Thicker than Water

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Thicker than Water Page 18

by Danae Ayusso


  “The thought had crossed my mind,” Colt said. “Alphabetically: border agent, firefighter, paramedic, search and rescue, sheriff’s department.”

  “Have background checks been done?”

  “Of course, but I have Probie digging deeper,” Colt said. “He should have the report by tomorrow morning.”

  Salvati chuckled. “Probie huh? You gave the department rookie a background check job? That’s something the FBI could do more thoroughly.”

  “On paper, yes,” Colt agreed. “But Probie was born and raised in Eureka, Montana, just like all of the people on the list. Your report would give tax records, criminal offenses, even juvenile records, but what he can pull would be much more helpful. We have faith in him otherwise we would have handed the grunt work off to the Feds.”

  “Thanks for that,” Salvati said with a chuckle. “I have enough shit to deal with at the moment. The old case files are as if they were put together by a bi-polar rookie. Half of the handwriting I can’t read, which is saying a lot since my mamma said I should have been a doctor with my chicken scratch. Then, the latest reports...where are you getting these new perspectives?” he asked pointblank.

  “Been watching CSI and Law and Order,” Colt said.

  “Fair enough, but who wrote the report from the fifth crime scene because it sure in the hell wasn’t you.”

  Colt looked over at him and smirked. “Prove it,” he said. “But before you start sticking your nose in what you think you know, look at my background and the agencies that I’ve assisted before and that will tell you all you need to know.”

  That should shut him up, at least Colt prayed that it would. Once Salvati sees U.S. Marshalls on Colt’s résumé that should, in theory, make him believe that there is someone in witness protection in the area and that would tie his hands. The U.S. Marshalls don’t give any information regarding those in their protection so they’d never confirm or deny Cat being in the program.

  Salvati huffed. “Damn it,” he grumbled; obviously he had already taken a look at Colt’s file to know.

  Thank God.

  For hours Cat cleaned the small cabin from top to bottom, making sure she wiped it clean of all fingerprints and trace evidence. Since Colt had been around, she started to get lax in her routine and that wasn’t acceptable. She had to be ready at a moment’s notice; her bags were always packed, laundry never piled up and was done the same day it was dirtied before it was repacked, all toiletries were single use, wigs, makeup and contacts were all untraceable, even the books lining the shelves were untraceable; they were from the secondhand store in town and held no real interest for her other than a means to pass the time.

  But what wasn’t dispensable was Colt.

  The FBI came a week ago and since then Cat’s been staying as hidden as possible. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that little Donato Salvati from the 49th would sign up with the Feds. She always knew he had it in him, but she figured he’d stick around the 49th for a few more years before taking that step. Something pushed him into it, but she didn’t know what, either way, she was proud of him.

  Colt was right, even though NYC is the most populated city in the US per square mile, New York’s finest were a close-knit bunch and the risk of Salvati blowing Cat’s cover was much too great to risk.

  As soon as Colt said Agent Salvati had given him the nickname Montana, Cat started to gather her things. He took the bag from her, after much force, and ignored the kidney shot and foot to the inside of his knee, which nearly dropped him, and he promised her that she wouldn’t be pulled into it and he’d make sure Salvati didn’t see her. Cat wanted to argue with him and punch him a few more times for telling her what she wanted to hear, but when she wrapped her hand around the door knob, leaving Colt standing in the living room with her bag in his hand, it felt as if something was crushing her heart and stabbing her in the stomach at the same time.

  Never had she felt that type of pain before, that type of reaction, and she knew that it was bad. What made it even worse, was when Colt wrapped his muscular arms around her and held her tight to his chest. But what scared her even more than the unfamiliar physical response to the thought of leaving, was that she didn’t think twice about wrapping her arms around him in return and allowed Colt to hold her.

  And since she came across the body of Five, they’ve spent every night together.

  “You just couldn’t reel it in, could you?” Cat said as she remade her bed for the tenth time that day. “No, you couldn’t. Not only is he white and from Montana and has a dead fiancée, but he’s a detective. What is it with you and men in law enforcement? You just can’t keep from falling for badges, huh? What would Madre say...actually, she’d like Fury, even though he’s white.”

  Cat tossed the pillows up on the bed and arranged them a few times until they were perfect. She liked goose down with cotton pillowcases and Colt liked the slightly firmer poly-filled with flannel pillowcases. She liked the side of the bed closest to the door and he liked the side by the blacked out window.

  She stood back and appraised the room, to make sure that everything was in order. The lamp on her bedside table had a thirty-watt bulb and the one on Colt’s side has a twenty-watt because he hated the hum of a thirty when trying to read. There were stacks of reports and notepads with pencils on each nightstand, and the picture of Frankie and Cat was moved to the dresser across from the bed that now housed Colt’s clothes. Her phone now had playlists containing country music. Colt’s cell phone mirrored hers and had access to the cabin’s secure feeds. His jackets and uniform shirts were hanging in the closet, his shoes and boots were tucked under his side of the bed...

  “Oh my god, we’re an old married couple,” she groaned when realization hit. “How in the hell did that happen?” she asked but didn’t care to know the answer. She and Frankie were the same way. They moved in together right after they graduated from the Academy since they quickly became best friends even though they were from opposite sides of the war. He was open and caring and she was closed off and secretive. She was up early and worked out, he stayed up late wooing women and complained when he had to get up before noon. They were total opposites, but they found themselves working and living together seamlessly. They were that old married couple that everyone on the force always teased them they were, but never did they deny it. They had their own rooms once they moved from Queens, they still kept nearly opposite schedules, but they went through everything side by side. They were partners from the moment they met in Krav Maga the first day at the Academy; she rolled him up and smacked him upside the head when he pouted.

  Cat sighed and looked at the picture on the dresser. “Frankie, I’m in trouble,” she mumbled before looking at her watch. “And now my old man will be back and wanting dinner...you really should have smacked me upside the head a few times for this one, Frankie,” she scolded then headed for the kitchen to finish cooking.

  There was a series of knocks at the door while she plated the Coda alla vaccinara she’d made for dinner. The sound of disengaging locks made her look up as she set the plates down on the eating bar.

  Colt popped his head in and waited until she nodded before he slipped inside then relocked the door behind him. “Evening, Ma’am,” he greeted with a nod.

  “Detective,” she greeted in return and tucked the gun hidden under the dishtowel on the counter back in the utensil drawer. “Making headway on the case?” she asked conversationally.

  He slipped out of his jacket and hung it on the hook behind the door. “None. It’s been the Feds throwing their weight around like they have all the answers while the backwoods hicks just sit around with their thumbs up their asses.”

  “But of course,” she dryly agreed. “Did you want to shower first?”

  “No, I’m starving...what is that?” he asked, taking a seat at the bar.

  “Coda alla vaccinara,” she said, sliding a glass of sweet tea to him before joining him for dinner. “It’s a Roman oxtail stew
in essence. Since you warned that another storm was headed this way, I figured I’d make some comfort food before I completely lose it...we’re an old married couple,” she blurted out.

  Colt looked over at her. “Excuse me?”

  Absently she poked at her stew with a fork. “I realized something, Fury. You know as well as I do that I’m a creature of habit, and believe it or not, I’ve been once since I was a child. Because of Padre and the life he lead, and how paranoid Madre was, routine was something that was a means to keep a person safe. Yes, sometimes that same routine can cause a person to become a target due to the predictable nature of the routine... I have a habit of falling for men in law enforcement, even if it’s unconsciously done or it’s strictly a platonic relationship, I still find myself getting into an old married couple routine with them because...honestly, I don’t know why, but I’ve done it again,” she said, the words spilling from her lips in a rush.

  He looked at her intently, trying to translate the expression on her face, but he was at a loss.

  “Fallen for someone with a badge or just slipped into the comfortable routine of playing house with a member of law enforcement?” he wanted to clarify.

  “Both,” she reluctantly admitted.

  Colt smiled and started eating; he liked her admittance. “I will agree,” he said between bites, “that we do have sex as much as most married couples.”

  Cat laughed.

  “Meaning never,” he continued then shoved another bite in his mouth. “I’ve never played house with someone before. Even when I lived in the main house I cleaned up after myself, did my own laundry, made my own food when Emma would let me, because I didn’t want to be a burden, so believe me when I say that it was never my intention. But I don’t regret it. You’ve kept me sane through this, and I should have thanked you for that sooner.”

  She nodded. “But still, doesn’t it seem strange to you that some broad from New York is playing house with you when you’ve got a serial killer to find?”

  “No, because it’s exactly what I needed,” he informed her. “Pope dictated the last five years of my life. He took away the only life that I knew. And, he forced me to face my demons, again, and to relive the nightmares of the past over and over, only now they have a new face, yours, and I’m not about to allow him to continue controlling my life from the shadows. I’m here because I want to be here, I need to be here... I’m not Frankie, and I’ll never be Frankie. I know that he was your best friend, you two were together in an unconventional way for years, but I’m not him and will never be him. If you want a short Italian ladies’ man, I can accept that. But if you’re willing to take a chance, a gamble, on an emotionally numb and messed up Detective from the backwoods of Montana who can’t stop thinking about you, then you won’t hear any complaints from me.”

  Cat sighed. “I wish you would complain.”

  “I won’t,” he informed her.

  “What about Vicks?” she pressed, praying for a way out of this; she didn’t want to hurt him and it was inevitable that she would.

  Colt forced a smile that quickly fell; he knew what she was doing. “I used to say love,” he said after a long moment of silence as he absently poked at his stew, “when talking and thinking about Vicks. I didn’t say loved as in past tense because, in my mind, I could only love one person, could only be with one person even if we hadn’t been like that. I thought that there would be only one person who could make me feel and believe as if I wasn’t the bastard son of the drunken preacher’s whore daughter, and that I wasn’t like my mother and grandfather, and wasn’t a push over like my dad or a felon like my biological father. Vicks made me believe that I could be more. But then I met you, and for the first time since meeting Vicks back in kindergarten and calling her my girlfriend on the playground, it was no longer love. It turned into loved because I have finally accepted that she’s dead, and she isn’t coming back, and the future that we could have had is no longer possible.

  “At first I was pissed at you for that,” he admitted and her face dropped. “But then I realized that I wasn’t pissed at you, I was pissed at myself. I allowed someone to take five years of my life away from me simply because I couldn’t believe that I was the man that my best friend said I could be. Yes, I needed to grieve. And I did. But I didn’t stop grieving and quickly that grieving turned into self-pity. Pope coming back may have been the reason why I got off of that mountain, but you are the sole reason why I haven’t gone back. You’re ready to run at a moment’s notice, your bags are packed, everything in your life is disposable, but I… Can I be the one non-disposable thing in your life?” he asked and looked up at her.

  Cat opened her mouth more than once, but she wasn’t entirely sure what to say.

  “You’ve made me realize,” he continued, “that the woman I thought I loved wasn’t the woman I belonged with. She was nice, sweet, naïve, wanted to keep the peace no matter what, and never put herself first. I loved her, but I hadn’t been in love with her in years. I went one way and she was eventually going to go the other. Reading her diary, it made me realize just how immature she truly was...I couldn’t even finish reading it. I got three-quarters of the way through and put it down because I was so pissed off that I didn’t see it before, that I was wasting both of our time, and was honestly keeping her back by trying to push her forward. Vicks wasn’t strong enough to handle someone like me. She needed a delicate touch and I’m not that guy,” he said with a huff. “And I never will be. And as much as I wanted to say that I was capable of being the man who could love her and appreciate her and her infantile nature, I can’t. I need someone who challenges me, is my equal if not better than me, someone who is one of the guys, in essence, and doesn’t mind hanging out and going over forensic reports, someone doesn’t have a weak stomach, will play video games and let me cheat.”

  Cat chuckled.

  “But most importantly, I need someone that I don’t have to wait for to grow up, who is already the woman that I never knew I needed. And as much as it kills me to say it, it’s you. You’re that mouthy woman who’s one of the guys and a total ball breaker, will always do what is right no matter what, and isn’t afraid to tell it like it is. I know you don’t plan on staying long, but I’d like to be the reason why you contemplate staying a little longer.”

  He lifted her chin with his finger and closed her mouth which had fallen open.

  “I’m going to shower,” he said. “I pray that you’ll still be here when I return.”

  Once the bathroom door was closed behind him, Cat gasped, struggling to catch her breath. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. The closest she got was Frankie asking if that meant that they had to get married now—her response was a hard smack upside the head—so Colt’s words, admission and request nearly knocked her on her ass.

  None of her training had prepared her for this....

  But what was this?

  She wasn’t entirely sure.

  Was Detective Colt Fury asking to be her boyfriend? An a-sexual non-intimate husband? Fuck buddy? Better question, did she want him to be any of the above?

  Cat pushed her hand through her hair in frustration. “Damn it. I should have never gone for that run.”

  ****

  Colt stood in the water and fought the urge to bash his forehead into the tiled shower wall. He hadn’t meant to say any of that to Cat, but the look in her eyes told him that she was thinking of running again. Something had spooked her, something much more devastating, in her mind, than a serial killer with a taste for tall, dark haired women, or whomever she’s running from in New York.

  No, this was a million times more terrifying: the realization that something was happening between them.

  Colt didn’t know what was happening between them, and considering Cat was the most reserved, keep everything to herself, never open up or divulge any information about her or where she came from or who she really is person he’s ever met, so it wasn’t a surprise that Colt
didn’t know what she was thinking or thought was happening between them, if anything. But he had hoped that she’d eventually let her guard down enough to tell him the truth, to tell him her real name and who she is, but it’d been less than two weeks since meeting so he didn’t expect that any time soon.

  When he saw the look in her eyes, the fear that was shadowed behind the light blue, he knew that he had to say something. He just didn’t think that he wouldn’t be able to stop once he started.

  “Why didn’t she say anything?” he grumbled under his breath. “Then again, when does she ever?” he countered. “Damn it, just give me a chance. Please.”

  Once dried off, Colt noticed that he had been in such a rush to hide from her that he forgot to grab some clean clothes. “Most likely she’ll be gone,” he reminded himself and wrapped the towel around his waist and exited the bathroom and headed to the bedroom.

  “I’ve always been like that,” Cat said from the bed where she sat, causing Colt to jump, startled. “Madre hated it, she used to remind me Casa senza fimmina 'mpuvirisci… How poor is a home without a woman. She wanted a princess and she got a co…me,” she explained, looking at her hands intently. “For the longest time I thought I had disappointed her because I knew, when I was very young mind you, what I wanted to do and be. She said it wasn’t possible, and that they wouldn’t allow it, and most importantly, Padre wouldn’t allow it. But I couldn’t live by their motto. A rubar poco si va in galera, a rubar tanto si fa cariera... Steal a little, go to jail; steal a lot, make a career of it. That wasn’t me. Mio fratello lived by that motto, and it took him from us…” her words trailed off and she closed her eyes.

  “You had a brother?” Colt whispered as he stepped into his sweatpants before dropping his towel.

  She looked from her hands to him. “If you want to call him that...Your Italian is surprisingly good for someone who only babysat a snitch for a few weeks,” she commented, trying to change the subject as her eyes lingered down his bare chest.

 

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