by Angie Sandro
“Hmm, I just came to tempt you with homemade apple pie.” The corners of her eyes crinkle with her sympathetic smile. She sets a paper plate on my desk. “I’m sure you’re worried sick about poor Eva and Mala. Bet you even forgot to eat lunch.”
I start to form a denial, but my stomach growls.
Sana shakes her head. “See there…The body knows what it needs.”
Truer words have never been spoken. If only my body didn’t crave Ferdinand Lafitte like he’s replaced my old addiction—chocolate caramel swirl ice cream. The man’s got me so tightly wound up that even my aches ache. My thigh muscles keep dancing from being clenched. The pulsing need in my core intensified with each smoldering glance from his almond-shaped eyes. I had to escape before he realized how much he affected me. If he noticed…How humiliating.
I eye the huge piece of steaming apple pie with repressed longing. Mmm, it smells like a slice of heaven.
Since I couldn’t have Ferdinand every-which-way-come-Sunday on the interview table and still respect myself, the least I can do is satisfy my hunger with a sugar rush.
“Thank you, Sana. Do we have any ice cream?” I pick up the fork and take a bite. “Oh my, never mind. It’s perfect as it is.”
She beams. “Glad you like it. There’s chocolate chunk and vanilla in the break-room freezer. Plus plenty more pie for a second or third helping, if you hurry. Most of the staff’s still in the field. George and Anders are in the observation room watching that beautiful man you brought in to question Dr. Estrada. I stepped in there for a minute, but they shooed me out real quick. Hey—” She presses her back against the wall to keep from being trampled. “Where are you going?”
“Water…I need water.” My legs rush me from the room, but I’m running on autopilot. No. Oh, no. They can’t be doing what I think they’re doing. They’re not that desperate. Or stupid…right?
Please, please, no. The words pound in my head with each step. I race down the hallway and burst into the dark observation room. I stagger to a halt, disbelief freezing me in my tracks. My mouth opens and closes a few times before I force out my words in a hiss. “What the hell’s going on?” The question’s redundant. I see what’s going on, but I can’t quite wrap my head around it. Anders and George stand at the window, observing Ferdinand as he interrogates Estrada in the holding room. Holy marmalade on toast!
At least George has the grace to look embarrassed. He ducks his head and shifts from one foot to the other. “LT, we thought you’d left the building.”
Ah, yes, George’s operating motto: It’s better to ask forgiveness than permission. This stunt’s the last straw. I’ve gripped it all day. I’m going to enjoy giving this chewing out.
“On whose authority is Mr. Lafitte questioning our suspect?” My words snap at them like a wet towel.
“Mine,” Anders says. His eyes flash with a fluorescent green in the dark room.
I swallow hard, then bravado on, ’cause weird glowing eyes are the least of my worries. The lawsuit awaiting this department from Estrada’s rights being violated hovers at the top. “I’m not surprised by your behavior, Detective Anders. Are you trying to bring George down like you did your old partner? That didn’t end well for either of you.”
Anders’s eyes spark emerald flames. “Low blow, Lieutenant Caine,” he says softly.
“Maybe so. But I’m right.” I feel like I kicked a puppy. My jaw hardens as I glance through the window at Ferdinand. Screw apologizing. Surely Anders understands the consequence for his actions better than anyone. “At least I know whose name to put on the disciplinary action form.”
“Might as well add my name as well, LT.” George leans against the countertop bolted to the wall. “We’re both responsible for this decision. If you hadn’t gotten so pissed at Lafitte, you’d know Anders made the right call. And it’s panned out. Estrada agreed to show us where he hid his research. If we protect him, he’ll even testify against Ivanov. All we’ve got to do is retrieve it, then contact Victor to make the exchange.”
I heave an exasperated sigh. “What exchange, Deputy Dubois?” He just doesn’t get it. “I’m not giving a criminal anything. What assurances do we have that he won’t kill the hostages once he gets what he wants? Besides, how am I supposed to get Sheriff Keyes to sign off on this? You’ll be lucky if you don’t lose your jobs.”
“We turned off the video feed—”
“My God.” I groan. “That’s even worse. Now you’ve no protection at all. What if Estrada alleges that Ferdinand assaulted him to get a confession? Nothing he gives us can be used for prosecution. The chain of evidence is shot to hell!”
“Then why haven’t you halted the interview, Lieutenant Caine?” Anders asks.
Why, uh? “I…don’t…” My tongue trips all over itself. Hell. Why don’t I interrupt Ferdinand? He’s next door. I can end this right now. Instead, I’m standing here arguing a moot point.
My gaze meets Anders’s, and I shake my head.
Anders doesn’t look away to spare my feelings, but his face shows none of his emotions. Maybe he doesn’t care about my response because he already knows the answer. At least one of us does. “Do you need more convincing, or are you ready to listen to your gut?”
Instinct? Is that what I’m operating on now? No wonder it feels like a swarm of bees are buzzing around inside my stomach, giving me an occasional sting to show their displeasure. I’m gonna throw up. Rather than following my gut, I should be using logic and rationality. Logic dictates I follow procedure.
My mouth opens—
Mala and Eva.
—then snaps shuts.
Anders nods. “I understand the struggle you’re going through. This also goes against everything I believe in. You feel like you’re being torn into pieces to go against protocol, against your training. I fought to do what I thought was the right thing, too, and I almost got Dena killed.”
“What do you propose I do, then? Should I throw away my integrity? Well, I can’t do that.” I need to get my shit together. “Give me a compromise I can live with, Detective, because this is eating me up inside.”
“It’s simple. Estrada can never see the inside of a courthouse. None of this information can become public knowledge. The whole world will be after Dena if her healing ability gets out.” He holds up his hand. “I swear I’ll protect Dena from Ivanov. She won’t fall into his or Estrada’s control ever again.” Something wriggles above his skin. I can’t be seeing what I think I’m seeing—filaments of darkness, slithering from beneath the cuff of his sleeve to form an inky blot on his palm. My eyes blur. What?
Blinking, I step back. Anders’s shadow…It’s his shadow. And it senses me. It rises from his skin, undulating back and forth, an ink-etched cobra about to strike. My mouth dries as a primal spurt of fear rushes through my body. I freeze, hypnotized by the danger. This…This is what he and Dena meant when they said they were “changed” by their near-death experiences. Why Ferdinand thought Anders should be handcuffed. What did I let free?
The man, or whatever the hell Anders is now, inhales and slowly clenches his fist, swallowing the snake whole. A smile lifts the corner of his lips. “I controlled it.”
A slight shift comes from George’s direction. He’s staring at Anders with narrowed eyes and has his hand on his gun. He flicks a questioning glance in my direction, and I give him a minute shake of the head. Hold off. He lets out a slow breath, but remains ready to draw if the situation goes sideways.
I lick dry lips. “W-what happened to you?”
Anders shakes his fingers as if flicking off something…icky. “I solved my murder case. I know how, why, and more importantly, who immolated the victims. After we find Mala and Eva, I’ll bring the murderer to justice.”
My heart squeezes in understanding. Poor bastard. I hold his gaze for a long moment, trying to read the emotion behind his eyes. They appear normal again. He seems human, but I suspect, in his case, there’s no such thing. But for now he’s got hi
mself under control and understands the danger. We’ll deal with his issues later. Focus on the immediate crisis. “Got it. You were saying?”
Anders crosses his arms and leans against the counter. “Ferdinand said he’d arrange for a safe house and protective detail for Estrada. Keeping him here won’t work. If Victor and his men decide to break him out, it’ll be a bloodbath.”
Fuck Ferdinand. “I’m not handing over our prime suspect to Lafitte. Did the man sprinkle magic mushroom powder in your Kool-Aid? You’re delusional—”
Anders nods toward the window. Inside, Ferdinand holds out a sheet of paper to Estrada and watches with a smug smile as the doc signs it. “Maybe we misjudged his intentions?”
“Misjudged—” My lips pinch, and I massage the throbbing knot between my eyes. “You’re killing my brain cells.”
“Dena said Mala spoke to Ferdinand about the party. He swore he didn’t know about Magnolia’s plan. He also, repeatedly, put himself and his men at risk to keep her safe. I doubt she would’ve survived without him. I know I don’t have the same kind of history with him as you and George, but Ferdinand offered to help me when I needed him most. I think we should give him the benefit of the doubt.”
My ears feel stuffed full of cottony fluff. I don’t want to hear them arguing for Ferdinand. Why can’t they keep hating him? Why can’t I?
George places a warm hand on my elbow. I scowl, but don’t shake him off. We’ve known each other too many years for me to disrespect him. I’m just not sure why he thinks I need physical contact. I’m not a fragile flower. But I guess as long as he doesn’t try to hug it out, we’ll maintain our professional working relationship.
“Bessie.” George squeezes my arm. “We can’t go by the book with this investigation. It’s not a normal case. Magic’s involved. If we follow protocol, Mala and Eva are dead. And a lot of good officers could be, too, if they tangle with Victor. The man blew through three deputies. He got shot multiple times. He survived—”
“I also ran him over with my car,” Anders says, nodding. “He still went Terminator on my ass.”
My eyebrows rise at Anders. Good God, he’s picking up Dena-isms. They really do share a brain. “I understand your concern. Maybe you’re right.” I can’t blow this. “Fine. I’ll explain the situation to Sheriff Keyes. Somehow get him to agree to the protective-custody detail. We’ll use Estrada to retrieve his research, then decide what to do from there. But I don’t want civilians involved. Lafitte’s security team is out. The three of us will protect Estrada. And we’ll do whatever’s necessary—within the law—to find the girls.”
“Does that include working with me?” Ferdinand asks.
With a gasp, I turn. He lounges against the door frame, and I’m caught in his trap again, mesmerized by sheer perfection. He reminds me of a priceless Egyptian statue, painstakingly carved from ebony by a master craftsman. A real piece of work, this man. More beautiful than anything I saw in the Metropolitan Museum of Art and more cunning than a grifter running a long con.
I blink to dispel the haze clouding my eyes. “I don’t like the idea, but it seems I don’t have a choice.”
Ferdinand shakes his head. “You have free will. It’s a gift, which shouldn’t be taken for granted.”
I refrain from snorting. It’s not at all ladylike. “Well, if I did, then I’d still have you in handcuffs.”
Ferdinand’s dark eyebrows rise. “Is that so?” His gaze travels leisurely down my body, leaving a trail of heat that pools between my thighs. “Your wish is my command, Chérie doux.” His accent thickens. “Anytime. All I require is for you to say the magic word. Merci.”
My breath catches. It feels like I’ve got a stray piece of apple pie lodged in my throat, and no matter how much I swallow, I can’t clear the block. “I need some water,” I choke out, eyeing the door. Why won’t he move?
“I’ll go with you.” He turns sideways, waving his arm for me to precede him. As if I want him hovering behind where I can’t see his hands. Oh God. I don’t know how much more of this I can handle.
Five quick steps take me to the door. My skin puckers as I brush past him. Every inch of me feels jittery, on edge, like I’m about to leap out of my skin. His long fingers skim the small of my back beneath the edge of my bulletproof vest, and a spark arcs between us. The resulting burst of liquid heat causes my overly sensitive nerves to tingle. My bound breasts ache from being confined.
The bathroom is only a few paces away, but I can’t reach it fast enough. Ferdinand almost walks on my heels. He’s so close that the space between our bodies hums with electricity. Does he plan on waiting for me to come out? That won’t do.
I throw open the door to the single-stall bathroom and flip on the light. Ferdinand rocks forward on his toes, head close to brushing the top of the door frame. My hand whips out, and I grab the waistband of his jeans and yank him into the room. The door slams shut behind us.
Confusion and hunger war within his dark eyes. The heady combination threatens to bring me to my knees. His long eyelashes fan down, then up. “Lieutenant Caine?”
“Shut up. Not another word.” I thumb the door lock. Neither of us can escape now. “I can’t…not one more second.”
His hand lifts, but I wrap my fingers around his wrist and shove it down. “Don’t touch me.” I can’t take it anymore. So why be miserable and keep fighting?
Rising onto my tiptoes, I grab his collar and drag him toward me. His lips part. Perfect. My mouth slams against his—hard and rough. I steal his kiss. The one owed to me. He’s been taunting me with the possibility for hours—holding this moment over my head while playing on my emotions. No more. It’s my reward for being so damn patient.
And Ferdinand gives it back with equal intensity. No more teasing. Energy zings through my body as pent-up lust explodes with a concussive force that rocks him on his heels. His shoulders slam against the wall, and I practically crawl up his body. Our lips never break their connection. I can’t think clearly. My need pulses in my core. It’s raw, primal, and uncontrollable. My thoughts flash with sensual impressions: His lips taste of cinnamon and apples, delicious. Sana must’ve given him a slice of pie. I gently bite on his plump lower lip, then slide my tongue into his mouth.
A low groan rumbles from deep within him, echoing the one springing from my chest. I wish my vest didn’t form a barrier between us. But I also need it. My breasts tingle, craving his touch. My skin feels overly sensitive where he traces his fingers down my arms. I press closer, rubbing against him. He cups my butt with both hands and slides me up the long length of his body. My legs are around his waist. I let go, allowing the rush of pleasure to fill every inch of my body. I meet his thrusting tongue with my own, deepening the kiss and opening up parts of myself I’d long denied. I need this. Him.
I lean away, feeling light-headed. I’m greedy for more but, honestly, this is all I can handle. He deserves no merci from me. I owe him nothing. He should be the one thanking me for giving him a taste what he could’ve had but gave up. Betrayal is a bitch.
My breaths comes in ragged heaves. Spots flash before my eyes. Shit! I’m gonna pass out. Or get sick. Maybe both. I shove against his chest. He lets out a grunt of protest, but his arms open. I drop to my feet. “Get out.”
“Elizabeth—”
He grabs for my arm, but I twist away and stalk to the sink. “I said go!”
My face appears blotchy in the mirror. This is what his touch does to me. I’m rotting inside. My stomach twists. I splash cold water on my face, then take a deep drink to wash away the residual taste of apples. What if I never enjoy apple pie again? I sniff. I’ve ruined my favorite dessert.
With shaking fingers, I fumble undoing the button holding my uniform shirt closed. I let out a low growl and jerk on it. The button pops and falls. I start to rip the second off when a hand brushes mine aside.
Ferdinand’s forehead crinkles into a scowl as he slowly unbuttons my shirt. In silence, he pulls it open, then rea
ches inside to loosen the Velcro straps holding my vest closed. With the armor no longer digging into my rib cage, I drag in a deep breath and stand up straight.
Ferdinand’s eyes meet mine in the mirror, and I frown, willing him to hear the words I can’t speak yet. Stop being nice. I still don’t trust you. And I refuse to talk about what just happened between us. Not now. Or ever.
“Let’s go.” I yank down on the dispenser to snatch a few paper towels off the roll. I pat my skin and toss the wet paper in the trash. “The others are waiting for us.”
CHAPTER 4
Ferdinand
Surprise!
Truth be told, I’ve never had a woman get sick after kissing me. It’s humbling. And not in a good way. ’Course, I’m not all that steady on my feet either. All the blood in my body has raced downward, leaving me dazed and rock-hard. My heart gallops. And I force myself to take shallow breaths. Elizabeth fuckin’ wrecked me. Brought me lower than I’ve ever been. I almost begged her.
When she pulled away, I had to force the words don’t go back down my throat. I never expected the heat between us would melt me. Even if I wanted to deny her, I couldn’t. Doesn’t help that I’ve been thinking about kissing the scowl from her face from the moment she decided not to shoot me. She almost brought me to my knees, and it took everything in me to let her go. Especially since I doubt I’ll ever get the chance to hold her again. What the hell?
My bowlegged gait will be a dead giveaway about the state of my arousal, so I let her pass, careful not to touch her stiff back. I shove my shaking hands into my jeans pockets and adjust the crotch to hide the bulge. Elizabeth stalks from the bathroom with brisk steps, and I wait for her to get a few paces ahead. As long as she doesn’t turn around, she won’t witness the devastation she’s brought to my self-control. And I won’t give in to the temptation to drag her back into the bathroom to finish what she started.