, Paulie's got no class." Mikhail clapped Gibbs on the arm using the name Gibbs had given for this undercover op. Gibson Domenico Campanula had a rap sheet with impressive hits of his own. A gun for hire down south who had a taste for bourbon, fast cars and younger women, he was just the kind of man to fit in on this estate. There were BOLO's out on him all over Tennessee and Georgia, courtesy of McGee planting them. For all intents and purposes, Gibbs looked every inch the assassin they had created back at NCIS.

"He's clean." Paulie told his boss. He continued to eye Abby up and down, but with more discretion. Paulie had more muscle than brainpower and took the opportunity to try and display it by breathing deeply to emphasize his defined pectorals. "So do I do her next?" he asked a shade too eagerly.

Showtime. Abby turned around and deliberately eased the coat off her shoulders as if unwrapping a present. She held the coat out at arms-length and Gibbs took it from her, biting back his own smile. Abby had a taste for drama and was in her element. "Sure thing, boys," she said in husky drawl. "I got nothin' to hide." Her lips tugged in a long, slow smile as she sashayed towards them in her black leather ankle boots. Her black catsuit clung to her lithe form in all the right places. Her red lips and nails made her look like a cat on the prowl. She was sex on a slow burn and both Mikhail and Paulie couldn't take their eyes off her. Abby held out her arms and said "Where do you want me?"

Mikhail might have said 'over my desk', but he swallowed hard and said "Right there is fine, honey. It's just a formality." He laughed in an oily fashion. "Can't be hiding much in that outfit, huh?" He made sure it was his hands running down her sides and thighs rather than Paulie. It was a perk of being the boss.

Abby managed to suppress a shudder of revulsion. "I feel safer already." She made lingering eye contact with Paulie as he watched her as if to let him know he had a chance, if only her protector weren't there. That's what this estate was, after all, a safe house for the mistresses of the mob. At least, it was there for those who could pay the premium price.

Gibbs felt his hackles rise watching the hit-man run his wandering hands over Abby. But his suppressed rage and possessiveness only made their cover look more authentic. Why would Gibson Domenico Campanula put up with anyone feeling up his property? "That's enough!" He growled.

Mikhail oozed a smile. "Yeah, she's clean. Can't be too careful, you understand. We gotta protect what's ours here."

Abby bit inside her lip until she drew blood not to protest women being thought of as property. These men were disgusting.

Gibbs shrugged. "Hey, we don't have a lot of time. Do we get the 5 cent tour or what?"

Mikhail looked at his watch, he was clearly rushed for time himself. "This place sells itself, Mr. Campanula. Here's a key to suite 230. Walk around the grounds take all the time you need. The safety and privacy you get here you can't get anywhere else." He continued in a warning tone, "You'll want to really think about your decision, though. I got someone coming for another tour at 4:00 this afternoon."

Abby let her hips swing in an ageless female invitation as she approached Gibbs without breaking eye contact. "I'm ready, hon. Aren't you?" Her voice was raspy and a bit urgent. None of the men there missed the double entendre.

Gibbs only smiled and lifted an eyebrow in wordless response. He hauled her to his side and cocked his head addressing the two men and lifted the room key, "'Later."

Paulie watched the two walking down the hallway in impossibly close proximity to each other as she reached up to whisper in his ear and his husky laugh echoed back. "Lucky bastard," he muttered.

"Good work, Abbs." Gibbs kissed her temple in appreciation after they had rounded two corners.

Abby shot him a glance that spoke of her delayed panic and fear. "I thought they'd find it for certain. There was no way I actually thought that was going to work."

"Rule 27, Abbs – modified. There are two ways to hide something. Make sure they don't notice you, or make sure they only notice you. And trust me, once they saw you in that catsuit, they were not going to be looking in my jacket pocket for a revolver."

Her breath shuddered out. "It was still a risk. I mean you would never have been distracted by a ruse like that, but well, you know….you're Gibbs and they're not."

He shook his head before running his eyes down her from top to bottom. "Don't sell yourself short, Abbs. I'm only a man." His eyes carried heat that showed her just what her outfit did to him.

Her face lit in a delighted smile. "I think I know what I'm wearing every day to work now."

Gibbs laughed and groaned lightly, "Not if any man in the building is going to get any work done."

"There's only one man I'm wearing it for," she rejoined with teasing warmth.

Gibbs felt a shot of arousal at her suggestion. She couldn't have meant what she just said. Could she?

He cleared his throat before giving her a wry smile. He headed down the hallway to suite 234 and quickly picked the lock with a lockpick he had stowed in his shirt collar.

Abby nearly stamped her foot in frustration at another almost-moment with Gibbs. She should focus on the mission, just like him. But it was hard, she had to admit as he leaned over to be eye level with the lock. The man had a mighty fine ass in a pair of jeans. Abby sighed. This wasn't the time or the place.

Gibbs eased the door open quietly and they slipped in. Suite 234 was where two of the women had lived at different times in the months prior to the murders. Suite 230 was the other one.

"What do we do now?" She asked as Gibbs prowled the room purposefully.

"You stay by the door. Listen for anyone in the hallways. They could be looking for us." Gibbs responded.

She snorted. "They probably think we're in Suite 230 doing the horizontal foxtrot."

Gibbs raised his eyebrow. "Foxtrot, Abbs? You seem like a samba woman to me."

She tilted her head consideringly. "You've given this more thought than I have." She looked him up and down appreciatively in a way that raised his blood pressure. "Hmm. Definitely a tango man, I'd have to say."

His lips twitched. "Whatever works." He shook his head and tried to focus. "Door, Abbs." Gibbs ordered as he opened the dresser drawers searching for false bottoms, papers, anything that would reveal something about one of the prior inhabitants.

Abby stuck her tongue out at his back. "Spoilsport," she muttered.

Still, a smile lingered as she took up her post. Flirting with Gibbs in a bedroom had to be the highlight of their relationship to date. At any rate, it was progress!


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