Green-Eyed Monster

by Gill McKnight

  “Well,” BJ joined in cautiously, unsure of the undercurrents zigzagging through this conversation. “you gotta be careful. Don’t want to get your heart slam-dunked.”

  “Exactly.” Mickey desperately embraced a possible ally.

  “See, the officer’s just being cautious. Given a second chance, I bet Rapowski would do the right thing. She’s seen the error of her ways. She knows she made a big mistake.” She threw Ginette a hard glare. “I bet if she was given a chance she’d turn it all around. Make it better.”

  “Nope. Once a double-crossing creep, always a double-cross—”

  “Yeah, slam dunk,” Victoria interrupted harshly, picking up on BJ’s metaphor. “But it all depends if you’re the player or the ball,” she spat out bitterly. BJ and Mickey winced.

  Another silence followed as they sipped their drinks. Idly brushing away a wisp of chestnut hair, Ginette finished her third margarita and leaned over to Victoria, drawling seductively, “But I bet you’re a bomb in bed, Officer Rapowski.” Victoria’s face burned at the memory.

  Mickey shifted in discomfort at Ginette’s barbed taunt.

  BJ scowled.

  Way to go, Ginette. Piss everybody off, especially the chick with the big gun! Mickey threw a spiteful glare in Ginette’s direction. “That’s none of your business. Leave Rapowski alone,” she said.

  “Actually, I am.” Victoria’s ears were burning brighter than her cheeks. “A bomb in bed. Sometimes when you’re with the right person it can sort of…it can blow your world apart.” Her voice was hard and choked. She was embarrassed for herself, for exposing her anger and vulnerability, for her compulsion to say it out loud and let Mickey know what it had meant to her.

  “I…I mean, some women feel special…” She faltered, suddenly deflated. It was as if the words were suddenly impotent now that they existed outside of her. Mickey sat still, her eyes never leaving Victoria’s face.

  “What a wonderful thing to know. That you made someone feel so special when you loved them,” she said softly.

  Victoria looked up at her with eyes that were unfathomable.

  Mickey would have given it all away right there and then to be back in that tiny cabin, holding this small, angry, incredibly hurt woman in her arms, and for once, getting it right.

  “I’ll take Ms. Gresham below now.” Victoria stood, breaking the melancholy that hung over them all. “I’ll put her in the forecabin. It has its own en suite. We can lock her up safely for the rest of the night.”

  “Nuh-uh.” BJ shook her head. “I don’t want her left alone. Either tie her up or crash in there with her.” BJ trusted Victoria Gresham as far as she could chuck a boomerang. There was something about the tall, shady lady that just didn’t add up. Truth be told, she wasn’t too keen on Rapowski either, but assumed it was some sort of nerdish FinCEN politic because she’d collared Gresham first.

  Victoria accepted BJ’s ultimatum. With a small nod of her head, she indicated that Mickey precede her down the hatch to her cell for the night.

  They moved silently into the small space in the forepeak.

  Before them, the triangular berth took up nearly the entire cabin space. To the left, a door led to a minute toilet-shower combo, which was in itself a luxury in a boat this age.

  Awkwardly, they shuffled around each other, careful not to touch.

  “You go first.” Victoria pointed to the small bathroom.

  Minutes later, Mickey reemerged. “I left you out a spare toothbrush.”

  “Thank you. And please, no disappearing through the fore hatch. We agreed we’re in this together until we can sort out a quick fix, okay?”

  “Agreed. Anyway, I don’t think I want to sneak up top while Sister Glock is up there with a full glass of rum.”

  “I meant to ask you about that. Since when do FinCEN’s outside agencies go around with the type of hardware that could start an LA gang war?”

  “That’s just it. They don’t.”

  When Victoria came back, a clean T-shirt and boxer shorts were laid out on the bunk. Mickey sprawled over the top sheet, relaxed and contemplative, looking through the open overhead hatch to the canopy of stars above. Victoria quickly donned her nightwear, then clambered onto the berth and lay down beside her, careful not to touch.

  Together they gazed up at the constellations, the tension between them sparkling like the heavens.

  “So what is BJ’s agenda, do you think?” Victoria asked, hoping to dilute Mickey’s effect on her by sticking resolutely to the business in hand. She couldn’t fall back into the embarrassing emotional morass she’d wallowed in above deck. Not in a small, intimate space like this. They had to use this limited free time to plan. In a few hours it might well be too late to make good an escape.

  “I have no idea, except she’s as big a liar as we are. Can’t be good for us, whatever her plans are. But as long as she thinks I’m you, then you’re safe.” Her hand stole across the space between them and gently held Victoria’s.

  “Still rescuing me?” Victoria smiled bitterly. “I don’t need it this time. In fact, I think I’m rescuing you. I think that makes me the hero.”

  Mickey’s response was to caress a thumb across the back of her knuckles. It sent a delicious tingle along Victoria’s arm.

  “Yeah, but you had to impersonate me to do it—oof!” She expelled a puff of air as a backhand landed without warning on her stomach.

  “Don’t you even try to joke about this, Mickey. Every time you come anywhere near me, something always goes disastrously wrong. All I want is my money and to kick your ass out of my life once and for all. And don’t forget it.” Victoria tried to sound tough. She needed the distance. Business over emotion every time. It always worked.

  “Oh yeah? That’s not what that drunken bum Rapowski was saying up top. No, sir. That Rapowski sounded like the kind of woman who would give anything for a second chance to try to make it right. That Rapowski wouldn’t run.” That Rapowski wouldn’t be afraid to say I love you. To say I’m so, so sorry, Victoria. Give me a second chance.

  “Mickey, that Rapowski doesn’t exist.”

  “She does, Victoria. She so does.” Mickey grew deadly serious. It was time to tell Victoria the things she’d spent over two months telling herself. Mickey was lucky to have this last make or break chance.

  She took a deep breath. “I’m a fool. I was greedy and stupid. I was everything I’d judged others for. I should have been brave and taken a chance. Instead, I played it safe and stuck to my plan, and I’ve regretted it every day since. I should have stayed, Victoria. I should have stayed with you. I’m sorry I ran. I’m sorry I cheated and lied.” She blurted it all out in a garbled rush. “What can I do to make you understand?”

  “Mickey, you robbed me and ran. Like a mugger. What’s there to understand? You did exactly what you set out to do. Don’t come crying now that I caught you.”

  “You did not catch me. BJ caught me. In fact, she caught you. I would not be in this mess but for you, Victoria Gresham.”

  “What? You’re in this mess because you stole from me. If anything, this is just desserts. And you’re damn lucky BJ got to you first. The way I feel right now, I’d have torn your stupid head off and punted it over the mast.”

  This was not the reconciliation Mickey had hoped for. The conversation had drifted away from her. She lay thinking how to turn it around, back to where she wanted it to be, where she wanted them to be. The air in the cabin grew hot and muggy as the evening breeze dropped away. Turning on her side, Mickey gazed at Victoria’s determined profile, the stubborn chin, cute nose, and the sweep of dark brown eyelashes under an arched golden brow. Victoria lay scowling up at the universe. Despite the stern face, or maybe because of it, Mickey took a chance. She blew gently into the fuzzy little ear closest to her, remembering every curve and ridge so well. Then she watched Victoria’s face scrunch up.

  “Tick tock,” she whispered and blew gently again.

  Twisting her head a
round to face her, Victoria demanded,

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Tick tock.”

  “Tick tock what, you imbecile?” Victoria glowered, her face only inches away. “God, I’d forgotten what an utter idiot you can be. How the hell you got away with my money, I’ll never know.

  My wits must have been addled.”

  “Tick tock. Don’t you know I’m a bomb in bed? A time bomb. You’ve got seconds to defuse me.” Victoria flushed with both anger and embarrassment. “That was just something I said to look like a smart-ass FinCEN agent. I was tipsy.”

  “Tick tock.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  “Tick…”

  “Shut up.”

  “…tock.”

  “You’re impossible.”

  “Kiss me.”

  “No.”

  “Kiss me.”

  “No.”

  “Kiss me and I’ll give you all your money back… bar the boat. You can’t have Green Eyed Monster. I intend on spending the rest of my life with her.”

  “You’re lying to me. In fact, you’ve always lied to me.”

  “No, I’m not lying. Every word I say is true. For one kiss you can have all your money back. But I do intend to spend the rest of my life with Monster. So make up your mind. Time is running out. Tick—”

  “Stop that tick-tocking. It’s getting on my nerves.” They lay in silence, face-to-face on the V-shaped bunk under a sprinkle of Caribbean stars. And then without word, warning, or wisdom, Victoria leaned over and placed the sweetest of kisses on Mickey’s lips.

  Ooh. What have I started? she moaned to herself.

  A whimper filled the cabin, deep with need and reverberating with pleasure. Victoria stiffened. Good God, is that me? A second ragged gasp assured her, much to her intense pleasure, the whimpers were from Mickey. Comforted by this, she deepened her kiss. She dragged Mickey’s lower lip between her own and gently sucked. Why am I here again? This is the least safe place I could put myself, yet here I am in her arms. These cheating, heartbreaking arms…

  Mickey’s hands were running up and down Victoria’s back, stroking and caressing through the thin material. Her breathing was erratic, and her heart pounded painfully in her chest. She had dreamed of this incessantly these past weeks, of kissing and running her hands over her golden girl. She felt it so honestly and forcefully she had often woken late at night, confused and sweating in a tangle of sheets. Aching and alone, she would masturbate, and then lie sleepless in emotional turmoil, kicking the covers to the foot of the bed. Thinking of Victoria and that last fraught-filled night. Reliving the choices she had, and regretting the ones she’d made.

  And here she was, her Victoria, kissing the strength out of her, turning her limbs to Jell-o, coherent thought to mush, and leaving her wallowing in a quagmire of aching need. Her hands stretched down Victoria’s back and cupped her buttocks. Using her considerable strength, Mickey scooped her up to rest on top of her longer frame. She opened her legs to cradle the rounded hips, her calves curved over Victoria’s shorter legs to anchor them and pin Victoria down so she could never, ever leave. Mickey was never going to let her go again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ginette traced a casual finger across BJ’s cocoa shoulder to her chunky shell necklace. “This is gorgeous. What’s it made of?”

  “Black coconut and puka shells with a little silver for luck.”

  “It’s beautiful.” She withdrew her fingers. BJ smiled, her dark eyes shining in the moonlight.

  “Thanks, I made it myself.” Her hand came up to touch the trinket. “I’m a silversmith when I’m not sailing the ocean wave.” She smiled roguishly.

  “Oh? I thought you worked for FinCEN?” Ginette raised an eyebrow, and BJ stiffened.

  “I studied silversmithing. What I do to put bread on my table is another thing.” Black eyes bored into her. Ginette didn’t even blink.“I think there’s more to you than meets the eye, Officer Jack. And I love a mystery.”

  BJ gave a deep laugh. “I told you, I’m no Officer Jack, and, lady, you wouldn’t know where to start with me.” Ginette raised her ring-laden hand and wiggled her pinkie where a heavy silver Claddagh ring with its Irish amethyst heart winked in the pale light. “Ah, BJ, I also wear silver. You never know. I might just get lucky, too.”

  The breeze dropped, but the temperature held, making it warm and sultry on deck. They sat watching the stars above, finding patterns within the constellations, a diamond, a bullet, a heart. BJ took a long pull on her drink.

  “So.” She broke the quiet. “Victoria Gresham was your girl, eh?”Ginette answered warily. “Yes, why do you ask?”

  “You don’t seem like a match, is all.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, apart from the fact you’re angry as hell with her, there’s no connection. I mean, you have better rapport with Rapowski than with your ex girl. I guess the breakup must’ve been bitter?”

  “Yes, it was kind of harsh. We hurt each other a lot.” Ginette began to twist the Claddagh, head bent, intent on examining each glint as the jeweled heart rotated through the starlight.

  BJ watched her silently, sensing the emotional turmoil surging through the pretty woman beside her. Finally, Ginette turned to face her.

  “Let’s just say the bed death dig was accurate. In fact, the writing had been on the bedroom wall for some time.” She sighed deeply. “But after that, much, much later, I did something really stupid and nearly killed her. And when the smoke cleared… literally…I found I’d been lucky. I hadn’t lost her. In fact, we both found renewed affection, a residue of our old selves that somehow, by some miracle, mutated into a friendship. A kind of rekindling, if you forgive the pun.”

  “The cabin fire?”

  Ginette merely nodded in answer. BJ read her guilt and shame scrawled across the cast of her shoulders, the tightening of her jaw, and her endless fidgeting with her lucky ring.

  “So, why come here with Rapowski looking to arrest her? That doesn’t seem so affectionate to me.” Ginette glanced up with a hard smile. “Like you, what I do to put bread on my table is another thing, Officer Jack.”

  ❖

  The hands squeezing her bottom were burning an imprint onto her flesh. Her hips were rolling over Mickey’s center like tide on sand. She couldn’t stop it if she wanted to. How the hell did I get into this? Why am I here sucking on her neck, trying to kiss every inch of her? God, I’m an absolute junkie for her. I’ve no control. I’m so lost in all of this.

  Mickey pushed her hips to answer Victoria’s rhythm. She couldn’t believe Victoria’s heated fervor. Victoria had never been the aggressor in their short-lived liaison. She had always been the pursued. Mickey was the initiator. At least that’s how she’d imagined it. Where had this hotheaded hellion come from? In all her fantasies she had been the one chasing…and losing, reliving her miserable mistake over and over. The object of those fantasies had sprung into her arms, and was now pinning her to the bed, forcefully taking her. All she could do was hang on, and she fully intended to do that.

  Victoria’s hips stilled their grinding motion, her lips stopped sucking Mickey’s throat, and she pulled away. Leaning on her elbows, she gazed directly into the lust-hazed face below. The rebalance of weight pushed her mons harder onto Mickey, who gave a small grunt and sneakily spread herself wider, trying to apply some of the pressure to just the right spot. Feeling the furtive move, Victoria eased her weight off, using her knees as leverage. Amused, she watched Mickey’s small, petulant frown at this loss of contact, then she snapped with sudden authority,

  “Put your hands above your head.”

  Mickey’s frown remained, and her hands stubbornly squeezed Victoria’s bottom. The soles of her feet continued caressing Victoria’s smooth calves. Her dimple popped as her lips pursed.

  Oh no, you don’t. Don’t you dare turn that damned dimple on me. I’m on to your tricks, Rapowski. And I’m in charge now.

/>   “Do it,” Victoria ordered.

  Mickey eased her grip and placed her arms above her head. Victoria raised herself to straddle Mickey’s prone body, unceremoniously stripping Mickey’s boxers down, leaving them at a constricting half-mast, pinning the tanned thighs together.

  Never breaking eye contact, she caught the rim of Mickey’s T-shirt and yanked it off, exposing full, mouthwatering breasts.

  Toffeed nipples puckered for her invitingly.

  “Close your eyes, and don’t open them.” Mickey complied immediately. Victoria stripped away her own nightwear before repositioning herself across the captured thighs. She sat there and contemplated the body beneath her, her musk and heat dampening Mickey’s darker curls. It was the complete reverse of their first time together. She didn’t know why she needed this tokenism, other than to feel that this time she was in charge, the bestower of exquisite touches and delicious kisses.

  She watched the hitch in Mickey’s breathing and the rise and fall of her chest. She smiled at the struggle Mickey was obviously having keeping her eyes closed and her hands above her head. It was a delightful little power game. Already, she could see Mickey’s eyelids fluttering as she was torn between the wish to obey and the need to look at Victoria straddling her nude. The earthy scent of moist arousal rose up between them. The tension crackled like a fuse.

  Mickey whimpered, and Victoria pulled a nipple deep into her mouth before her teeth closed around its base. Mickey arched up into her mouth gasping at the stinging caress. A soft tongue bathed the ache away in long, swirling strokes. Artfully, it dragged across the sensitive bud as recompense for the tingling ache, before it began all over again. Her other breast was cupped and kneaded firmly, fingers pulling on the pouting tip before circling and compressing the soft tissue. This pattern of flattening, kneading, and pinching continued until Mickey’s breasts hummed with sensation. Each alternately massaged and stroked, as its twin was sucked and laved by Victoria’s hot, greedy mouth. Mickey arched, pushing onto Victoria’s hands and lips. She squirmed and groaned, the pressure between her trapped thighs building to the bursting point.