Conran was already waiting in his car by the time Brandon arrived on his motorcycle. He was parked in a corner, opposite of a supermarket parking lot.

It took several minutes for him to spot his older friend but as soon as he did, his bike was well-hidden, in a place he deemed safe. He walked towards the aging icy blue Mercury Marquis and opened the door, getting inside.

"Tell me." Brandon said, not wasting time.

He knew that the man sitting beside him would have some more information by now and if they wanted the mission to be successful, they'd need to run a few things by each other before they took action.

"The Lombardi brothers are inside but things are moving fast. The buyers have just arrived." Conrad explained, looking around.

He'd gained weight in the last couple of months, ever since his wife, Crystal and him had been having some marital trouble.

"Damnit, in just 5 minutes, everything could finally be over."

The FBI had been trying to track down the two Italian-born males for a couple of months now and not once had they managed to catch them in the act. They were smart and a step ahead of them.

They had their own methods and even though they were the enemies in the situation, both men had to admit that all of their plans so far had been maliciously thought-through. They had everything down to the nearest centimeter and whether they knew that they were being suspected, they had made it impossible for them to have proper proof of their dealings.

But today, they hoped, it was about to change.

"Do we have a backup team on the way?" Brandon questioned.

"Not until 20 minutes."

It was not the answer he'd hoped for but he knew that if they waited even a couple of more minutes, their opportunity could fall through and nothing could guarantee that they'd have one again.

"Let's have them together." He announced, racking the pistol slide, his grip as firm as steel.

"It's very risky, Bran." He heard his colleague remark.

The frown on his forehead made him look older than he actually was. He was anxious and Brandon knew it. If he had to be honest, he was, too.

But the father of the birthday girl attempted to chase any thought that could clutter his mind and distract him during the operation. His entire focus, after all, needed to be on making sure that nobody got hurt.

His fears, his doubts, nothing mattered. The intention was not to kill the brothers but to put a stop to their trafficking and get them to link the FBI to their headend.

And the sooner that happened, the sooner he'd be back home to the two loves of his life.

"We don't have a choice. You said it yourself, things are moving fast. We need to catch them red-handed." He slammed his hand on the glove compartment, making Conran take it as a hint that he needed to start the car.

The tires screeched, resonating in the mildly empty street. Both men's hearts began to race, the moment they had been waiting for was happening.

Finally.

Brandon trusted his partner with his life and he knew that as long as they were a team, nothing could go wrong, they'd have each other's backs.

Conran, however, was not as convinced as he was. The idea that his snitch could have possibly misinformed him began to creep in. As an agent, it was astonishingly difficult to trust people around him and even though there was hardly ever a way to find out if he'd been lied to until he went and checked for himself, it was still something he had to prepare for.

Finks were just that, the very lowest form of human species, ready to rat on others any chance they got. His informer, this time, seemed trustworthy but it was no reason not to remain alert.

When they arrived in front of the back of the open warehouse, he slowed down, opting for a quieter and more discreet entrance. He could not afford to watch the Lombardi brothers slip through their fingers. Not again.

Silence was filling the vehicle as they approached the presumed meeting point.

The blue Mercury Marquis took a turn as Brandon's hand laid on the doorknob. The dark-haired man's lips formed a straight line, his vein on the side of his neck sticking out.

If Ariel had been there, she'd have been worried and immediately hurried to his side to trace her finger lightly over the pulsating vessels. He wasn't sure why but that vein always seemed to scare her.

There was nothing life-threatening about it but in her eyes, it was as though it would burst if it throbbed a minute longer. For that reason, she always did everything she could to make it disappear. She had always been protective of him, a natural worrier about those dear to her heart and it had only intensified when she had fell pregnant.

Nevertheless, he owed a lot to that vein, especially when they'd argue. The minute it would pop up, she would concede and her anger was out the window, all signs of an argument completely forgotten about.

***

"Way back in the day when the grass was still green, and the pond was still wet, and the clouds were still clean, and the song of the Swomee Swans rang out in space. One morning, I came to this glorious place." Ariel read out loud to her one-year-old daughter.

Her voice was soft and tender, articulating each words while attempting to make it as soothing and pleasing to the ear as possible for her little darling.

She had started reading to her the day she had found out she was pregnant. She attached great importance in starting early. Her husband often joked that it was the English teacher in her coming out in full swing.

Before Juliet was born, Ariel had been a high school teacher and although she had loved her students dearly, she had been struggling to make them enjoy reading. In consequence, and Brandon was right, she hoped to give her mini-her the taste of reading. She often fantasized of sharing books with her once she'd be old enough to read and discussing their thoughts on a story.

And, if she grew to be even more like her, she looked forward to poking fun with her at Juliet's father's poor grammar.

Both mother and daughter sat on Brandon's favorite chair in the room-turned office. Juliet laid comfortably against the crook of her arm.

Her little fingers played with the pages of the book the redhead had in her hands, big blue eyes staring at the pictures that were displayed in front of her. She was intrigued by all the colors and loved the softness of the paper.

Having finished her reading, the new mother pointed at the characters that were drown on the page, surrounding the cloud-shaped bubbles where the text was written.

"Look at all those pretty colors, JuJu." She whispered cheerfully, leaning down to kiss the rosy cheeks of the sweet girl.

Juliet giggled as she pointed at one of the Truffula Trees, as they were called in the book.

"Yellow"' Ariel declared brightly. "Do ya like this color?" She asked, looking down at her.

She received a nod in response and couldn't have been more delighted. It made her wish Brandon was there even more.

The birthday girl's little chubby fingers had went into her mouth and she now nibbled on them, silently.

"Mama!" She babbled, her innocent voice melting her mother's heart.

A trickle of saliva hung from her pouty lips to her index finger as she pointed at the orange colored tree. She then moved her head and grabbed a strand of hair on her mother's head.

"Oh yes, you are so right." She spoke, using her baby voice. "It looks exactly like mama's hair."

Even though every parent would say the same about their child, the redhead firmly believed that Juliet was very aware for her age and could understand more than most twelve-month-olds could. She had already learned so much from her and had her own distinct (and sassy) personality.

Gently squeezing her sides, Ariel tickled her. It sent the blonde haired girl into a laughing fit which only made her mother laugh in return. Her laughter was the most contagious sound she had ever heard. She could never get enough of it.

"Should we continue reading or do you want to get dressed for when daddy comes back?" Pulling back to look at her daughter, a playful yet serious look formed upon her face.

One of her eyebrows was raised and she soon made a funny face, trying to find a sign that could indicate what Juliet wanted to do next.

She turned her head to look at the clock, telling herself that if time had not flown by too fast, they could continue reading for a couple of more minutes or, if it was already later than she had imagined, they'd head to change so that they could continue celebrating when Brandon got home and surprise the hard-working man.

It was inching closer to 2 in the afternoon and he had only been gone for a little over an hour. She assumed that he would not be back for another two hours, if not more but she could not wait to see the baby in the new outfit she'd bought her and her excitement quickly took a hold of her, making her decide that the reading time was now over.

"Let's go dress up for daddy." She announced, closing the book and setting it aside, on the little table.

Half an hour went by and Ariel had dressed her one-year-old for the occasion. Like her husband had said, you could only turn a year old once.

Tears were building up in her eyes, as she held back from letting out a high-pitched squeal at the sight of her princess in her new outfit.

"Oh my gosh!" She gushed. "This is just too cute!"

And with that, she grabbed her camera, snapping her hundredth picture in just ten minutes.

"Brandon's not here to judge me so I may as well have some fun." She mumbled, trying to convince herself that she was not going over the top.

Juliet wore a big fuchsia bow in her already long hair and a stripped white and pink shirt with the number 1 written in italic, in sparkly golden. The rest of the outfit consisted of a matching pink tutu and golden shoes.

Despite her tough attitude, Ariel was a softie, she'd cry at sad commercials and the mere vision of something as heartwarming as a baby or a kitten could make her absolutely lose it.

"You are sweeter than Meemaw's shoofly pie." She leaned close, rubbing her nose against her daughter's much smaller one.

Up until she had met Brandon, she'd had no desire to have children. She had admitted before to never have been able to envision herself having any until she'd seen him play with her nieces and nephews.

Most of the beginning of her adult life had been spent with the conviction that she was fine with simply being an aunt and that while she loved children dearly, she was not made to become a mother. But here, with her daughter facing her, she was proving her younger self wrong.

"You're going to have daddy wrapped around your finger even more when he sees you." Ariel giggled.

She still felt a little bad for him, knowing he was already having a hard time resisting her cuteness. There was no doubt in her mind that Juliet would grow up to be a daddy's girl. She already was.

"Mama ought to change too, huh?" She pondered, looking at the baby for approval.

She pulled at her shirt before lifting the curious child and placing her over her hip.

"You're getting so big." She mused, walking towards the closet that she shared with the man of the house.

"Are you going to help me pick an outfit?" Keeping her eyes on her, she smiled at her daughter warmly, moving to stand in front of all the clothes that were organized by colors.

A couple of minutes went by and the birthday girl was still not convinced by the numerous choices in front of her. But, when they reached the end of Ariel's side of the closet, her face lit up. The toddler reached for a clothing item and held the fabric of a black and dark blue check shirt through her tiny fingers.

"This one?" Ariel asked, arching an eyebrow. She then proceed to pull the shirt out, holding it by its hanger.

The shirt was revealed to her and she couldn't help but make a sweet face as she realized that it was one of her husband's. She had only been on this Earth for a year but her daughter already had great taste. She was not a Hart for nothing.

"Hmm. I guess that could work."

Soon, the mother of one had changed into the shirt that had been picked for her, assorting it with a pair of jeans, a big belt and comfortable pair of cowboy shoes. Her 'Jacked-Up-To-Jesus' hair as she'd call it took no time to be done, only some retouches and a light application of hairspray were needed.

She did her makeup the way Brandon liked it, letting Juliet play with the brushes in the vast bedroom, checking on her every now and then as she'd glance from her spot in the bathroom.

She felt nothing but comfortable in her husband's shirt, loving its feel on her skin. She had the impression that she was carrying a part of him with her. She then used his cologne, applying some on her wrists, behind her ears, her collarbone and neckline.

Looking one last time at herself through the mirror as she set the bottle down where she had found it, she nodded her head in satisfaction before returning to the baby.

When she lifted her from the white fluffy blanket she sat on, Juliet immediately started frowned, wondering what could have caused that sudden mood change and brought her to her chest, soothingly running her hand up her small back.

Her face was buried into her neck as she continued to sniffle. Then, the delicate aroma of the cologne the redhead had on began to appease her and she slowly began to calm down.

She could tell that she was very receptive to the smell that possibly reminded her of her daddy and made a mental note to remember that whenever Brandon left and Juliet would crave his presence.

"Are you missing daddy?" She asked between kisses, her nose pressed against the blonde's soft skin.

"I miss him too." She pouted, sitting down on the bed.

"But he'll be back soon. We just have to wait for him to come back, alright?"

***

The lights of the vacant premises cast shadows across their path, highlighting their faces in the dark. Suddenly, Conran's grip on the wheel tightened as his feet pressed on the accelerator pedal.

Bang. Bang.

The next seconds that followed were indescribable. From then on, everything went at lightening speed. A bone chilling sound echoed, taking both men by surprise. It came from the right corner, opposite of them.

Someone sat on the hood of a car and shot in their direction. The bullet ricocheted on the windshield as the gunman continued to shoot. The firing illuminated the area in which he was positioned.

Brandon and Conran had to react fast, there was no time to think about their strategy. Each movement had to be on impulse. There was no sticking to plan for they could never predict what the enemy would do.

Out of reflex, the two FBI agents bent down. Brandon slid down his seat and hid under the glove compartment and Conran used the wheel as protection.

"Move! Move!" The younger man exclaimed, leaning towards the driver, reaching for the wheel.

Conran listened and promptly drove the car to the other side of the empty warehouse. There were large concrete panels encompassing the room, separating it.

He'd barely had time to stop the car that Brandon had already exited it, holding his arm up, gun in hand.

"FBI!" He yelled.

There was something odd about the scene, as though the brothers had known they were coming. It was almost like they had been expecting them. They had either finished with the transaction or Conran's snitch had told them that they'd be paying them a visit.

So far, from what he could conclude - unless, of course, there were other people around that he had not yet seen, there was only one car. And no sign of the buyers.

It was incredibly suspicious that there was only one if today was, as they had been informed, a big business dealing.

No, something was not adding up and while it was too early to say, Brandon could not shake the bad feeling he was getting. There had to be other accomplices somewhere.

The time it had taken for Conran to drive to the other side had been enough for the gunman that sat on the hood of the car to get back inside of it. As Brandon ran towards one of the panels in the middle of the place, firing at them, the shining black car moved.

It drove past him and he turned his upper body, following the direction they were taking. Once the back of the car was facing him, the men inside launched at him. Now, the gunfires were repetitive and strong.

The FBI agent wasn't distraught by their actions, he'd expected a fusillade to happen, even if it was not the best scenario he'd envisaged. He continued to fire back but when his opponents unsheathed other weapons that seemed to be more powerful than the gun he had, he knew better than to tempt fate and retreated back to another concrete block, using it to shield himself.

There, he took a deep breath, attempting to get his galloping heartbeat to a much more normal rhythm. He wasn't sure where the car was now but he had to take advantage of the little time he got to catch his breath. It only lasted a brief instant as he was interrupted by Conran's loud voice, coming from his right.

"Don't fucking move!" The older man spoke. One of his feet was in front of the other as he held his weapon in both his hands, staring straight ahead.

Brandon turned his head to watch the scene unfold in front of him. Instantly, things were beginning to be a little more normal. There was indeed more people around but how had they known that they were coming?

"It's the FBI, do not go anywhere." Conran repeated, ready to shoot.

The man he was trying to corner backed up and expertly moved his hand on the doorknob beside him. Faster than anyone could process, he had already opened the door and walked into another room.

The sound of tires screeching was heard again, this time coming from a different car. They seemed to have been hiding in the pitch black area, behind the car Brandon had been firing at a minute ago. He assumed that they had been there all along. They had spotted him and the brown-haired man looked on his other side, catching the sight of a white male with his arm out of the window, his gun in hand.

Regaining his composure and gathering momentum, Brandon came out of his hiding place and resumed his shooting. He ran after the car, dodging the gunshots.

He knew at this moment that his team had lost and that there was no logical way they would be able to catch them now. He fired one last time all the while slowing down his pace, his ears catching the sound of the car driving away and out of the warehouse.

There was still hope that they'd be able to jump in their vehicle and chase them on the road or that reinforcement would arrive anytime but he wasn't too confident. He dropped his arm in defeat, turning back around.

Just then, a loud, rippling noise sliced through the air. It came directly from where Conran had been standing.

"Conran!" Brandon shouted, running as fast as he could to where he had last seen his partner.

The sound had terrorized him and he was uncertain who had caused the commotion. He hoped that the older man had been the one shooting, and not the other way around.

The FBI agent had been too caught up in rushing to his partner's aid that he'd fallen to notice the hooded