Grace Under Fire

by Jerri Drennen

  She moaned when his hand covered the nest of hair between her legs, his fingers spreading her womanly folds to explore her heat. He was amazed at how wet she was.

  “God, you’re so hot,” he whispered in her ear. He continued his intimate caresses, her little moans of delight vibrating against his mouth.

  She tore her lips from his. “I need you.”

  Cord inhaled and gestured to his arm. “I’m completely at your mercy.”

  She grinned wickedly, then moved to straddle him, easing down onto his cock. The feel of her intense heat encompassing him was almost his undoing.

  She gasped when she’d settled on top of him, then began to move up and down slowly, until it didn’t seem to satisfy her any longer and she changed direction, rocking back and forth, increasing her tempo. She rode him hard and fast.

  He closed his eyes, trying not to groan too loudly as wild sensations bombarded him.

  Moments later, he felt her shudder and tighten around him, giving rein to his own powerful release, shooting through him like a magnitude-seven earthquake.

  She eased down on top of him, her breathing shallow and erratic against his chest.

  I love you. The words rushed to his tongue, but fear swallowed them.

  What if she didn’t love him? He’d feel like a fool.

  He wrapped his good arm around her and opened his eyes, smiling when he found Grace asleep. Wasn’t falling asleep directly after sex a man thing?

  He sighed. At least he was going to get his wish. He was going to wake up next to her—a dream that, six months ago, he’d thought would never happen.

  ****

  Grace heard the faint wails of a baby crying. She opened her eyes and saw Cord lying on his back, looking sexy as hell. He was so handsome. Better than Vince had ever looked to her. His hair stood up on one side, like a little boy’s. But Cord Rawlings was hardly that—he was all man.

  She blushed when she thought of making love to him last night. She prayed that Emily and Charlie hadn’t heard them.

  Last night was the first time she’d ever taken the lead in lovemaking, and she’d found it quite liberating. She moved her hand over his chest, amazed at how taut his skin felt under her fingers.

  He inhaled, then opened an eye and smiled. “Good morning.”

  “How’s your arm?”

  He tried to move it, but grimaced. “Stiff.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t go to work today,” she suggested. She’d love nothing more than to be with him, spending so-called quality time together.

  “I wish I didn’t have to, but I have a missing persons case to solve, not to mention finding out who shot me last night. Hopefully, they found something outside Ruby’s.”

  His remark had Grace thinking. “Cord?”

  He cocked an eyebrow up. “Yes, Grace?”

  “Did they find out anything on that bullet pulled from the wall at the shop?”

  “Good question. I need to call the crime lab this morning to find out.”

  “Do you think it was the same guy?”

  “Seems probable.”

  She frowned. “Do you have any enemies?”

  “Enemies? I don’t know. Now, if you asked if I had any friends, that one would be easy to answer. I don’t think too many officers at the Ninth like me all that much.”

  “Nonsense. Vincent thought the world of you.”

  “He was the only one. I’m not real friendly with people.”

  “Why? Or would you rather not talk about it?”

  He touched her cheek. “Grace, I want to tell you all about myself, but not this morning. I better get out of here before your sister gets up. I don’t think you’d want her to catch us in bed together.”

  “She already knows we’ve been intimate. She opened the flowers and card you sent yesterday.”

  He grimaced. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have sent them.”

  “No, Cord. I loved the gesture. It’s just that I received some roses the day before that had a nasty note in them. I was afraid to open yours.”

  His blue eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me about these flowers?”

  Grace tucked the sheet tightly around her. “I don’t know. I guess I was embarrassed.”

  “Embarrassed? Why?”

  “Yeah. Whoever sent them thought I was a whore. At least, that’s what the card said.”

  He bolted upright in bed. “Word for word, what did it say?”

  “Beautiful flowers for a beautiful whore.”

  He shook his head. “Do you still have this card?”

  “No, I threw it and the flowers away.”

  “Would they still be in the garbage? What about the florist? Do you remember which one it was?”

  “I’m not sure about the name, and I’d have to ask Emily which day she has trash pick-up.”

  “Do that. If they’re still here, keep them for me to look at. I’d better get up and get out of here. We wouldn’t want Emily to hound you all day about why I was in your room this early.”

  He leaned over to kiss her, then got up to get dressed.

  Grace pulled herself up on the soft pillow and watched, amazed at how perfect his body was.

  She sighed deeply.

  Cord smiled. “You keep looking at me like that, and I’m coming back to bed. To hell with what your sister thinks.”

  Grace gave him her best Cheshire cat grin.

  She’d love for him to do just that, but now wasn’t the time—not with her sister, Sherlock Danner, afoot.

  Grace Under Fire

  Chapter Twenty

  Cord picked up his cell phone and punched in the crime lab’s number. While he waited, he searched his glove box for a pen. He noticed the letters he’d found in Vince’s police locker. He’d put them there days ago and had completely forgotten about them. Holding the phone against his ear and shoulder, he snatched them out.

  “Lab,” a woman answered.

  “This is Detective Rawlings. Did you get anything on the bullet pulled out of the store on Second and Reed?”

  “I’ll have to check on that. Can you hold?”

  “Sure.”

  Cord went back to the letters, slipping off the string. He took one and studied the handwriting. Definitely female.

  Opening the envelope, he pulled out the letter. The name Heather, with a silly red heart at the bottom of the page, jumped out at him.

  Cord took a ragged breath and started to read.

  Hey, lover, I miss your mouth, all over my body. Your hard cock inside me, driving me to such incredible orgasms. I loved the role-playing best. I’ve never been Goldilocks before. Oh, the bit with the handcuffs was hot. I’d like to try it again. You’re my stud, Vinnie, my stallion.

  Cord threw the letter down. He couldn’t stand to read any more. It made him sick. Vince was not the man Cord had known—a loving husband and dedicated cop.

  “Detective Rawlings?” the voice on the phone asked.

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  “We have a match on the barrel the bullet was fired from. It came from a police-issue handgun used in a burglary shoot-out with the Ninth four years ago.”

  How lucky was that? “Who was the gun issued to?” Could he get even luckier and have it be Tidwell’s?

  “Officer Vincent Diaglo.”

  Cord’s heart stopped. When it restarted, he asked, “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, hundred percent, Detective. We ran it twice.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  Cord ended the call, more confused than he’d been before. Had Vince’s gun been recovered in the explosion? He couldn’t remember. If not, who had it? No doubt the same person who’d sent Grace the flowers with the note calling her a whore. Who would have reason to feel that way about her, and want him dead at the same time?

  Why did Mike Tidwell seem the perfect candidate?

  Cord needed to contact Homicide to find out if Vince’s .38 was found at the scene.

  It would suffice to say that Tidwell wo
uldn’t be stupid enough to use his own gun anyway. Maybe he’d gotten his hands on Vince’s before the explosion. A dead man’s gun would definitely throw anyone off his tracks—anyone but Cord.

  Where did the internal investigation of Tidwell, Prince, and Vince fit into all this, or did it?

  Cord shook his head. His brain hurt thinking about everything. The what-ifs and maybes were giving him a migraine.

  All he knew for sure was that Vince had been having an affair with Heather Pratt, and he’d bet the bank the child she carried was his, too.

  That fact was going to kill Grace. She had a right to know her husband had been unfaithful, but he didn’t want to be the one to tell her. He loved her too much to see her suffer because of Vince’s infidelity.

  He tossed the letters back into the glove box and started his car. He’d head for the precinct to check on the red Corvette. Hopefully he’d get lucky and get a name.

  ****

  Grace hung up Emily’s kitchen phone. A sick feeling settled deep in her stomach. Why hadn’t she questioned her parents not returning her calls before now? It had been over six months since she’d spoken to them in person. Emily hadn’t talked to them either, only their answering machine.

  Grace could use her loss as an excuse, but it still wouldn’t justify why she hadn’t called a few of her parents’ neighbors to find out if they’d spoken to them. Though, if something had happened to either one, wouldn’t someone have contacted her or Emily?

  “Did you get them?” Emily asked, coming into the room, Jacob cradled in her arms.

  Grace shook her head. “I got the machine again. Something’s wrong. I have a bad feeling about this. Do you know any of Mom and Dad’s neighbors?”

  Emily frowned. “No. They didn’t give me any names or numbers. I don’t think they knew any of them well enough to give out their numbers. What about calling the Miami authorities? Maybe they could dispatch a unit to check on the house.”

  Grace nodded. “I think that’s a good idea. I feel so bad that I haven’t thought about any of this until now. Six months is a long time.”

  Emily placed a hand on her shoulder. “You and I both know, Grace, that Mom and Dad have separated themselves from us over the last three years. There have been months and months between phone calls. Remember how they couldn’t wait to get back home after Vince’s funeral?”

  “I know, but still...something could have happened to them.”

  “You’re right. Let’s just call the Miami police and tell them the situation. That’s all we can do for now, unless you want to fly to Florida.”

  Grace shook her head. That was the last thing she wanted to do, but if she had to, she would. “If the Miami police don’t find them, I may have to.”

  Grace picked up the phone again and called information. Hopefully by the end of the day, her parents’ disappearance would be explained by nothing more than a defective answering machine.

  ****

  Cord rubbed his sore arm while he waited for a computer read-out. He’d tapped into the motor vehicles registry and searched for late-model red Corvettes registered to thirty-to-forty-year-old males. A list appeared.

  He sighed. There had to be a least a hundred names. It was going to take him a long time to go through the list.

  He glanced down the first page, then the next, stopping at a familiar name. Jack Neil. Why was his name popping up all over the place?

  So Jack Neil owned a 2002 red Corvette. That would explain why the car was there yesterday, but who was driving it? Martin Andrews?

  Why would Neil lie to him about Andrews being fired if he still worked for him? It made no sense.

  Cord’s phone rang. He picked it up. “Ninth precinct, Detective Rawlings.”

  “So you finally got what you wanted,” a man in a husky voice whispered.

  The hairs on the back of Cords neck charged. “Who is this?”

  The man laughed. “You mean you don’t know? I thought you were a better cop than that.”

  Cord had no idea what to say. “You say I got what I wanted. What’s that?”

  “Oh, come now, Rawlings. What have you been dying to get your hands on for the last two years?”

  “Nothing that I can think of.” Cord tried to mentally wade through the man’s riddles.

  “How about a fine piece of ass—a piece you’ve been watching with moon-eyes since you laid eyes on her.”

  Was this guy talking about Grace?

  “Who is this?”

  The man laughed again. “Let’s just say it’s someone who’s not going to miss his target next time.”

  The phone went dead.

  Cord placed the phone on its cradle and cleared his throat. A tingle raced up his spine.

  He knew the voice, though the caller had been trying to disguise it.

  A series of events formed in Cord’s brain like a slide show. The first picture of Vince’s charred remains, ending with a red Corvette and a photograph of a man who could have been his body double.

  Who was in that car the night it exploded? Was it Vincent Diaglo, or someone else? Was the real dead man Martin Andrews? If that were the case, had Vincent killed him, placed him in the car, and blown it up to cover his ass? Vince’s demise would have definitely helped him out of the mess he’d been in with Internal Affairs. Why investigate a dead man? The only person it would hurt was Vince’s wife. And if Vince wanted to be with Heather, it was an easy way out of telling Grace the truth.

  Cord shook his head. The ramifications were staggering. If this were true, he’d known absolutely nothing about his partner. His best friend.

  What would this mean for him and Grace? She was still married to Vince.

  He rolled his chair back and rose, headed for the elevators. It was time to have a little talk with Heather Pratt. He needed to know if the baby she carried was Vince’s and if he’d come back to haunt Cord.

  Grace Under Fire

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Cord banged on apartment two-thirty-five’s door, running over in his head what he needed to ask.

  He’d always been good at interrogation, and he hoped Heather wasn’t smart enough to catch on.

  The door opened a crack and Heather peeked out, her eyes puffy and red-rimmed.

  “What do you want?”

  By her tone, Cord knew she wasn’t going to be cooperative. From what he could see of her face, she’d obviously been crying.

  “I need to talk to you about Vince Diaglo. Can I come in?”

  The door didn’t budge. She just glared at him. “Do you have a warrant?”

  “No. I just want to ask you a few questions. I found the love letters you wrote to Vince. I know you two were involved.”

  “If you haven’t noticed, he’s dead. So leave me alone.”

  “Is he?” Cord watched her face, saw a flicker of terror in her eyes, though it quickly vanished.

  “What do you want?”

  Time to move on to something else. “Is that baby you’re carrying his?”

  She opened the door a crack. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s a good possibility.”

  “Then why ask?” she snapped.

  “Are you going to let me in, or do you want your neighbors to know every sordid detail of your life?”

  Her eyes darkened, but she opened the door to allow his entrance, then closed it behind him.

  Cord glanced around, disgusted by how dirty the place looked. Soda cans and pizza boxes littered every possible surface. There was an overly sweet smell in the air that turned Cord’s stomach. Maybe it was her perfume.

  How could Vince stand to come here, let alone have sex with the woman, when he’d had Grace to go home to? The whole thing made no sense.

  “When did you meet Vince?”

  She shrugged, and Cord noticed large purplish bruises on her upper arm. Vince beat women now? Was he a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde type?

  Heather noticed him eyeing her bruises and covered them with her
hand. She cleared her throat. “I met him about a year ago. He was one of the cops that raided the back rooms at Tops and Tails. I saw you there that night, too. You were out front. Vince told me you were too by-the-book for him to tell you we were seeing each other.”

  “Did he tell you right away he was married?”

  “Sure, but when you have what Vinnie and I had, that didn’t matter. He told me he and Grace hadn’t had sex in months. They didn’t have the spark me and Vinnie had.”

  Cord tried hard to keep his contempt for her from showing, though she was a real gem. “So the child is Vince’s?”

  “He wasn’t real happy at first, but he’s come around.” She realized her slip and backtracked. “I mean, before he died.”

  “Right,” Cord said, playing along with her error.

  Go ahead and think I didn’t catch it.

  “Did you know that Vince had Internal Affairs on his back?”

  She didn’t blink an eyelash at the question. Clearly she had known. She gave him her best I’m-dumb look, then said, “What’s that?”

  Cord shook his head. He wasn’t getting anywhere with her. She’d obviously been coached on what to say if he came around to talk to her.

  But she had slipped up, and Cord intended to keep a close eye on her. She knew where Vince was holed up.

  Given enough time, she’d lead Cord directly to him. “I guess that’s all the questions I have for now, Ms. Pratt. But don’t leave town. I might think of a few more.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “If you haven’t noticed, Detective—” She patted her huge belly. “I’m in no condition to go anywhere. Oh, and Rawlings, I’m going to give you a little advice. Keep your head down, or you might end up with it missing.”

  “If that’s a threat, take a number. That’s the third one I’ve gotten this week.”

  She smiled crookedly. “Maybe that’s a sign you’re treading where you shouldn’t.”

  “Undoubtedly,” Cord acknowledged, then turned to leave.

  “Oh, one last question, Ms. Pratt. What kind of car do you drive?”

  “A Lexus. Why?”

  “Just curious.” He stepped toward the door to leave. At least he now had that loose end tied up.