The smart-ass, sarcastic lilt isn't there as she recounts her search for Lilly Kane's killer. He senses more than hears the digs at the local law enforcement, how her father was right all along, how Abel Koontz is no one's killer, but it's just not the same in the monotone that's droning on and on in the interrogation room.

Leo ends things and she sits there for a minute silently. He hems and haws around their relationship - which he clearly assumes Lamb doesn't know about, but he does. Oh, he does - and then leaves the room, his eyes widening as he sees Lamb standing there. He scurries back to his desk with a sidelong look back at the door, no doubt wondering if Veronica is the lamb in this particular slaughter.

"Oh, goody." The lilt still isn't there, but her eyes flash when she sees him. "If it isn't the clown prince of Neptune's Finest."

"As I recall, your daddy wasn't right about this one either, doll." He sits opposite her and taps his fingers on the scarred table. "Though I have to give him credit. He managed to get the tax bracket right."

"Which is a hell of a lot more than you did. Or did the pay-off to Abel Koontz count in your math?"

He leans forward and smiles at her, slow and easy. It's the same smile he used to wear for Lilly when he fucked her, preferably on the hood of his squad car. "So, we know that Lilly was having sex with Aaron Echolls. We know that Aaron Echolls liked young girls. We know that you did everything Lilly did."

"I didn't do half the things Lilly did." Veronica's voice snaps as she meets his mocking gaze.

"Oh yeah, that's right. You were a sweet, little innocent, weren't you?"

"Yeah." She gets to her feet. "I solved that mystery too. Maybe you might want to consider another line of work."

He stands as well, following closely behind her. She reaches for the door and he grabs her arm, pushing her up against the hard wooden surface. "Is that your way of telling me you won't be voting for me in the next election?"

She looks down at his hand curled around her arm. "I'm telling you something, Deputy."

"Sheriff."

She shrugs off his grip. "Let's see if you can figure out what it is."

He rarely sleeps in his bedroom. Most of the time he doesn't sleep at all, or if he does it's on his couch in front of the TV that's a testament to how greased his palms are. He uses his second bedroom for fucking if she's got a roommate or they need room for a friend of hers and her dorm bed just isn't going to cut it. He's filled it with enough toys, lotions, lingerie and condoms to make a whorehouse look bad.

His bedroom is where he thinks, where his computer is and where, when it all gets to be too much, he strips down and jerks off to the thought of Veronica Mars. He hates himself every time but something about that blonde hair and those wide eyes and that smart mouth makes him hard every time he sees her. He fucks mindless women, but he wants to fuck the only blonde with a brain that he's ever met. He knows she's off limits and that makes him want her more.

The last time he fucked Lilly, she was bored and he was bored, even though the sex was mind-blowing. He had fast and dirty often enough that even someone as adventurous as Lilly couldn't make it new and exciting. So she's started talking about Veronica - yes, the Sheriff's sweet, innocent, little girl - and how fun it would be to kidnap her and handcuff her to the bed and how both of them could take advantage of her. She's talked about Veronica's mouth on her pussy and Veronica's hot cunt around his cock and they'd both come so hard and fast it had taken forever to catch their breath.

"Can you arrange it?" She'd asked afterwards, smiling a smile that made him hard despite everything they'd just done. "Pull her over for some minor infraction? Lock her in the back of your squad car for disturbing the peace or something?"

"She'd have her dad cut my balls off with my own badge."

"Oh," Lilly had purred and stroked his cock, "but it would be worth it."

He'd agreed in the middle of another orgasm but then Lilly was dead and Veronica wasn't the same sweet young thing they'd talked about. She was something more and something better - a mix of who she'd been and who Lilly had thought she could be, and he wanted her something fierce.

He sheds his uniform and undershirt on the back of the chair as he walks past. The beer is cold and the room is hot, so he turns on a fan and sits down. The TV warms up and flashes naked breasts at him, two blondes with tits the size of basketballs finger-fucking each other with fingernails longer than his dick. He doesn't even bother to unzip his fly - there's nothing on TV tonight he wants to jerk off to. He picks up his beer and walks into his bedroom, lying back on the cool black sheets.

He wonders if that flat voice is all he has to look forward to now. Wonders if now that Lilly's murderer is caught he won't see her around the squad room. He wonders if the new Veronica Mars is gone now that her life is back to normal and her best friend is resting in peace. His concerns about his job run parallel but second, but his job is tangled up in her father, tangled up in her and he wants to be tangled up in her.

He's imagined those sweet, creamy white thighs spread on his bed, black sheets in stark relief like a underdeveloped picture. He's imagined taking her camera and snapping photograph after photograph of her on his bed. He's imagined fucking her, but it's never the act itself that makes it worth it to him.

As much as he hates to admit it, he doesn't want to fuck Veronica Mars so much as he wants her to fuck him. He doesn't want to have her so much as he wants to own her. He wants Veronica Mars in his bed - and more.

The doorbell rings and he rips himself out of sleep. His beer sits mostly untouched on the nightstand and the sheets are wet with sweat. He curses under his breath and stumbles to the door, the fading images of his dream lingering just out of his vision. He opens the door and glares into the sun. He's wearing boxer briefs and a hard on and he hopes the fucking Mormons are going to get an eyeful. "What?"

"Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?"

His gun swells as Veronica's eyes linger on it. He grips the doorframe hard enough that his fingers hurt. "Sunk to selling Avon to pay the bills, Mars?"

She looks up at him, and it's worse than her looking at his cock. He feels his whole body respond - nipples hard, hair standing on end, cock and balls throbbing - and raises an eyebrow. She smiles slowly and he curls his hands even tighter in their grip to keep from grabbing her. Her voice is deceptively light, innocent though her eyes are most definitely not. "I need a favor."

"Really." He drawls the word, repayment plans echoing in his head. "Local law enforcement doesn't do favors, Mars."

"Local law enforcement might want to hear me out, as they're not doing so well in the win column this year." She brushes past him into his apartment and he bites his tongue as her hand feathers against his thigh. He closes the door and leans against it, wondering if he trusts her in his apartment enough to leave her alone while he gets dressed.

She leans over his chair and grabs the remote, turning off the soundless porn that's still showing. Different girls, different fingernail polish finger-fucking on some African safari this time. "Come in. Make yourself at home."

"Yeah, nothing says home like bad porn." She turns around and leans against the chair, her ass resting against his uniform. He wants to come so badly it hurts. "As much as I appreciate the strip show, Deputy, I prefer doing business when everyone's fully clothed."

"Depends on the business, Mars." He lobs a smirk at her and shrugs. "Can I trust you to be a good girl, or should I handcuff you to the door to keep you out of mischief?"

She holds out her hands. "Whatever would make you feel safer."

Handcuffing her would require pressing up against her to reach the bracelets on his belt and he knows if he does that, he won't leave the haven of her body. He'll do something stupid like kiss her or touch her and he knows he's not stable enough to hear her say stop or no or don't or, god forbid, yes.

"You want to wait outside then?"

"You have something to hide?" She gestures toward the TV. "Other than your lack of taste?"

He glares at her, holding her mocking gaze. "Just don't touch anything."

Her eyes flicker down to his waist and he snaps his teeth together to keep from saying something he's likely to regret. "Don't worry, Sheriff. I won't touch a thing."

He closes his bedroom door and leans back on it, the smooth wood hard against his back. He curses under his breath - goddamn her! - and rubs his hand over his cock, closing his eyes as he imagines for a brief second it's her hand, her mouth, her cunt. "Fuck," he hisses between his teeth, pushing off the door and slamming into the bathroom. He strips and steps into the shower, turning the spray all the way to the right, nearly biting through his lip as the cold hits him.

"Everything okay in there, Deputy?"

"Fuck," he shivers and adjusts the showerhead so it aims directly at his cock. He ignores her and slams his fist against the wall, bending his head until the heat of desire ebbs away under the onslaught of the shower. He snaps the water off and steps out, wrapping the towel around his waist, tucking the end in just as she speaks.

"So, I have a business proposition for you."

He sucks in air and turns, leaning back on the counter and looking at her. She's sitting on the top of the toilet, her feet on the seat cover, her eyes on his. He lets his gaze drift down then back up as he rests his palms against the cool marble. "One of these days, your nose for trouble is going to land you smack in the middle of something your smart mouth can't handle."

"But I'm here with you, so I know today won't be that day." She slaps her hands on her knees. "Now, can we get down to business?"

"We can discuss business after I have my pants on." He pushes off the counter, feeling her eyes on the low-slung towel as he walks into his bedroom. "Your little intimidation tactics aren't going to work on me, Mars."

"I can see why you'd feel intimidated." She waves her pinkie at him and slides off the toilet and onto her feet. She leans against the doorjamb and watches as he slides a pair of boxer briefs on under the towel then tosses it onto a chair beside the door. Veronica sits on the edge of the bed, and he feels his entire body tense as he pulls on his jeans, her eyes following the denim upwards.

"Well?"

She shakes her head slightly. "What? You want a critique?"

He almost smiles. "No, Mars. I want to know what you're doing here in my house, in my bedroom. If you're not careful, I might think you expect me to buy you breakfast."

"I've seen your refrigerator." She gets to her feet and heads for the door. "It might be best for both of us if you do."

She stands outside his house, leaning against her car. "I'll drive."

"You really think I'd ride in a car with you?" Lilly's voice haunts his thought for a moment. "Other than if you were locked in the back seat where you belong."

Her lower lip slides out in a pout. "Oh, Deputy. You're hurting my feelings." Her lip slides back in to form her smile. "Besides, I'm innocent until proven guilty."

"Your father probably believes that."

Her face hardens and she crosses her arms over her chest. "Leave my father out of this."

"I will," he agrees. "On one condition."

Her eyebrow lifts. "What?"

"Call me Sheriff."

She tilts her head and smiles slowly. "All right. Sheriff."

He matches her smile and nods toward his car. "I'll drive."

"You honestly think I'd set foot in that obvious statement about the size of your cock?" She shakes her head, tsking softly. "What do you say I meet you at Poseidon's?"

He glances at her short denim skirt then back up. "Nothing goes down better?"

She shrugs one shoulder. "I'm sure you'd know better than I would." She opens her door and waves her keys at him. "You're buying."

He sits in front of the pancake house and watches as she gets out of her car. The shower had been a temporary respite, but his hard-on is back in full force. He knows better than to follow her inside - she's smart, she's clever and she's likely to twist his balls into a knot while she sticks a knife in his back. That said, he knows there's no way he isn't going to find out what this is about, even if he sends half the clientele scattering just by walking in the door.

He steps inside and spots her immediately, glancing through the tacky t-shirts that they attempt to sell to the tourists who make a wrong turn. "I always suspected you were a cheap date, Mars."

"Being drugged and raped doesn't make me cheap, De…Sheriff." She manages a tight smile. "It just makes me easy. Besides," she turns and links her arm through his, "you have no idea what I'm going to order."

"I'm pretty sure you and Poseidon won't be breaking the bank." He nods toward the tired girl staring impatiently at them. "Shall we?"

"I hope you brought your appetite."

He glances down at her, his eyes hot. "Be careful what you wish for, Mars."

"No wonder you can't keep a boyfriend. Though I guess that's nicer than what you did to Echolls." He nods toward the pancake. "At least he saw it coming." He pours syrup on his stack. "You gonna eat your cherry?" She grabs it and sticks her tongue out, dropping the maraschino onto it and closing her lips around it, tugging at the stem. "So, as much as I enjoy your company, Mars, you mind telling me why we're here?"

"I told you, I need a favor." She finishes her cherry and scoops up the whipped cream and chocolate chip that serve as her pancake's eye. "I have a friend."

"Hard to believe these days."

"She's run into a little trouble."

"Not so hard to believe."

"She works at a club down south, just outside of Neptune's jurisdiction." She slides her fork into her mouth and sucks it clean. "The club seems to cater to men - mid-thirties and older - and young women."

"As long as they're of age or have ID that claims they're of age, I don't see the problem, Mars. And, since you so cleverly pointed out it's out of my jurisdiction, I don't see why I should care."

"The problem isn't that the club caters to May-December romances, Sheriff," she fills the word with more contempt than she has ever laced the Deputy with. "The problem is that the girls show up with the guys but they don't leave with them."

"Couple swapping isn't really my forte, Mars."

"Yeah, I've seen the girls you date, for lack of a better word. They can't even count to two." She reaches across her plate and spears a link of his sausage. "My friend asked a few questions and got threatened anonymously for her trouble. She thinks they're selling the girls."

"You're kidding."

She bites hard into the sausage link, smiling as his body flinches slightly. "Not even close."

"You've got no evidence, this isn't my jurisdiction and nobody's done anything more than warn your friend off?" He reaches across and steals the other eye of her smiley face and eats it, his teeth crunching through the chocolate chip. Leaning in, he shakes his head. "Why should I care, Mars?"

"Because you need a bust to do something to hide the black eye your department has right now. You need something to make you look good."

"And why would you want to give that to me?" He leans back, the light dawning. "Your dad."

"I told you, he stays out of this."

"What? He wants to run for Sheriff again? And you don't want him to?" He runs his tongue along the inside of his lip and nods. "So you want me to be the golden boy of Neptune so he doesn't have a chance. What's the matter, Mars? Afraid to play detective when your daddy's in charge?"

"Will you help me?"

"You've got nothing, Mars."

"But I could get something." She reaches across and touches her fingers to the back of his hand. "We could get something. Off-duty." She inhales and slowly releases the breath. "Off the record."

"You and me. Working together?"

"Yeah." She puts her fork down and folds her hands in her lap looking for all the world like the 18 year old she actually is, younger even - like the girl Lilly used to know. "I know you don't like me. And the feeling's mutual. But I need someone who has a stake in this."

"Why not get your lover-boy Leo?"

"I need someone who'd be willing to put me on the auction block without hesitation." She shrugs. "Figuratively speaking."

"No one in the world would buy us as a couple, Mars." He stops, his body stiffening as he feels her foot run up the side of his leg. One hand fists against his thigh as the other tightens around his fork.

"I'm afraid you're wrong, Sheriff." She slides her foot higher until it brushes the inside of his thigh. "Again."

Leaning back in his chair, Lamb looks up at the ceiling and sighs. He has a week of vacation due to him and, as much as sitting on the beach looking at cheap girls in expensive bikinis sounds good, he has to admit that Veronica's plan has a few advantages that the beach doesn't. One advantage.

"You're fucking insane," he reminds himself under his breath, shaking his head for even considering it.

"You wanted to see me, Sheriff?" Leo stands at the door, his defenses up.

"Leo. Have a seat." He drops his feet off the edge of his desk and gestures to the seat opposite him. "I have a few concerns."

"Oh?"

"Rumor has it you were dating Veronica Mars for a bit." He taps his pen on the papers in front of him meaningfully as if there's something more than a vacation notification and a girlie magazine there. "That true?"

"My time off the clock has nothing to do with the department, Sheriff, so long as I don't break any laws." He puts his hands on the arms of the chair. "We done here?"

"Let me ask you this then. Veronica likes to make up stories to get what she wants. Trusting her is like putting your balls in a pit bull's jaws." He leans forward, watching Leo wince at the imagery. "How many times you get bitten, Leo?"

"I told you, it's my business. Sheriff."

"And yet you kept coming back for more. She must be sweet in the sheets." Leo's fist hits the edge of Lamb's desk hard enough to send the cup of pencils and nameplate skittering across the floor. "Did I hit a nerve?"

"What do you want?"

"Do you trust her?"

Leo's face falls and he looks away from Lamb's gaze. "Yeah. She's honest about stuff."

"I need you to do something for me."

"I'm not touching Veronica Mars for you."

"Trust me, if I wanted her touched, D'Amato, I'd do it myself. I want you to ask her a question. And I want you to tell me if she's telling the truth." He levels his gaze, his voice. "Deputy."

"Fine." Leo's jaw clenches. "What?"

"Ask her if she's running a scam on me. Tell her that I'm barking like a mad dog at all of you any time someone mentions her name or the Echoll's case. Find out."

"What makes you think she'll tell me?"

"Because," Lamb's voice echoes his grin, "she's already got a taste of your balls."

"You know, Sheriff, you hurt me."

"Only in my dreams, Mars." He shifts slightly as she leans against the car, her hip bumping his as she jostles for position. She folds her arms over her chest in a mimicry of his pose. "You didn't honestly think I'd go into this blind, did you?"

"Does that mean you're in this?"

"Up to my neck that you're probably going to have me swinging by." He reaches for the beer on the hood of his car and takes a long swig. "You realize if your father finds out about this, he's not going to bother with my neck. He's going to hang me by my dick."

"I've heard it does wonders for the length." She steals the beer from his hand and presses it to her lips before smiling and setting it aside without taking a drink. "So, we're on?"

"We're on."

She smiles. "I'll meet you here tomorrow at five. And," she glances back at his car and shakes her head, "you might want to rent something a little less 'I've got a small dick' and more 'I've got a small dick, but I have enough money to get a hot girl'."

"How about I rent something like that when you find me a hot girl?"

"Ooh." She frowns at him like he's hurt her feelings. "Sheriff, are you trying to make me cry?"

His cock jumps slightly and he gives her a knowing smirk. "Mars, nothing would give me more pleasure."

"They have a name for guys like you, you know."

"I do." He leans in and presses the tip of his nose lightly against hers before he can think about what he's doing. "Sheriff."