by Tess Oliver
I slide open the glass door. Maddox and Clark would throw a fit if they knew I'd left it open. But it only locked and unlocked from the inside. It was my fourth day in Uncle Nate's beach cottage. I renamed it a cottage because it was cozy enough to earn the title. The location in the quiet cove was the perfect choice. I felt myself getting stronger physically and even mentally with each passing day. After the first night of unexpected drama with Maddox staying at the house, we mutually decided it might be best if Clark just made sure patrol cars were keeping an eye on the place. I had the perfect defense for the plan when Maddox hesitated. I reminded him I was the woman who chased down many bad guys and always came out of it the victor. I still didn't have my gun back due to a lot of red tape and the slow process of me getting back to what the doctors considered a hundred percent. I was still a shadow of my former self but I was trained in self-defense. Still, it was on the doctor's orders that someone check in with me daily. Today is Silvana's day and I am happy to see his sweet face peering back at me through the peephole on the front door.
"You're already here," I say excitedly as I usher him inside. I glance at the box of donuts in his hand. "And you come bearing gifts. My favorite kind of visitor is the kind who comes armed with a pink bakery box." I take a whiff. "Smells like sugar glaze heaven."
Silvana laughs as he carries the pink box to the kitchen. "Hope it's all right that I came a few hours early. Maddox is busy in court today and I found myself with a couple extra hours. I thought, I'll just bet Ten could do with a donut or two."
"You are a jewel of a man, Silvana. A shiny, priceless jewel." I grab a few paper towels for our donut picnic and open the box. "Can't decide so I'm taking chocolate and glazed. Pardon my pigginess."
"Take as many as you like." Silvana reaches in for the maple bar. "Except this one. It's mine. But I'm cutting myself off at one."
"Tonight is the big night, eh?" We carry our donuts to the living room couch. "The big face to face meeting with—" I twist my mouth trying to remember his match's name. "Sheila, right?"
"Yes." He lifts his hand, the one not holding the donut. "Look at this shake. I've got to get rid of it before tonight." He looks pointedly at my running shoes. "Maybe I should take a run along the beach too. Good to see you're getting back to your old favorite sport—running. That'll probably help your recovery more than anything a doctor can do for you."
"I agree."
Silvana turns and looks out at the beach. "Are you sure it's safe for you to run though? I mean, Clark knows about it right? And Maddox?"
I suck my bottom lip in. I've never been a good liar.
"Ten? Tell me Maddox knows because if he doesn't then you can't expect me to keep it from him."
"I'll tell him. I promise. Just pretend you didn't see me in my running clothes." My plan doesn't seem to sit well with him.
"I don't think it's a good idea. What if Freestone is out there, watching, waiting, stalking you?"
It's the first time that suggestion has been aired. It stuns me for a second. "He's not. Why would he? Knowing Kane, he's moved on to some new big project. I'm just a dirty smudge in his past now." Even as I say it, it bothers me to think that Kane has most likely moved on without giving me a second thought. I pick up the donut to sugar high away the silliness in my head. It doesn't matter anymore. Nothing about Kane matters anymore. I need him gone from my head forever.
I take a bite of chocolate and close my eyes to savor it. "Hmm, several months of being disgusted by food has made me far more appreciative of how fucking awesome it is."
"Yeah, I could do with just a squirt of that stuff you were addicted to—" Silvana stops. His round cheeks sink. "God, I'm sorry, Ten. I shouldn't bring up shit like that."
"Why not? It happened. Seriously, I told Clark this. Now I'm going to tell you. Stop tiptoeing around me. It's me, Angie Tennyson. I'm not a snowflake. I was addicted to some powerful shit and that's the truth of it." My moment of courage will, no doubt, fade just as quickly as it surfaced, but I needed the men to stop treating me like I was breakable.
The grin returns to his face. "You are definitely not a snowflake, and I will stop with the tiptoeing thing."
"But just between you and me, Sil, I'm not looking forward to next week when I have to start talking about everything. Not sure I'm ready."
"No? Then tell Clark. They shouldn't be pushing you to do that so soon. You let them know when you're ready."
"On the other hand, I feel like I need to get it over with, you know? A big hurdle to get past so I can get my badge back." I hop up. "I need milk. You?"
"No, I'm fine."
I return with a glass of milk. "Are you still going to the pie place for the first date?"
"Yeah, why? Does it seem like a lame way to start?"
I shuck him on the shoulder. "You're asking the wrong gal. I love pie. It's an awesome first date as far as I'm concerned."
Silvana looks relieved. "Hey, can I ask you a question? Feel free not to answer."
I finish the milk and wipe the moustache with the back of my hand. "Shoot."
"When did you know you loved Maddox? Remember, you don't have to answer. Or even admit you love him. Just thought I should take some mental notes. In case this thing with Sheila turns out all right. It'd be nice to know what makes a woman fall in love. Not that I can put myself on the same plateau as Maddox."
I squeeze his arm to stop his rambling. "You're right. You're on a much higher plateau than Maddox and most men, for that matter, because you're thoughtful enough to ask what makes a woman love a man. Most guys don't care."
A blush creeps up above the collar of his shirt. "Thanks."
I sit back and tap my chin. "With Maddox, it's sort of a sum of different events."
He sits forward. "Is it that thing with the poor guy whose crazy ass brother strapped him with a bomb?"
I nod. "That is a good one. Occasionally Maddox lets that superhero heart shine through. It's kind of hard to look past the stunning exterior. Something that, surprisingly, he pays little attention to. I like that he's pretty grounded about life in general. That day was crazy. When we found that guy sitting in the parking lot under the tree strapped head to toe with explosives, the victim was shaking so hard—"
"Rightly so," Silvana notes.
"Heck yeah. We were sure he'd set the thing off before the bomb crew arrived. We were all standing back hundreds of yards behind our cars. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a big wild head of hair crossing the parking lot. Maddox sat right down, just feet from the guy. I guess the guy was wearing a football jersey. Like Maddox, he played in high school, so they talked about their glory days while they waited for the bomb squad. The guy totally calmed down. They got him free of the thing without incident. Mostly because Maddox had the courage to sit with the man and get his mind off his predicament."
"Wow"—Silvana breaks his promise to have one donut and pulls a jelly out—"I've heard a few people tell that story, but I always just figured it was being embellished. After all, everyone in the precinct looks at that guy through star studded shades. Even me, I confess."
"Yeah, Maddox does have this strange unearthly glow around him." I grab a napkin and point out the big drip of jelly that just landed on his shirt.
"Ah crap. Happens every time. Well, unless I can manage to have a bomb scare or something similar staged at the pie restaurant, I'll just have to stick to charming and witty conversation."
"Seriously, Sil, that's all you need. And if she doesn't see how amazing you are, then she's not worth the effort."
"Nice of you to say, Ten. So that wild day with the bomb scare, was that the day you knew you loved him?"
"No, that was cool but that wasn't the day." The run has left a chill in my bones. I pick up the plaid throw, my new favorite blanket, and pull it around my shoulders. "The day I knew I loved him? I was standing in the grocery store trying to decide which frozen dinner I wanted and my phone rang. I answered it. All he said was 'Hey, Ten' and with
out warning my knees went weak. I'd been working with him all day and the sound of his voice turned my legs to jelly. That's when I knew."
"Well shit, I've got to work on my hello's then. Oh, I've been so absorbed in the conversation, I almost forgot." Silvana pulls a folded piece of paper out of his pocket.
"Remember when I told you that it might help you deal with things to know a little more about Freestone."
"Yes, I have my laptop ready to go. But I have to say mostly dead ends so far."
"And I know why." Silvana hands me a list with five names. "Those are just a few of the aliases he's used. He's a complicated man who has left behind a very tangled web. The plane and even the yacht Maddox helped pick out of a luxury boat line-up from the Caribbean marina were all leased using a shell company under yet another fake name."
"Leased? Wow, so he isn't actually rich?"
"He's definitely rolling in money. Stock market genius, apparently, which makes sense since he's an actual genius. He just likes to keep the strings attached to him short. That yacht was a thirty thousand a week lease. Pretty big chunk of change for a boat that spent most of its time moored in the marina. In the meantime, all leases have been cancelled, leaving no tracks to the elusive Mr. Freestone."
"But it's all so elaborate. He went to school, earned degrees. How did he get away with all the aliases? There must be a social security number attached to the real Kane Freestone or whatever his real name might be."
Silvana sits forward. It's obvious he's loving his opportunity to do cyber research. It's equally obvious he's damn good at it. For months no one could find a thing about Freestone except that he was the founder of a secret society. "The mystery deepens the farther back in his past I dig," Silvana says.
"Is that right? How so?"
"I think he managed to hop from name to name without a lot of consequences because his real name, or the one he was given at birth, has been basically wiped from the records. I think he was placed in foster care or protective custody when he was ten. A kid matching his description and age range, I put him at about thirty—" he pauses for confirmation.
"Seems about right."
"Anyhow, this particular kid was dropped into the foster care system in the late nineties. He was moved from home to home, but he spent most of his high school years with one family, the Richford family in the small town of Greenfield in Northern California. During that time, he became Jeff Turnbill. I can't find out why but I'm working through the social service records in the late nineties to see if I can find the story."
"But they don't change kid's names in foster care."
"Not unless they needed to keep his name secret."
"Witness protection?" I ask.
"Maybe. Whatever it was, social services decided it was important to wipe his real name clean from the records. But if there's a will, there's a way." Silvana taps his temple. "And there is a will."
I laugh. "You really like this kind of work, don't you?"
"Yep, better than I like being out on the streets. But I won't tell Sheila that. She's kind of impressed with the whole detective thing."
"As she should be. Just be yourself tonight."
Silvana shakes his head. "Now, where have I heard that before? Oh yeah, your partner. You guys sure think alike."
Just his mention of my partner tugs at my heart. I try to avoid thinking about the strain between Maddox and me. When I get mired in it, I find myself tumbling into depression.
Silvana reaches over and pats my hand. "Hang in there. You two will be fine. There's just too much between you for you not to come out rosy and happy in the end."
"Unfortunately it's that long history between us that seems to be getting in the way. But thanks for the pep talk. It's just what I needed. Along with this glazed beauty." I pick up another donut.
"Well, I should head back to the city and get to work. Do you need anything else?"
"No, I think I'll shower and sit down at the computer." I pat the list of names. "You've got my curiosity gears turning. And don't worry, I won't mention it to Clark or Maddox."
Silvana's face droops with concern as he glances at the paper. "Don't do it unless you're really ready, Ten. I mean, what do I know? Maybe finding out about the guy will only make it harder for you. I'd hate to think—"
I stand up and hug him. "Give yourself credit for knowing stuff, Silvana. O.K.? You're a smart guy."
I walk him to the door. He stops and his face drops in thought. "I don't know if I've ever told you thank you, Ten." He looks back at me. "When I arrived at the precinct." His shoulders shrug lightly. "The story of my accidentally shooting my partner in the foot preceded me. I was a joke before I even got there. And everyone let me know it too. But not you. I walked into the lunch room on that first day. The other guys made it clear that I was not welcome at their table." He smiles. "You were eating a taco that you had stuffed with French fries and I remember thinking—now that is a damn fine way to eat a taco. When you pushed out a chair and called me over to sit . . ." His words choke off and he nods instead of finishing. He takes a deep breath. "I better get going. I'll call you if I find out anything interesting."
"Perfect." I watch him walk to his car. I wave and he smiles broadly back at me before I close the door.
12
Angie
The laptop is beckoning me but I decide to sit outside and feed the seagulls my leftover sandwich. While Silvana and I discussed it, my confidence that I could handle doing research on Kane Freestone was at its peak. But after a shower, a nap and a good hour sinking into a blue mood, my confidence disappeared.
A large group of gulls are huddled near the shoreline as I walk out with my leftover cheese sandwich. They don't even notice me. It seems my bird feeding idea is a failure until I break off a piece of the crust. One bird in the bunch, apparently one with super seagull hearing, pops his gray head up from the crouched mass of birds. His bright orange beak points my direction like a weather vane on a windy day. I toss the bread onto the sand and all hell breaks loose. A hurricane of gray and white feathers follows an orchestra of high, excited screeches. Suddenly I'm in the scene from a Hitchcock movie.
The earlier vision of me sitting calmly on the railroad ties gently tossing teeny morsels of food to polite, well-mannered birds is obliterated. Two of the birds hover just inches from my head. I scream and toss the entire sandwich toward the frenzied mass. Two birds dive past me. One grazes the top of my head. I scream again and step back so quickly, I stumble over the railroad ties. I close my eyes and brace for landing hard on the sand. Instead, arms catch me.
I spin out of Maddox's arms. He's dressed in a suit for court day, but he's taken off the tie and unbuttoned the top button.
"Guess the bird population started a revolution, eh?" He walks forward and shoos some of the more persistent ones.
"I made the mistake of feeding them."
Maddox turns back to look at me. With the coastal scenery behind him, it's hard not to just stare and take a deep, dreamy breath.
"Look at you all gussied up for court." I jump immediately into my teasing, sarcastic partner mode not knowing how to behave like the woman who loves him. "Must have been a short trial."
"It's that Dixon case. The woman we busted for selling crack out of the back of her Volvo near the park. The public defender for the case was so unorganized and unprepared, the judge ripped him a new asshole and called for a delay until he could get his shit together. So I find myself gussied up and looking like a store mannequin with nothing to do. Thought I'd come here in case you needed rescuing from rogue seagulls. Which you did. So good call, I guess."
We head inside. When we ignored the other side of our relationship, the one that sort of seeped out when neither of us was paying attention or planning on it, we could talk like two best friends. Sometimes, that's what I needed from him more than anything else. I just needed the guy who I could talk to about any damn thing and know if nothing else, he'd at least be listening.
Maddox pulls his coat off and turns to drop it over the chair. The white dress shirt reminds me of Kane. His broad shoulders always strained the fabric of the shirt too. But Kane's posture was always rigid and hard, like the man himself. Maddox is far more relaxed, more comfortable in his own skin. It's one of the many things I love about him.
"Are you hungry?" I ask. "Silvana brought some donuts. I've managed to only eat half of them. My self-control is like a bar of unbendable steel."
He laughs. It's a sound I've missed. "I'm good. I ate earlier." He sits on the couch and rolls up his sleeves the way Kane used to just before he'd invite me to sit naked on his lap. Like a man who was about to get down to some serious work of pleasuring me. Watching Maddox do it, sends hot pulses through my pussy. Aside from one crazed moment when Maddox held my wrists, prompting a sexual memory of the leather cuffs, a moment when I wasn't in my right mind and still wound tight from withdrawal, it's the first time I've felt aroused since coming off the nectar. There were times during my stay in the rehab facility when I wondered if I would ever feel excited again. It occurred to me that the prolonged state of arousal and hurricane of orgasms provided by Kane's special drug had drained me sexually. I worried that I'd been so sexually spent I could no longer feel desire, even for Maddox, a man I'd spent countless hours fantasizing about. I'm so relieved to feel the surge of heat between my legs, my eyes ache with tears.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
I whisk away the emotional moment. "Nothing. You look pretty damn heartbreaking in a dress shirt. That's all."
"So I've been told." He pats the couch next to him.
I sit down, primly, trying hard to ignore the sudden ache in my pussy. When he reaches over and takes my hand, I practically melt into the cushions. My breathing has sped up. All I can think about is his hand tucked between my thighs. The nectar is out of my bloodstream but it seems as if the memory of it, the memory of being taken to the height of pleasure again and again has been lodged permanently in my mind. I know now what my body is capable of and I want to feel the explosion of physical sensations again. But this is not Kane sitting next to me, plotting out his next highly sexual move. My body is no longer coursing with the drug that made me physically and mentally liquid with arousal. This feels entirely different. It's far more real. It comes with much more emotional investment and risk. I've dated plenty of men but never one who I actually loved.