Don't Breathe a Word

by Christie Craig

  Sweetie, dancing on her hind legs, met Juan at the door. He picked the happy dog up, sharing her excitement. “She was checking out my ass,” he said, feeling hopeful, feeling enthusiastic, feeling something he hadn’t in a long time.

  “You want to go play with Bell?” he asked the dog. He’d been so damn tempted to knock on her door this past week, but he’d been afraid even that might scare her off. Hell, he’d even considered digging up the holes he’d filled in so Sweetie could get in her backyard again.

  Realizing how sweaty he was, he ran into the bathroom, started the shower, stripped, and stepped under it, not waiting for it to get hot. Thirty seconds later, he jumped out, snagged a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Dressed, he hurried back into the kitchen, opened a bottle of wine, and grabbed Sweetie’s leash.

  The dog looked up, her entire body wagging. For one second, he questioned what he was about to do. Take a step? But wasn’t he tired of questioning it?

  He started out, then, realizing he was hungry, grabbed last night’s leftover pizza from the fridge. He juggled things around, wine bottle under an arm, wineglasses in one hand, and pizza box and leash in the other.

  Nikki looked at him as he cut across to her yard. “What are you doing?”

  “I haven’t had dinner.”

  Bell came running over. “Sweetie!” His dog pulled on the leash to get to the child.

  Bell picked up the dog and giggled as Sweetie licked her cheeks. He handed Bell the leash. “Can I have some pizza?” the girl asked.

  “That’s why I brought it out. It’s cold. Do you like cold pizza?”

  “I like pizza any way,” Bell said.

  “You had dinner,” Nikki said.

  Bell made a face. “But it’s pizza. You don’t have to be hungry to eat pizza.”

  “Fine,” Nikki relented.

  Juan set the wine and glasses on the driveway, opened the box, and held it out.

  Bell looked into the box as if weighing her selection. “Does it have pepperoni on it?”

  “Of course. It’s not pizza without pepperoni, right?”

  “Right,” Bell said.

  The kid took the slice of pizza, then looked at her mom. “Can I walk Sweetie down the street?”

  “Just down a few houses. Don’t go in the road.”

  Juan sat down and moved the open pizza box to Nikki. “Cold pizza?”

  “I ate dinner.”

  “But it’s pizza.” He tried to imitate Bell’s expression.

  Laughing, she took a slice. He put the box down and poured them each some wine. “Here.”

  She accepted the goblet with four inches of her recommended Cabernet. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He stretched out his legs and when he accidentally brushed against her, he shifted the chair back.

  “Coffee, wine, pizza, and a puppy,” she said. “You’re a full-service neighbor.”

  Smiling, even though her words sounded part complaint, he looked over the rim of his glass at her watching her daughter. “I try. How old is Bell?”

  “Five.” She sipped the wine.

  “She seems very well adjusted. I mean, considering…you know.” He pulled out a slice of pizza for himself and took a bite.

  “She is, for the most part.” She pulled off a piece of pepperoni and ate it.

  He hesitated, not sure what was off-limits. “How long have you been divorced?”

  Nipping at her lip, she looked away. “A couple of years.”

  From those actions, he suspected it was a lie. He could almost feel her guard inching up. He searched for another subject. “She looks like you.” He took another bite of his pizza.

  Nikki turned to him. “You think so?”

  “Yeah. I mean, she has darker features, but I see it in the nose, the mouth.” He continued to look at Nikki. “The shape of the eyes, too.”

  “I see it sometimes,” she said.

  “Is she half Hispanic?”

  The question appeared to startle her. She offered a weak “Yes.”

  A few seconds later, he said, “I look at her and think…that’s probably what my daughter would have looked like.”

  She stared down at her pizza. “How old was your daughter when…when she died?”

  It was his turn to be put in the hot seat, but he’d been the one to bring this up. “She wasn’t born yet. My wife was seven months pregnant when it happened.”

  Damn if her eyes didn’t get moist. “I’m sorry.”

  He felt her sincerity echo inside him. “Me too.”

  She looked up at the sky turning shades of pink and orange. “Life sucks sometimes, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” But it’s sucked a lot less since I met you.

  She glanced over with a sad smile. “Then there’s wine, pizza, and sunsets.”

  “And puppies,” he offered. He clinked his glass with hers. “Here’s to neighbors.”

  They both brought their glasses to their lips. He remembered their kiss. And damn if he didn’t want to do it again. As well as several other things.

  “This is nice,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” A question pulled at his mind. He knew it was risky, but decided to go for it. “It wasn’t a bad kiss, was it?”

  She looked away.

  “I know it’s not going to happen again, I just…I don’t know, I thought it was great. And maybe my ego feels a little dinged. It’s been a while since…” He reached down and picked up another slice of pizza. “Since I wanted to kiss anyone. Maybe I just need to know it didn’t suck before I try it again. On someone else, of course.”

  She faced him. “I don’t for one minute think your ego got dinged.”

  He sent her a questioning gaze. “Why not? Guys have egos.”

  “Some guys do, just not you.” She glanced up the street to check on Bell.

  “Why not me?” He leaned forward to see her face and twirled the glass in his hands.

  She looked over and rolled her eyes. “You have”—she waved her hand up and down—“too much going for you to be insecure.”

  Surprised by her words, he laughed. Then he reached down for the wine and refilled their glasses. “Are you saying you find me attractive?”

  He could swear her cheeks reddened. “Just neighbors, remember?”

  “Okay, I’ll stop. But for the record, it’s mutual.” He turned his glass. “So, I’m just wondering why—”

  “I thought you were going to stop,” she said.

  “I am.” He paused. “Eventually.”

  She stared at the street, but from her profile, he saw her frown.

  He went for another truth. “Actually, I think these days all most women see when they look at me is my scar.”

  She turned to him. “Then they’re idiots. And I’m serious.”

  He soaked up her compliment.

  She frowned. “Your scar is this big.” She held up her fingers about two inches apart. “There’s over six feet of perfection. Your scar isn’t…that bad. And I’m not just saying that.”

  Something warm filled his chest. “I believe you. I saw you checking out my ass. My unscarred ass.”

  Her face reddened again, but she laughed.

  He could get used to the sound of her laughter. “Thank you, by the way.”

  She pulled in her smile. “You’re welcome, I guess.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes, eating cold pizza and drinking wine. He considered the lie he thought she’d told about the divorce. Had she left without ending the marriage?

  Then he recalled something she’d said earlier about getting into fitness because her mother had a fondness for men who used their fists.

  Why was it hard for him to believe that she’d married someone who could do what he did to her daughter? Oh, he knew how it went. Female children of abusers married abusers and male children turned into abusers. But he and his brother hadn’t followed that pattern, and for some reason he found it difficult to believe she woul
d have.

  He looked at her. “How long were you married?”

  She frowned. “It’s a perfect sunset and I have a glass of wine in my hands. Can we not talk about that?”

  He stretched his legs out in front of the lawn chair. “Okay, let me get this clear. We can’t talk about us being attracted to each other…”

  She lifted an eyebrow at him.

  He grinned. “Or about your ex. You pick the topic of conversation.”

  “Tell me about your work,” she offered.

  He debated what to tell her as Bell walked up. “Can Sweetie go inside with me and play in my room?”

  “I don’t mind,” Juan said.

  Nikki shifted in her seat. “It might be time to call it—”

  “Please,” Bell said. “I want to play ball with her.”

  “Okay, but only for a few minutes.” Nikki gave in.

  A mosquito buzzed past Juan’s glass. “Why don’t we take the party inside?”

  Nikki’s nod wasn’t particularly joyful, but she wasn’t pushing him away, and he took that as a win.

  Moving inside, Juan set the wine and what was left of the pizza on the coffee table. When Nikki dropped on the sofa, he sat beside her. Not too close. But close enough that the thought of getting closer hung in the air like a dangling carrot. And when he reached for another slice of pizza, his knee touched hers. She didn’t flinch. Another win.

  He started the conversation comparing their pizza preferences. Black olives or no black olives. Anchovies or no anchovies. Thin crust versus pan. Pizza-wise, they were compatible.

  He told her the different pizza restaurants that delivered to their subdivision. Every now and then they’d hear Bell laughing and Sweetie barking.

  “She’s having fun. Thank you,” Nikki said.

  From there, he told her funny stories about being a cop. Yeah, he had a hell of a lot of sad stories he could share, but he didn’t want to spoil the mood.

  “Seriously, he held up the store with a potato peeler?” she asked, laughing.

  “I swear,” he said. “The media dubbed him the Tater Robber. Then there was the woman who came home, went to pee, and spotted a man standing in her shower behind her frosted shower curtain. She begged him for her life for about two minutes. He never said a word, just stood there. She finally got the nerve to make a break for it. She called 911. We tried to talk the man out for a good ten minutes. He wouldn’t say a word. Finally, we charged in with guns drawn. Behind the curtain we found her husband’s wetsuit hanging on the showerhead. In her defense, from behind the curtain, the wetsuit did look like a man.”

  “That would’ve freaked me out.” She laughed again and damn if she wasn’t beautiful. After a moment she said, “I’m sure not every case is funny.”

  “They’re not. Which makes it more important to laugh at those that are.”

  “Have you ever been shot?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where?”

  Juan pointed to his left side, where he had a small scar.

  “Who shot you?”

  “Another cop,” he said.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. Not his fault, I was undercover. A bust gone bad. A drug dealer started shooting. The cops fired back. I was just unlucky enough to catch one.”

  She looked down at his right hand, which no longer sported a bandage. “How did you really hurt your hand?”

  He opened his palm. It was practically healed. “I had a scuffle with a guy, grabbed the underside of a banister, cut it on some sharp piece of metal.”

  “Why were you chasing him?”

  “He was at a female witness’s house. When I said I was a cop, he took off. I discovered he’d beaten up the witness I was looking for.”

  She frowned. “Is she okay?”

  “Enough to run away while I was catching the asswipe who beat her up.”

  “You didn’t catch her?”

  “No.”

  “Why did she run away? What did she witness?”

  “Possibly a murder. Her friend went missing five years ago. And the friend’s boyfriend was murdered. His body was found. But not his girlfriend’s. When going over the file, I found some inconsistencies in what this witness told the cops back then. As for why she ran, we think it might be connected to stolen drugs.”

  “But you don’t think she’s the one who killed her friend or the boyfriend?”

  “I don’t think so. Supposedly, they were close friends. The witness even sends birthday cards and money to her friend’s little girl.”

  “Who’s taking care of the child?”

  “The missing girl’s parents.”

  “Do they think their daughter’s dead?”

  “The father does. The mother can’t accept it, but realistically, I think she knows the truth. But without a body there’s no closure. We hope to find her and get justice.”

  “And that’s what you do? Offer justice? You said that’s why you’re a cop.”

  “Yeah.”

  Their gaze met and held. He was close enough to see the specks of gold and green in her eyes.

  “That’s all so sad.”

  “Which is why I preferred to tell you about the Tater Robber.”

  “Yeah.” She looked down at her hands, then back up at him. “Did you get justice? For your wife and daughter?”

  “Yeah.” He remembered all too clearly firing the bullet that took Guzman’s life.

  “Is he in jail?” she asked.

  “No.” He didn’t say he was dead, or that he’d killed him, but he sensed she understood.

  “Did it help?”

  The question seemed personal, and he suspected she was needing a little justice herself. No doubt from her ex who’d hurt Bell. He understood, and maybe for that reason he told a truth he’d never said aloud.

  “Not really. The need for revenge consumed me. It took almost two years, but I finally caught up with him. He pulled a gun on me first. But it was what I wanted. Afterwards, when I saw him lying there dead, no pain, no regrets, I realized the man would’ve suffered more if they locked his ass away for the rest of his life. The feeling, the ache I carried around that I thought would go away, didn’t.”

  He inhaled, then said another truth. The thing he told himself when he thought about killing Guzman. “On the flip side, he needed to be stopped before he hurt other people.”

  “I’m glad you got it. The justice.” She looked up at the wall clock. “Oh goodness. It’s ten.” She stood up. “Bell has school tomorrow.” She walked into the hall and peered into Bell’s bedroom. Glancing back, she smiled. “They’re both asleep.”

  He walked up behind her to peek in. She went to turn and came right against him. Her warm hands lifted to his chest. Shock widened her eyes, but she didn’t jump back. They stood there, so close, and it felt like time stopped.

  Her touch sent a current of pleasure down south.

  Not thinking, just feeling, he lowered his head. His lips hovered only an inch from hers.

  Her tongue swept across her lips, leaving a sheen of moisture that he ached to taste.

  “You should…” She didn’t finish.

  “What?” He lifted his hand to her face. Traced a finger up her chin, and swept a lock of her hair off her cheek. “What should I do, Nikki? What do you want me to do?”

  She swallowed. “Sometimes we don’t get what we want.”

  “And sometimes we should go for it.” Was that what he was doing? But damn, he didn’t want to think about that now. He just wanted…He wanted.

  “Maybe you’re right.” Then she lifted up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Her taste flooded his senses so fast it had him craving more. He went in deep. He went in fast, afraid it’d end too quickly.

  His tongue slipped between her lips. She shifted closer. He slipped his hand down to her waist. It fit in that sweet feminine curve as if the shape had been made for him. He brought her closer against him. Sh
e slid one warm palm under his T-shirt. When her fingers brushed against his abdomen he got so hard he felt his zipper.

  How long had it been since he’d been touched?

  He didn’t remember moving her to the sofa, but suddenly they were there. He sat down, and she came with him, straddling his lap. Her weight rested right where he needed it. Or almost. He lifted his hips and she pressed closer. She yanked his shirt up as if requesting he remove it, and he caught the bottom hem and tugged it off, pulling his lips from hers only long enough to get it over his head.

  As her hands moved across his chest, his nipples tightened and the sweet ache went lower. He let himself fall to the side and she came with him, now on top of him. Their bodies met in some tender places. And they moved in that age-old rhythm of two people wanting and needing more.

  He slipped his hands up the back of her shirt, touching soft bare skin. Then he shifted around to hold her silk-covered breasts in his hands. Her nipples pebbled against the fabric. He rubbed over the tight nubs and she moaned.

  Her hand eased down his chest, down past his navel, and over the bulge in his jeans. A moan of sheer pleasure escaped his lips and he flipped her over. He unsnapped her shorts and slid his hand inside, dipping under the elastic of her panties, down past her soft mound, and then lower until he found the moisture he craved.

  She rotated her hips, taking his finger deeper, and he let her control the movement. And what sweet movement it was. A slow up-and-down that came with her soft tight breaths.

  And then Sweetie barked. Not from the bedroom, but right at his ear.

  Nikki ended the kiss, turned her head, and gasped, “Bell?”

  Glancing up, he saw Bell wasn’t there. Nikki blinked. Regret filled her gaze.

  He pulled his hand from inside her panties and she scrambled to get up. With two hands she pushed her hair back high on her forehead and held it there. Her eyes found his. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

  He had to reach into his jeans to adjust things before sitting up. “Why not?”

  She shook her head. Her eyes filled with tears. “Please go.”

  “I’d rather talk. Whatever is—”

  “No. I don’t know what I was thinking. No, I wasn’t thinking. I can’t…”

  “Are you still married?”