Dark Deeds

by Anne Marie Becker

  “Exactly.” He was at an advantage, having still kept his shoes and socks on. She, on the other hand, had discarded her boots and socks sometime after they came home. He also had a belt. He figured she had four items of clothing, at most, before he’d have her completely exposed—either physically or emotionally. And it would be her choice which option she chose. She had the power.

  “We can give it a try.” Her voice hinted at her reluctance, but she leaned forward to scoop up the cards he’d dealt. By the end of the round, he’d arranged to lose to her, hoping a taste of victory would relax her.

  She pursed her lips in thought. “Do you regret what you had to do to gain the Circle’s trust?” She seemed to hold her breath as she waited for his answer.

  “No.” Technically, he didn’t. Because he’d kept his resurrected reputation as a good cop in sight. His dirty cop image was a step that had to be made to get his career, and his life, back on track.

  She seemed disappointed by his answer. “It has to be the truth, remember?”

  “The answer is still no. No regrets.”

  “That’s what I get for asking a yes-or-no question, I suppose. I’ll deal the next one.” She reached to take the deck of cards from him and his fingers brushed hers. She fumbled a bit as she shuffled.

  He won the next hand. Her gaze was wary, but he’d ease her into this. She wasn’t yet relaxed enough to answer the tough questions.

  “Why do you feel such a need to help others, even if it puts you at risk?” he asked.

  She let out the breath she’d been holding and sank back against the cushions. “Same reason you do, probably. I want to help other people find their way, find justice. If I can’t have it for myself...” She stopped abruptly and her gaze flew to his, narrowing as if he’d tricked her. “I enjoy helping people.”

  So, there was something in her past that motivated her now. What was that event that shaped her life? He took the cards from her and dealt another hand. Again, he lost.

  “I didn’t phrase my question correctly before,” she said, thoughtfully. “And my new question is similar to what you asked me... You work with the Circle, but not for them.”

  He grinned. “Is there a question in there?”

  “Why did you help Selina? It must have put you at risk.” She chose to use his same words.

  “I was in a position to help her. I was the only person who could, or would.” He sighed, seeing the disappointment in Becca’s eyes. She wanted more. “And I’ll only tell you more if you forfeit a piece of clothing.”

  Flames erupted in her eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, a wicked grin bloomed and she peeled off her shirt, revealing the satin bra he’d had his hands beneath earlier. Her breasts were on the small side, but they fit his palms perfectly, as did all the curves on her slender body. With the buttercream color of her bra, it appeared as if the tender globes were dipped in frosting. His mouth watered.

  “Well?” she asked when he couldn’t find the words to speak.

  He cleared his throat and brought his thoughts back to the present conversation...which took him down memory lane, past some not-so-happy memories. “I told you how Selina reminded me of Natalee. I couldn’t leave her to the fate the Circle had in mind. But saving her saved me.”

  Becca reached out and squeezed his hand, then let go. It was a brief gesture, but he knew she understood. “You help the ones you can,” she said. Again, he wondered who she hadn’t been able to help. Had it been herself or someone else?

  “And knowing I was able to help someone get away from the Circle helped me get through the ugly assignments.” He’d had to do things that turned his stomach while he’d been working to earn the Circle’s trust. Things like ignore criminal activities, tip them off to police routines, and even help them plan a bank heist. He’d done it with the blessing of his task force leader, but Garrison didn’t want to know the details—only Diego had to live with those. He hoped the sleepless nights and added stress paid off in the end.

  “I imagine acting as a dirty cop is tough.”

  “Yes. I’ve lost the respect of pretty much all of my friends on the force. It helps to remember that one night I made a difference in someone’s life. I was visiting my Circle contact that night, hoping to build some trust with them by delivering information about an upcoming police raid on a drug shipment. It was the first time I’d seen the basement of the Brooklyn building.”

  “They must have come to trust you, then. Did you know about the Cattle Call?”

  “That’s a bonus question,” he pointed out. “You owe me one.”

  “Put it on my tab,” she said, gesturing to him. “Tell me the whole story. Please.”

  “Well, since you asked so nicely...” His tone was light, but the shock of finding a woman in a cage that night was burned into his brain. The only thing that could combat it was imagining her living her new life, far away from whatever had been in store for her. “I’d heard of the Cattle Call, but hadn’t seen any signs of it.”

  “Seeing the cells must have been a shock.”

  “At the time, I acted like I didn’t even notice Selina was there, or didn’t care. But, she looked out at me through the tiny window in the cell door. Didn’t make a sound, just watched me. Like she was trying to be brave, but was really young and scared inside.” So much like he’d imagined Natalee in her final hours.

  “I delivered my message and left,” he continued. “I’d learned something about my Circle contact. He liked to party. So when I saw him entering his favorite club late that night, I took a gamble and returned to the building. I was able to sneak in and get her out of there.” He blew out a breath, feeling a little looser in the chest after sharing his story with someone. No, not just someone—Becca. “It felt so damn good to see her escape. To see her so...alive.” He hadn’t been able to save Natalee, but he’d saved one young woman.

  “That was very risky.” The words held no judgment, only concern.

  “I know someone else who takes those kinds of risks.” He hated knowing that she could be hurt on any given day, with any number of investigations that he knew nothing about. It must be what a cop’s spouse felt like on a daily basis. He wanted to know, to be there to protect her. From everything, always. It was a pointless desire.

  She straightened and snatched the deck from him. “My turn to deal.” But after the hand played out, she’d lost.

  Diego sorted through the myriad of questions he wanted answered, which ranged from easy stuff about her childhood or current favorite music, movies, or colors to the tough ones about how she’d been hurt in the past and why she’d walked out on him in July.

  She must have read his choice in his eyes because the moment he opened his mouth, she reached out and took his hand, then pressed his palm to her bra-clad breast. “You could exchange your question for a touch,” she offered. “A one-time offer.”

  His breath hitched at the feel of her vibrant skin, where his fingertips stretched over the top of her bra. There, she was just a shade softer than the satin material. But the question on his mind burned hotter than the skin-to-skin contact.

  “Why did you leave me, Becca?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Becca wished away the past few seconds. Maybe Diego hadn’t gone there. Maybe she’d misheard his question. But, reading the doubt and frustration in his gaze, of course he had.

  “I thought everything was going well between us at the time,” he said. “Did I say something? Do something wrong?”

  Had he really thought that? “No,” she hurried to assure him. “It was all me. My issues.”

  “What issues?”

  She clamped her lips together...that question led down a path she was trying to avoid. In a sudden movement, he whipped his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. She looked her fill at the strong, wide chest she remembered, at the triangle of dark hair spread across his pecs, then upward to the broad shoulders that surely were molded like those of Atlas. And she knew exactly how that s
pot at the base of his throat, where his collarbones met in a V, tasted.

  He was as fit as ever, and had even bulked up a bit. He probably worked out more since he had to deal with the Circle. He’d want to be in top shape to face them down...if it ever came to that. If he couldn’t help bring them down, would he have to serve in this role indefinitely? And how long could he continue to deceive the crime ring? She shivered at the thought of the danger he had been taking on daily since she’d seen him last.

  “The shirt is payment for my question.” His gaze held hers prisoner. “Now tell me what I did wrong.”

  “Nothing. I swear. It really was my stuff that got in the way.”

  “Is that stuff between us now?”

  “Yes.” As if strangled, the word came out half moan, half plea to let things alone. “That’s all you’ll get.”

  With jerky motions, he dealt a hand and they played it out. The cards she held shook as she realized he was going to win. She stood and unbuttoned her pants, then, with a wiggle of her hips, pushed them down her legs and to the floor, where she kicked them away. She’d choose physical nakedness over emotional any day of the week.

  Her breathing hitched as his gaze slid over her like a caress, from her feet to her stomach to her chest, then finally to her face. He reached out and took her hand, then tugged her into his lap. With his free hand, he traced the line of her neck, continuing down along the top of her bra. As if in a trance, he journeyed up again to trace her lips.

  His gaze found hers, his eyes lit with desire. Becca didn’t even try to resist as he shifted her until she was straddling his lap and her lips were an inch from his. Through his jeans, she could feel his arousal, could feel her own body answering the primal call, readying herself for him. Sex, she could handle. Revealing her past mistakes, not so much.

  “You said no touching during this op.” Her words were a whisper against his lips.

  “I must have been insane. No more boundaries, Becca. Let me in.”

  The pleading in his voice undid her. Wordless, she bent her head to his.

  With a hunger that matched her own, he closed his mouth over hers. The heat and fervency with which he claimed her pulled a whimper from deep in her throat. She put a hand against his chest for balance, but soon found the appendage had a mind of its own and began exploring the expanse of caramel skin dusted in dark hair. The heat, the memories, the months of loneliness, the want...God, the constant, aching want...it all exploded in a fireball behind her ribcage, incinerating the pain.

  There was only heat, only Diego.

  His hands slid from her shoulders to her waist. He slipped his fingers beneath the edge of her panties. She ground her pelvis into the hard ridge beneath his zipper. His fingers cupped her bottom, then one hand slid up again, his thumb brushing against a spot just below her waistline.

  Her butterfly. Though he couldn’t see it, it was as if he was tracing her tattoo. The one that symbolized the change she’d strived so hard for in her life.

  With every lick, nip and shift, he was only feeding the flames that would consume her. And she couldn’t let that happen. It was what she’d been fighting against since she’d met him, and it was why she had to be strong now. For the changed Becca that she had become. Because if he broke through her remaining barriers as if they were spider webs, he’d hate her. She’d hate herself.

  With a burst of will, she put both hands against his chest and pushed away. And nearly fell backward out of his lap, but his hands were there to catch her. She took some small satisfaction in his irregular breathing.

  His eyes searched hers. “This, between us, isn’t just going to go away. We have something.”

  It was that something that had her running scared. The last time she’d thought she had something with a man, she’d been horribly wrong...with disastrous consequences. Though she’d only half succeeded, she’d done despicable things in her efforts to put James Powell behind bars. Things that could now hurt Diego’s career and family.

  Not to mention the shame she would feel. He would never look at her the same. It had taken herself years to look in the mirror again, and she’d recreated herself in order to do it. But Diego? He would walk away and never have to look back...and she’d have to rebuild herself again. It was best if they went their separate ways in a week. And even better if she could keep her hands off of Diego in the meantime.

  “If you’re so worried about why I left, why did you take Damian’s offer? Is it so you could leave me this time? The joke’s on you. You’ll soon find that being around me is more trouble than it’s worth.”

  She was surprised when his mood didn’t shift to the anger she expected, but to pity. It pissed her off.

  She climbed off of him and gathered her clothes from the floor. “I’ll grab some sheets and a blanket for you. If you want something to eat or drink, help yourself. I’m heading to bed.” Alone.

  She went into the bathroom and retrieved linens from the cupboard, taking deep breaths as she tried to regain her equilibrium. When she returned to the living room, Diego had stripped down to his boxers and was turning out the lights. The deck of cards remained spread out on the table.

  She stopped in her tracks and swallowed hard, then forced herself to turn to the couch and set down her bundle. “You should have everything you need.”

  “Becca,” he called, stopping her retreat. “You asked why I took this job?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Because you’re worth it.”

  Sunday, 11:06 p.m.

  As Becca crawled into bed—alone, but very aware of the man settling on her living room couch—she received a text.

  I did it all for you. We’re in this together. Come see, and hurry. Lakeview Luxury Apartments, number 1203. —Your Fan

  She swung her feet to the floor and immediately ran to Diego, who was lying on the couch, his hands tucked behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling in the moonlight. His gaze smoldered as he watched her cross the room, probably thinking she’d changed her mind and was coming back for seconds.

  She handed him her phone. “It’s him. The SSAM Fan is back in Chicago.”

  “He seems to be everywhere you are, and now he’s signing it directly to you.” Diego’s eyes sparked with something unreadable.

  “Let’s go. I’ll be dressed in one minute.”

  “Whoa.” He was on his feet and taking hold of her shoulders before she could walk away. “Shouldn’t we call for backup first?”

  “They can meet us there.” She turned, freeing herself of his large, warm hands, but immediately wishing they were on her body again.

  Diego began pulling clothes from his duffel bag in the corner. “Too bad Noah’s on his honeymoon. We could use some friendly CPD backup.”

  “We’ve got SSAM,” she said. “In fact, we’ve got you. That’s why Damian hired you, right?”

  Diego didn’t look so certain.

  “We’ll call the cops,” she assured him. “But if we beat them there, I’m not going to just stand around.”

  Thirty minutes later, she and Diego found themselves outside a posh high-rise in the Lakeview East community. Becca and Diego headed for the elevator. On the twelfth floor, the door to apartment 1203 was slightly ajar. Nobody answered her knock.

  “No sign of the CPD,” Becca said. “We should see if anyone needs our help, right?”

  Diego nodded. “I’ve got you covered.”

  Both Diego and Becca drew their guns and edged their way inside, covering each other’s backs. The inside was furnished in leather and rich, glossy woods in a modern style. Everything smelled new and looked untouched, as if they’d walked into the floor model.

  Except for the open front door, all seemed normal. Still, the hair on Becca’s neck was standing at attention.

  “Hello?” Becca called out, moving farther into the apartment. At the open door to the bedroom, she froze. The dead, naked body of James Powell lay on the bed. His arms were spread-eagled, handcuffed to the wrought-
iron headboard. His blue lips and the garrote wire around his neck indicated strangulation was the cause. A vase on the nightstand held a dozen yellow roses.

  As bile crawled up her throat, the image of another room flashed in her mind. A rundown motel room set for a romantic rendezvous...and resulting in murder. The similarities here were so stunningly vivid, down to the smallest detail, that Becca was speechless. Which was a good thing, because she was afraid if she opened her mouth, she might vomit. The room blurred and shifted and she forced herself to inhale, then exhale. Repeated the action until the room righted itself—but nothing was right about this room.

  Diego checked the bathroom directly off the bedroom for signs that an intruder was still there. Shit. She hadn’t even thought of that. All her training, all her common sense had flown out the window. Her world had come to a standstill upon finding her ex-lover murdered.

  * * *

  “You know him.” Diego returned to her side after ensuring the apartment was empty except for him, Becca and the body. His words were more a statement of fact than a question, since it was obvious by the way Becca stood just inside the doorway, shaking and staring in shock, that she’d had a personal reaction to the dead man.

  Or maybe she was reacting to the fact the SSAM Fan had finally crossed the line. While they’d suspected a criminal vein in his words before, and that he might have killed the prostitute in the picture left for Diego, this was clear proof the Fan was involved in something illegal, and definitely deadly.

  But what Diego was most worried about was how pale Becca had become. The Fan had left this body specifically for her, as if it were a gift to murder this man. His detective instincts screamed that the corpse—whoever he’d been—had something to do with her past.

  “This wasn’t your fault,” he reminded her, trying to break through the haze of shock. “You didn’t kill him.”

  “But the Fan did it for me.” There was a hiccup in her miserable sentence that told him just how close her emotions were to the surface.