Betrayed by Trust

by Ana Barrons

  He glanced over at the house, then back at her. “Maybe we should go someplace more private than the front lawn.” His breathing was ragged. “Christ, I can’t stop with you.”

  Catherine stepped out of the circle of his arms and took a deep breath. The chemistry between them was totally overwhelming, and it snuck up on her at the weirdest times. Here they were, standing in the middle of the yard, in full view of the kids and everyone else, making out like a couple of horny teenagers.

  “We should be better role models,” she said, but couldn’t help smiling. Was she really going to keep fighting this? Before she could stop herself she said, “Joe?”

  “Hmm?”

  “The other night?”

  He swallowed. A small frown settled in as he waited, silent, for her to continue.

  She lifted a hand to his cheek and stroked. “It meant something.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  By seven o’clock it was still hot, but the breeze off the water made it bearable to be outside. Catherine and Pam sipped apple martinis under a giant maple tree and watched Joe, Robert and the kids fish off the dock. The guys had been knocking back beers for the past couple of hours. It warmed Catherine’s heart to see Tiffany so relaxed and happy. She had a whole lot of heartache coming.

  “A storm’s supposed to move in sometime over the next few hours,” Pam said. “No sign of it now, but I hear it could be a whopper.”

  Catherine frowned. “Maybe Joe should take me home now, so he can be back before it hits.”

  “You’re not staying over?”

  Catherine sighed. Joe was helping Mike cast the line, and she couldn’t take her eyes off his lean, sexy body. “Well, I said I wasn’t going to stay, so I didn’t bring anything with me, not even a toothbrush. But now—”

  “We’ve got extras,” Pam said, a knowing smile lighting up her face. “And both guest rooms have queen-size beds. One is very private.”

  Catherine laughed. “You don’t miss much, do you?”

  “Not really.” Pam patted Catherine’s arm. “I don’t mean to make you self-conscious. I guess like any mother, or quasi stepmother in my case, I want to see Joe happy with someone. He obviously cares a lot about you.”

  The storm rolled in while they were having dinner, so they moved to the screened-in patio and watched the lightning over the water. It was hot dogs, burgers, potato salad and a green salad, with some chips thrown in. Pam and Catherine had moved from martinis to white wine and Joe and his father kept knocking back the beers and arguing about sports.

  After dinner, Tiffany and Mike goofed around and played games on Robert’s computer. Joe and Catherine sat side by side on a wicker couch. Having him nearby made her feel safe, storm or no storm.

  “You were smart to take the kids out here,” she said. “Tiffany’s having a great time. I’m really happy about that.”

  He smiled at her. “I think you’re having a pretty good time yourself.”

  “I am.” She gazed out over the water. Thunder rumbled overhead but the rain hadn’t started yet. Fireflies winked in the bushes that lined the perimeter of the yard. As if on cue, a door slammed shut and Mike and Tiffany came running around the side of the house with Jasmine, the Lab, at their heels. They were laughing and running, yelling at Jasmine not to eat the little critters.

  “Do you still want to go back tonight?”

  She shook her head and settled her body a little lower in the seat. She felt full and contented and pleasantly buzzed. “No, thank you. Pam has a toothbrush for me.”

  Joe chuckled. “Ah, so you discussed it with Pam. I guess I owe her one.” When he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his chest she went willingly, and purred when he began to stroke her hair, slowly and gently. She closed her eyes.

  * * *

  Catherine’s eyes fluttered open as Joe laid her on the bed. The room was dark and smelled faintly of lilacs. Rain hammered the roof and rattled the windows. Her arms were still around his neck and she had no desire to let go. He hesitated for a moment, as though waiting for her to change her mind, then followed her down, covering her body with his.

  Every nerve ending in her body soared to life. Her hips automatically pushed upward, her legs opening wider so he could settle himself between them.

  “Hold on a minute,” Joe said. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “You’ve been drinking, and I don’t want to do anything you’re going to regret later. I don’t want to go another three days without hearing from you. Or more.”

  She took his face in her hands. “I’m sorry I reacted so badly last time. I was scared. More like terrified, I guess.”

  Joe closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them his expression was so tender she pulled him close and kissed his lips, as softly as he had kissed hers. “I would never willingly hurt you, Catherine. I know I screwed up, but I need you to—”

  She placed two fingers over his lips. “Stop talking and kiss me, Rossi.”

  He wrapped her tightly in his arms and slanted his mouth over hers, increasing the pressure until they opened to one another and he invaded with his tongue. This time when she pressed against his erection he rocked into her, forcing her hips higher.

  He rolled her on top of him and yanked her tank top over her head, then slid her up his body and took her breast into his mouth. She gasped and groaned his name as the erotic storm of sensations pulsed through her body. He suckled her through the thin silk of her bra while his hands moved up her shorts inside her panties and kneaded her ass. One hand slid lower and he ran his fingertips through her slick folds, spreading her, stroking, finding her clit and circling, circling.

  She reached behind her and undid her bra, wanting his mouth on her skin. He moved to her other nipple and she nestled her face into her shoulder to muffle her cries so she didn’t wake everyone up. Oh, God, she wanted him inside her so badly. But there was more she wanted before that happened. More of Joe she wanted to explore. Taste.

  She pulled her breast from his mouth and rose up on her knees. Joe immediately unbuttoned and unzipped her shorts and slid his hand inside to continue his assault on her clitoris. Within moments her muscles clenched and she threw her head back while the orgasm rolled through her, hard and relentless, as his knowing hand stroked and soothed and brought her up again before the last spasms had subsided.

  She eased down to his chest, her body wrung out from pleasure, and took his mouth in a searing kiss. Then she rolled to the side and lifted his shirt. “Help me,” she whispered, her breathing ragged. He obligingly pulled the shirt over his head while she set to work on his belt buckle. Once she had his jeans unsnapped and unzipped she reached inside and took his erection in her hand and lowered her mouth to his nipple.

  Joe hissed then groaned as she suckled him and stroked his cock at the same time. “Oh, Jesus that’s so... Oh, baby—”

  “Shh,” she said, smiling. “Too noisy.”

  “Ahh, but it’s so good.”

  “Shh,” she repeated, then bent to suckle him some more.

  Joe pulled his jeans down over his ass, and she used her foot to push them off his legs, never letting go of his cock. When he was naked she moved off the bed to drop her shorts and panties then crawled between his legs and took him into her mouth. He gasped her name and cupped her head in his hands as she licked and sucked and fondled his balls. She loved the taste and smell of him and remembered dimly never having been so eager to do this before. But this was Joe, and she wanted to savor every bit of him.

  As he began to thrust into her mouth he moved her head away and gasped, “Wait.”

  “No,” she whispered. “Let me—”

  “You first.” He lifted her under the arms and set her on her knees, straddling his face. She clutched the headboard as he went at her with his tongue, lapping up
her juices as she writhed frantically. Catherine bit down on her fist to keep from screaming when he speared his tongue inside her, setting off an orgasm so powerful she was trembling when he lifted her and brought her down to his belly. She tried to scramble lower, to finish what she had started with him, but he stopped her.

  “Wait.” His hands shook as he rolled on a condom, then lifted her again and impaled her on his cock.

  With his hands firmly on her hips he thrust upward, filling her, setting the rhythm until her boneless body began to move with his, pushing down when he pushed up, sliding back, pushing and sliding, over and over. His hands came to her breasts and she arched, clutching his arms as the friction built, stroke after stroke, until their labored breathing and groans of pleasure filled the room. His name was on her lips when the dam burst and he rolled her under him, never stopping, thrusting faster now, deeper, spreading her wider until he stopped and shuddered and throbbed inside her.

  He lowered himself and pulled her to him, his heart thundering beneath her ear. Minutes later she shifted so his head was on her breast and they curled around one another, sated and exhausted and right where they needed to be.

  When the rain slowed down Catherine heard the crying. She disentangled from Joe’s arms and came up on an elbow to listen.

  “What?” Joe whispered.

  “It’s one of the kids.”

  She rolled off the bed and felt around for her clothes.

  “I can go,” he said.

  “Shhh, you stay there. I’ll be right back.”

  She finished tugging on her clothes and rushed out to the hall, then turned in a circle, trying to locate the sound. Her head hurt from the wine and her erotic zones pulsed from all the activity. Where were the kids sleeping? The crying started again and she felt her way down to the end of the hall. The door to the room was partially ajar. She stepped inside. It was Tiffany crying. The girl was curled up in a fetal position close to the edge of a large bed. Catherine crawled in behind her and stroked Tiffany’s hair back.

  “It’s okay, honey,” she whispered. “I’m here.”

  Tiffany sniffled and rolled to her back so she could see Catherine. “I don’t want her to die,” she sobbed, and the sound was so pathetic tears formed immediately in Catherine’s eyes. “She isn’t supposed to die.”

  “I know, sweetheart, I know.” Catherine lay down beside her. She stroked Tiffany’s head and then held her while she cried for her dying mother. The lump in Catherine’s throat was large and painful. They lay there like that for a long time. At some point Tiffany had cried herself out. But Catherine understood the girl needed someone’s arms around her, so she closed her eyes and settled in.

  Joe would understand.

  * * *

  Joe stood in the doorway as dawn broke through, gazing at the sleeping forms on the bed. He had crept into the room as soon as Tiffany stopped crying and knew Catherine wouldn’t leave her. His first impulse had been to curl up behind Catherine but the rational side of his brain rejected that idea, and he’d crept back into their bed and tossed and turned for a few hours. Mike was curled up in the exact spot Joe had wanted to be in a few hours earlier. Lucky little bastard. The kid was definitely going to be a player in a few years.

  He was still standing there watching them when Pam came up beside him and handed him a cup of steaming coffee fixed exactly the way he liked it—two sugars and a dollop of half-and-half. Together they sipped their coffee and stared at the tableau in front of them.

  “I love her,” he said quietly.

  “I know,” Pam said.

  “This is a first for me. I mean, like this.”

  “I know.”

  He swallowed hard. “She may never really forgive me.”

  Pam said nothing. A minute went by. She squeezed his arm. “Go for it, Joe.”

  He gazed down into soft, hazel eyes. “Do I have any choice?”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Catherine wandered onto the screen porch a little after eight. She had left Tiffany and Mike asleep and closed the door to their bedroom. Joe was slumped in a wicker chair, shirtless, barefoot and in faded cutoffs, his legs stretched out in front of him while he perused the Washington Herald through reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose. His hair was rumpled, his face unshaven. The whole package was so mouthwatering that she had to catch her breath.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  He looked up and smiled. Without saying a word he closed the newspaper, stood up, took her into his arms and kissed her lips. The first kiss was gentle. He pulled back, searched her eyes and smiled. The next kiss built slowly from soft to urgent. He thrust his tongue deep into her mouth and Catherine rose up on her toes so that his erection fit into the V between her legs. She was so ready he could slide into her right now. Why did she ever think she could fight this?

  “Let’s go back to bed,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck. “I tossed and turned all night, I wanted you so badly. The kids are still asleep—”

  “Oops.”

  Robert stood on the steps with one hand on the doorknob, a fishing rod in the other. Joe let go of her with obvious reluctance and opened the door for him. Robert stepped onto the porch and took them in. “I think I picked a bad time to come back. I’ll just—”

  “It’s fine, Dad,” Joe insisted. While Robert and Catherine chatted about the storm and the downed limbs, Joe went inside and returned with a mug of coffee for Robert and a cup of tea for her. She smiled up at him gratefully.

  Robert sat back and sipped. “Fill me in,” he said, and the two of them proceeded to do exactly that. Joe had confided his suspicions about the D.C. police to his father early on, but they went through everything they’d learned since Catherine had arrived. They told him about the invitation she’d received to the fundraiser, the note she was handed while she was talking to Joe, Sadler’s weird behavior in his office, the writing on the mirror, their visits with Carlos Ramirez and Jerry Green, the White House connection, the park ranger’s revelation about seeing a blonde on Roosevelt Island and Sadler’s most recent call.

  Robert listened intently to every detail, stopping them when he needed clarification. When they’d finished he stared out at the bay, where seagulls swooped and chattered and Jasmine ran back and forth along the edge of the lawn, barking and whimpering in frustration. Joe refilled their mugs, sat back down and waited. He was restless as hell if his body language was any indication. She’d never seen him tap his foot like that or shift around in his chair every two seconds. She gave him high points for self-control.

  After several minutes had passed Robert said, “There’s very little doubt in my mind that someone has a death grip on the police—Sadler in particular, possibly Chief Ackerman, given that he assigned Sadler to the case when it was still a missing-person investigation. Ackerman may have been doing a political favor for someone. But let’s focus on Sadler for a minute. I see a couple of basic questions here. The first is, what could someone have on him that would force or entice him to mess up his own investigation? This is a veteran homicide detective we’re talking about.”

  “And who’s the person pulling his strings?” Catherine said, holding Robert’s gaze.

  Robert nodded. “And is that person the killer or someone who’s protecting the killer?”

  “If we could figure out what he’s holding over Sadler,” Joe said, “it might lead us to him. But I’m still going to press Sadler for a name when I see him.”

  “How likely is that he’ll actually tell you who’s behind this whole cover-up, or whatever you want to call it?” Catherine asked. “He told you this thing is ‘big,’ but he doesn’t want to crack it. And yesterday he warned you to stay away from him. For both of us to stay away from him. That sounds like fear, pure and simple. I’d say the chances of him telling you who’s threatening him, o
r blackmailing him, are between zero and none.”

  Robert leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Blackmail makes a whole lot more sense than a physical threat, unless Blair was involved with some thug or someone connected to the mob.” He glanced at Catherine. “The chances are slim that Sadler’s simply afraid for his life. And besides, he’s the police. He would’ve gone after this guy with everything he’s got. Even brought in the feds if he had to.” He sat back. “I think we’re looking at blackmail.”

  “Blair’s chief ambition was to marry a rich man,” Catherine said quietly. She shrugged. “We had what we needed growing up, but there weren’t many extras. My family lived very simply, and she wanted more. Blair was an early bloomer, unlike me, so by the time she was about fifteen she’d decided to put her energy into finding a wealthy husband and to hell with studying hard to become a nurse or any of the other things she’d dreamed of being as a kid. She was a beautiful girl. And a kind person. Boys, and men, were drawn to her.”

  Joe pulled her hand off her lap and squeezed it, then held on and stroked the back with his thumb. Seeing the sympathy in his eyes she said, “It’s okay. I don’t care about what happened with Alan anymore.”

  “So, it was wealth she was after,” Robert said.

  “Yes, but she also wanted a glamorous life, with someone well known. I have no doubt this guy’s a public figure. Nothing else makes sense.”

  “So there’s no chance, in your mind, that this handyman is a credible suspect?”