"Don't tell me you've missed me, Mars," Don drawled with a lopsided grin.

Missed him? Only on those countless nights when their daughter had cried herself to sleep, when Hailey had cried for the father she'd never get to know. Only when sex with Logan had become routine and mundane, lacking anything that even remotely resembled the passion Veronica had shared with the former sheriff that fateful night.

Keeping up with her usual manner, she concealed her inner turmoil with sarcasm. "Only when I needed to be reminded of all the reasons why elections should be rigged."

"They were," he admitted, his smile fading. "Rigged, that is."

"What!?"

"Don't go getting your panties in a twist, Veronica. I was on a deep cover assignment, one that lasted years instead of months. My position as sheriff was crucial."

"What kind of assignment lasts years? And who are you really?" she asked, suddenly very certain that she didn't know this man at all.

He sighed and stood, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked towards the windows. Looking out at the bay, he said, "My name, my real name is Frank Lambert. Franklin Donald Lambert. I've been with the Agency for over twenty years now but I was still a rookie when I got the Neptune assignment. It was long term, the kind that appealed to me because I'd grown up in a tiny cow town in west Texas and had a hankering to see the ocean.

"I spent the next several years playing clean up boy for the Fitzpatricks, siphoning out what information I could and passing it along. I had a part to play and I can't say I didn't enjoy it at times. Others…not so much."

For a long moment, he was silent and Veronica couldn't help but wonder what 'other' times he was thinking of. Did he regret sending her away the morning after Shelly Pomroy's party? Worse, did he regret the night they spent together? For the first few months of her pregnancy, Veronica had regretted it herself, desperately so. But with the first fluttering of movement inside her belly, all that had changed. Unconsciously, she pressed a hand to her lower stomach, just over the scar left behind by Hailey's birth.

"I'd been undercover in Neptune for close to six years," Don finally continued, pulling Veronica from her thoughts. "And just before I was able to arrest the bad guys, someone blew my cover straight to hell. Botando was one of our low level informants and agreed to help fake my death in exchange for a new identity. It pissed me off, too walking away from years of hard work but we had another agent inside who was able keep the investigation going. He got the bust and I got a new assignment."

He turned around then and looked at her. "It took me five years to dig myself out of the hole I'd landed in after my fuck up in Neptune. Eventually, after I driven a desk long enough, the Agency allowed me to go back undercover. But I'm not thirty anymore and for the past couple of years, I've been content to let younger agents do the grunt work." Laughing he added, "Imagine my surprise to be back in the field - with you."

Veronica downed the rest of her whiskey and with unsteady fingers sat the empty glass on the side table. "Bet that really chapped your ass, Deputy."

Deputy. God, how long had it been since he'd heard that word fall from her lips? Too fucking long, that was for sure. After seventeen years, it still went straight to his cock. He was adjusting himself rather blatantly before he even realized he was doing it, drawing Veronica's eyes to his groin. As a flush darkened her skin, Don couldn't help but wonder what she'd do if she knew - if she knew he'd nearly blown six years of investigation, had given up a career-making bust and had done it all for her. Bet that would chap her ass.

He watched in fascination as she swallowed hard and looked away only to suddenly whip her head back around so quickly it made his neck hurt. Her eyes were flashing with growing rage as she surged to her feet.

"Dad!" she shouted then clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, my God. Daddy."

Don's eyebrows rose. "Sorry to disappoint you, Mars, but I'm not really into the whole 'who's your daddy' thing."

Veronica managed not to roll her eyes. "That's not what I meant, you ass. My father. He was there when you were 'killed', wasn't he?"

"Yes, he was," Don replied slowly, wondering just where she was going with this.

"He told me…he…" Veronica's eyes lost their fire and went strangely blank. "He knew. All this time he knew and he never said anything."

There was so much defeat in her tone that Don was reluctant to nod but did so anyway and watched in apprehension as she all but fell back down on the couch, burying her head in her hands.

"Veronica…" he began but was interrupted by a knock on the suite's door. Sighing, Don crossed the room and allowed the maid inside to clean up the broken glass that had since been forgotten. Thankfully, she had the mess cleaned up in less than two minutes. When he shut the door behind the woman, he leaned forward for a moment and pressed his forehead against the smooth, cool surface of the wood.

Christ, but he was too old for this. He'd wanted to retire years ago but had allowed himself to be pulled back into active duty after 9/11. A growing number of terrorist organizations and networks were funded by the drug trade and an escalating war only increased the productivity and demand. Some days he wished he'd just said 'fuck it' and walked away.

Don pushed away from the door and after tiredly scrubbing a hand over his face turned back towards his new partner. She'd raised her head but was staring forward as she sat unmoving on the couch.

While Don was asking himself just why the hell Keith's knowing that he hadn't died that afternoon had affected Veronica so dramatically, she was reeling from the knowledge that she would never be able to trust her father again. For seventeen years he'd been lying to her. He'd known that Lamb was alive and he'd said nothing.

She thought back to that day when the mayor's office had called to tell them the sheriff was dead. A shadow had passed over her father's eyes. She'd thought she'd imagined it. Now she wasn't so sure. Logically, Veronica understood that her dad's part in the deception had been necessary and she understood that he wouldn't have been able to tell her. But all the 'classified' bull shit should have been tossed right out the window the moment she'd said the words, 'Daddy, I'm pregnant.' Instead, he'd kept silent.

"I'll never forgive him for this," she whispered hoarsely. "Never."

"Didn't realize you cared that much," Don quipped, taking a seat opposite her.

Her eyes snapped up to his and narrowed. "Fuck you, Frank," she hissed, stressing the use of his real name.

"Been there and done that, darlin'," he drawled lazily. "As I recall, you had a damn fine time."

Whatever reaction he'd been expecting, it wasn't the sudden shower of tears that spilled out onto her cheeks. The Veronica he remembered would rather die than cry in front of him. Yet here she sat, silently sobbing, tormented by some pain she obviously refused to voice. Don couldn't shake the feeling that he was somehow to blame.

"Ah, Christ, Mars," he muttered before closing the distance between them to wrap her in his arms. Like all men, he was rendered helpless by the sight of a woman's tears and Veronica's were more damaging than any other.

For a long moment, Veronica allowed herself to lean into him, absorbing his strength and inhaling his scent before remembering herself and shoving him away. "I hate you!" she cried as she began punching him. Over and over, she pounded her fists against his chest and shoulders. "Why?" Her voice was little more than whisper but that one syllable held a whole lot of pain.

With one tug, Don pulled Veronica into his lap and grabbed her wrists. She struggled wildly against his hold, bucking and writhing as she tried to free herself from his grasp.

"Give it up, Mars," he said. "I'm not letting you go until you tell me what the hell is wrong with you."

Veronica stilled and became instantly aware of two things at once. One, she was straddling Don's hips, sitting face to face and chest to chest with a man she'd believed dead for seventeen years. And two, he was pretty fucking far from dead if the raging hard-on beneath her were any indication.

She shifted slightly, eliciting a strangled, "For fuck's sake, Veronica. Don't move."

When their eyes met, she became aware of something else entirely. She was staring into the same eyes she'd looked into every day for the past sixteen years, eyes that belonged to her daughter. Correction, their daughter.

Ordinarily, thinking of Hailey in terms of being 'their' daughter was accompanied by sadness and regret. But right now those thoughts sent her blood rushing as memories of that night flooded her mind. Her eyes dropped to his mouth and she bit her lower lip to keep from closing the distance between them.

When she finally looked back up at his face, his own eyes were closed. Veronica was suddenly struck by how handsome he was and had always been. His light brown hair was graying a bit at his temples and there were a few worry lines that hadn't been there before, but he still looked the same. The body beneath hers was still strong and muscular despite the fact that Don had passed forty a few years earlier. It was clear he still took excellent care of himself. Yet another thing he had in common with Hailey.

This time, thoughts of their daughter had a sobering effect and Veronica found the strength to push herself up and away from him. He didn't attempt to stop her, but loosened his grip on her wrists instead, allowing her to stand.

Veronica took a few moments to smooth the wrinkles from her dress, giving herself time to gather her composure. She'd been perilously close to kissing him. Dangerously close to brushing her lips against his to taste that indescribable something that had always burrowed its way beneath her skin whenever he was near.

With a heavy sigh, she sat back down and lifted a hand to her hair in a rare indication of nervousness. Because of their cover, she would eventually have to kiss him and Veronica was terrified of what might happen when she did. It had been too long since she'd allowed herself to be touched. Too long since she'd felt the rush of desire. Too long since she'd been driven to the edge and past it. She couldn't do this. She couldn't spend the next several weeks pretending to be his lover, pretending that he hadn't just been resurrected from the ashes of her past.

"This is a mistake," she said at last. "There's no way you and I will be able to pull off a believable couple. Not with our history."

Don had been watching her as she fidgeted with her dress and hair, his curiosity growing with each passing moment. The Veronica he remembered had been one cool customer, always one step ahead of him. He'd never known anyone who could think as quickly on their feet as she did. To see her so jittery and uncertain was mildly alarming.

As she continued to speak, asking him to contact his superiors and ask them to replace her with another, better suited female agent, he settled back into the couch, lacing his fingers behind his head. The past two decades had been good to her, that much was clear. Her curves were a bit more exaggerated than they'd been all those years ago and her tits were a bit larger than he recalled but she was still as gorgeous as ever. He still remembered the feel of her skin beneath his hands and lips. The way she'd moaned his name and cursed him with her next breath. He could never forget the way it had felt to be inside her, possessing her the way she'd possessed him from the very moment he'd clapped eyes on her.

She'd been little more than a girl then, but there'd been something about that saucy mouth and those laughing blue eyes that taunted and teased him into obsession. He'd known she was telling him the truth when she'd come to him that morning twenty years ago. It had been written painfully across her features. Rape and not virgin's remorse had driven her to him and because he was knee-deep in corrupt, drug-slinging Irishmen with questionable ties to the Mexican cartels, he'd had to play the bastard. He'd leered at her and mocked her cruelly before sending her on her way.

If keeping tabs on Veronica Mars had been a full time job, keeping her out of danger had been twice as bad. As she'd begun to excel in the field of investigation, he had had his work cut out for him, preventing her from accidentally stumbling across anything that would lead her back to him and his own investigation.

Don shoved his hands into his pockets as he watched the pages burn. For nearly half his life, he'd been living one lie or another in the service of his country and his conscience. Keeping drugs off the streets had once been the only thing that mattered to him. Don learned at an early age how substance abuse can destroy lives, a lesson that had been beaten into him by his father whenever he'd come home high or drunk.

The job had been his life, his only purpose for so long that he'd put his life on hold and until now had never regretted doing so. He'd had a brief moment of doubt the day he'd watched Veronica walk out of his apartment door knowing that in a few days time he'd be leaving Neptune for good. In that moment, he'd been torn between duty and the gut-wrenching desire he felt for her. He'd been tempted to give it all up and ask her to stay with him. It wasn't his dedication to the job that had kept him from calling out to her but the self-loathing he saw reflected in her eyes as she shut the door.

Don didn't believe in fate and yet Veronica Mars had walked into his life again out of the clear blue sky, leaving him to wonder if there was some higher power out there. He didn't know what would happen over the next several weeks. They were going to be in close proximity on a daily basis until the job was done. Pretending to be in a steamy affair whenever anyone was looking was certainly going to complicate things for them because he wasn't going to be able to leave it at pretending for very long.

She'd pulled the pins from her hair, allowing to spill over her shoulders. With a heavy sigh, Veronica ran a hand through it.

"This isn't going to work," she said finally, repeating her argument.

"What isn't going to work?" he asked reflexively without turning around to face her.

"This. You and me and this case. We need to call HQ and let them know that they need to send someone else."

"They're not going to send anyone else. Not this late in the game. People have already seen the both of us and tonight they'll see us together. We have no choice but to continue or lose the opportunity altogether." He turned then and stared down at her. "Besides it wouldn't look good if we claimed to be unable to work together."

"Agents do it every day. Why should we be any different?" she asked, confused.

He smiled tightly as he replied, "It would look bad because I asked for you. Specifically you. Your name might have been on the list the Agency came up with but I'd already asked for you."

Veronica was rendered speechless for the second time that afternoon and sat gaping at him like a fish. When she finally recovered the ability to speak, she asked him why. Why did he chose her?

His answer was to pull her up from where she sat and slant his mouth over hers. The kiss was hot, hard and demanding and she was lost in it. In him. Her arms wound around his neck as she pressed her body against his, reveling in the feel of the hardness of his chest, belly and thighs. Heat pooled in her abdomen, licking at her senses and fanning out through her body like wildfire.

It had been so long since she'd been kissed or held. God, how she'd needed this. Part of her had begun to believe that she'd imagined the way he'd made her feel that night. Now, she wasn't so sure. If a single kiss could rock her to her core…

"No!" she cried, wrenching herself free of his grasp. On unsteady legs she stumbled backwards and fell onto the couch. "I can't do this. I just can't."

"Yes, you can, Veronica. You can better than anyone else," he said as he dropped to his knees in front of her. "How many times did you turn the tables on me and lead me around by my nose?"

She snorted. "That's because you're a moron, Deputy."

Jesus, he thought. How was it one word could make him harder than granite? Was it the contemptuous way she said it that turned him on?

"Say it again," Don growled from deep in his throat. "Say it."

"Maybe next time," she quipped as she reached for her shoes. She tugged them on with a frown. Still weak-kneed from his kiss, she wondered just how the hell she was going to manage to make a decent exit in five inch stilettos.

"Veronica the tease," he muttered then pushed away from the couch and stood, allowing her room to slip past him. "I'll be by your hotel at seven to pick you up. Your bags will be moved here while we eat."

He expected an argument but to his surprise, she simply nodded before walking out the door.