Cat's Paw (Veritas Book 1)

by Chandler Steele

  “Not likely. She’s as tough as an old boot.” Morgan rose and went hunting for her cell phone. Since she was still naked, he found himself enjoying the view. Her butt was just as fine nude as in a tight pair of jeans.

  You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?

  Morgan sat on the side of the bed. “Lars texted. He says that your sister remains safely tucked away.” She set the phone aside. “I need a shower. Alone this time.”

  Alex smiled to himself, knowing that she was just working things out in her head. He already knew where they’d be once she returned to him. No way either of them were going to pass on that kind of pleasure, not with people looking to put them in their graves tomorrow.

  Chapter Twenty

  September 20th

  Plaquemines Parish

  Morgan noticed that something had changed with Alex when she joined him after her second shower. Something about the way he moved. He was in his jeans, no shirt, white scars showing clearly against his tanned skin. He seemed at ease, not as wary as before.

  She’d done that to him, brought him one step further away from the hell of prison. In return, he’d done things to her that she’d never expected. Sex with Wayne had been good, and she’d had orgasms, but she’d never lost control, not once. With Alex, she had found herself cutting loose, feeling wild. Feeling true to herself. How he’d done it, she had no idea. She only knew that she wanted to feel that way again.

  He pointed at a first aid kit on the counter next to a can of soup. “Will you bandage me up?”

  Morgan nodded. She delicately removed the Steri-Strips, then replaced them with new ones. “It’s healing well. I don’t think you need the bandage now. Probably best for it to get some air.”

  “Thank you. For . . . everything.”

  She looked up at him, then placed her hand on his warm cheek, feeling beard stubble under her fingers.

  Oh hell, just kiss him.

  She did, taking her time, savoring the scent of his clean hair, the strength of his muscles, the growing arousal in his jeans.

  “Sex or food?” he whispered.

  She didn’t hesitate. “Sex.”

  He grinned. “I knew that once I got you going, you’d be insatiable.”

  The kiss he got in return did nothing to deny that claim.

  As their breathing returned to normal and the sweat cooled on their bodies, Morgan placed her head on Alex’s shoulder. The scent of sex mingled with the smell of soap. He shifted to be closer to her, craving the feel of her skin next to his. No matter how much he’d like to reassure himself that Morgan wasn’t getting to him, it would be a lie. He wasn’t exactly sure when she’d first slipped under his defenses, but this lady was more than just a one-night stand. Every time they joined, the connection grew stronger, knitting them together in ways he could not fathom.

  Not possible.

  He was just grateful to finally get laid, that “any old port in a storm” thing. Nothing to do with her at all, no matter what he’d told her. He wasn’t a one-woman guy anymore, not after Alicia. Not after the woman who had promised to be with him “until death do us part” warmed the sheets with his partner and walked away within a week of Alex’s arrest.

  “Hmm . . . that was good,” Morgan said.

  “How long had it been for you?” he asked, tracing a fingertip across a breast, enjoying how the nipple peaked at his touch.

  “Almost five years.”

  “Damn. No wonder you were hotter than the center of the sun.”

  He expected a smile at the compliment, but it didn’t come. Instead he saw a frown forming, which was odd.

  “You must have loved your husband a great deal to turn into a nun.”

  She went stiff in his arms, as if a steel curtain had suddenly descended between them. Then she was up, her bare back to him, the sheet tucked up against her chest. In his experience, women he’d just bedded didn’t shut him out. If anything, they were resting up for another round. Eager, even.

  All because he’d mentioned her husband.

  “Did he hurt you?” he asked, quieter now.

  Morgan took a deep breath, and he couldn’t help but notice the increasing tightness across her shoulders.

  “Come on, this is me,” he said. “I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone else.”

  When Alex sat up and touched her back, intending to massage away that tension, she flinched.

  “Okay, what is going on? We just had a really good time, and now you’re freezing me out. What did I do wrong?”

  Morgan looked over her shoulder at him, her face bleak. Then she was off the bed, pulling on her clothes and shoes, her hands shaking the entire time. Like she was getting ready to run.

  “Hey, talk to me.”

  She paused in the doorway, her back to him, hugging herself. This wasn’t the Morgan he knew. Growing increasingly worried, Alex pulled on his own clothes. When she heard his zipper go up, she turned. Her eyes were glistening now, her face pale.

  “It was wrong to sleep with you.”

  “Why?” he said, tugging down his T-shirt.

  “We . . . It was wrong because . . . I should have told you first.”

  “Told me what? Why are you so spooked? All I did was mention your husband.”

  Morgan shook her head as if resigned to her fate. “You’re going to hate me.”

  He stepped closer. “Not going to happen.”

  She moved into the living room and slumped onto the couch. As he followed her, his mind raced. What had her so scared?

  Morgan looked up at him now. “My husband was an attorney, one of the best. He was really good at getting acquittals. But . . . ” She took an uneven breath. “He had a secret. He liked prostitutes, the young ones, between the ages of sixteen and eighteen.”

  “That had to have been rough for you.”

  She gave a sad nod. “Yeah, well apparently paying for sex was a big turn-on for him. He claimed that he always made sure the girls were of legal age, but how the hell would he know for sure?”

  He wouldn’t. The prostitutes would lie because it was all about making money.

  “He finally admitted that he was being blackmailed for his . . . activities, and if he didn’t do what he was told, his career was history.”

  “Damn,” Alex muttered. “You had no idea?”

  “None. I was working a major case—a high-profile juvenile kidnapping. We got the girl back safe, and I was so jazzed. I came home, and there he was . . . like the bottom had fallen out of his world. He told me what he’d done, how he’d had no choice.”

  Morgan swiped away tears, and his heart ached to see her this upset. Alex noted that she’d never mentioned the man’s first name.

  “I said I never wanted to see him again, and I left him there . . . ” A sob broke free. “I left him alone. I didn’t stay with him, didn’t keep him from . . . ”

  Alex sat next to her now, taking hold of a chilly, shaking hand. “Go on.”

  “My husband canceled his appointments for the next day, then put a gun to his head. One shot, in the temple. He died in our bed.”

  Alex jolted. “Jesus.”

  “I came back in the morning to pack my stuff and . . . ”

  “You found him,” he murmured, knowing exactly what the scene would have looked like.

  Morgan’s tears welled, but she waved him off when he moved to take her in his arms. If anything, she put more space between them.

  “Look, I don’t want to be an ass here,” he said, “and I’m very sorry for your loss, but what does this have to do with us?”

  Her chin wobbled. “I didn’t expect you and me to be so good together . . . I just thought it’d be fun, and now . . . ” She blinked away the tears. “I can’t hide this anymore, Alex. Not after . . . ”

  “You’re not making much sense, honey.”

  Morgan straightened up now, her tear-filled eyes meeting his. “The last case my husband worked on was a twenty-six-year-old DEA agent who had b
een accused of skimming drugs off the top of his busts. They arrested him because they found cocaine in his home.”

  Alex’s heart skipped a few beats. His defense lawyer had killed himself a few months after the trial. “Wayne Clifton was your husband?”

  “Yes,” she said, nodding. “I kept my maiden name—that’s why you didn’t know. Until your case came along, Wayne had a great track record. He was brilliant.” Morgan gave a pained smile. “Flawed, but brilliant. It was the flaw that got him hooked in Buryshkin’s claws.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Alex surged off the couch. “Your husband fucked me over?”

  “Yes,” she said. “His orders were to ensure that you went to jail, or the videos of him with the prostitutes would be sent to his boss and the New Orleans’s television stations.”

  This was why his lawyer had been such a disaster: Wayne had purposely sabotaged his case. Before Alex knew he was moving, he’d pinned her against the back of the sofa.

  “Your goddamn husband ruined my life! Ruined my sister’s life. And you didn’t think to tell me you were married to the bastard?” he said, shaking her.

  Morgan’s breath came in panicked gasps now, her eyes wide. He saw fear and . . . resignation. As if anything he did to her now was what she deserved. That surrender turned his gut to ice. He pulled himself away from her.

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me this right off?” he demanded. “Were you too busy eyeing my package?”

  “I wasn’t the only one doing the eyeing, buddy. Besides, if I’d told you this up front, you would have walked. We needed you.”

  “Damn right, you do, but you’ve been lying to me all along.”

  “No, I just didn’t tell you the whole story.”

  “Jesus,” he said, swiping a hand through his hair in agitation. “At least when Anya hurt me, she did it right up front, didn’t stab me in the back.”

  “She’s no saint, Alex,” Morgan said. “Who the hell do you think was the first girl to seduce my husband?”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “Anya went after Wayne on her daddy’s orders. She was barely sixteen, and she picked him up at a bar. Wayne paid her a hundred for a couple hours. Then she set him up with her ‘friend,’ a girl named Ina who was fifteen. Anya made sure they were videotaped, and from that point on, Wayne was Buryshkin’s puppet.”

  “You’re lying.” Just like my ex-wife. You just twist the truth to suit you. “Dammit, you should have kept him home, off the fucking streets, and—”

  Defiance flamed in Morgan’s eyes. “Don’t you think I’ve spent the last six years trying to figure out how I could have missed the signs? I was a damned FBI agent. I should have seen what he was doing.”

  “No way you’re getting any pity from me, lady. While I was trying not to get raped, you sailed on through your life. It worked great for you that he died. You were free and clear.”

  Before he could stop it, her hand slapped him hard on the face. “You bastard! You think you’re the only one who has suffered? I lost my job at the FBI because of what Wayne did.”

  His cheek stinging, he backed away from her. “How the hell would they know?”

  “Buryshkin made me a job offer. If I worked for him, all evidence of Wayne’s activities would disappear. I told him to screw himself and reported the offer to the FBI. Buryshkin made sure one of the videos landed on my superior’s desk. My boss didn’t want an investigation, so I was gone.”

  The Russian never stopped destroying people’s lives.

  To see her like this, weeping over a dead man, made Alex pause. Her tears were genuine. He’d been in the law-enforcement business long enough to know.

  “Why did you tell me now?” Why jeopardize the mission?

  Morgan’s head rose, her hair falling around her face. Her eyes were red, swollen, full of tears. “Because . . . what happened between us wasn’t . . . what I expected. It was more, and I can’t hide the truth anymore. It hurts too much.”

  “Shit,” he muttered. He was headed for the front door before he took his next breath.

  “Alex?” she asked, her voice a mix of fear and hope. “I can’t fix it. I cannot wave a magic wand and give you back those six years.”

  Hell, that’s what he wanted, the chance to go back and make it right for all of them. Make it so when he first met Morgan, she’d have no reason to hide things from him. No reason to be like every other woman.

  But that was all a dream.

  Alex grabbed his shoes and was out the door and off the porch before he realized it was night and that he didn’t have a flashlight. He stood still for a time, letting his eyes adjust. A faint light came from the east, a sign of the coming dawn. He’d spent the night having sex with the woman whose husband had betrayed him.

  With a curse, he pulled on his shoes and set off down the driveway, not really caring where he was headed, as long as it was nowhere near Morgan Blake.

  *~*~*

  Morgan curled up on the couch and wept as hard as she had the day she’d found Wayne’s body. It was all gone now, all the beauty she and Alex had shared, all the loving. She’d felt something for him, something more than she thought possible, and she’d thought he felt something for her. It was why she’d finally told him the truth. This was what happened when you mixed sex with a mission: people got hurt. She’d been a fool to think her life could be like other people’s. That she might find a man who could love her.

  She’d placed the mission ahead of everything, all about the revenge, a chance to bring Buryshkin to his knees. The opportunity to destroy his life, like he had hers. In the end, she’d manipulated Alex just like their enemy.

  Only now did she know the truth: she loved Alex Parkin. The mouthy, arrogant ex-con had stolen her heart, and she’d had no way to stop it.

  When the tears finally ran out, Morgan blew her nose, laced up her shoes, and went out the back door. She headed for the water, her Maglite lighting up the path, as gators bellowed in the distance. She’d done the same thing after Wayne’s death, gone to water to find solace. It hadn’t worked then, and she knew it wouldn’t work now.

  Sitting on the dock, ignoring the mosquitoes, she found herself remembering the pleasure, the joy of making love to Alex. The shining moments that sent light into her darkened soul. Now it was all gone.

  They’d finish this mission, and if it looked as if he was staying in New Orleans, she’d move out of the city. Maybe to another country.

  But in her heart she knew the distance wouldn’t matter, because every night, as she curled herself around a pillow, a sad substitute for a man’s body, she would remember Alex Parkin for all that he was. And for all that she’d lost.

  *~*~*

  She was Wayne’s wife.

  Alex remembered how his defender had consistently let him down, made one dumb move after another as if he’d been a rank amateur. Alex had wanted to hire another lawyer, but Alicia had tied up all their money, so he’d been stuck with Wayne. In fact, she’d been the one to recommend him. Was she somehow tied to Buryshkin?

  He stomped down the shell driveway, fury boiling off him in waves.

  “I’m fucking your old lady, you bastard. How about that?”

  The moment he said it, Alex felt disgusted, nauseated. It wasn’t like that with Morgan. It hadn’t been after that first time, not for either one of them. Though it had clearly hurt her, she’d revealed the truth about her husband, and it had ripped her up in the process.

  He could still feel her moving underneath him, responding to his touch, his thrusts, and hear her crying out his name when she came. How she’d touched his face, cared about each of his scars. Wanted to know how they’d happened.

  She was the man’s wife.

  “Dammit to hell,” he said.

  He hadn’t ever wanted to feel this way again, not after what Alicia had done to him. Was it stupid for him to hope that someday he’d find a woman who wouldn’t hurt him? One who would love him and never leave him behind? Was Morgan
that woman?

  No. She left her husband alone when he needed her the most. She’ll do the same to me.

  His self-righteousness whirled around and kicked him in the balls. After he’d found out about his wife and Dennis’s affair, he’d shouted down the roof, called her a whore, and then bailed on her. The only difference was that Alicia hadn’t put a gun to her temple and pulled the trigger.

  As he looked back, he realized that he’d contributed to the death of their marriage just as much as she had. He’d loved the thrill of being undercover, even if it took him away from Alicia for months on end. He’d just expected that she’d be there when he returned, the princess awaiting the conquering hero. Reality wasn’t like that. He’d mortally wounded their marriage, and she’d been the one to put it out of its misery.

  His anger burned away, Alex slowed his pace now, increasingly mindful that it would do him no damned good to steamroll over a gator, because the prehistoric creatures always won. They’d had eons to learn how to be badass.

  By the time he’d made it to the main road, his skin dripped with sweat. Curiously, the mosquitoes weren’t bothering him, but he suspected that wouldn’t last long. Now what? Walk to the next town and catch a cab . . . where? Or return and face Morgan? Try to work it out between them.

  He just couldn’t go there, at least not yet. She’d reopened wounds from Alicia that he’d long thought healed. Now they were fresh, bleeding and aching with each pound of his heart. With an oath, Alex turned and headed back to the camp. He’d finish the mission and move on. Chalk this whole thing up to stupidity.

  With each step closer to the camp, he thought of his life, how badly he’d screwed up. How his arrogance at the DEA hadn’t made him any friends, and his workaholic drive had ruined his marriage. His life could have been so different if he’d only taken the time to think things through, recognize that some things were more important than others.

  Like the love of a good woman.

  To his right came the throaty bellow of a gator. Another one answered from deeper in the bayou. Nature didn’t care about his problems. It just went on taking each day as it came.