John sat on the metal bunk, his hands in his lap. He ran his fingers across the scars on his wrists and tried to ignore the metal bars that kept closing in on him. The room got smaller and smaller, the urge to throw himself against the locked doors increasing with every second that ticked away. He could not be trapped in this cell, this town, this life. Even the madness would be an improvement over the thoughts that twisted through his brain. So close. She was so close. If he wanted to take her, he could. Damn…

He could feel her presence. Now that he could think clearly, she filled his thoughts. Why in the hell had Roman brought him back here? Did the man honestly believe that the Salem P.D. could keep him from her? Bo should have left him chained up, should have left him to tear himself apart against the unyielding steel. Bo was as much a fool as his brother at least Roman saw him for what he really was. She was so close he could taste her. Damn…

“Nice job, Mr. Black. I had this under control until you decided to put that young officer in the hospital.”

John looked up, nodded a greeting. “Jefferson. You took your time getting here.”

“I had some calls to make, I didn’t realize you planned on assaulting anyone in my absence.”





“It was a spur of the moment decision. Now get me the hell out of here,” John replied, walking over and wrapping his hands around the bars.

“Your arraignment is tomorrow. If we’re lucky, the judge will set bail. Until then, there isn’t much I can do for you.”

John gave vent to a deep sigh and dropped his head to rest against the bars. Snake quick, his arm shot out, his fingers wrapping around Jefferson’s tie. One yank, and the man was pulled hard up against the cell door. “Allow me to rephrase. Get me the hell out of here,” John said, his voice a low growl. “I do not react well to confinement and I will not spend the night in this damn town, much less in this cell.”

Jefferson’s eyes widened, but it was the only sign of fear he allowed. “Mr. Dimera asked me to relay his orders. He wants this handled through legitimate channels, Mr. Black. In short, he wants you to do as I say. Exactly as I say.”

“And why should I believe you?”

“Because I’m too smart to lie about it.”

John snorted a chuckle and let the tie slip from his grasp. “You better know what you’re doing, Jefferson.”

“The arrangements are already in place. As long as the officer isn’t dead, the judge will set bail. A very high bail, no doubt. Mr. Dimera has instructed me that we will meet that bail if, and only if, you can assure him you will keep your nose clean while awaiting trial. I will push for a fast trial date and I don’t think the D.A. will fight us. They’ll want to take advantage of the publicity. But still, it means you’ll be in Salem for a couple of weeks before this thing comes to trial. Mr. Dimera has a safe house here where he wants you to stay. But he will only bail you out if you promise to stay put and keep out of trouble. Do you think you can manage to do that?”

“My social calender isn’t likely to be crowded in this town,” John replied. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my nose clean. Just get me out of here, Jefferson. Get me out of Salem before I do something we all regret.

Roman knocked on the front door, the fact that he felt it necessary pissing him off more than he was willing to admit.

“Roman? You’re back.” Marlena paused just a moment longer than she should have and then wrapped her arms around him in a quick embrace.

“I’m sorry, I should have called,” he muttered as he followed her into the living room. “I went to the station as soon as I got in and things were a little chaotic down there. Once we got everything wrapped up, I just wanted to get home. I should have called to let you know I was coming.”

“It’s your house. You don’t have to ask permission to come home,” she chided, though the words lacked conviction.

“I did this for us, you do understand that? I couldn’t let Dimera get away with all he’s done. I couldn’t risk leaving him free to do it again.”

With a soft sigh, she joined him on the couch. “I don’t want to fight with you on your first night back, Roman. What say we not talk about Stefano, at least for one night.”

“Stefano’s not going to be a problem for us any more,” Roman replied, taking her hand in his and watching her out of the corner of his eye. “I got him, Marlena. This time, I’ve got him for sure.”





“What happened?” she asked cautiously.

“I nailed John. He’s sitting in lockup right now, imagining a lifetime spent alone in a small cold cell. He wouldn’t survive that. I know the man, I’ve seen what he’s like when you lock him in a cage. He won’t survive one night of it. He’ll give Dimera up to avoid it and I will finally have what I need to crush the entire organization.”

Her face paled and she pulled away from him. He avoided looking into her eyes, unwilling to see the depths of her anger. In time, she would come to understand. She would know that this was the right thing to do.

“How could you do this, Roman? Did you even consider how this would affect the children? Allof the children?”

“Of course I did!” he snapped. “I did this to protect them! John will never be a part of their lives. He will never be a part of your life! But then, that’s why you’re really angry, isn’t it? After everything he has done, after all of the time he has stolen from us, you still want him in your life! Why don’t you just admit it!”

She stomped away from him, her hands clenched tightly at her sides. She tugged open the corner hutch and pulled out a wood framed picture. Slamming the picture down on the coffeetable, she pointed at the smiling faces of a family that used to be. “He was a part of my life, Roman. A part of the children’s lives! You can’t make that go away! You can’t pretend it never happened! He will always be a part of this family, whether he is here or not. Destroying him won’t change that fact, but it will rip us apart if you try!”





John smiled up at him, his arms around Marlena’s waist, the kids gathered about the happy couple. It took a conscious act of will not to put his fist through the glass. He bit his lip, tasted blood, forced a placating smile to his face. “I’m not out to destroy him, Marlena. He’ll give up Dimera and that will put an end to all of this. I’m doing this for your own good!”

Her eyes narrowed, fire in their depths. “Are you lying to me, Roman or to yourself?”

Silently he watched her as she walked up the stairs, the bedroom door slamming shut behind her. His fingers trailed across the surface of the picture, tracing the outline of her smiling lips. “You’ll thank me when this is over,” he whispered as he tossed the picture in the trash.

John sat at the defense table wearing a suit provided by Jefferson and Associates. Not only was the material exquisite, it was perfectly tailored. Once again, John was impressed by the efficiency of the Dimera organization. As he well knew, the devil was in the details. Having already checked the spectators’ box for familiar faces and found none but Roman’s, he leaned back in his chair and allowed the attorney to do what he did best.

“The defense requests that the defendant be released on his own recognizance, your honor. The search leading to the incident in question was illegal. There was no probable cause. This will never result in a conviction and the defendant is a respected businessman with a demanding schedule. It would be inappropriate and unnecessary to detain him prior to trial,” Jefferson asserted.

“Your honor, the defendant put a police officer in the hospital. His recovery is still in question. In addition, the man has no ties to the community and there is evidence that he has connections to organized crime. Bail should be denied. He represents both a danger to the community and a risk of flight,” the District Attorney countered.

“Your honor! If the D.A. wants to assert my client has ties to organized crime, I would suggest he present some evidence or we will consider filling charges of slander.”

“Enough already, gentlemen. Let’s not get personal. Bail is set at two million dollars. I think that is more than enough to counter the risk of flight as long as this remains a noncapitol case.”

Two million bucks! The sum refocused John’s wandering attention. Even for Dimera, that was a considerable chunk of change. The old man was going to be pissed.

“I assume cash bond will suffice, your honor?” a deep voice rang out from the back of the room.

That voice was unmistakable, but John could still scarcely believe his eyes as they locked onto the figure of Stefano Dimera standing in the rear of the courthouse. Wearing a dark grey silk suit with a rose in his lapel, he looked utterly at ease, despite the many arrest warrants John knew to be pending.

Roman evidently had the same thought, and shaking off the shock, he quickly stepped forward. “Your honor, this man is under arrest. He has numerous outstanding complaints.”

“On the contrary, your honor,” Jefferson interjected smoothly. “Any warrants still outstanding have passed the statute of limitations in this state. I assure your honor, I have checked. There are no valid outstanding warrants. Of course, technically, it really doesn’t matter as concerns my client’s bail...”

The judge leaned back in his chair, stifling a groan. Some days, it just did not pay to get out of bed. “Captain Brady, I suggest you check your records. I’ve never known Jefferson to make a mistake when it comes to an issue such as this. Now, as regards the issue of bail, cash bond is acceptable. The defendant is released into your custody, Mr. Dimera. If I were you, I’d keep an eye on him. Two million dollars is a lot of money.” Slamming his gavel down, the judge called for the next case.

As the limousine pulled away from the curb, John couldn’t help a chuckle. “I’m impressed. You are just about the last person I expected to see in Salem. How in the world did you pull this one off?”

Dimera shrugged nonchalantly. “I use the law to my advantage, John. I don’t fight it unnecessarily. This is a lesson I have been trying to teach you for years. Your failure to learn it has just forced me to put up two million dollars worth of confidence in you. I expect you to be at that trial. Do I make myself clear?”

“Clear as glass it’s not like I have a pressing engagement elsewhere.”

Sinking back into the thick leather upholstery, Stefano nodded in satisfaction. “You are alright, aren’t you?”

John shrugged. “A minor altercation, I gave worse than I got. I just need some sleep, jail cells don’t agree with me.”

“One would think you would have grown used to them by now,” Dimera replied with a wry smile.

“Unlikely.”

“Then perhaps you should stop frequenting them. And as far as that goes, would you care to explain to me what exactly went wrong in Paris? This was not the auspicious new beginning I was hoping for, John.”

“It was a setup. Of that, I have no doubt. I got a call that the buyer was under suspicion. When I got there to check it out, I was jumped. Next thing I know, I’m getting off a plane in Salem with a quarter million in diamonds sown into my coat.”

“Do you have any idea who was behind it?” Dimera asked. Sensing a slight hesitation before John shook his head, Dimera pressed the issue. “John, now is not the time to hoard information. If you suspect someone, I need to know. Now.”

“Roman. Roman Brady was in Paris. He was the buyer,” John replied, his training winning out over his better judgement. Almost immediately, he tried to cover. “Stefano, the man is no threat. He’s a loose cannon. There is no way he set this up himself. The man isn’t worth bothering with, Stefano.”

Instead of the anger John had expected, Dimera simply nodded. “It makes sense. Roman has connections to the ISA. There’ve been rumors of a rogue section. ISA, NSA, nobody knows for sure. Remember the Tachei triad? Someone took the whole organization out. Just gone. None of the usual suspects fit the bill. Word is, it was a rogue section operating outside of the law. Vigilantes if you will. A bunch of bloody cowboys out gunning for the worst of the worst in organized crime. According to rumor, they even have a name. ‘The Brotherhood’. Odds are good, they are the ones behind this. If I’m right, that means Roman Brady is working with them.”

John didn’t reply. As usual, Stefano’s insight was hard to critique. It did make sense. Roman was mad. Pissed enough to tiein with people willing to go outside of the rules to reach their goals. Of course, what John couldn’t understand was why the man was so angry. He had ended up with the prize. He had Marlena. What more did he want?

As the limousine slowed before the gated entry to the estate, John roused himself from his thoughts. “Stefano, Roman is off limits. You do understand that? If you hurt him, you hurt Marlena, and that is not part of our arrangement.”

Dimera cocked a brow. “You could have said that with a lot more conviction, John. Don’t tell me you’re sporting a grudge over this little smuggling frameup?”

John grinned and shook his head. “Okay, I may not be thrilled with the man right now. But you did keep him locked in a cell for the past 14 years. I guess I can forgive him a little payback.”

“Well, you are the one who got to experience the joys of a body cavity search. If you aren’t going to demand retribution, then far be it from me to do so. However, this ‘Brotherhood’ organization bears investigation. While you’re cooped up here, I want you to make that your pet project. If we are going to war, I want to be ready.”

He had managed to narrow it down. It did appear that the core of the Brotherhood had to be ISA in origin. The operations attributed to the Brotherhood had coincided too closely to ISA ops to be an accident. The ISA was a big organization, however. John had had no luck identifying any particular individuals as members of the vigilante group. Hell, he hadn’t even confirmed Roman’s involvement in the rogue section, though he knew in his gut that it was true.

Roman. God, how he hated that little prick. John reached over, rifling through a stack of photos. Surveillance shots, taken by his operatives. The men had orders to catch Roman in a meeting with his contact. They had somehow interpreted this to mean ‘Take as many pictures of the beautiful woman as possible.’ There were pictures of her in the car with the kids, pictures of her in the house, snapped through the windows. There was even a picture of her in her robe, taken from behind. John had called that particular photographer in and proceeded to knock the man’s teeth out. There was only one picture of her in her robe.

None of the shots were particularly good ones and all had been taken from a distance. It didn’t matter. He hoarded them like gold, kept them close, never out of sight. Maybe if he had the pictures, the need to have her wouldn’t be quite so great. He ran his finger across the snapshot of her in her gown. He knew how that smooth white satin felt beneath the pads of his fingers, knew the way her silky hair tickled a man’s skin. He could almost smell the hint of lavender in the air. God damn picture wasn’t even close to the real thing! Lurching to his feet, he crumpled the blurry photo into a tight ball and threw it in the trash.

“That is not the look of achievement I was hoping for,” Stefano commented, striding into the study.

“Sorry,” John muttered, not sounding sorry at all.

“I take it you still have no leads?”

“These guys are good, I don’t think they left a paper trail. We’re going to have to get lucky to break this one,” John replied, as he dug through the contents of the bar and poured himself a stiff shot of bourbon.

“And you believe you’ll find inspiration in a bottle?”





“Don’t lecture me!” John snapped, then shook his head with a grimace. “Sorry.”

“John, the trial will be over with soon enough and you can leave Salem for good. You can go to one of the islands, find a pretty girl, play on the beaches. When you get bored, I’m certain I can find a few ‘troublesome’ individuals for you to disappear for me. Hold it together for just a little bit longer, that’s all I ask.”

John nodded, not bothering to make eye contact. The old man was worried, he didn’t have to look at him to know it. “I’m fine, Stefano. Really. In fact, I was thinking of hitting the gym. You want to put the gloves on and go a few rounds?”

As he’d hoped, that elicited a laugh. “Now John, when was the last time I was foolish enough to step into a ring with you?”

“Well, as I remember, never.”

“And that’s when you will see me in there again.” Smiling, Stefano nodded an affirmative to John’s gestured offer of a drink. “That new Irish whiskey would do nicely.” Recovering his train of thought, he continued. “I’m a lover, not a fighter, John. A lover of women, the arts, power. If there’s fighting to be done, well, that’s why I have you.”

“Remind me again, what is in this whole deal for me?” John asked, only halfjoking, as he handed Stefano a cut glass tumbler full of amber liquid.

“John, you should be grateful. There really aren’t all that many wars to be fought these days. You gave me a soldier, I gave you a war. God knows you were born to it. Don’t try to pretend otherwise.”

“No,” John replied seriously, draining the whiskey. “There really is no point in pretending otherwise, is there?” For a moment, he held the empty tumbler before his face, admiring the rainbow of colors thrown off by the beveled glass. A sudden movement of his arm and the glass exploded against the far wall. With a brief nod at Dimera, he turned and walked from the room.

“You’re running late,” Stefano noted, looking up from his dinner as John pulled out a chair at the table. “Feeling any better?”

“I’m fine.”

“So you keep saying.”

“Cause you keep asking,” John replied, his attention focused on his plate.

“You had best contain that temper of yours tomorrow at the trial. You could be facing 20 years if you don’t keep your wits about you.”

John groaned, feeling yet another headache coming on. “Stefano, is this really necessary? I hate being back in this town and I sure as hell don’t want to have to sit through this trial. Let me skip out. I’ll take a couple of private assignments in my spare time and make the two million back in a month. It’s not like I had any intention of ever coming back here anyway.”

Dimera shook his head. “We have already had this discussion, John. If you skip out, there will be a warrant issued. That limits your ability to work openly in the entirety of the United States. That is unacceptable. What have I told you about working within the confines of the law whenever possible?”

“I have a bad feeling about this, Stefano. Nothing good is going to come out of me being in Salem.”

Dimera waved dismissive. “You have a bad feeling about everything. If I ever see you be optimistic about anything, including the fact that the sun will rise tomorrow, it’s likely to give me a coronary. Follow my orders and you have nothing to be concerned about. Which reminds me, did Jefferson talk to you about the trial? He thinks my presence might be… inflammatory. You’re going to be on your own tomorrow. I want you to just sit there and do whatever Jefferson tells you. Understood?”

“This is a bad idea.”

“I didn’t ask your opinion, I asked if you understood.”

John sighed. “Yes, I understand! No freaking out and offing a civilian at least not in front of witnesses. You happy?”

Dimera glared at him. “Eat your dinner. You’re still too skinny.”

“Yes, mother,” John muttered.

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