Deeper

by Ronica Black

  Erin rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that.”

  “The hell it isn’t. She’s always had it bad for you. Written all over her uptight little face.”

  She fought off a blush. “We aren’t like that, J.R.”

  “Not yet.” He grinned again. “She know you’re poking around the case?”

  “No. She wouldn’t be happy.” But she was going to keep trying. Liz didn’t deserve to be hounded for something she didn’t do. It wasn’t right, and Erin would do anything to help. Anything less would seem like a betrayal of all they’d shared.

  “Well then, poke her first.” He winked. “Then you might get somewhere with the case.”

  After they paid the check, they walked outside and parted with a long hug. J.R. kissed her roughly on the cheek and made her promise to call him if she needed anything. She nodded and waved, watching him drive off, car thumping to the beat of a local Latino station. The blowing breeze caressed her cheeks gently. She wished it could lift her up and carry her away. Her heart ached, dull and irritating, a small, black rock beating in her chest, keeping her alive and moving, but nothing else.

  She was surprised when she found herself behind the wheel of her Toyota, the sun shimmering off the hood, soothing her. She drove eastward, staring straight ahead, entranced. When she reached Erotique Studios, she again felt the small sting of surprise. What was she doing here? She didn’t know.

  She climbed from the car and headed for the door. Her index finger punched in the code but the door didn’t open. She stood staring at the small monitor screen, numb. A whoosh caught her attention. Don had pushed open the door and was smiling at her.

  “Erin, come on in.”

  She tried to return the smile but couldn’t. She followed him inside. The building smelled the same, like new office equipment and industrial carpet. She trembled when she caught the lingering scent of Liz’s cologne.

  “Is she here?” The voice was hers but she almost didn’t recognize it.

  Don stepped backward toward her, cupping her elbow. “Yes.” His eyes were bright and concerned. “Are you okay?”

  “I need to see her.”

  Just then the door to Liz’s office opened and Liz stood in a dark business suit, eyes cast downward on the papers Reggie was holding. They had apparently been in a meeting. Reggie nodded and walked away, but stopped midstride when he saw Erin. He looked back to his boss.

  Liz stood very still, her gaze fiercely fixed on Erin. Her face gave away nothing. Erin felt Don stiffen next to her. She gave him a small smile of thanks and walked toward Liz. When Liz didn’t move, Erin stepped beyond her and into her office, where she waited by the desk. Her small, desolate heart began to beat wildly in her chest, spreading the blood through her body. Seeing Liz, smelling Liz, it was killing her. She wanted to die, to collapse in Liz’s arms, but she fought to stay strong. She waited, refusing to turn around.

  Liz came to the desk slowly, rounding it to stand by her chair. Her face was strong and striking, yet pale and wounded. Erin wanted to touch it. She wanted to caress it. She wanted to place kisses along the jawline.

  “Something I can do for you?” Liz’s voice was as cold as her blue eyes. But Erin saw the hint of red at the base of her throat, the jump in her pulse.

  “You can tell me what the hell it is you’re doing,” Erin rasped.

  Liz’s fingers gripped the top of her chair. “Excuse me?”

  “Why are you pushing me away?” Erin had to know. Couldn’t rest until she knew.

  “I’m not the one who left.”

  Erin wanted to scream but she was too weak. “Don’t play games, Liz. You wanted me to go.” She braced her hands on the large, antique desk, resisting the memory of having made love on it just a couple of weeks ago. “Did you cheat, Liz?”

  Liz pushed the intercom button on the phone. “Reggie, I need those latest numbers.”

  “Sure thing,” he responded.

  Erin forced her voice up her raw throat. “Answer me.”

  Liz began rearranging papers. “There’s nothing more to say.” But Erin heard the hesitance in her voice.

  “Did you fuck that blonde just to get rid of me? Or had you been doing her all along?”

  “You can see yourself out,” Liz said, avoiding her gaze.

  Erin rounded the desk, causing Liz to straighten with surprise. Erin grabbed her shoulders. “Tell me. I need to know.”

  Liz’s jaw flexed. “There’s nothing to say.”

  “Tell me you don’t love me.”

  Liz stared.

  “Say it,” Erin demanded. “Say you don’t want me.”

  A knock came from the door. Liz reached down to push the button to grant entry but Erin caught her by the wrist.

  “You say it first. You say it and I’ll leave you alone, Elizabeth Adams. I’ll walk out that door and out of your life.”

  Liz tensed and Erin caught sight of a bruise ringing her wrist.

  “What’s this?” she asked. “What happened?”

  Liz pulled her hand away. She didn’t even blink. “I don’t want you.” The words came out as a ragged whisper.

  Erin felt the jolt of their meaning stab deep into her bones. She heard movement behind her and turned. Reggie hovered in the doorway, looking about as ashen as Erin felt. The tension in the air was stifling. He offered her a polite smile but she couldn’t return it.

  She walked from the office to the outer door, ignoring hellos from other employees. When she stepped out into the sunshine, her eyes and body recoiled at its brightness, as if she were an angry vampire.

  She wiped away tears. She imagined them to be black. Black like her blood.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It did a strange thing to Patricia’s heart to know that Erin was at her home and that she had someone to make dinner for. Her chest filled with warmth as she glanced over at her, as if her heart were full of love and contentment and then someone had squeezed it so its insides flooded her chest. She felt really good despite the stress of her current caseload. She’d worked nearly three days straight after De Maro’s body was found and she was exhausted, more than ready for a relaxing evening of cooking and chatting with Erin.

  “You’re making dinner, I see.” Erin slid onto a bar stool, her eyes trained on the salad.

  “Therapy,” Patricia said with a soft smile. “It helps me unwind. I hope you’re hungry.”

  A sad look overcame Erin’s face. That’s when Patricia noticed that her eyes looked dull, as if drained of color.

  “I haven’t been,” Erin said.

  Patricia grabbed a large tomato and began dicing. The chicken and potatoes were in the oven, warming the kitchen with their scent. She hoped the home-cooked meal would cheer them both up, revitalize them.

  “Where have you been going every day?” she asked, tying to sound lighthearted. She knew Erin had been going out. She’d called the house and get no answer. She got the same thing when dialing Erin’s cell.

  “Today I went to the library.”

  “Oh? Get anything good?”

  Erin was staring beyond her, as if in her own world.

  “Mac?”

  “Huh?” she snapped back.

  “I asked if you got anything good? As in books?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Sure.”

  Patricia studied her for a few moments. She’d lost some weight and Patricia knew she wasn’t sleeping well, having heard her up and moving around in the middle of the night on more than one occasion. She was worried about her, and hated that she hadn’t been at home to help her more during this emotionally trying time.

  “How have you been feeling about things?” she asked. “Any better?”

  “About the same.”

  “Have you heard from Liz?” She asked the question gently, her curiosity getting the better of her. It wasn’t like Adams to just let something go. Especially if Erin was the one who did the leaving. The Adams Patricia knew would be doing all she could to win Erin back.

 
“No.”

  Patricia dropped the chunks of tomato in the salad. “Do you want to talk to her? Maybe you should make the first move.”

  She didn’t know why she was suggesting anything at all in regard to Adams. Actually, Erin was better off without her. But still, Patricia couldn’t stand to see her so sad and so defeated. Erin wasn’t like other people she knew. When Erin felt, she really felt. Down deep.

  “I’ve tried,” Erin said. “I went to see her at the studio. It’s no good. It’s over.”

  Silence.

  “I’m sorry,” Patricia offered yet again. She didn’t know what else to say. Erin looked as if she would shatter into a million pieces and blow away in the wind. “Really, Mac, I am.”

  Erin gave a small laugh, surprising her. “If Liz could only hear you now.”

  “What do you mean?” She stirred in some of her homemade dressing and tossed the salad with large wooden salad tongs.

  Erin seemed a little hesitant all of a sudden and didn’t answer.

  “What? What is it?”

  “She thought you hated her. Thought that you would do anything to ruin her or to come between her and me.”

  Patricia set the tongs down. “Is that what you think?”

  It was true, she did have feelings for Erin. Feelings that went beyond friendship. And a small twinge of hope lurked deep in her chest now that things were over with Liz. But try to come between them? No. She wanted Erin’s happiness. First and foremost.

  “No.” Erin met her eyes. “I’ve always defended you. In fact, that’s what the last fight was about.”

  Patricia didn’t speak.

  “She found out about us,” Erin confessed.

  “Us?”

  “The night we were…together.”

  Patricia looked away, the memory nearly overwhelming. The twinge grew arms, thick, veiny branches, and then turned inside her gut. “You told her?”

  “I didn’t have to. She figured it out.” Erin glanced down at her hands. “And she found your book. The latest romance.”

  Patricia picked up the salad bowl and carried it to the table. She needed to move. Her blood was moving hot and thick under her skin. She crossed back to the kitchen drawers to retrieve knives and forks. Erin remained at the bar, looking at her hands, obviously deep in thought.

  “Was it about me?” Erin asked.

  Patricia stiffened as she placed the knives next to the forks on the table. She looked over at Erin, who sat very still, looking so lost and confused. Yet she was still so beautiful with her all-knowing, all-loving green eyes and heart-melting smile. She was still as modest and as kind as she ever was.

  Erin’s appeal, her beauty, her ability to love and care so deeply was what had driven Patricia to write the book. She hadn’t been able to get Erin from her mind after the Seductress Murders case was closed. She’d written a book about the murders and then returned to the precinct with cabin fever, eager to throw herself into work once more. But her head kept returning to Erin. Writing about her was the only way she could manage her emotions. Liz might have taken Erin off on a yacht, but Patricia had had Erin all to herself in her mind.

  Erin was watching her. And Patricia knew she could see the answer on her face.

  “I think the chicken’s done.” She moved to the oven and slid out their dinner. After placing the chicken and diced potatoes and peppers on two plates, she returned to the table.

  Erin rose to pour them both some iced tea.

  “I think I’d like some wine,” Patricia said, sliding a bottle of merlot from the wine cooler on the adjacent counter.

  Her nerves were rapidly firing and she could feel Erin’s eyes on her, feel her questions. She knows about the book. She knows it was about her. She’s read the love scenes. She’s crawled inside my mind.

  This wasn’t good, not with the way her libido had been screaming at her lately. She was extremely raw and Erin had just peeled back her last layer. Her hands shook as she pulled down the wineglasses. Hurriedly, she set them down and opened the bottle. The red liquid made a glugging noise as she filled the glasses. She took several large sips before joining Erin at the table. She liked her merlot chilled. And at the moment, she liked it a lot.

  “How’s the chicken?” she asked before either of them had time to try it.

  Erin stared at her. “Are you okay?”

  “Hmm? Yes, I’m fine.” She cut into the chicken and forced herself to eat. Then she had some more wine.

  Erin also drank the wine and allowed Patricia to refill it. Eventually she asked, “How are things going? I heard you found two more bodies during the search.”

  “You heard correctly.”

  “Anything new? Anything useful?”

  Patricia chewed slowly. The change in topic was welcome, yet not especially warming. “We’re not sure yet.”

  “How was the condition? Too decomposed to tell much of anything?” Erin cut her chicken into small pieces as she asked her questions.

  “You know I can’t divulge that kind of information.”

  Erin’s knife and fork slid to a stop, nestled in the chicken breast. “Forgive me, I forgot.” Her tone was clipped and her eyes remained down.

  Patricia lowered her fork. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you.”

  “It’s not?” Erin lifted her eyes and pinned her with a thorny look. “Because that’s what it sounds like. Like you don’t trust me, like I’m some sort of crazy civilian obsessed with a case.”

  “You are a civilian,” Patricia said softly.

  Erin released her silverware and shoved her plate away. “And…” She rose. “You don’t trust me.”

  Patricia stood as well, placing her hands palm down on the table. “I can’t forget the fact that you compromised a previous case, no. Or the fact that you were released of duty from the department for that very reason. Those are serious issues and I still don’t understand why you did it.”

  Erin stood across from her, arms folded over her chest. She seemed wound so tight she could lose her balance if slightly nudged.

  “What if it was me? What if I was accused of murder, Patricia? And you knew I was innocent but no one believed you. What would you do?”

  Patricia stared at her, trying to make sense of her words. “I don’t understand.”

  “Would you let me go down? With the way you feel about me?”

  Patricia felt herself go heavy with the weight of the question. “What?”

  “Would you try and help me, no matter what the costs, because you love me?”

  “I…”

  “Would you sacrifice your job for love, Patricia? For me?”

  “I would do what was right,” she finally said.

  “Which would be what?”

  “I would follow the law.” There was no question. No doubt in her mind. It was who she was.

  “The law.” Erin looked away. When she looked back to her, her eyes were full of tears. “Well, that’s the difference between you and me. What’s right to me, it isn’t governed by any law. The law has nothing on love.”

  She turned then and headed out of the kitchen toward the living room. Patricia followed, unsure of her motives but very much aware that Erin was hurting. “Wait,” she whispered, coming up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  “Don’t, please.” Erin turned. Her eyes were crystal green again; the tears had brought back the color.

  Patricia reached out and thumbed away a tear. Her heart bled for Erin. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what? For hiding your feelings for me? For falling in love with me and writing a fucking book about it without telling me? For letting me in your house, letting me sleep in the next room while completely untrusting me?” She sucked in a quick breath. “What exactly are you sorry for, Patricia?”

  Patricia couldn’t speak. Her hands seemed to melt into Erin’s face. Hot tears glued the two of them together. Erin was there. In her home. In her arms. Something she’d wanted for so long. Something she�
��d dreamt of and never thought would happen again. She pulled her closer. Erin’s full rose lips beckoned, parted in raw emotion.

  “I’m sorry for all of it. I’m…” She stepped into her then and kissed her lips, the final words needing to be pushed into her rather than spoken. One word after another. I’m sorry. I love you. I need you.

  Erin made a small noise of surprise. Their lips pressed together in moist warmth, once, twice, three times. Hot breath spilled from them both.

  “The book,” Erin whispered. “It was about me.” She wasn’t asking. She wanted Patricia to tell her. To say it.

  “Yes.” The word eased up and out of her chest. A hot mist of truth.

  “Why?”

  The reasons why were right in front of Patricia, mixing in the very air she breathed. Yet there were no words. The words had already been said. Stamped in ink on hundreds of pages. “You, Erin. That’s why.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Patricia was still holding her face. She couldn’t let go. Wouldn’t. “You were happy. With Liz.”

  Another tear slipped down her face. It slid under Patricia’s palm. “I love Liz,” Erin whispered.

  Patricia smiled at the confession. Erin’s honesty warmed her. “I know.” She stared again into those beckoning lips. “I know.”

  She kissed her again. Hot, wet. Tears, love. Erin kissed her back, first with a soft moan, offering her surrender. Patricia reacted quickly, pressing her harder, leading her up against the wall.

  “I wish I was in the book,” Erin said, drawing away. “That the story was real, something I could open up and dive into, leaving this world behind. I don’t want to be me anymore, Patricia. I want the fantasy. Even if just for a little while.”

  “Okay.” Patricia understood what she needed. She understood it better than anyone else could. Getting lost in the fantasy was the very reason she wrote.

  Erin’s hands rose to tangle in her hair. Then her tongue slid over Patricia’s lower lip. Patricia heard herself groan and then she met Erin’s tongue with her own.

  Sweet, slick velvet bliss.

  They stood fused, Patricia pressing Erin against the wall, Erin clinging to her, kissing her hard. They moaned, short and loud. Patricia kissed her just as hard, struggling to breathe. She shoved her hands beneath Erin’s shirt, pushing her bra up, eager to graze the firm nipples. When Erin cried out, Patricia pulled her mouth away to lower herself. She met the right breast with her hungry flattened tongue, marking it heavily with her saliva. Then she closed her mouth over it and fed.