by Radclyffe
Tory circled her palm over Reese’s stomach, murmuring appreciatively when Reese sucked in a breath and her muscles tightened. “You have something in mind?”
“Several somethings,” Reese whispered in Tory’s ear. “Several times.”
“Maybe we should put the monitor back on you if you’re going to get fancy.”
“It won’t show anything. Nothing triggered out there today when we apprehended Everly.”
“I know.” Tory nipped at the edge of Reese’s jaw. “When I heard what had happened, I asked Nita to check the telemetry readouts that downloaded to her computer. If I didn’t know any better, and only had your pulse and blood pressure readings to go by, I would have thought you were sitting at your desk filling out reports.”
“I won’t pretend you don’t make my heart race,” Reese said with a grin, “but you haven’t given me a panic attack. Yet.”
“Is that what you think you experienced?” Tory leaned back to study her intently. “Panic attacks?”
“That may not be the right medical term for it, but I think so, yes.” Reese rescued her tie from Reggie’s clutches and handed her a toy to divert her for a few minutes. “I think I got what happened over there, losing some of my troops, mixed up with losing you. I just have to remind myself that the two are different.” She tightened her hold on Tory and kissed her on the mouth, a long, slow, possessive kiss. “You’re here and you’re mine and I won’t lose you.”
“Oh God, Reese,” Tory whispered. “I need you and those several things you have planned. Soon.”
Reese got a hot, demanding glint in her eyes. “I’ll meet you in our room in thirty minutes. Go close your eyes.” She skimmed her mouth over Tory’s ear. “If you can’t sleep, you can start without me. Just don’t finish without me.”
Tory’s lips parted and her eyes grew glassy. “I’ll wait. I’ll wait, but God, hurry.”
Reese stood and settled Reggie on her shoulder. “Come on, Champ, time for bed.”
Tory watched them until they disappeared out of sight upstairs. Then she closed her eyes and waited for her breathing to settle. Thirty minutes had never sounded so long.
*
From the shadows just beyond the circle of light emanating from the window, he watched the woman on the sofa. He knew she would fight him, even with a knife at her throat. When he pinned her down, she would struggle. He would have to hurt her, cut her just a little, to prove he was in charge. His gaze drifted over her breasts and he imagined them pressed against his chest, imagined himself between her legs. He wondered what it would take to put that look in her eyes, the look that Marilyn Allen had had in hers when the knife struck home. He needed to put that look in her eyes, and he was done waiting.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Carter pulled off Route 6 and into the parking lot of the Seaside Diner a few minutes before ten p.m. The parking lot was full, as were most of the counter stools and booths when she walked in. The place smelled like fish and chips and a mouthwatering hint of hot apple pie. She scanned the length of the long narrow room and caught sight of a broad-shouldered redhead whose close-cropped hair was sprinkled with gray sitting in a far booth. She made her way down the aisle, dodging waitresses and customers, until she could slide in across from her old partner, Kevin Shaughnessy. When she’d been undercover, Kevin had been her contact in the state investigator’s office, feeding her information, relaying her verbal reports, and pretty much keeping her tethered to the real world when there were times she thought she might go under from the pressure of maintaining all the lies in her life. Ten years her senior, Kevin hid a sharp intelligence and fierce loyalty to the badge behind his florid, open face. She trusted him and hoped he still trusted her, even though she’d walked away from her career and the battle they had fought side by side for more than a decade.
“Hi, Kev.” She signaled to the waitress for a coffee. “Thanks for making the trip.”
“I figured since you called, it must be important,” he said while forking up a bite of apple pie. He made the word called sound like an insult.
Carter felt herself blush. She hadn’t kept in contact with him even though they’d been more than partners. They’d been friends. She hadn’t thought it would do Kevin’s reputation in the department any good if people thought they were still tight. Plenty of her former colleagues believed that her involvement with Rica, the daughter of a mob boss, meant that she was on Alfonse Pareto’s payroll now. She also knew if she tried to explain that to Kevin, he’d blow her off. So she’d just stayed away.
“So you’re back policing,” Kevin said when the silence stretched between them.
“Couple of days—I guess you must know that’s why I’m here.”
“You need something.”
“Damn it, Kevin,” Carter muttered. “You’re lucky you didn’t lose your badge when the feds went after me. I’m not exactly healthy to be around.”
He put his fork down and nailed her with a hot stare. “So you’re saying you dropped out of sight to protect me.”
“Hardly out of sight. You know where—”
“Don’t play your smart lawyer word games with me,” Kevin growled. “Do I look like some kind of pussy, I need you to take my hits for me?”
Carter grinned. “Fortunately, not like any I’ve ever seen.”
Kevin laughed. “You always were a dick.”
“No argument.” Carter gestured to his plate. “You going to eat the rest of that pie?”
“Damn right I am. Get your own pie.” Kevin cleaned his plate in two fast bites and picked up his coffee cup. “So what’s going on?”
“We’ve got a dead FBI agent—and another one in surgery right now who probably won’t make it.”
Kevin’s brows drew down. “That’s major.”
“More than you know. The one in surgery is Marilyn Allen. Somebody put a knife in her chest late this afternoon.”
“Holy shit. Who?”
“I was hoping you’d be able to tell me. According to Allen, the feds were in town chasing a source who might finger some drug dealers.”
“I can’t see Allen or any of her team running down that kind of intel personally,” Kevin said, frowning. “That’s the B-team kind of assignment.”
“We figure the same thing.” Carter pushed her coffee aside. Her stomach already felt like she’d been dining on battery acid. “Have you heard any noise about Allen gearing up to go after Pareto again?”
“I don’t think she ever stopped,” Kevin said, “but if she’s moving on him, she’s not sharing with us.”
“What about Rica?”
“Same story. You always hear rumors, but nothing I can confirm.”
Carter leaned forward. “Look, we’re in the dark. Right about now, rumors sound pretty damn good.” When Kevin didn’t answer, Carter sighed. She and Kevin didn’t play on the same team anymore. Maybe he didn’t think she played on his side at all. “Okay. Sorry to put you on the spot.” She started to rise. “Thanks for driving down—”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, sit down and get the stick out of your shorts.”
“That’s not a stick.”
Kevin grinned. “Yeah, you wish.” Then his expression grew serious. “I don’t have anything that’s going to help you. Since the joint task force tanked, we haven’t really been in the loop. We bump into some of the feds now and then when our territories cross, and I’m pretty sure Allen is still set on nailing Pareto. Obsessed with it, really. I heard after she lost her inside man—Rizzo—she turned another one of Pareto’s top guys. That’s all very hush-hush. I don’t know who it is.”
Carter rubbed at the headache pounding in the middle of her forehead. She didn’t really care if Marilyn Allen had another informant in Pareto’s organization. That was all part of the game. Alfonse Pareto could take care of himself—he had to know he was always vulnerable to someone in his organization betraying him. She wouldn’t lose any sleep, other than for the pain it would cause Rica, if Pareto w
ent to jail. “Rica’s name hasn’t come up?”
“Not that I heard.”
“I can’t see a connection between the mob investigation and what’s been going on over here,” Carter finally said.
“I don’t see it, either.”
Carter took out a twenty for Kevin’s pie and left it on the table. “If you hear anything, let me know.”
“Same goes.” Kevin grasped Carter’s arm. “Watch your back.”
“Always.”
*
He waited thirty minutes after the downstairs lights went out and another went on upstairs, then he slipped through the shadows to the corner of the rear deck. He climbed over the railing, pressed his back to the wall, and sidled next to the sliding glass doors, listening, waiting. Even though excitement rippled through him, he didn’t mind waiting. Now that he was so close, he wanted to savor every second. The anticipation of touching her, of hearing her moan, of hearing her beg, was only going to make his ultimate pleasure all the more sweet. He slid the glass cutter from his pocket and, after applying a short strip of duct tape from the roll he carried in his other pocket, he cut out a circular section of glass large enough for his hand to fit through next to the lock. And then he was inside. The kitchen was dark. A faint glow emanated from somewhere in the front of the house. Slowly and carefully he made his way forward until he could scan the living and dining rooms. Empty. Off to his left, stairs led up to the second floor, and judging from his observations from the beach, she was in the bedroom at the rear corner of the house. Now he was only a minute away from her. He reached into his pocket one more time and came out with his pistol. He’d save the knife for later, when she was helpless. Silently, he started up the stairs.
*
Carter drove home frustrated and tired. She’d been hoping Kevin would have something for her—a name, a connection, some kind of lead. But Marilyn had obviously decided she didn’t need the assistance of the state police and had cut them out of whatever her team was doing. Carter wasn’t surprised. Marilyn had never wanted to work with the locals—she only tolerated Carter and Kevin because Carter’s cover was so solid she could get inside Pareto’s organization when no one else could. Marilyn had needed her. Now the agent had apparently found another informant inside Pareto’s organization.
From what Carter knew of Alfonse Pareto’s security, that couldn’t have been easy. The last Pareto captain who had been coerced by the feds into betraying Pareto had ended up dead while in protective custody. Carter thought back to the men closest to Pareto. They were all family or longtime friends. She couldn’t think of a single one who could be turned, not even with the threat of imprisonment. Pareto was generous with money and took care of his men’s families if they were imprisoned or disabled. He was also ruthless and completely unsentimental when it came to meting out punishment for transgressions. A man would have to be crazy or have a major death wish to betray him.
The clock on her dashboard registered ten fifty. She’d be home in twenty minutes, maybe less. She wanted another shower and then she wanted to crawl into bed next to Rica and lose herself for a few hours in Rica’s arms. She should check in with Reese first and find out if there was any word on Marilyn’s condition. She hoped when she closed her eyes, she wouldn’t see Marilyn’s face. Wouldn’t hear her broken plea. But she didn’t think she was going to get her wish. Even with her eyes open and riveted to the hypnotic ribbon of black that streamed beneath her headlights, she could still see the stark terror in Marilyn Allen’s eyes and hear her desperate words. Even now, the agent’s strangled voice echoed in her head.
…n…go…
She doubted she would ever stop hearing… Carter shivered as an icy hand gripped her insides and twisted. She jerked and the car veered dangerously toward the shoulder. Panic surging, she yanked the wheel and managed to steady the vehicle.
“Oh Jesus,” she whispered, fumbling for her phone. “Oh Jesus, no.”
*
Rica smiled as she slipped on the peach, thigh-length silk nightgown and adjusted the thin straps. Carter loved to undress her, and even though Carter might not be home for hours, and she’d probably be dead tired when she was, a girl could hope. She snapped off the bathroom light, padded barefoot across the hardwood floor to the bed, and turned down the covers. She reached out to switch off the bedside lamp and stopped when she heard the faint swish of the bedroom door opening behind her. Slowly, her blood stilling in her veins, she turned.
“Hello, Rica.” His mad black eyes swept over her body as he stepped into the room.
Rica saw the gun in his right hand and she lunged for the top drawer of the dresser. A fist in her hair yanked her back so violently, she lost her balance. She lashed backward with both hands, trying to find his face, his eyes, but his other arm came across her throat and squeezed. She kicked and flailed until her vision dimmed and her strength failed her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Oh God,” Tory sighed, running her fingers through Reese’s hair. “You have the most amazing, incredible mouth.”
Laughing, Reese rubbed her cheek against Tory’s stomach. “You inspire me to greatness.”
“Are you sure about the baby?” Tory asked softly, still caressing Reese’s face.
Reese kissed the soft skin on the inside of Tory’s hip bone and traced the faint stretch marks that tracked over her lower abdomen, glimmering faintly in the muted lamplight, and the long, thin line left from the C-section. Battle scars. But these scars were badges of honor celebrating life, not death. She thought of Reggie sleeping innocently in the other room, and of all the promise and wonder awaiting their child in the future. All the joy that lay in store for them as a family. She wouldn’t change anything about her life—not her solitary years in the service or the brutal time she’d spent in combat, or the nightmares that would probably never leave her. Darkness and evil were part of the life she had chosen, but this woman, this family—they were the power that shone the light into her darkest reaches and gave her the strength she could count on. Raising herself up on her arms so she could look into Tory’s face, Reese said, “I’m positive I want another baby. If it’s safe.”
Tory’s eyes grew solemn and she wrapped her arms tightly around Reese’s shoulders. “I will never do anything to risk what we have. I promise.”
“Same here.” Reese kissed her, groaning as Tory swept a hand down her back and pushed a thigh between Reese’s legs. Reese deepened the kiss and thrust against the velvet skin and hard muscle, letting the pressure she’d been holding back while she made love to Tory rise and carry her toward release.
Her cell phone on the bedside table rang, and Reese groaned louder. Arms trembling, she took a deep breath and forced the tide of pleasure to recede. Rolling over with a grunt, she fumbled for the phone. “Conlon.”
A tumble of shouts, nearly incoherent at first, assaulted her, and when the words finally began to make sense, Reese jumped to her feet.
“I’ll be there in three minutes. Carter,” Reese said firmly but calmly. “Carter—when you arrive, park on Bradford and call me. You do not approach the house.”
The line was silent.
“Carter,” Reese barked, harsher this time. “Do you understand? That’s an order.”
“Yes,” Carter said hoarsely. “Yes. But, Jesus, hurry. I’m still ten minutes away.”
“I’ll be there.” Reese disconnected and grabbed her pants, yanking them on as Tory got out of bed, found her shirt, and handed it to her.
“What can I do?” Tory asked.
“Carter thinks someone’s making a move on Rica right now. Call Bri—tell her I need backup at Rica and Carter’s. Tell her to come silent and call my cell. Tell her I need her now.”
“You’re going in alone?”
“I’ll put cars on the street in case the suspect gets by us, but I can’t risk alerting him if he has Rica. A small coordinated entry team is better.” Reese unlocked the gun case inside a corner closet and removed an M16
assault rifle along with her service sidearm, a 9mm Beretta.
Tory watched Reese clip the holster to her waistband as she had thousands of times before. In moments like this, it came home to her with stark clarity that when Reese left the house, she would be in mortal danger. She could walk out the door and never come back. Swiftly, ruthlessly, Tory forced the thoughts away.
“I’ll get Bri,” Tory said, already punching in Bri’s number on the cell as she followed Reese downstairs.
Reese grabbed her keys off the kitchen counter and kissed Tory fast and hard. “I’ll call you.”
“I love you,” Tory called as Reese bolted through the door into the night.
*
Rica sensed the light through her closed eyelids and for an instant, the golden glow felt soothing. She remembered the man in the doorway at the same time as the bruising pain in her throat destroyed any illusion of comfort. Then she registered the weight on her hips, pinning her down, and knew he was straddling her. Like any cornered animal, she wanted to flee, wanted to thrash and struggle and scream, and she had to fight hard to stay still. Calling upon every ounce of strength and pride and stubbornness she owned, she let her hatred for him surge through her, submerging the blind panic in a powerful undertow. Rica opened her eyes and stared into his flat black pupils, purposely not looking at the gun in his right hand. “I thought you were dead.”
Her voice was hoarse, and her eyes watered from the pain of forcing the words out. She grit her teeth to prevent the tears from escaping.
Lorenzo Brassi laughed. “You didn’t go to my funeral.”
“I take it you weren’t…incinerated in the car explosion…as reported.” Rica concentrated on keeping her breathing even. She knew what fear did to Enzo. He loved it, fed off it. He had always tried to trap and torment her, even when he still believed she would one day be his wife. What he enjoyed most about women was dominating them sexually and physically. Marriage to him would have been a lifelong sentence of abuse masquerading as affection. He’d dropped all pretense of caring for her in any way other than as a possession when he’d finally accepted that she did not want him, that she wanted Carter. The last time she’d seen Enzo, he had caught her alone in a deserted alcove in her father’s house and nearly raped her.