by Vanessa Skye
Jay knew she liked it rough. She hadn’t flinched away from him at all the night they’d been together and he’d been none too gentle in his fervor. Then there was the night he and Cindy had found Berg at that sex club, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey with not one, but two, men working her over. The memory of it almost made him sick. If there was anyone who would happily cater to Berg’s more self-destructive tendencies, it was Arena.
And now, with a baby . . .
“Um, hello?” Carla said, waving her hand in front of his face.
“Sorry?” Jay asked, unaware she’d been speaking to him. “What were you saying?”
“I was saying that we’d better go if we’re going to make our reservation,” she repeated, frowning. “And I’m sure you wanted to make mention of how fantastic I look tonight?”
Jay looked at Carla in her short black dress, sky-high pumps, and a single diamond on a thin chain at her throat. She looked a million bucks and he said so.
“Let’s go, milady,” he said, smiling, pushing Berg out of his mind—she wasn’t his problem. For a second, he almost believed it, too.
Carla linked her arm in his as they strode out together.
Chapter Thirty-One
So give me something to believe.
’Cause I am living just to breathe.
And I need something more,
to keep on breathing for.
–The Bravery, “Believe”
“Morning,” Arena called as Berg walked into the room with a coffee for both of them. “Thanks.” He took a sip of the hot liquid and nodded toward Berg’s own cup. “You must be feeling better.” She hadn’t been able to stomach it recently.
“Yeah, I think the morning sickness is finally lifting,” she said quietly enough that they weren’t overheard.
Arena’s cell rang again. He glanced at the screen and rejected the call.
Berg noticed with interest it was the same number he had been dodging for weeks.
His desk phone rang a few seconds later. He picked it up and slammed it back down, cracking the old plastic handset.
“That might’ve been important,” Berg said, pointing at the desk phone.
“It’s not. Anyway . . .” He leaned back in his chair and none too subtly changed the subject. “No luck with Elizabeth’s new IP address and Realm of Blood,” he said, clearly disappointed.
Berg nodded. “What about forums?”
They knew Elizabeth had never called Buchanan—hers and Buchanan’s cell phone records had been clear—and there had been no e-mails from anyone regarding the killing of Emma on Buchanan’s computer when they’d had it searched months ago. In-game communication was the only option they had left.
“Chats don’t go through their server, meaning they don’t keep a record of them. They may have a record of actual posts, but again, it means a warrant to get them. Plus, they have a feature where you have fifteen minutes to delete a post before it’s saved. What do you wanna bet that Elizabeth took advantage of that?”
“Maybe other players may have seen some kind of communication between them, like the Swedish case?”
Arena nodded. “I’m playing at the moment, trying to find someone who played with Buchanan. Thanks to his computer, we do know what his avatar was and the levels he played, but I’m not having any luck. His avatar’s no longer active so—”
“Can we reactivate it? You could play as him, maybe go undercover?”
Arena sighed. “I’ll try and get Realm of Blood to reactivate his account. I must admit, I’m getting pretty good at it now. It’s almost fun.”
Berg snorted. “And your descent into nerddom is complete!”
Jay and Carla chose that moment to walk into the office.
Hand in hand as usual. At this rate, he’ll find out about his baby on its twenty-first birthday.
Jay walked toward his office, and Berg noticed how preoccupied he looked. She couldn’t help wondering if he’d found out anything else about Consiglio’s plan.
Instead of following him like an obedient puppy, Carla stopped in the main room. “Excuse me!” she called out.
Even with the early hour, the level of noise was just this side of a dull roar as everyone had numerous cases to follow up and close.
“Excuse me!” Carla said again, raising her voice.
Eventually, the station fell as silent as it ever would.
“We have news,” Carla said, motioning Jay over to her side.
Jay, who had stopped dead at the door of his office, looked a little dumbstruck. He flicked a glance at Berg, but at Carla’s insistence, he wandered over to her, his head hanging.
Berg saw the look on his face and felt dread right down to the tip of her toes.
Barely waiting for him to reach her side, Carla wrapped around his arm. “We’re engaged!” She looked delighted as she pulled Jay’s hand from where he’d stuffed it in his pocket and tugged him close.
A short, stunned silence was followed by hesitant applauding and a few halfhearted cheers.
Berg didn’t join in, knowing if she moved a muscle, she would completely break down.
Jay peered at Berg’s shocked face again before shaking the outstretched hand of a coworker. She noticed a few of her fellow detectives—Cheney, Rodriguez and Smith in particular—also glancing her way as they tried to gauge her reaction to the unexpected news.
Berg carefully arranged her features into a neutral expression, all too aware of the scrutiny and too proud to let them witness her anguish.
Carla, of course, looked delighted and hugged Jay closer. “Thank you,” she called. “We are very happy,” she said, turning to look at Berg before pulling Jay into his office.
Berg felt Arena move closer and grab her hand.
“You okay?” he mumbled.
Berg gritted her teeth to keep from crying and nodded, pathetically grateful that he even cared.
Jay slammed the door behind them. “Why did you do that? I thought we’d agreed to keep the news to ourselves for now!”
Actually, I didn’t agree to anything!
One minute they’d been enjoying an expensive dinner on the fortieth floor of the Chicago Stock Exchange and discussing their separate plans for the future as they had enjoyed a view of the cityscape, and the next, Carla had brought up marriage.
Assuming she was speaking about marriage in general, he’d admitted that marriage was important to him, as were children. Next thing he knew, Carla had decided they were engaged. He was still bewildered about what exactly had happened.
“They were all going to find out eventually,” Carla replied. “I thought it would be better coming from the horses’ mouths.”
“Bullshit,” he retorted. “That was nothing but a public ‘fuck you’ to Berg!”
Carla stepped back, folded her arms, and looked him up and down as if he suddenly smelled bad. “Why do you care? And why should she? You said she had moved on to her muscle-bound partner anyway, so what does it matter?”
“It matters to me,” he said, jamming his thumb into his chest to punctuate his point.
He glanced out at Berg’s desk. Arena had moved closer and was holding Berg’s hand. He looked like he was saying something, but Jay couldn’t make out what it was. Berg hadn’t moved since Carla had unceremoniously announced their apparent engagement. Jay hoped she and the baby were okay.
“That was just plain cruel!”
“No crueler than finding out from someone else, or in The Trib,” she said. “I just ripped off the Band-Aid. At least one of us had the balls.”
Jay’s voice shook as he struggled to maintain control. “You need to go. I’ve got work to do, and I can’t look at you right now.”
It wasn’t what he wanted to say. He wanted to say that their engagement was nothing but a farce, and their relationship was over. He wanted to say that she had been a pleasant distraction for a while, but now . . .
She’s right. I don’t have the nuts.
“Fine.” She s
ighed. “I’ll call you later about the dinner on Saturday night so our families can meet. I’m thinking somewhere in Little Italy? And you need to organize a free weekend so you can move into my place. And of course, I’ll need a ring.” She kissed him on the cheek and walked out of the office, her head held high.
Jay swore and put his head in his hands. Things were getting beyond his control, professionally and personally, and he needed to do something about it—quick.
He looked up and noticed Berg was no longer at her desk. He motioned for Arena to come in.
“Is she okay?” he asked Arena softly as he sauntered in.
“That was pretty low, even for you,” Arena said through a clenched jaw. “Berg did nothing to deserve that.”
Jay nodded. “It wasn’t my choice, believe me.”
“Still, you need to control your dog. Berg’s delicate right now. She doesn’t need this shit.”
Jay nodded again. “I’m aware of her . . . condition.”
“What do you mean?” Arena asked with a frown. “What condition?”
“I know . . . about the baby. Congratulations.” Arena didn’t deny it and the final shreds of Jay’s hope fizzled, like water dripped on a hotplate. “Just promise me you’ll take care of . . . both of them,” Jay asked, doing his level best not to cry in front of the man who now had everything Jay had ever wanted.
Arena nodded. “I’m doing my best, but you need to step the fuck back and let me do it. I’ll make her happy, I swear.”
Jay nodded one final time. It was all he could manage.
Chapter Thirty-Two
I didn’t feel a thing.
It didn’t mean a thing.
Look in the eye and testify.
I didn’t feel a thing.
–Faith No More, “Evidence”
Still in a haze, Berg didn’t object as Arena followed her home that evening and walked into her apartment behind her, closing the door softly.
“I’m going to grab a beer,” he said, wandering off to the fridge where he now kept a stock of his favorite brand.
She sat down in a daze, still unable to wrap her head around the fact that Jay was marrying that blond bitch.
And to announce it like that . . .
She wanted to rip out the woman’s hair and use it to strangle her to death.
How can I tell him now?
She was the outsider—the unloved woman who brought in an unplanned child. She was guaranteeing her child a life like she’d had, with uncaring, unfeeling parents who had thought her nothing more than an encumbrance. She had fervently hoped to be a better mother than her own, but what were the chances of that happening now?
Her only other option was no longer an option at all, considering how far along she was. That window had closed. Not that it had ever been a window she had seriously considered. Jay may not have ever loved her and had happily moved on with the type of woman she could never be, but she had loved him—still loved him—and this baby was a part of him, no matter how unexpected. It was one of the few things she had left. Taking down Elizabeth Young, protecting little Emma, and her own baby—those were her only reasons for living.
She would’ve cried if she’d been capable of feeling anything more than numb.
“Berg?” Arena said softly, sitting next to her on the couch. “You okay?”
Berg nodded in irritation—he must’ve asked her that question fifty times in the last hour. Obviously, she was not okay. Obviously, she would never be okay again. She felt a wave of grateful love for the baby inside her as it washed over her, safe in the knowledge that without her bouncing jellybean she would be shredding herself to pieces.
“I know you’re upset, but for what it’s worth, my offer’s still good,” he said, picking up her hand. “And it’s what O’Loughlin wants, too.”
Berg perked enough at the mention of his name to want more. “What do you mean?”
“He knows . . . about the situation, and asked me to take good care of both of you. It’s the one and only thing we’ve ever agreed on.”
Berg peered at him in confusion. “He knows? How? Did you fucking tell him?”
Arena shook his head adamantly. “I didn’t, I swear! He already knew.”
Berg’s body jerked as she felt her heart finally break—not just for her, but for her child as well.
How could he? How could he let his child be raised by another man? How could he ask for it?
He was no better than her own father.
“So . . . w-w-will you let me?” Arena watched Berg closely, squeezing her hands.
“What?”
“Take care of you. Both of you.”
Berg searched for an alternative, but realized she had none.
Single mother? Or . . . Arena?
The grief, sadness, and fear swelled, threatening to overwhelm her. She flicked the switch, shut down, and felt mercifully dead inside as she watched joy cross Arena’s face.
He put down his beer and crushed her to his chest, stroking her back and murmuring words of love into her neck between kisses. His strokes took on more fervor as he explored her breasts, stomach, and thighs. Sighing, he picked her up off the couch and smiled down at her as he carried her to the bedroom.
Laying her gently on the covers, he started with her work pumps, jacket, and shirt before moving to undo her slacks. He slid the clothes off her body with a sort of reverence, taking a moment to simply stare at each bared section of skin until she was completely naked to his gaze.
Raking his hungry eyes over her body, he stood to remove his own clothing, his muscles rippling across his smooth chest and stomach. Apart from a thick thatch above his impressive erection, he was smooth and hard, and honestly, quite beautiful as far as men go.
Any woman would’ve been happy to be the subject of his attentions. Any woman, except her.
He joined her on the bed and murmured something.
She shook her head to try and clear it, but the roaring in her skull was too loud and made her deaf to his expressions of love.
Kissing her deeply, he stroked her thighs and parted them gently as he moved down to suck one nipple thoroughly, then the other.
Berg felt as though she was watching them from the ceiling of her bedroom as he positioned himself between her thighs, his mouth eagerly completing what he had started months before.
She saw her body react and respond to his touches, but she never saw a spark of anything in the stranger’s eyes looking back at her from underneath the admittedly loving and gentle man. As though she was anesthetized, Berg felt her body spasm and jerk as if it didn’t belong to her. She felt her legs spread wider, her body move underneath his mouth, and then her muscles contract with a mindless orgasm. Her body was so well rehearsed when it came to meaningless sex that, thankfully, she didn’t even need to be present.
He held her body tightly as he pushed himself inside her, and from her perch high on the ceiling, she saw someone else’s hands looking so much like hers gripping his ass and pulling him in closer. Someone else’s voice sounded so eerily familiar as it moaned her pleasure and encouraged him to fuck her, make her come, and he moved faster, harder, deeper.
She watched as both bodies tensed. She felt the release again, pulling her from her high perch just long enough to feel the rush wash over her and was pleased. She’d take all the numbness she could get.
Chapter Thirty-Three
And I need something to help me sleep,
when I know you’re not good for me.
And I need something I can keep,
from the empty space in between.
–Meiko, “Sleep”
They stared out the window of the unmarked police car, watching the funeral procession trudge across the damp, green grass of Evergreen Cemetery.
Berg had respected Alex Young’s wishes. She’d stayed away from the service at St. Bernadette’s, but Emma Young’s life had meant something, her death even more—especially to Berg—and she’d be damned if she was goin
g to miss the burial, too.
They couldn’t hear what was said to the assembled reporters and cameras, and for that, Berg was grateful she wasn’t with the family as she watched Elizabeth turn the burial into a self-serving sound bite. Berg had no doubt she couldn’t have stopped herself from closing her hands around the woman’s throat.
She made another silent promise to make Elizabeth pay for her crime.
“Any movement on Buchanan’s avatar?” she asked the man who had decided to be her partner in life as well as professionally, which seemed to be the only place her input was not only found by her, but listened to by him.
Berg stared at her walls each night as Arena made plans for the both of them, starting with a transfer as soon as they had Elizabeth behind bars. In the meantime, he intended to get out of his lease and move in with her and Jess.
Jesse had looked about as impressed with the plan as she had felt.
Their lovemaking had been as avid as the plan making.
Arena reveled in the body that he was now allowed to touch, starting each morning with a kiss before he made love to her then wandered toward her shower.
Berg always responded, not because she wanted to, but because the few moments of silence following each orgasm helped her briefly forget about her situation.
Each time Arena touched her body, however, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the night she had conceived the baby—the kind of magnificent night she assumed was de rigueur at Carla’s place now. The stab of jealousy she had felt at the mere notion of what they might be up to had made her feel so sick she repeatedly encouraged Arena’s attentions.
“Realm of Blood reactivated his account and I have been wandering around the game pretending to be him, but the few chats I tried to initiate haven’t led to anything. Seems Buchanan was a loner online as well as in real life. His old chats aren’t visible, he never posted on forums that I could see, and no one has tried to contact him. I hate to say it, but I think it’s a dead end,” Arena said, disappointed.