Marie, Laura - Victoria [Cop's Daughter 1] (BookStrand Publishing Romance)

by Laura Marie

  He was her Marine, her man. She’d never love anyone more.

  The next moment, he caught her staring, but before he could react, she placed her lips upon his neck, sucking hard. She heard Steven moan, then shake.

  * * * *

  The sensations were intense. His body felt weaker and weaker with every thrust, and he prayed his legs held out a little longer. His body dipped down a split second, his mouth against Victoria’s as she gasped, worried only momentarily that they might fall to the floor. They giggled simultaneously. They just couldn’t get enough of one another.

  Steven was amazed at the way Victoria made him feel, what she did to his body, his mind, and his soul. He needed to get her to the bedroom, but he couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop. The misty, deep sparkle in her eyes, like some wild tigress hungry for what he could give her, turned him on. With each thrust, he wanted, needed more and more, and Victoria cheered him on, whispering softly against his skin as only a lover could as she expressed the pleasure he brought her.

  Over and over again, waves of heat collided deep with them. He could feel her body’s response as they moved deeper and deeper in sync. With each thrust, the need to reach further, deeper kept building and building. His body and mind teetered on whether he could die from such intense pleasure or explode in some indefinable, incomprehensible combustion.

  This was it. He couldn’t hold out any longer. She drove him wild.

  “Victoria,” he growled, then exploded inside her.

  “Ohh, Steven…”

  Hugging her close, they savored the moment.

  “Tory…you’re incredible…that was incredible.” He was out of breath as their bodies melted to the plush carpeting on the floor.

  Neither gave it a second thought as their legs entwined, their breathing calmed, holding one another until they were ready to move.

  Chapter 10

  Detective Don Phelps still sat at his desk in the River Point Police Department. Only a few other police officers hung around, and everyone seemed to be talking in a whisper. The rest of the place swarmed with FBI agents and investigators from the DA’s Office. A lot of people were worried.

  Don wasn’t one of them and was proud of it. He never was one to take a bribe or fall for any of the broken promises that came along with turning the other cheek or not doing his job. He was a cop through and through, and he felt the majority of the men and women he worked with were just as proud to be in their positions and just as unwilling to jeopardize their reputation.

  Rumors flew around about local board members and only a few police officers. The word was that Ronnie Chappa was one of them—he had been on the take.

  If this were true, then it validated Don’s belief that being corrupt wasn’t worth it. He was a bit surprised at the kid because he had shown potential to be a good detective some day.

  The other rumor made Don smile, and that was that Danny Mardullo’s daughter, Victoria, was working undercover for the agents. She had put on a hell of show, even he had been fooled. Danny would have been proud. Then he thought about Tod Kafrey and knew the guy was probably pissed off right now.

  Tod had a thing for Victoria and would surely show concern for her safety. He also was the lead investigator on her father’s case and hadn’t come up with any leads whatsoever. It wasn’t Tod’s fault. Don had seen the file on Danny’s murder. The crime scene was botched right from the get-go. Then he recalled Ronnie Chappa’s name on the list. Everyone who was present at a crime scene had to log in, and Ronnie Chappa was there.

  The kid’s name was on the lists taken at each crime scene. Don wondered what was going on. What if the kid was hired by the killer to foul up the crime scenes, contaminate evidence, and destroy any possibility of clues being left behind? It made sense when he thought about it.

  When a person committed murder, took someone’s life as brutally as Danny was murdered, as well as the others, he or she was liable to leave something behind. If the crime scene was contaminated, footprints smudged, other things removed, or evidence gathered at the scene became contaminated during delivery to the lab or at the lab, for that matter, then the investigation was botched. Nothing could hold up in a court of law, and there was no solid direction for the detectives to take.

  Don figured Collins had paid off Chappa, but there was no way Collins had it in him to commit murder. There had to be someone else involved. He wondered if the FBI agents had seen the list from Danny’s crime scene. The agents seemed to be aware of a hell of a lot more than the police were, but it couldn’t hurt to point it out. His gut told him not to ignore the information. His mind was made up as he headed down the hallway.

  * * * *

  Creek Valley, New York

  “Hey, Lucas, what do we got?” Detective Willie Shay entered the motel room. He was shocked at the horrific scene. He had been working homicide in Creek Valley, New York, for fifteen years, and in the past few of those years, the homicides had gotten pretty bad. This one, however, cut the cake. He had never seen anything like it and it instantly gave him an uneasy feeling.

  “Incredible isn’t it, Willie? She was a pretty girl, in her twenties. I don’t care if we find out she was a ‘pros’ selling her body for money. No one deserves to die like this.” Lucas stood to the side of the doorway letting the forensics team take care of their business.

  The young woman was brutally murdered, tied up to the frame of the bed, gagged, stabbed multiple times, and her face slashed. She had wads of paper shoved into her mouth, possibly down her throat, and Willie tried to figure out what the hell that was all about.

  Willie carefully walked around the small motel room. There was no sign of a struggle, and the bathroom looked hardly used. It was a bit on the dirty side, and he leaned into the room, noticing the empty box that sat in the garbage pail. He leaned in closer, noting it was one of those permanent hair dyes. The kind you find in a pharmacy, a popular brand. He read the color description, “Hazelnut.”

  He called back toward Lucas who now stood near the body.

  “Hey, Lucas, does she look like her hair was just dyed? Any staining around the hairline?” Willie asked, recalling how his lovely wife of twenty years, Margaret, had begun coloring her hair the moment it started turning gray. He came home from work one night and she had just finished using one of the hair kits, and he laughed at the stains of dye around her hairline. She looked pretty funny, but after she washed it all out, the color looked good. And it was instant, just like the box in the garbage said.

  Lucas put on his rubber gloves and looked more closely at the victim’s scalp as Willie joined him.

  “Hey, Willie, it looks like she did, how the hell did you guess that?” Lucas asked.

  “I had a little help. Let’s see if we can get any fingerprints off the box in the bathroom. Also, I want to check out any calls that were made from this room in the past forty-eight hours. Question as many people around this place and the neighborhood as possible,” Willie stated.

  Lucas gave him a funny look. He knew what Lucas was thinking, that the neighborhood was pretty bad, most wouldn’t give a cop the time of day.

  “Just try your best, Lucas. Hopefully someone noticed who this girl was with. As soon as we identify her, we’ll check her employment status and take it from there. I still don’t get the stuffed papers in her mouth, though.” Willie stared at the victim’s body.

  The photographer from the forensics team just finished taking the pictures in the bathroom, so that the evidence could be removed and bagged without contamination.

  He overheard the detectives talking and couldn’t help but comment.

  “If it was dirt in her mouth, I’d say there was a good possibility she was killed by the same guy who’s loose in River Point.”

  “What are you talking about?” Willie asked, and the photographer explained about Danny Mardullo’s murder, as well as Linda Delaney and Ronnie Chappa.

  “It couldn’t be him, though. The FBI have been on Bret Collins’s
trail for a while. They had him and Danny Mardullo’s daughter under surveillance,” Lucas stated. His cousin Angie was married to Danny Mardullo’s cousin Jake.

  “They haven’t proved Bret Collins is the killer. Maybe he had help?” The photographer continued his work.

  Willie found all the information to be pretty interesting, and he would follow every possible lead no matter how small.

  * * * *

  Bret Collins sat in the metal chair. His hands shook and he sweated profusely. It felt like he had been there for hours, and the agents weren’t giving up. They bombarded him with questions. They knew the answers already, he could tell, and he couldn’t even complete his own.

  They knew so much. He wasn’t gonna get out of this one. He was as good as dead. If he told them about the killer, they wouldn’t be able to protect him. If he admitted to their charges, he’d go to prison. He’d never survive prison.

  Forget about any possibility of a political career, maybe he could still hold on to Victoria. She would be his saving grace. She would come through for him, give him the alibi he needed to be sure the murder charges couldn’t stick. Damn it, how could he have been so stupid? He was losing it. He was exhausted and his head spun.

  * * * *

  Outside the interrogation room, Monroe just finished looking into the information he had received from Detective Don Phelps. It was midnight and they were all exhausted. Bret Collins was stronger under interrogation than they’d expected, but he would falter soon. They waited to tell him about Victoria Mardullo. They wanted to be sure the other charges would stick and he would be held in jail without bail. Some of the others involved just began to rat Collins out and signed statements.

  Warren wanted to be sure that Victoria was safe, especially if Collins was the killer they were after.

  Monroe spoke to Warren about the information they had, as well, and the possibility that Victoria was right and the real killer was still out there.

  “So what do you want to do?” Warren asked Monroe.

  “I think we should let Collins know that he doesn’t have an alibi, that Victoria Mardullo was working for us.”

  “What if we can’t prove that he was involved with the murders? What if he doesn’t know who the killer is? Collins can get bail on any of the other corruption charges. He’ll have his attorney in here so fast, we won’t be able to keep him until morning.”

  “So we let him go, keep him under surveillance, and see who he runs to.”

  “Okay, let’s do this.”

  The two agents headed into the interrogation room, ready to break Collins.

  * * * *

  “So, Bret, where were you on the night of June 12, 2002, at seven?” Monroe leaned back in his chair.

  This was it, Bret thought. He would never forget that day or how he felt knowing Danny Mardullo was about to die.

  “I don’t know where I was or what day you’re even talking about. I’d have to check a calendar. My calendar,” he quickly corrected himself.

  “What about this past May 26, 2003? Or how about three nights ago on June 12, 2003?”

  “June 12, 2002, was the day Detective Danny Mardullo was murdered. You know the day, Bret. So stop playing games with us. Then there was May 26, 2003, when Linda Delaney was found murdered, and finally, three days ago on June 12, your little buddy Ronnie Chappa was killed. Who were you with? Who can prove your whereabouts?” Colt continued with the questions and Bret just stared at him, wondering where to go with this. He needed to stall them, needed time to think.

  “I want my lawyer,” he demanded.

  Monroe looked furious, but he seemed to play along. “If you want one, that’s fine, but I just want you to know that we already know everything and how it went down. Do you want to waste precious time hiding behind your lawyer, or do you want to help us catch the real killer?”

  Bret was shocked. Did they really think there was someone else involved? Did he have a chance of getting out of this, or a lesser sentence? He held back his answer, his mind spinning.

  Monroe just stared at Bret, looking like he tried to read his eyes, his body language.

  “We know you didn’t actually kill these people, but that you know who did. So why not just start talking so no one else gets hurt? If you cooperate, maybe we can discuss lessening the charges? You need to cooperate, Bret. It’s the only way we can help you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I had nothing to do with those murders you’re talking about. I can prove I was nowhere near those people at the time they were killed. Victoria Mardullo can vouch that I was with her the night Linda was killed and the night Ronnie Chappa was found.”

  He was more scared of the killer than the agents.

  “You weren’t with her. You were with one of your bimbos who’s into the kinky stuff like you are. Victoria Mardullo was working for us. She wore a wire the other night. Maybe you’d like to listen, in case you forgot.” Monroe pressed play on the small recording device.

  Bret listened to the conversation. They had him.

  “Victoria’s not going to help you, Bret. She wants her father’s murderer caught and thrown behind bars. She’s willing to testify that you tried to bribe her and her connections to get votes, to gain support, and who knows what else. Everything we have is pointing to you. Are you really willing to go down for someone else’s crimes? Murder, three counts, you’re getting the death penalty, man. No one takes killing cops lightly…No one! Then of course, there’s Linda Delaney, your own relative. She’s your fucking cousin, man…that’s sick! Your family will disown you. Her father will make sure you die.”

  “I didn’t do it! It wasn’t me. Victoria knows me. She knows I didn’t kill her father. Yes, we were enemies, and maybe I did want him out of the picture, but I didn’t kill him, or the others.”

  “Victoria does believe you, and she believes you’re covering for someone else, but if you’re not willing to give that person up, then she’ll be happy with us charging you with the murders instead. Either way, justice prevails.”

  * * * *

  Monroe and Warren watched Bret squirm. He struggled, but looked like he would break soon.

  “You’ve never been in prison, huh, Collins? A pretty boy like you, who is definitely not the fighting kind, are you ready to play the submissive? It’s going to be your permanent role, especially if you wind up ducking the death penalty somehow and get life instead.”

  “I didn’t do it. I swear.”

  “Enough with that bullshit! You fucking know who did it. Now start fucking talking or that’s it, you’re going down for all of it!” Monroe yelled.

  Bret shook. “I don’t know who he is!”

  Monroe and Warren made eye contact. This was it. They had him.

  On the other side of the mirror that hung in the interrogation room, other agents stood watching along with Don Phelps.

  “Who is he, Bret? Tell us about him.” Warren acted calm as he took a seat right next to Bret. Warren played the role of good cop.

  “He’s ruthless, always a few steps ahead.”

  “What’s his name? How do you contact him?” Warren asked.

  “I don’t know his name.”

  “Bullshit! You’re lying!” Monroe yelled in Bret’s face. Bret continued to shake.

  “I’m not, I swear. He never told me his name. He contacted me and got things started, said that we’d get rich and I’d get my supervisor position.”

  “Well, fucking A, he set your ass up and now you’re gonna take the fall because you haven’t a clue who this guy is? Didn’t you want to know? Want to make sure you could get him just as easily? What the fuck kind of scam artist are you?” Monroe egged Bret on, angering him, antagonizing him into giving them information. Monroe was great at playing bad cop.

  “I’m not saying anything more. I want my lawyer,” Bret demanded, and the interrogation was over.

  * * * *

  Steven awoke, glanced at the clock on the night table. It w
as one fifteen in the morning. The floral scent that always reminded him of his Victoria filled his nostrils. He peeked down at Victoria as she lay sleeping against his chest, and smiled at the fact her long, delicate fingers rested softly against his scars.

  I made it. This is exactly the kind of moment I dreamt about.

  Thank God he had survived and got a second chance with her. He had never stopped thinking about her, continuously worried whether he would ever see her again, hold her in his arms again, and make love to her again.

  Steven couldn’t wait to get back home, gain some normalcy in his life. It was a thrill to be back on the force as training commander, to be so easily and graciously welcomed back to the force with such enthusiasm.

  But right now, he didn’t want to think about work. He loved being here with Victoria. He didn’t ever want to be separated from her.

  Glancing down, over the curves of Victoria’s body, Steven felt content and relieved that she was safe. Victoria was gorgeous, sexy, and so perfect. She had waited for him, and he couldn’t believe someone else hadn’t scooped her up. Recalling that her brother Peter confided she wasn’t interested in anyone gave him some peace of mind. Peter also said she had closed herself up, focused on her job, and didn’t date. He knew she was good at her job, and Steven enjoyed reading some of her articles in Search and Seizure. Victoria was a talented writer with a great reputation. Everyone respected her.

  Obvious that her job meant everything to her, it had to have been so difficult for her to pretend she was in a relationship with Bret Collins. Steven let his fingertips roam gently over her back and ribcage. Her breast lay pressed against his chest. Her leg lay over his own. His heart hammered against his chest.