Good Cop, Bad Cop

by Lily Harlem

  “Of course we know what you mean,” Jose snapped.

  Baldy grinned, flashing his gold tooth work. “So, I’ll go back to port, spread the word that I spotted India Moore heading that way, being specific about the island, and then all you have to do is sit and wait.”

  “Yeah, like sitting fucking ducks,” Jose said, shaking his head and tightening his lips into a flat, straight line. “Just waiting for all the loopy fuckers in Florida to come our way.”

  “It’s a long journey, only someone really intent on finding India will be up for an open ocean ride like that.”

  “You did,” I said.

  “I was intent on finding you,” Baldy said with a shrug.

  “It makes sense,” Dillon said. “It gives us the upper hand.” He looked at me. “What do you think, India?”

  My God, he was asking me? I would have sworn Dillon was the kind of man who did his own thing regardless of what everyone else thought. I pondered his question for a moment. “We have to do something. I can’t go back to my normal life.” I laughed. “Not that it’s anyone else’s normal, but you know what I mean, and wait for him to contact me again. This time he might just pull his sick plan off.” The thought of how close he’d been to me sent a chill to my bones. “Plus.” I reached for Jose’s hand. “You won’t be with me back in the real world. And it’s you I trust to sort this out.”

  “Ah, sweet,” Baldy said in a very un-sweet voice and giving a leery smile.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Dillon said, standing. “This is what’s going to happen. You’re going to give us the plotting for this place and we’ll decide if it suits our needs. Meanwhile, you can get your ass back to Fort Lauderdale and start spreading the word that India’s not dead and is possibly on this island of yours. You know what the guy looks like and my hunch is he’ll be hanging around that restaurant or by the pier, hoping for tip offs.” He paused. “Go give him one.”

  “Maybe we should call Tommy, too, let him know I’m okay,” I said.

  “No, we’ll just let our mate here spread the word. It will travel like wild fire. I’d say your team will be out here pretty sharpish too. No need to call Tommy.”

  I could tell Dillon wouldn’t be swayed so I shut my mouth.

  “Then,” Baldy said, “I reckon you’ll have a full day until he gets to you, which means if you arrive on the island by nightfall tonight, you’ll have thirty-six hours before you’re disturbed.” He waggled his brows in a disgustingly suggestive way.

  Jose lifted his gun, pointed it at Baldy’s face. “Keep your mind out of the sewer, asshole. We’re protecting India, nothing more.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He stood. “Whatever you say.” He looked at Dillon. “I’ll do that charting and then we can go our separate ways.”

  “Wait,” I said, standing. Something didn’t add up. Baldy didn’t strike me as a guy with a big, generous heart. “Why are you doing this?”

  “For the scoop. The only thing I ask is that when all this is over I get an exclusive interview with you and I’m the first journalist to let the world know all the details of your terrifying ordeal.”

  Dillon and Jose both looked at me, blank expressions on their faces. This was my territory. Fame.

  “Sure.” I shrugged. “If I’m still alive.”

  Jose caught my jaw in his hand and tilted my face to his. “Of course you will be. We won’t let anything happen to you so don’t even think otherwise, let alone say it.”

  “I’d also like the gossip on you and Officer Lover Boy too, if that wouldn’t be too much trouble.” Baldy rubbed his podgy hands together.

  “Go do the damn plotting,” Dillon snarled, “before I decide the sharks need that treat after all.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  I sat at the very front of the boat, my legs dangling over the side and my chest leaning onto the wire rail. The bow sliced through the dark water, which frothed and curled beneath me and occasionally splashed my feet and left dark drips on my bandage.

  Dillon had been steering us toward the horizon at break-neck speed for nearly two hours—a ferocious look of determination on his face and a white-knuckle grip on the wheel.

  Now the sky had become a wash of lilacs, pinks and purples and in the distance blocks of land were rising like dark mountains. Soon we would be at our stakeout house. To try to calm my nerves I sang a song from my sixth album, one that seemed to match the beat of the boat bobbing along. It worked, and the tale of Fanny Ann leaving Texas to see the Eiffel Tower lightened my mood a fraction.

  “That’s nice,” Jose said.

  I stopped singing and turned. He was holding onto the rail, his legs absorbing the jostling movements of the boat and his hair catching in the breeze. He’d put on a dark green T-shirt and it flapped and flattened against his torso.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  He maneuvered himself next to me, settled his long legs over the side of the boat and held the rail. “We’ll be there in a matter of minutes.”

  “I know.”

  “And then we need to relax, get our bearings, gather our strength and wait for the asshole to walk into our honey-trap.”

  “Do you really think he will?”

  He shrugged. “That’s anyone’s guess, but if he’s managed to keep tabs on your movements so closely in the past, chances are he’s pretty sharp on finding out the low-down.”

  “So you think he’ll come?”

  Jose tightened his lips and stared at the island closest to us, the one we were heading straight for. “Yes, I do.”

  It was impossible to bolt down the glut of fear that surged through me. I gripped the wire railing and closed my eyes. Sucked in a deep breath and held it.

  Shit.

  “But it’s okay,” he said, brushing a lock of my hair that had become trapped by the wind and was fluttering wildly over my cheek. “We’re here, we’ll take care of you. We have coped with much harder bastards than him in the past with our eyes closed.” He pressed his lips to my temple, spoke onto my skin. “I promise, this is all going to be okay. Dillon wouldn’t be risking it if he didn’t think the odds were in our favor.”

  I opened my eyes and turned to him. “And you, what about how you see the risk?”

  He tilted his head. “These days I go with Dillon’s instincts. Time has proved it’s the right way to go.”

  He seemed so resigned that I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to Jose to make him live in Dillon’s shadow. But that thought didn’t sit well with me. Jose was larger than life, a big tough guy who no one in their right mind would cross. Why would he rely on Dillon so much?

  Jose turned to stare at our destination as it loomed like a black shadow before us. The same faraway look passed over his face that he’d had in the galley, when the coastguard had approached us. I didn’t disturb him, left him to his thoughts and whatever images were running through his mind.

  Jose was a man I had yet to figure out, if indeed I ever would.

  “Its better than I’d imagined,” Dillon said with an approving nod.

  I studied the villa’s dark profile. It was a good size, had a straw thatched roof and mature palms and ferns in the garden. There was no pool but the front patio stretched downward and ended on the beach, from which the pier stretched out and now held our boat secure. Behind the villa was a huge dark expanse of trees. They seemed both menacing and comforting. Somewhere to hide, but at the same time a place for intruders to lurk undetected.

  “Here it is.” Jose lifted up a statue of a flamingo and exposed a brass key.

  “Great,” Dillon said. “You go inside and I’ll walk the perimeter fence.” He turned to me. “Go with Jose, you look tired.”

  “I’m okay.” I didn’t want Dillon to leave. I wanted us all to stay together. “I’ll come with you, Jose could too.”

  “No.” Dillon stepped close, touched his nose to mine. “I need you to rest, little lady. I get the feeling its going to be a
busy night.”

  “But you said he wouldn’t be here for at least another thirty-six hours.” I glanced out to sea, half expecting to see the madman speeding toward me.

  “No, no.” Dillon turned my face back to his. “Not that kind of busy.” His eyes narrowed and he licked his lips. “Good kind of busy—sexy, hot, dirty kind of busy.”

  “Oh.” Desire suddenly screeched through me. It was as though I’d had neat lust injected into my veins. Of course it had gone through my mind that we could enjoy some quality alone time, but it wasn’t until now, this moment, the anticipation took hold and my body reacted.

  Dillon skimmed his lips over mine then strode away, his feet crunching on the gravel pathway.

  “Sexy, dirty, busy is my favorite kind of work,” Jose said, wrapping an arm around my waist and tugging me close, “and you and I have some catching up to do.”

  “Mmm, if I recall we were rudely interrupted by Dillon the first time and our bald reporter friend the second.”

  “Dillon didn’t really interrupt us, you were done.”

  “But you weren’t,” I said, my voice low and husky. I became hyper-aware of every beat of my heart and each sweet breath of his that washed over my cheek and neck. I reached down and smoothed my hand over his groin and was rewarded with a rapidly thickening cock beneath my palm.

  “I’m a big boy, I can handle it.”

  “Yes,” I whispered, “I know you’re a big boy.”

  He released a little groan as I upped the pressure. “Besides, it was really damn horny watching Dillon fuck you.”

  “How long were you sitting there, watching us?” I’d been completely caught up in Dillon and what he was doing to me. The rest of the world had ceased to exist; we were in our own erotic dimension. Seeing Jose so near to us after I’d orgasmed had been a complete shock.

  “Long enough to know having those cuffs on and him holding you trapped turned you on.” He slid his hand from my waist, up over my breast and to my neck. He rubbed his thumb over my pulse. “I think you enjoyed giving up control, completely letting go and allowing someone else to be in charge of your pleasure.”

  I thought about what he’d said, still stroking his cock through his shorts. “Yes, I suppose.”

  “You never do, do you?”

  “What?”

  “Completely let go. The great India Moore always has to have a hand on the wheel.”

  “I have my hand on you right now.” I’d spoken onto his lips. They were slightly damp—he’d just licked them. “It’s how I am, it’s how I’ve got where I am. Though, of course, Tommy—”

  “Shh, no talk of Tommy.” His hand tightened on my neck, so it was slightly uncomfortable but at the same time exciting, dangerous almost. “He’s not here. And he’s not your lover.”

  “Neither are you,” I whispered, watching how the twilight shadows danced on his face.

  “That is just about to change.”

  I was forced to release his cock as he scooped me up against his chest and marched toward the villa.

  On the top step he set me down. “Wait here,” he said, unlocking the door and swinging it open to the darkness.

  “No, please, take me with you.” I gripped his arm.

  He frowned at me. His biceps tensed.

  “Please.” I didn’t want to be alone.

  “Okay, but stick close, we need to do a recky of each room.” He gripped my hand and dragged me behind him. I wasn’t sure when he’d got his gun out but it now entered each room before we did.

  The routine was the same for the living-cum-kitchen area, the one bedroom and the bathroom. Light on, gun sweep and then a closer look at each corner.

  “It’s not big, but it will do,” he said, setting his gun on the coffee table and quickly shutting the yellow and brown curtains. The color reminded me of squishy, over-ripe bananas.

  I stared at the picture over the electric fire. It was of macaws perching on a branch. Not particularly artistic but very colorful, a bit like everything in the house.

  “Come here,” Jose said, cupping my cheeks in his palms. “It’s time for me and you to even up the score.”

  “I didn’t realize you were both keeping count.”

  “Of course.” He kissed across my cheek, settling his mouth at my ear. “We’re quite happy to share, but that doesn’t mean we’re not competitive.” He squeezed me close and his erection prodded my stomach.

  A shudder of lust ran up my spine. My nipples were tight against the baggy T-shirt I wore and my pussy was dampening. I wanted Jose to fuck me, now. However he wanted, it didn’t matter that Dillon had made me come harder, faster and with more intensity than anyone else ever had earlier in the day. Now it was all about Jose and the particular brand of ecstasy I was sure he could provide.

  I slid my hands up the smooth, tanned skin that stretched taut over the rippling muscles of his back. “Fuck me, Jose. I feel like I’ve been waiting for you forever.”

  He growled, low and deep in his throat, and between one breath and the next I was tipped over the orange sofa and staring down at the cushions. A yank and a rip told me my panties had gone.

  “Fuck, I hope there are condoms around here.” His body heat left me.

  “No.” I half turned, gripping the cushion so I could see him. “No, it’s fine, I’m on the pill and as long as you’re clean, then—”

  “I’m clean, there’s been no one I haven’t used a condom with since…” His voice trailed off. He dropped his hands to his sides and stilled.

  Something in my stomach plummeted. “Jose?” I stood and faced him. Stilled also and quieted my voice. “Since…?”

  He shook his head, just the tiniest amount.

  I cupped his face the way he had mine earlier and kissed him, slowly, gently. Whatever Jose wasn’t telling me was clearly powerful enough to stop him, even when getting primeval and carnal. He needed handling with care.

  He kissed me back, softly at first, then the passion grew and his tongue probed and delved. “Ah, honey,” he said, backing me up against the sofa. “Lie down, I want to look at your face as I sink into you for the first time.”

  “Yes, yes.” The backs of my knees hit the soft cushion and I rested down, lifting my T-shirt and tossing it aside as I went.

  “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” he said, shucking off his shorts and kicking them away. “Open your legs.”

  I hesitated. It felt so wanton to just bare my damp pussy. I was sure it would be glistening with moisture and the scent of my arousal would waft upward.

  “Please.”

  The plea in his voice was almost tangible so I did as he’d asked, all the time eyeing his cock jutting toward me. Cool air washed over my pussy and I tipped my pelvis to give him a good view.

  “Fuck…” He shoved his hand through his hair then rested down between my legs and pressed his mouth to my left inner thigh.

  A sudden sharp, sucking pain made me flinch. “Ouch.”

  He stopped and looked up. “I want to put my mark on you, too.” He spoke in a low, dark voice. “You’re both of ours, right?”

  I thought of the hickey on my neck and nodded. “Yes,” I said, touching the top of his head. “Yes, Jose, do it.”

  He resumed his task. Sucking and kissing, drawing my delicate flesh into his mouth. It hurt but I gave in to the pain. This was good pain—not only did it prove I was alive, it was a sign of how much Jose wanted me and how much I wanted him.

  He pulled back, smoothed his finger over my damp, stained skin and licked his lips. “Lord, give me stamina,” he muttered before shifting up and over me.

  His weight pressing down was perfect. His chest was hard and unyielding against my softly sideways-sloping breasts, his thighs wide and thick between mine.

  He stared into my eyes, found my pussy and squeezed in.

  “Ah, ah, oh fuck,” I gasped.

  He froze, anxiety flashing across his face. “Am I hurting you?”

  “Good hurt,” I said, grip
ping his biceps and willing my pussy to relax. “Don’t stop.”

  “I don’t think I could.” He frowned, creasing his forehead into three neat lines, and gained more entry.

  “Oh, fucking hell,” I moaned. “Son of a bitch, you’re stretching me so damn much.” I parted my legs farther, loving the erotic nips of pain shooting through my pussy.

  A smile twitched his mouth.

  “What?” I managed, catching a handful of his hair in my fist.

  “I love your gutter mouth.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, you look so innocent. America’s Sweetheart, but you can swear like a trooper.”

  “It’s just an image,” I said. “Oh, Jesus, Jose, that’s so good.” He was seated to the hilt now, his pubis flattening my clit.

  “Tell me about it. But I reckon you could take more.”

  “What do you mean.”

  “Ah, you’re tight, but so fucking perfect for it. For both of us.”

  “Jose—?”

  He began to move, soft, rocking hip-rolls that tortured and delighted all my sweet spots inside and out. I forgot to question his words.

  I tried to kiss him, but my lips wouldn’t work. My whole body was centered on my pelvis, the pressure blooming.

  I clutched him closer.

  He rested his forehead on mine, swept his arms beneath my shoulders and trapped me against his body, hard and tight.

  I gasped for breath—my orgasm was raging toward me.

  “India,” he said hotly, the word steaming into my mouth gaping below his. “Tell me you’re really here.”

  “Yes, I’m here. Oh, God, and so are you. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

  “And I’m making you feel good.”

  “Can’t you tell? Jose, fuck, I’m coming…”

  He threw back his head, squeezed his eyes shut so tight his black-as-night lashes meshed and tangled. With one almighty surge he rammed balls deep.

  I split apart, exploding in ecstasy. The sensation of coming around his rigid cock and blasting my clit onto his steely pubic bone sent me into a tailspin I wasn’t sure I would come out of.

  “Ah, yes, yes, yes, fucking hell yes,” I shouted, loving the feeling of safety he gave me. Safety to just be me and give in to the longing and the pleasure. Vocalizing was fine, he liked my gutter mouth.