by Lori Power
“Because I shooed them…”
“I went looking for you,” she continued. “I walked around searching for you. Wondering—”
“I was—”
“Then, there you were.” Her arms raised in a nonchalant gesture. “Panting over another girl. Fused like cotton candy.”
“You got the situation all wr—”
“I meant nothing. You ask me if I felt the connection with you? You were the only one I ever connected with, and you stomped all over me. Ripped me apart.” Lorna shot up from the swing to grab the rail of the veranda. “That’s what you did to me. Do you know I had to be half drunk to make a move on you? To open myself up. To take a chance. And you used me.”
“No, you’re wrong.”
“You used me.” She turned her back on him, the heat of the evening causing her hair to stick to her cheeks as she brushed it back, breathing heavily. Her body coiled tightly, she wanted to run away. “Yes, I may have made the first move, but you took what I gave you and went on to someone else. Just a notch in the proverbial bedpost.”
Mitch jumped to his feet, standing close but withholding his touch.
“You can paint whatever kind of picture gets you through the night, but I know what I saw,” she resumed, maintaining her distance from him, her fist rising to cover her heart. “I have never been that humiliated—used. What did your friends say when they found out you managed to bag two in one night?”
When he refrained from speaking, his cheeks turning dusky, she leaned her head forward in his direction, her rage taking over. “Or was it more, Mitchell? Going for a record. You’re a real player with your devil-may-care smile to get you whatever you want. I’m sure that hasn’t changed in the years since. But do tell me—how many of us fell into your arms grad night?”
His high color turned puce, the whites of his eyes glowed around the icy blue iris. If her back hadn’t been so close to the porch pillar, Lorna would have taken a step back from the cold, hard rage that exploded across his features. His hand came up so suddenly she initially thought he might strike her until he framed his own head as though holding its contents intact.
He stomped his foot hard against the wooden porch. “No, goddamnit,” he said as he took her by the shoulders again, taking a step closer. “Listen to me. You’re wrong. You have it all wrong.”
“Just because you could. The big jock. Rugby captain. No, I—”
Now he cut her off. “Listen to me. It wasn’t like that at all. You are wrong.”
“I know what I saw. You used me. I don’t have it wrong at all.”
He wiped a hand across his brow. “You do,” he said, lowering his head, breathing deeply. Suddenly his face came up, directly in front of hers. “You have to listen to me. I would never use you.”
“No, actually I don’t…”
His mouth covered hers in a fierce kiss fueled with passion and anger. Lorna pushed at his shoulders, but as a powerfully built man, he held her in her place by her shoulders, moving his hips level with hers to ensure his lips continued their assault. Her mind swam in the sea of emotions that was always Mitch to her, and she understood now she would happily drown in his embrace, regardless of her words.
Lorna bit his lip and relished in his gasp of surprise.
“Fucking tiger under the straight-laced getup,” he said, pulling back marginally to suck his bottom lip between his teeth, then running his tongue over the bruise. His thumb and forefinger horseshoed her chin, and his voice croaked. “You have to listen to me for once. You’re so fucking stubborn.”
“I am not.”
“I don’t even remember the girl’s name it was so bloody long ago. I didn’t do anything with her—”
“I saw you with my own eyes—”
“Really? Perhaps what you think you saw is different from what actually happened. Ever consider that?”
Lorna strove to keep her intensity, but her rage ebbed away in the earnest mirror of his gaze. How she longed to believe him. God, how I want to lose myself in him. I want him to take me in his arms and keep me there, safe forever.
When she remained silent, he continued. “What you saw was a girl with too much to drink latch onto the first male she came across and accost him. I firmly…” He shook her shoulders in emphasis, his jaw muscles clenching and unclenching in agitation. “Removed her. I had gone out, if you remember, to grab us something to drink. To celebrate. Why would I leave you in my tent if I was just going to go get it on with someone else?
“It doesn’t make sense no matter how you shake it out. I firmly, and I mean firmly, placed her away from me. Immediately. Then I went back to the tent for you. But you were gone.”
Lorna stared into his deep eyes, pondering his version of grad. Could this really be true? Damn, it made sense, but could she trust him? Why would he lie? Why bother?
“Don’t do that,” he said, lifting her palm to his lips, and a fissure opened inside her heart. His eyes pleaded. With a thumb, he brushed the calloused surface across her lips, her chin, her jaw, and the ice she so carefully wrapped around her heart melted with the memory of the last time he took her palm and so tenderly kissed the inside of her wrist, just as he did now. “Don’t go silent on me. Not now.”
“I went back to my own tent.”
“I searched for you. I didn’t even know where your tent was.”
“You wouldn’t, of course,” she agreed, lowering her eyes, finally allowing all the rage and hurt of these last five years to leave her with a shudder.
“Do you believe me, Lorna?”
She tilted her head to gaze at him, wanting so badly to believe him, never knowing how much she needed him, wanted him, until he ran back in her life.
“Everything I’m saying is true. The next day I went to your dorm room. It took forever to get back off the island. But you were gone.” Lowering her hand, he bent his head further, his nose lightly touched hers, his forehead against hers. “Tell me you believe me. It’s important.”
Natasha told her as much when they were both back home. “I left as soon as I got back. Didn’t even tell Tasha where I went. I was so hurt.” She swiped at the silent tears leaking down her cheeks. “I gave myself to you. I felt like you used me. Got what you wanted and moved on. You were the jo—”
“Ode to the reputation that was.” His thumb came up to rub a tear away. “For both of us. I put myself out there for you too, you know. Tell me, Lorna. Tell me you believe me. How many times did I ask you out? There is only you for me. McNab’s was just the beginning for me. You have to know that. Why would I be here now?”
Lorna wanted to believe. Is this a dream? She didn’t care if it was. Without thinking further about what she was doing, she lifted her palms to cup his face and pulled him to her. “Oh, Mitch, all these years.” She claimed his mouth with fervor.
“All these years,” he murmured against her lips, kissing her gently, coaxing her to a submission she ached to provide.
Then the front door opened, flooding light onto the darkened porch. “Mama, kisses for bed,” Kris said, coming outside.
Lorna and Mitch jumped apart like they were teenagers.
“Kris,” Mariam called from inside the house. “Where are you?”
“Out ’ere with Mama.”
“Kris, I told you I would tuck you in.” Mariam scurried out the door after the child, appearing embarrassed.
“It’s okay, Ma.” Lorna went quickly to the front door to take Kris in a hug before turning him around and sending him on his way. “You go on with Nana. I’ll be up in a minute.”
“Snug-a-bug with a story?”
“Yes, of course.” Lorna patted him on his rear-end and he jumped across the threshold to his grandmother. “Just let me say goodnight to Mitch.”
“Mitchell,” Kris said, stopping just inside the door and turning back to face her. “Remember? Mitchell.”
“Yes.” She laughed a carefree laugh, freeing the burden she seemed to carry for far too long. Castin
g a quick gaze at Mitch from the corner of her eye, he walked towards her. “I remember.”
“Goodnight, little man,” Mitch said, bending to shake her son’s hand.
“Nite-nite, Mitchell,” Kris said, before whirling to follow his grandmother into the house. Just before the door closed behind them, Lorna heard him say. “They sure are taking a long time to say goodnight.”
Facing Mitch, she swung her hands in front of her, lacing her fingers. “Well, there’s my cue,” she said, overwhelmed with the events of the last moments and at a loss about what to do next. I know what I want to do. Invite him upstairs, but I can’t.
“Everything feels different now,” he said, reading her mind. Taking her hands in his, he lifted her palms to kiss the inside of each wrist. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”
“We do,” she agreed.
“I want to see you again.”
“Tomorrow?”
His eyes blazed in the dim light cast from the windows on either side of the door. “Yes.”
“What time?”
“What time is it now?” he asked, and bent to nuzzle her neck.
Loving the tingles, but knowing her time with Mitch was at an end for the evening, she pushed playfully at his shoulders, trying to keep her knees from buckling. She had suffered a whirlwind of emotions in far too short a time frame. She needed a bit of distance and time. Perspective. Perhaps. “Come before lunch. We’ll all go for a picnic.”
He lifted his lips to hers, pulling her into his arms. He growled, close to her mouth. “This is too weird.”
“I know, I feel…”
A vibration against her leg notified her before she registered the sound of a slight buzz that he was getting a call. “Damn,” he said, drawing back, apology knotting his brows. “Impeccable timing…sorry”
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and read the display. His features seemed to close down before her eyes. Where a moment prior he was an open book, now she could read nothing from his stern expression. Just before he raised his eyes from the display, he said. “I have to take this.” Without further explanation, he turned his back to her, walked down the three steps to the front lawn.
“Mitch Morgan here.” His voice dropped an octave from his usual when he answered.
She moved to the edge of the porch. There was a long pause when he seemed to be just listening.
“Mitch Morgan,” he repeated.
Another pause.
“No. This is Mitch Morgan. I don’t know anyone by the name of Michael Ward.”
And Lorna felt the hair on the nape of her neck stand up on end.
Chapter Nine
“No. Yours is a new phone.” Luke confirmed what Mitch suspected. “Standard protocol after a mission: new phone, new SIM card, everything. There has to be a mistake. How the hell would they get your number?”
On the beat, Luke was mentoring a rookie when Mitch tracked him down. Luke and the newbie stood outside the doughnut shop, about to go in. The late day sun glinted off silver threaded through his reddish hair. Mitch had called Luke as soon as he left Lorna’s place. He needed to talk to someone before taking his suspicions to the Chief.
Mitch accepted the cardboard cup from the female clerk with a nod of thanks. “All good questions, man. How did they know where to find me?” He declined the doughnut Luke offered.
Luke squinted at Mitch over the opened top of the plastic cover, breathing in the aroma, and shook his head. “You sick or something?”
“Huh?”
“A pretty blonde with big blue eyes is doing all she can to be noticed by you behind the counter…” Luke rolled his head back towards the shop they just exited. “And you don’t spare a glance. That’s not like you.”
Mitch didn’t have time for the teasing. He had other concerns on his mind. “Whatever,” he said with a shrug. “Can we stay on topic here?”
Luke leaned against his squad car’s hood. “Question really is, are you overreacting? You don’t even know if it was the Fongs.”
“C’mon.” Mitch raised his gaze from his steaming cup to Luke’s face. “I worked the case for more than a year. I know Veronique’s voice.”
“You know more than you should, I hear.”
Mitch ignored the barb and the smirk. “She called me Michael Ward.”
“No trace?”
“None. I called the first time when the line seemed dead. Then as soon as I hung up, I called it in again and no tracers.” Mitch lifted his cap to run his hand through his hair. “Jesus, fuck, how’d they find me. The rest are still in holding at remand; I checked. Just her and head cheese Chuck weren’t arrested…Oh man.”
Luke brushed his shoulder. “Listen, this could be nothing.” Luke pointed his cup at Mitch’s forearms. “Painting today? Over at your sister’s?”
Mitch blinked before cluing into what Luke referred to. He stared down at his arm, where traces of paint splattered just before his elbows. He allowed a small smile. “No. I was over at Lorna’s place. Helping with a fence.”
“Umm, Lorna?”
“We went to university together. We ran into each other recently.” He loved the irony of those words.
“She the one who ran into you?” Luke’s tone and manner took on a serious note and caused Mitch to sit up straighter. “With a truck?”
“I ran the stop sign,” Mitch returned slowly. “But yes, she rammed the hearse with the rental truck.”
“You say it was Vonnie who called,” Luke circled the conversation back to the beginning. “Say the Fongs have found you. Your cover’s blown. Don’t you think it’s a bit too convenient—Lorna being the one to run into you in a different city and all along she lives right here. Right where you work?”
“It’s weird, yes, but I told you, I ran the stop sign.”
“Think, man. There are not a lot of flukes in our line of work.” The older cop paused to take a noisy swig from his coffee cup. “Could it be this woman—this Lorna—who turned over your location to the Fongs?”
“No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” Mitch stood up from the car, taking a few paces to the side of the brick building. “She doesn’t know anything about it. I haven’t even told her what I was doing there. Not about the case, nothing but that I worked as a cop.”
“Smart girl, no doubt she’ll likely have figured it out. Or knew ahead of time. How do you know she’s not a plant? Not involved? On the family payroll, so to speak.”
Mitch gritted his teeth. “I know.” He started to walk away, back towards his truck, defensive anger rising to the surface.
Luke trailed him. “You thought you knew Veronique,” his friends raised voice reached him, pulling him back towards his long-time mentor.
“That’s different and you know it. Vonnie was part of the job. She was key to getting inside the family.” Mitch pointed his finger at Luke. “Lorna’s not a job. She’s just a woman who was on her way to an appointment when I ran out in front of her.”
“Just a woman you have an obvious history with,” Luke persisted, pointing back. “I’ve never seen you react to a babe like this before, Mitch. And let’s face it, you’ve had your share. This Lorna, this blast from the past, could be using this to her favor.” He paused for breath, fisting his hand and pounding in back into the palm of his other. “And since when does undercover mean “under the covers?” I didn’t know it was part of the job to sleep with suspects?”
“Fuck you, man,” Mitch boiled over, slamming his coffee cup to the ground, the brown liquid splashing across his boots. “That’s low. Vonnie was the job. Leave Lorna out of this. She’s nothing to do with the Fongs.” He stomped to his truck, taking control of his temper and his tongue before saying something he would regret later.
Mitch sat in his truck, steaming. Luke pulled the patrol car out of the parking lot and into traffic, heading east, leaving Mitch to simmer in his own boiling thoughts. Turning over the big diesel engine, he ebbed against traffic in the opposite dire
ction. Too agitated to go home, he rolled his window down, soaking in the night air, trying to focus.
Luke’s comments stung. I already told him how the accident happened. How can he have jumped to the conclusion it was all planned?
And Veronique? She was a stunner, willowy with her waist-length shiny, black hair, ebony eyes to match. Complete with the Fong family dark heart. Sleeping with Vonnie was not intentional or planned but did speed up his introduction to the heart of the family. She was the daughter of Gary Fong, older brother to kingpin Charlie Fong. Leaving Vonnie out of the arrests, their operation drew her brother Serge and ultimately her father, along with his six hired guns, into wanting to join their make-believe syndicate. The sting was based on the promise that Gary would finally be in charge, instead of always having to kowtow to a younger brother—as Gary had done for most of his life. Their operation manufactured a make-believe lifestyle, an opportunity too much for Gary’s crew to pass up. Mitch, posing as the daughter’s love interest, simply moved the process forward much faster.
“Fuck Luke.” He slammed the cuff of his hand against the steering wheel. This wasn’t the first time his mentor told him to keep hold of his loose ends. The reminder stung, and he felt the reprimand.
“It’s going to get you in trouble one day, boyo,” Luke had said with a smile and a knowing wink after his last undercover op.
“Well, this isn’t that day,” Mitch muttered, rubbing his temples and pinching his lips together in a determined line.
***
The Chief wasn’t happy. At all. Too early on a Sunday morning when, instead of being with his family having brunch, Boulet sat in his office across from Mitch, listening to how he suspected his cover had been blown, for the second time on the same operation.
“You’re sure it was her?”
“Yes,” Mitch confirmed, elbows on his knees, his hands falling loose in between his spread legs. “Not only does Veronique have a very distinctive voice, she called me by my alias.”
“How’d she get your number?”
“Damned if I know.” For once meeting with his superior was very informal. Mitch had hardly slept the night before and was weary from trying to puzzle out this new development.