The door was ajar and she peeked in to see him standing at the sink, wearing just a towel slung low around his hips and the bandage over his shoulder. He watched him run a razor down his cheek. Erica felt her pulse race. She couldn’t help it, but apparently everything the man did something to her. He raised his eyes to her in the mirror and he smiled at her.
“Did I wake you?”
She walked inside the bathroom and hoisted herself up to sit on the counter beside him. She sighed a little. She didn’t want to start the conversation that she knew they needed to have. “No, you didn’t.” They were silent for a moment, and Erica wasn’t even sure how to begin. “We need to talk,” she started.
He finished shaving and wiped the small bits of shaving cream from his face. He turned to her, a frown on that incredible mouth. “We do.”
“How’s your arm?”
“A little sore, but fine.” He leaned his hip against the counter and looked her up and down. “That shirt looks a lot better on you than it ever did on me.”
She doubted that was true. She could picture him wearing the shirt, working on his car, hiking the East Coast Trail, playing a game of football, mounting his horse to ride into the sunset… Stop being ridiculous. Focus, she had to remind herself. “My clothes are covered in blood. I hope you don’t mind that I grabbed this,” she said.
“Of course not.”
Erica looked around the bathroom, where the steam from the bath water still lingered. She didn’t want to ask her next question, but she needed to know. “Who’s Kelly?”
His eyes narrowed. “What? How do you know about her?”
“Mitch might have mentioned her name to me,” she told him. “Who is she?”
Peter really didn’t want to get into it. Kelly was in the past, and he was more than content to keep her there. He opened his mouth but it was several seconds before he allowed the words to pass his lips. He couldn’t look at her Erica, couldn’t face her when he told her, especially in the small confines of his bathroom, especially when she was wearing his shirt. He stalked into his bedroom, and dropped the towel, switching it out for a pair of sweat pants.
Erica followed him out, quick on his heels. “Peter, talk to me. What? Is she your girlfriend? Your wife?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Then who is she?”
“There’s something you should know.” He took a deep breath and placing his hands on his hips, he looked at the ceiling. He hadn’t a clue how to start. “Kelly is dead.” He heard her soft gasp. “And she represents the worst mistake of my career. Hell, the worst mistake of my entire life.”
Confusion marred Erica’s face. He turned away from her.
“A couple of years ago, me and the guys were working a case. We were tasked with infiltrating and dismantling a prostitution ring. I went deep undercover for over a year, working for a notoriously sadistic, violent pimp, and it was a dangerous, complicated job. The things I had to watch him do to women... And I couldn’t do anything but gather information,” the images of assault and torture were still with him and he shook his head, in disgust.
“I became close to a woman named Kelly. I grew to trust her and she became one of my CIs – my confidential informant,” he clarified, and he took a seat on the bed. Erica sat with him. “She’d had a brutal life – a runaway, she’d ended up on the streets at the age of twelve. This guy would rape her, beat her, every day. And I tried to protect her as best I could without giving myself up, and blowing the whole investigation. One night, this pimp beat Kelly within an inch of her life, and that’s when I told her who I was and that if she’d help me get enough information to convict the head of the organization, I would help her get out. I would have helped her anyway, and I was. But I needed to know that I could trust her. So I gave her the ultimatum. She was in so much trouble, but I would have done anything to pull her out of that life.”
Peter shook his head. “In order to get all of the evidence against him that we needed, she had to stay close to the pimp who was hurting her, even though I knew the things he was doing to her every day. We wired her to get that evidence, and I was never that far behind her though. The team managed to keep pretty good tabs on her, to have her back, to protect her.” Peter cleared his throat. “We were watching her one night, we were in a van down the street from where she was working, and he drives up and orders her in the car. They drive for a bit, and we follow them. He starts beating her, even while he’s driving the car, we’re listening the whole time, but we were never quite close enough to get to her. He drove her to an old warehouse down by the docks and then he found the wire. God.” He grimaced and shook his head at the memory. Outside of when he gave his statement about the blunder, he had never uttered the words to another person.
He turned his head and could see Erica’s eyes, wide in a mixture of sadness and worry. She put her hand on his good arm, and rubbed. He was comforted but he pulled away from her. “God, I shouldn’t be telling you all of this. I’ll stop.”
“No, tell me. I asked. I can tell you’re still dealing with this. Get it all out.”
Peter nodded and took a deep breath. “We knew she was in trouble and we could hear the things that he was doing to her, the bastard left the wire recording, but we couldn’t get to her, we couldn’t find her. We checked every building in the area. But by the time we got to her, it was too late.”
Peter could hear Erica stiffen beside him and he scraped his hand down over his face. “When we found her, she was…” he exhaled. “God, she was a mess, unrecognizable. We only knew for certain it was her because of her tattoos."
“Oh,” she whispered softly.
He regretted giving her so much information, going too deeply into detail of the awful fate that befell poor Kelly. But she needed to understand how dangerous it was to be close to him; what can happen when he lost focus. “She gave us so much information, and we put away a lot of bad people thanks to her, her murderer included. But I felt responsible for her. I’d found her a place for her to stay when it was over, bought her clothes, food. We’d talked about her going back to school to get her GED. She was excited about getting her life back on track. I should have protected her. I promised that I would. And I’d failed her.”
Erica was silent. “You were close to her.”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “We got close. Nothing sexual, but she was my friend. Letting myself get too close to her, it was my mistake. I should have stayed focused on the job. If I had, maybe I wouldn’t have lost her, let her die.”
Peter looked at Erica and considered the way he had let Erica get too close. How dangerous it already had been for both of them. He couldn’t make the same mistake again.
“Peter that’s awful,” she started. “I’m sorry that happened. Do you think that you’re responsible for her murder?”
“I am responsible.”
“That’s not true. You tried to help her. But bad things happen.”
“I know they do,” Peter turned to look at Erica. “A bad thing almost happened to you yesterday. I let you out of my sight and you could have been hurt, or worse.”
Erica nodded and looked straight ahead, she was no doubt reminiscing about being held by Dylan O’Connell. He moved closer and put his good arm around her shoulders and pulled her near. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tightly. She raised her lips and he felt them on his throat, her touch making his pulse quicken. He knew that he had to push her away, for her own good. But his feelings for her once again overruled his common sense. He lowered his head and met her lips with his own. They touched once before she pulled back.
“Peter, wait,” she disengaged from him and moved on the bed. The space she put between them was only less than a foot, but it felt like she was suddenly on another planet. “There’s something I need to say.”
“Go ahead.”
Erica took a deep breath. “Peter,” she started. “You started a relationship with me because you thought I could lead you to
Dylan O’Connell, right?”
He nodded. She was right.
“You lied to me. You violated my trust.”
He’d done all of those things. “I know, and I’m sorry.”
“Thank you for apologizing.” She looked at him. “But I don’t think it’s enough. After everything - the lies, the deception. I don’t think that I can ever trust you.”
Peter nodded. His face was neutral, but it felt like his chest might cave in. She was breaking it off with him? He was equal parts heartbroken and relieved. If he’d learned anything from previous experience, it’s that he couldn’t afford to get close to another woman. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I really am. I didn’t mean for it to go as far as it did.” He didn’t mean to fall in love with her.
Erica stood. “Can I borrow a pair of sweatpants or something? I can’t wear what I had on yesterday. In fact, I should probably just throw them out.”
“Yeah, of course,” he stood, and went to a drawer and pulled out a pair. “They’re probably too big. You could swim in them.” Despite the intimacy that they had shared, the air between them had become tense and cold.
“Better too big than covered in blood,” she said, not looking at him.
“Touché,” Peter’s smile was small. He didn’t want to let her go. But he knew that it was for the best. “Erica-”
“You know, I should get dressed,” she said, interrupting him. I have to work this afternoon, anyway.” She busied herself pulling on his sweat pants. She rolled the waistband down over itself. “And boy, do I have a story for the girls.” She turned to him. She knew that her cheerful demeanor was an act because she wouldn’t look him in the eye. “But this was fun. And I’m glad we got to know each other.”
Peter watched her carefully. He nodded. “Yeah, it was fun. Why don’t you let me drive you home?”
“You know, that’s ok. I’ll walk. I don’t actually live too far from here. Who would have thought that, right?” She walked out of his bedroom, and he followed her.
“Erica, wait-” he called to her.
She turned. “What?”
He didn’t know what to say to her. He knew that letting her go was the right thing to do. Not that she wanted to be anywhere near him. She was right. There was no way that they could be together. She could never trust him, and he could never forgive himself if he let anything happen to her. “Be careful,” he told her as he watched her walk out the door.
Chapter 25
Six Weeks Later…
Peter was relieved to walk back inside of the precinct. It had been six long weeks of rest and rehabilitation, and he was eager to get back to work. Mitch had kept him apprised of the developments as the team combed through the files and evidence that they had taken from the raid on Dylan O’Connell’s homes and businesses, but he wanted to get in there and see the evidence for himself.
Walking through the precinct, Peter was greeted by his colleagues, and his progress through the throngs was slow. He finally made it to the war room, and opened the door. Each of his teammates sat at their desks, drinking coffee. Coffee from Brewed Moon, he noticed.
“You guys staying busy?” Peter cracked as he saw them in their state of relaxation.
“Hey, man,” Steve said as they all stood to meet him.
“It’s Friday. I didn’t expect you here until Monday,” Mitch commented.
“You know me,” Peter responded. “I couldn’t wait. I didn’t see the point in sitting at home for a couple more days.”
Mitch frowned. “How’s the shoulder?”
“Almost back to normal,” Peter shrugged. “Still a little sore, but it’s no big deal.” He moved his injured arm back and forth, showing off his range of motion. He took a seat at his own desk. He’d missed it. Finally, he was home.
“How are you doing?” Mitch asked him.
“I’m fine,” he insisted. Mitch’s skeptical look made him roll his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”
But Mitch wasn’t done. “Have you talked to her?”
Peter really wasn’t in the mood to talk about Erica. He had spent the past six weeks in his apartment trying to forget about her. She was the reason he needed to get back to work, to take his mind off of her. “I have not.”
“Why not?”
Peter looked up and saw that Steve and Joe had busied themselves in a far corner of the room, giving Peter and Mitch some space for their conversation. “Erica made it very clear that she doesn’t want to see me.”
“And how do you know that?”
Peter thought back to the last time he’d seen Erica. “She told me as much. She hasn’t called me either.”
“Peter, I know I’m not exactly a good person to dole out relationship advice. But maybe she’s hurting just as much as you are. Maybe you should just man up and take the first step.”
He exhaled an unconvinced guffaw. “Listen, Dr. Phil, can we just get off my personal life for a bit? I came here to work. Not to talk about my feelings.”
Mitch raised both hands in surrender and sat at his own desk. “Fine. We’ll work.”
“So where are we with what we took from O’Connell?”
Mitch picked up his coffee cup, Brewed Moon label facing Peter. “Well, first thing, the café is cleared. I went in and asked Juliana a few questions, took a look at her books. I’m pretty that there’s nothing going on there except a beautiful woman selling coffee, despite the coincidence of the building being owned by Dylan O’Connell. Turns out it was one of his legitimate pieces of real estate.”
“What about the Russians?”
Mitch frowned. “Well, that leaves us with some concern. Even though Dylan is dead, and Colin is behind bars, Yuri Petrova is still in town. Joe did some surveillance and got some video of him meeting with the remnants of the Dylan’s inner circle.”
“That can’t be good.”
Mitch shook his head. “We think Yuri is opening up shop in St. John’s, using the connections that the Irish had long-ago established. And Erica told me something when we took her statement.”
“What’s that?”
“O’Connell told something about giving her to Petrova, about them exchanging merchandise.”
“Women,” Peter supplied, and Mitch yawned.
Son-of-a-bitch. You know what that means…”
“We’re about to have a bigger problem here in town. Especially if Yuri Petrova uses St. John’s as part of his human trafficking network.”
“That puts us in the perfect position to take him down, though,” Peter remarked and blew out a breath. “What about Paddy? Where are we with that piece-of-shit dirty cop?”
“Erica identified him as the man who took her from her apartment. He’s in jail, where it is very well-known that he’s a police officer,” Mitch smiled. “He’s very popular. He confessed to everything he did under the direction of O’Connell. Said he was in a hard place. He had some gambling debts that he couldn’t get on top of, and turning to the mob for a loan was his only option at the time. And he’s very remorseful.” Mitch leaned in and whispered. “But, this stays in this room, he did divulge that he isn’t the only officer involved with the criminal element. It goes higher up.”
“Well, that’s interesting.” Peter tented his fingers in front of his face. “Looks like this is a whole new game.” Things were about to get very interesting in St. John’s, and Peter hoped that it would be enough to keep his mind off of Erica.
Chapter 26
Erica strutted across the stage. The lights were bright and the music thumped as she danced for the capacity crowd. She had a whole new routine to perform, and the audience definitely approved. They hollered in adoration as she rolled her black baton through her fingers and over her wrists and then removed the cute police hat that she used to hold up her voluminous hair. She pulled it away with flair and her long hair cascaded over her shoulders.
It had been six weeks since she’d walked out of Peter’s apartment, and she hadn’t heard from him. Not that she had expected
to, Erica had told him that she couldn’t be with him. She’d been telling the truth. She couldn’t trust him, but god, did she want him.
She’d chided herself for being so stupid and falling for him. So she forced herself to move past it, and take inspiration from it. So soon after they’d broken up, she got to work, and she choreographed a new routine, dressed in a glittery, skimpy tear-away police uniform, and utilizing some baton-twirling skills she had picked up along the way.
She pulled at the Velcro on her one-piece body suit and was left standing in nothing but gold, bejeweled boy shorts and gold, glittery nipple pasties, in the shape of police badges. She giggled when she had found those online and she knew that they would be perfect. The lights and the music cut and riotous applause filled the theatre and she took a bow and sauntered off stage.
She pulled on a robe and made her way to the snack table and she grabbed a bottle of water, unscrewed the top and drank thirstily. She accepted the praise and congratulations of her friends and other performers, but their nice words did nothing to fill the hole in her chest that just got bigger every time she thought of Peter. She thought that finally performing the number would be a step in the right direction to help her heal. But alas, she shook her head. It didn’t. Everything still hurt.
Every time she danced, all she could think of were the times that she had danced for him. Every time she walked into Brewed Moon, she thought of the times that he had come into the cafe. With every cup of coffee, she thought of the first time she had given him a cup. It made for some very long, sorrowful days.
But thankfully, she had started putting her energy elsewhere. While she’d loved working at Brewed Moon, Erica decided that it was time for her to move on. Her near-death experience, while traumatic, was also a catalyst for a major change in her life.
Bump & Grind (Brewed Moon Book 1) Page 19