ROMANCE: MENAGE ROMANCE: Tapped and Taken by Two (Pregnancy Sports MMA UFC Fighter Romance) (Alpha Male Romance)

by Maxi MacNair

  He nodded. She’d never seen such yearning in a man’s eyes.

  Lust tingled deep within her. She scanned the mostly empty parking lot roof. Shift change wasn’t for another hour. He kissed her again, sliding a hand down her pants. He pushed her panties aside. Her body consented for her when he felt how wet she suddenly was.

  She reached for him and found him at attention, unbuckled his belt and set him free. She stroked him with her hand as they kissed. Her desire built and built, and she tugged her pants down, freeing one leg. So inappropriate for a police detective, but she didn’t care as she climbed on top of James in the driver’s seat of his car.

  Their frenzied lovemaking didn’t last long. She pumped up and down on top of him, knocking her knee on the gear shift. They thrust into one another, grunting like animals. There was no gentleness, only need. The pins came loose from her hair and the blonde waves tumbled down over her shoulders. He used her hair to maneuver her head to the side, and bit at her neck, teasing the boundaries between pleasure and pain. She moaned into him.

  He came hard, jerking and shuddering, and she followed him a split second later with a scream, loud in the enclosed space. They didn’t need to worry about being seen, steam fogged the car windows to opacity.

  Randi disentangled herself, flopping back onto the passenger seat, pulling up her pants.

  “Thank you. I had to feel you.”

  “What’s wrong, James?”

  “I got some bad news today. About my job. I don’t know what I’m going to do. Some tough decisions. Let me drop you off closer to the door. And, god, I left you a huge hickey. I’m so sorry.”

  Randi peered in the mirror. He wasn’t wrong. “Good thing it’s scarf season.” It was really the only thing she could think of to say. She didn’t mind having James insider her in the least, but now she was starting to get worried. What was up? But there was no clarity from James. She walked back into the precinct a little numbed a little blissed out.

  * * *

  “Where the hell have you been?” Chris demanded when she came back inside. “I’ve been calling you!”

  She’d left her phone on her desk. “I needed some air, wasn’t feeling great.”

  “You look a little flushed.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “They hit a Brinks truck this time. Killed one of the guards.”

  It didn’t sound right…their guy seemed to be strictly a bank guy. Was he getting desperate? And they’d never hurt anyone before. “You’re sure it’s the same perp?”

  “Not 100%, but it seems to be. Found the getaway car torched like the others.”

  “Well, let’s go.”

  Chris frowned at her, put her hands on her hips. “Wait a minute, if you’re not feeling well, I can grab Morrison to come with me instead. You can hang here, there’s certainly plenty to do.”

  “No, I’m fine, it was a passing thing. I’m okay now.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  * * *

  The next night Randi and James drove out of the city. He told her it was a surprise where they were going, and after a delicious Italian dinner, she discovered he’d taken her to an ice castle. Huge slabs of sparkling ice that looked like children’s wooden blocks lit it in multiple colors. No wonder he’d told her to dress warm. They held hands and strolled through the corridors of colorful crystalline stalagmites.

  He talked about his family, all dead.

  “How?” she’d asked.

  He kinda shrugged in a way that people do when they are trying to pretend something isn’t causing them to feel something when it really is. She recognized the look in his eyes from that first moment they ran into each other on the street. He had something he wanted off his chest, but he just wasn’t able to say it. She didn’t push. He told her how they’d grown up dirt poor, his father never around when he was alive. They didn’t have a lot of possessions, and he admitted he might be overcompensating these days.

  “I get it. Sometimes material stuff is comforting. When Devon died, it was all that brought me pleasure. Touching things that couldn’t die, couldn’t feel. It brought with it the added bonus of being one more thing to beat myself up about—how materialistic could I be, blowing through huge swaths of Devon’s life insurance on monstrous shopping sprees. But the purchases would never leave me you know. Would never force me to come home from work one day and find them dead in her home.”

  There was just something about James that made her want to open up. She could spill her guts to him and it really felt like she was purging herself of something. Like talking about all this stuff was like pouring it down the sink and watching it just drain away. She talked about her parents, both dead as well, and how Devon’s family always welcomed her with open arms. She didn’t like to take them up on anything now, because when she was there, with them, she was Devon’s widow, not Randi. She’d kept his last name. Would always keep his last name. She made the promise to him at his small memorial service.

  “Would you ever consider being Randi Gagnon-Moore?”

  “Maybe.” She laughed a little out loud. “You aren’t serious though?” She’d had her one shot. And honestly, why would anyone else ever want to be with her? The man she loved killed himself while she was at work one day. “You’re not actually proposing are you?”

  A grin split James’ face. She knew he was just joking around, but he also decided to take it a bit further. He chipped a corner of sparkling ice from the wall of the structure, and dropped to one knee. He held the ice out to her in his gloved hands.

  “Randi Gagnon, will you be my wife?”

  A few other patrons in the castle saw them, and started to clap.

  “Say yes!” someone called.

  Randi could barely contain her laughter. She knew this was ridiculous. It was the most ridiculous idea in the world that they get married, but part of her was also getting giddy at the thought. And not only because people were watching. She didn’t care about that. It was his open, honest smile. So what if they barely knew each other. The proof of their love rested in her stomach, the size of an avocado.

  She took the ice chip. “Of course I’ll marry you!” Making a big show out of it like they were in a Hollywood romance movie from the 1950s.

  He stood and swept her into his arms, and all the people cheered. Randi handed her phone to someone, and asked them to snap a photo of the two of them, the colorful ice castle in the background.

  “I’ll get you some real ice soon enough,” he whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek. There was something serious in his voice when he said that though, and the thought of another ring frightened her. She’d worn her wedding and engagement ring for two years after Devon died. Then at Chris’ gentle urging, she’d put them away. It would be strange to have another now.

  The fuss died down, and they found themselves in a remote section of the castle, lit all around with a soft blue glow.

  James picked her up in his arms, “so miss James Gagnon-Moore what are we to do as our first act as husband and wife. Randi could tell that the whole thing was a joke that had gone a little too far.

  “Why not back to the car for a quick honeymoon,” she said laughing.

  James face suddenly changed and turned serious. The look on his face suddenly turned into what she had now recognized twice before.

  “I was dishonorably discharged.”

  Randi gasped, actually bringing a hand to her lips. She couldn’t imagine. She thought of Devon, so handsome in his uniform, so devoted to the service.

  “My CO beat a woman to death. At a bar near fort Bragg. He was going to rape her. I tried to save her, I didn’t get there in time and…I couldn’t stop myself. I hurt him really, really badly.” James’ shoulders slumped, and he dropped his gaze, staring and the snowy floor.

  Randi’s head spun. She couldn’t imagine Devon attacking his CO, but maybe if the man was hurting someone. If he had killed
someone…she chewed at her lip. She had to stop herself. James wasn’t Devon.

  “Did you go to prison?”

  “Three years.”

  “How…” her voice trailed off, not even sure what to ask.

  “I regret I didn’t have the self-control to stop when he was down. I could see her body, lying there, not moving, and I saw red. I couldn’t control myself. I regret what I did every day.”

  She thought about him, his posh apartment, expensive haircut and nice car. Did he really have his life together? Devon seemed to. When he came home, got out of the military, started hunting for work, he seemed like a quieter version of himself. But as time chugged on, he’d faded away. Randi didn’t know if she could watch another man wrestle with trauma and slowly everyday lose a little of themselves to it.

  He’d turned away, and stood examining the glassy, sparkling walls of this beautiful castle. Overhead, away from the city, stars twinkled in the crisp, clear night. Happy voices chirped, and the sounds of laughter floated to them.

  James’ shoulders shook, ever so slightly. He quickly steadied himself and looked up with tears forming in the corner of his eyes.

  “James?”

  He didn’t answer. She went to him, tried to turn him around but he wouldn’t look at her. “Hey, it’s okay.”

  “No it’s not.”

  “It was a mistake. It was the past.”

  “Ya I know, but there’s so much more I need to tell you.”

  “Like what.”

  “I….I can’t right now.”

  Randi let her hold on him relax a little. She had opened herself up to James in every way that she could. She had shared things with him she had not even told her best friend and partner. She also felt better for doing it. Maybe that was enough for now.

  “Whenever you are ready,” was all she replied and she tightened the muscles in her arms to bring him as close and possible to her.

  7

  He couldn’t believe he’d cried in front of her. Couldn’t believe he’d told her about Vince. He’d vowed to never talk about it again after he changed his name.

  Randi snored softly beside him, the covers kicked off. He watched the slight roundness of her belly. What would his life be like now if he’d walked away when she told him? He couldn’t be a father, he had too many secrets. Sure, she’d accepted the one he’d told her last night, but how would he hide his income source from her? What else could he be? He was a soldier. A criminal. He wasn’t a father or a husband.

  It made his heart ache. He wished it could all be real, wished he could be who Randi thought he was.

  He’d retire. He’d figure something out.

  But first?

  He needed one more score.

  He slid out of bed. She mumbled and rolled over, and he drank in her body. Those perfect breasts, her pert, athletic ass and thighs. He’d wanted her from the moment he saw her. At first it was a game, screw the detective working his case, but he’d fallen in love the first night something inside him said. He somehow knew he was in love with her long before she told him she was pregnant. He knew it didn’t make sense, but he had. The weeks when she didn’t call were torture. He’d assumed he deserved it. He wasn’t a good person.

  Then she called. And they’d be together for ever, at least in some sense. They’d always share DNA in the baby growing in her.

  He wanted to reach out and touch her, but didn’t want to wake her.

  Naked, he padded out into his living room. The curtains were open here, and he looked out over the city, pulled out his laptop, and started making connections.

  One more job.

  * * *

  “Sit down,” Chris said.

  “Uh oh.”

  “Maybe.”

  “That’s not very reassuring.”

  “Just sit, Rand. We gotta talk.”

  “I searched for James Moore and found nothing.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “In the database. There are many, many James Moores, but I didn’t find yours.”

  “So he doesn’t have a record.” But it didn’t make sense. She knew he had a record.

  “I’m not talking about the criminal database, I mean anything. DMV, IRS, social security. Your boyfriend—fiancé—doesn’t exist.” Chris frowned at her, curls framing her round face. “There’s got to be a mistake. Look it up yourself. There’s something he’s not telling you.”

  “Look. He’s got something of a past. I’m sure…” her voice trailed off. What was she sure of?

  With an apologetic hug, Chris left her alone. Randi went to her computer. There had to be a record of the crime he’d told her about over the weekend. She ran the name James Moore through the database, and realized Chris was right. None of those people were her James Moore. So he had another name. James might be short for…what? Jamison? She tried it in the search. Nothing. She Googled for the case he told her about. Fort Bragg made it easy to pin down. The man in that case’s name, though, was Damien Rice. When she saw his mugshot, fingers of ice ran down her spine, even though she’d been expecting them. It was James. A military high and tight haircut, he glared into the camera, his lip split and slightly bloody.

  The case, though, was as he described it. Vince McCarty was the CO, described anonymously as not being a very good man, murdered Helena Ocampo in cold blood behind a bar in Fayetteville. And Damien—James—beat him within an inch of his life. No wonder he’d changed his name. But why not get a social security card, make it legit?

  It chewed at her.

  She Googled some more. Helena Ocampo. Found an article with her husband and their three children smiling at a camera. An anonymous benefactor sent them money every few months. “They took Mama, but we got a guardian angel,” Maria, the youngest, said in the interview. Because of the money, the oldest daughter Lupe went to NYU, and was now the president of the Latino student club there. The son, Hector, was able to have a birth defect in his foot finally fixed. Now he ran track for his high school. The father described how they’d come to the country with nothing, and both he and his wife were hard up for cash. He said it was like his Helena was now watching over them all. Every time the family needed money it appeared. When Thomas wanted to go to college to get a better job the tuition was deposited in his bank. When Hector needed the operation, same thing. Thomas said that every helping hand they needed they got, but he would also give all of it back to have more time with his beloved Helena.

  She located Tomas Ocampo’s phone number and dialed.

  A sweet, young voice answered. Must be Maria. “May I speak to your father, please?”

  “May I please tell him who is calling?”

  “I’m a detective. I have a few questions for him.”

  Randi could hear the frown in her voice as she called “Papa! The police are on the phone!”

  When he answered he sounded worried. “How can I help you?”

  “I have a few questions about the money you receive.”

  “Are you calling from the FBI? They haven’t been able to track it down in years.”

  “No, I have a lead I’m following up on. All I need are the dates of the donations.”

  “Certainly. I have all the information, have given it to the FBI before. Can I email you?”

  “Of course.” She gave her email address.

  “Why are you calling from New York City? Is Lupe all right?”

  “She’s fine. I think we might be close to finding out who is sending the money.”

  He paused. “Will I have to give it back?”

  She hadn’t thought about the ramifications of her nosing around, of her solving this mystery. “I don’t believe so.”

  “I can’t. We’ve spent it. Summer camps, tuition, sports, the house. I mean, I have my savings, but…I’ll never be able to pay it all back.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Ocampo.”

  “It was the worst thing in the world to lose Helena. She was my everything from when we were ten yea
rs old. I’d never loved another woman. If I could trade, I would be poor with her. But my children…they have every opportunity. They have real lives, not poverty. I can’t pay it back.”

  “I understand. I look forward to your email. I’m sure it will all work out.”

  He sent her the Excel file a few minutes later. She chewed at her lip as she opened it. Her face dropped as she cross referenced it with the list of bank robberies she’d been researching.

  The past few lined up just as neatly as the rest of them. A bank got hit in the same way, quiet note passing, suspect disappearing into thin air, and then days later a deposit.

  “Randi, what are you still doing here?”

  The friendly voice made her jump. She switched to her email, not wanting anyone to see what she was reading. Todd Carraway stood in the doorway of her office. She glanced at the clock and realized it was after ten. She hadn’t noticed the sounds of the precinct dying down around her. “Just picking away at the Central Park murder from last week. Thought I might come up with something if I stared at it long enough.”

  “You’re not out with your new guy? Didn’t even know you were seeing anyone until Chris told me.”

  “He’s working tonight,” she lied with a smile.

  “Well, don’t work too hard. I’m real happy for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Todd left, and once again the office went silent. Randi’s heart pounded in her ears. So the victims of the crime that sent James to jail received anonymous donations each time a bank was robbed. Plus James Moore didn’t seem to exist. She had to talk to him.

  And then what? Arrest him?

  It made her mouth dry. She touched her stomach, stroking their baby. She remembered when she first met him, hurrying with armloads of packages. The money. She’d knocked the money from his arms the first time they met. She’d helped him pick it up.

  She’d lose her job over this.

  In the state of New York, she had twenty four weeks to have an abortion. There was still time. She studied the pearl necklace he’d given her, which hung so perfectly around her neck.

  No abortion. She couldn’t do it. Never again.