In Too Deep
Chapter One: In Too Deep
"Sir, someone left this at the front desk for you". Jennifer Jareau gave her boss Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief of the FBI's most elite team of profilers, a white envelope with just his name on it. When he saw the writing on the front his pulse quickened, his mouth was dry and he was just a tiny bit excited. Outwardly, the mask that he'd perfected over the years stayed in place.
"Thank you JJ," He said in the voice he used for the office.
"Is it important? Sorry, I don't mean to pry". JJ backpedaled when she saw the look her boss gave her.
"It's nothing important. Thank you Jayje, that will be all". JJ frowned slightly but knew better than to question Hotch further.
"Well, I'll be in my office if you need anything". She quirked up her brow and stood for a couple of seconds then walked off. She knew she was dismissed and Hotch wasn't going to give up any information on the mysterious letter.
As soon as JJ left Hotch walked to his door and locked it. He then closed up his blinds and sat back down in his very comfortable office chair. He turned the envelope over in his hands a few times then looked at the front. The now familiar writing that just said "To Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner". He took a moment, anticipating what the message was going to bring him. He took his time savoring those feelings of anticipation and excitement. He knew he shouldn't do this again. A part of him kept saying what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn't seem to stop. He also anticipated the day when he and the sender of the letters would finally be together. Of course then he had to make the decision, take in the sender and expose his own role in this deception, or finally fully succumb to the cat and mouse game they had been playing for months now.
Hotch picked up the letter opener and slowly but carefully opened the envelope drawing out the excitement, the anticipation and a little of the fear. He pulled out the very familiar stationary with the customary key card to go along with it. He read the note and picked up the key card, put it in his pocket and slowly smiled a dark feral grin.
The note read, "You're newest present is at the Holiday Inn, room number 117. Our usual time, don't be late". Hotch sighed deeply, a thrill ran up his spine. It's like this every time. He knows it's wrong, he knows he should put a stop to this, but he is in too deep. He's addicted to the rush, to the thrill of possibly being caught, possibly losing his badge and his freedom but he just doesn't care.
JJ walked away towards her desk but made a stop near the desk of her colleague, Derek Morgan. "Derek, have you noticed something going on with Hotch the last few months?"
Morgan turned to the pretty blonde and studied her for a moment, "No, why? Have you noticed something?"
"I can't put my finger on it, but something has changed, he's, I don't know even more secretive?"
"Jayje, I don't think Hotch could be any more secretive than he already is. That man keeps everything close to his chest. Hell, we wouldn't have even found out he was getting a divorce if Haley hadn't served him papers in the office".
"I know, it's just…aw hell, I'm probably just reading too much into it, never mind".
"No, hey what's going on?"
JJ took a deep breath before continuing, "He got a strange letter. It was left at the front desk for him and when I gave it to him he didn't even blink. It's like…." JJ didn't know how to put into words the feeling she got off of her boss when she gave him the letter.
Morgan frowned deeply, "Like what Jayje?"
"Like he was anticipating it, waiting for it," She looked at Morgan for a moment before going on, "I don't know, maybe I am reading too much into this, sorry".
"It could be something having to do with Haley's will, or something innocent. If I were you, I'd let it go for now".
"Yeah, you're right, I need to just let this go. Okay, never mind I said anything". JJ walked off to go to her office, but it left Morgan wondering.
Everyone except Hotch had left the BAU offices by 6 p.m. that night. That meant Hotch was all alone, he took the letter out and read it again. He ran a finger over the flowing tight cursive and sighed. Something about the writing and the commanding tone to the letter always went straight to his groin. Hotch closed his eyes and thought about the evening ahead. His earlier thoughts came flooding back, but he pushed those fears aside. The fear was part of the thrill.
Hotch went home and changed into a softer pair of khaki's, polo shirt and slip on loafers. He grabbed the hidden bag he kept in a locked box in his closet and headed out the door. He pulled on his driving gloves, slowly pulled out of his driveway and headed towards his appointment. He made it to the hotel five minutes before the appointed time and quietly slipped into the room. Before he got further in he went into the bathroom. He took off the polo shirt which exposed his well defined chest and stomach muscles. He wasn't the six-pack abs type like Morgan, but he was toned and well defined. He liked to keep in shape biking and running, and his job with the FBI almost demanded it. He ran his hands over the scars a psychopath had inflicted on him almost two years ago. He was no longer embarrassed by them, but they did fuel this fire deep within. He pulled the black mask out of his bag and put it on. He also stepped out of the loafers and put it with the polo shirt inside his bag. He changed his gloves to the thinner leather ones, and then when he was satisfied he stepped into the room to see the pretty brunette tied down on the bed wrapped up in a big red bow. He looked down at her and smiled. His friend always knew when he wanted, no needed to play and after the last few weeks he definitely needed to play.
He pulled out of the black bag a collar, but not just any ordinary collar; this had a small voice modulator attached. The modulator fit perfectly against his throat and he had a small remote that he kept in his pants pocket for it. He turned it on, looked at the young woman, smiled darkly and said, "Are you ready to play?"
The essence of lying is in deception, not in words. - John Ruskin