Black Moon: Hamarsson and Dempsey 3

by Keaton, Elle

  Perversely, that made Niall want to move as slowly as possible, but even he couldn’t stop the train now. For a minute he allowed himself to witness their union, his cock sliding into Mat’s body, but the spark he’d been fighting—the goddamned electrical storm—couldn’t be ignored. He pushed all the way inside and began pumping his hips.

  Everything was too much: the lightning, his need for Mat. Niall tried to slow down, but Mat was no help, wrapping his long legs around Niall, digging his heels into Niall’s ass and matching his every thrust. Niall tried to keep his eyes open, but it was too much; his orgasm hit, and he rode the tidal wave, pumping into Mat until, empty, he collapsed onto his lover with a groan.

  “Every single time with you, it is fucking incredible,” he whispered into Mat’s ear. “Every fucking time. God, I love you so much.” He felt stretched to his limit, the emotion he was feeling too big for his body. He shuddered, holding onto Mat’s strong form like a drowning man.

  Niall wasn’t sure how long they lay like that, but Mat’s soft, regular breathing had him gently pulling out and reaching for the tissues to clean them up.

  Mat hardly stirred under his ministrations. Niall smiled, tucked himself in next to him again, pulled the comforter over them, and shut his eyes. It felt like a long time before he fell asleep—as if he couldn’t convince his body everything was okay, that they were safe. But he did manage to, and morning came far too quickly.

  He was the big spoon, one arm wrapped around Mat, keeping him tight against his chest. Unfortunately, there was a beeping sound neither of them could ignore.

  Mat groaned and shut off the alarm. “I’ve got to get up.”

  Niall grunted and released his grip, rolling over onto his back. Mat followed him, kissing Niall on the side of the face before sitting up and getting out of bed to head toward the bathroom. And, yeah, Niall watched, because it was one of his favorite views. As he did, though, he heard his phone chime in the other room.

  The text notification was followed by his phone actually ringing. Niall dragged himself out of bed to find it and kill it. He pulled on a pair of sleep pants, forgoing a shirt for now, and went to search the main room for his phone.

  He found it in his coat—along with the cell phone he’d never returned to Bonnie Cooper. Glancing at his screen, he saw a missed call as well as a text from Ryder Mann. The message read: Call me ASAP.

  Niall’s first thought was that something had happened to Leo—or one of the other staff, but Leo was the person at WCF Niall was closest to.

  Fenrir nudged him, asking to be let out. The kitten mewed, and Niall picked it up, cradling it against his chest as he opened the door for the dog.

  “Make good choices,” he called out as Fenrir disappeared around the side of the yurt. “Please don’t bring anything back with you today.”

  Shutting the door, Niall quickly tapped Ryder’s number. The phone only rang once.

  “Dude, I am so glad you called back.” Ryder’s voice was breathy.

  “What’s going on; why are you texting me on a Sunday morning? Is something the matter?”

  Hel squirmed, asking to be put down. Niall complied and watched as the kitten went to check out the saucer, which was empty. Niall opened the fridge, grabbing the milk and pouring some into a fresh saucer. It would have to do until they got to the pet store.

  “What?” Ryder asked. “No, everything’s fine on our end. But, hey, that woman you had me look into yesterday?’

  “Yeah?” Niall tucked the phone between his neck and shoulder so he could start the coffee-making process. Both he and Mat were going to need a lot of caffeine today.

  “Well, you know how it is.” Ryder chuckled. “I just can’t leave stuff alone sometimes. After I sent you that info, I got to thinking, and last night I had to run a deep check on her. And, ya know, if I’d hit a dead end, I would’ve stopped looking, but—”

  Niall interrupted. Who knew how long it would take Ryder to spit out the information he was so excited about. “What did you find out?”

  “Well…” He drew out the word, and Niall wanted to strangle him. “She’s much more than an innocent small-town bookkeeper. I mean, I guess it’s possible, but she manages millions of dollars. Millions, Niall. Her ex-husband’s money was small potatoes, a front at the most. I didn’t see it at first, because I was only looking at their connection and accounts, but once I went back and spent a few hours digging around, I discovered a snake pit. She’s connected to some very bad people. Now, could it be coincidence? I suppose it’s possible.”

  “Ryder.”

  “What?”

  “Who is she connected to?”

  “Oh, right. She’s part of the Mogilevich family—very tangentially, a second cousin or something, and that’s worked for them because no one, say the US government, knew to look for her. The Mogileviches are part of the Ukrainian mob, and most of them are on the East Coast: New Jersey, Boston. I didn’t know they were out here. But other crime families are moving west, and this was probably a way for them to diversify their portfolio.”

  “Bonnie Cooper?” She seemed as American to Niall as… apple pie, or something stupid like that.

  “Her cover is that good, Niall; it’s held for almost thirty years. But when she came to this country, her name was Bohdana Kovalenko. She was granted refugee status and then immediately disappeared, reappearing as Bonnie Cooper several years later, living in Anacortes and keeping her head down—at least enough that the feds didn’t notice her.”

  “You’re sure about this?”

  From the silence on the other end of the line, Niall knew Ryder was offended by his question.

  “Okay, sorry. You’re sure. So, we have a situation.” Niall ran a hand through his hair, trying to think. “The feds are already here on a separate thing—but maybe, after what you’ve told me, it isn’t so separate. I’m gonna need to tell them about Bonnie, because I brought her back with me last night.” Jeez, had it only been last night?

  “Do you want me to send you what I found?”

  Mat came out of the bedroom already wearing his uniform, his hair still slightly damp. He headed to the table where his jacket was hanging over a chair and began to put it on. Niall made eye contact and held up one finger.

  “Ryder, I need to tell Mat about this. Send everything you’ve got to my email—and thanks, great work.”

  “Wait! Before you go: Ethan’s team won’t be able to get there for like a week. I don’t even know why; all I know is there’s a delay.”

  “That’s fine. The remains aren’t going anywhere, and they’re protected.”

  “Okay. I’ll keep you posted when I know more.” He clicked off.

  “What?” Mat asked after Niall set his phone on the counter.

  Niall quickly shared what Ryder had told him. As he was talking, there was an impatient huff from the front porch. He crossed the room to let the dog in, nearly tripping over Hel in the process.

  “Are you kidding me?” Mat asked, astounded.

  Niall shook his head. “Not even a little bit.” He picked up Hel again and held her against his bare chest.

  “Why did she—Bonnie—let you bring her to the island?” Mat asked, a question that had crossed Niall’s mind too.

  “I didn’t really give her much choice. Told her to drive the car to the ferry. Damn, she’s a good actor.”

  “I need to get going.” Mat patted himself, making sure he had his phone and other random sheriff paraphernalia. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered.

  “Don’t forget coffee.” The machine had just finished gurgling and hissing. The carafe was full.

  “Right.” Mat grabbed his stainless steel to-go cup and filled it. Minutes later he was gone, and regardless of Fenrir and Hel, the yurt felt empty without him.

  “Well.” Niall looked down at Fenrir, who was eyeing him slightly askance and then looking pointedly at his food bowl. “Breakfast for you, and then what?”

  Setting the kitten back d
own again, Niall poured dry food into Fenrir’s dish and watched with amusement as Hel pushed in next to him and nearly tumbled inside the bowl. Fenrir just nudged her out of his way and continued eating.

  Niall’s cell phone pinged with a notification. He glanced at it and saw Ryder had sent over the files.

  He was following this thing to the end. No way was he just sending the files to Mat and the feds and then sitting back and waiting to hear what happened. WCF had provided the information; Niall was going to see where it took them. Besides, he was the one who’d brought in Bonnie Cooper. And Mat hadn’t specifically told him not to show up. If he’d thought about it, he might have, but he hadn’t.

  And that was an awful lot of justification.

  Ignoring that last thought, Niall dressed quickly, pulling on a clean pair of jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and a merino wool sweater. There was a chill to the air: fall had definitely arrived. After making sure he had everything he wanted—including the Glock tucked into his shoulder holster under his jacket—Niall left Fenrir in charge of Hel with a, “You brought her home; you have to take care of her.”

  He clattered down the front steps and turned toward where the Subaru was normally parked, only to stop in his tracks as he remembered he’d left his car in Anacortes.

  “Fuck.”

  He stood there for a minute, his breath making puffy white clouds in the cool morning air. Maybe this was fate’s way of telling him to let Mat take the case to the finish line. All the players were on the island. The feds had Petyr in custody.

  “Truth will out,” as the Bard had said, and its time was now. As he trudged back inside the yurt, Niall got his phone out, clicking on the email Ryder had sent. Then he selected Forward and sent it to Mat’s work email.

  27

  Monday—Mat

  Mat arrived at the station at the same time as Klay and Gómez, and there was someone with them Mat didn’t recognize—as well as the two young women from Brooch Resort, who huddled together while Gómez talked to them in soothing tones. Raisa was obviously still terrified, and Mat felt for her. No matter how she’d come to the US or how long she’d been here, being under the scrutiny of the law was unnerving.

  “Morning, everyone. I’ve learned something I think you’re going to want to hear,” Mat said as he shut the door of his cruiser and crossed the parking lot to meet the agents.

  The new addition reminded him a little of Nall—the way Niall was edgy and wary, like he knew the world to be a cruel place and he would meet every blow with his own special brand of counterforce.

  Klay introduced the newcomer as Sacha Bolic. “Bolic’s an ex–US Marshal who also happens to speak Ukrainian,” he explained. “He’s helped us on a few other cases that required his expertise.”

  “Russian and Serbian too,” Bolic added. He didn’t have an accent, but Mat still suspected he hadn’t been born here. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was about him… just something.

  “He’s also my brother Seth’s partner,” Klay volunteered, “which for the life of me I cannot figure out.”

  Bolic threw Klay a quelling look, but Mat thought he saw the corner of his mouth lift in what could almost be called a smile. His eyes were hard, but when he shook Mat’s hand he said, “Nice work. It’s about time this scum was removed from the general population.”

  Mat agreed wholeheartedly. He opened his mouth again—surely the feds were going to want to know what WCF had dug up on Cooper’s ex. “As I was—”

  “Pardon me,” Gómez interrupted him. “Bolic, the witnesses need some reassurance. Can we get this started?” The four of them disappeared into the same interview room they’d used the day before. Then Gómez came back out and went into the room where Bonnie Cooper was impatiently waiting.

  “Where are Richardson and Ferreira? Not that it’s really any of my business,” Mat asked once it was just him and Klay.

  “They spent the night at the justice center. Not that I don’t trust you and your deputies, but we’ve been wanting to get our hands on this guy for a long time. They should be here any minute with Petyr—I want to see what happens when he gets a look at Bonnie Cooper.”

  Mat nodded. It made sense. His phone vibrated with an email notification; likely Niall had forwarded the information Ryder had discovered.

  “Speaking of which, I learned—” The rest of his sentence was cut off by the entrance of the two agents who’d stood guard at the justice center. In front of them walked Franjo Petyr, in handcuffs and wearing a classy orange jumpsuit with the letters PCJC on the back. That both Richardson and Ferreira were on alert and ready to take Petyr down, hard, if he so much as batted an eye was immediately obvious to Mat.

  Franjo Petyr was unassuming, something that probably worked well for him in his role as a human smuggler and who knew what else. He was five nine or ten, medium weight; his hair was the only thing about him that stood out, as it was jet black. Even the man’s eye color was oddly indeterminate, and Mat had no problem seeing how he’d managed to escape capture as long as he had.

  Just as they got to the middle of the room, Gómez opened the interview room door and ushered Bonnie Cooper out into the bullpen. She glanced around the room warily before her gaze landed on Petyr.

  “You,” she hissed, shrinking back against Gómez.

  Petyr bolted from the agents. Mat didn’t know what he thought he was going to do—the bullpen was on the small side, with desks and chairs at odd angles. Agent Richardson had a knee in his back before Mat could count to five.

  Petyr still struggled, trying to get purchase so he could get to Bonnie Cooper. He was yelling in a language Mat didn’t understand. Mat suspected this was the part where the criminal confesses all their crimes—and it irritated him he couldn’t understand a word.

  The door to the other interview room opened, and Sacha Bolic stuck his head out. When he spotted Petyr on the floor with Richardson on his back, a wolfish grin crossed his face, and he made his way over to the prisoner.

  “Well, well, well, Franjo Petyr, here you are finally. Are you ready for your special time away at a federal facility? Keep talking so I can tell the nice officers what you were threatening this—” He stopped abruptly when noticed Bonnie Cooper. “I know you. Is this a small-world coincidence I’m having? Bohdana Kovalenko, what are you doing here, so far from your cousin and all his friends? I mean,” Bolic stood to his full height, which was intimidating, “are you still running the books for him?” He turned to Klay. “You know who you have here, don’t you? The gods must be smiling down at you, because in addition to Franjo Petyr—who, in my opinion, is a jumped-up piece of shit—you also have the numbers man, excuse me, numbers woman for the West Coast branch of the Mogilevich crime family. Or I assume she is. She’s always been one of her cousin’s favorites. Isn’t that right, Bohdana?”

  “Don’t call me that. That is not my name.”

  “I’d cuff her if I were you, Gómez. She doesn’t play by any rules.”

  “You can’t prove anything! This is—this is a frame-up.”

  Mat’s phone vibrated again, reminding him he’d received an email. It was from Niall, and as he suspected, it was the file that Ryder Mann had put together.

  He held up his phone so everyone could see it. “Oh, but I think we can. Between this right here”—he shook his phone—“and the little black book Niall gave me yesterday, you will both be going away for a long time. When the feds get a good look at the ledger, I’m confident it will prove to be full of details about your wrongdoings.”

  “Fucking Cooper, he couldn’t even kill you right,” Petyr spat. “I give the man one fucking job, and he messes it up.”

  Richardson jerked Petyr up off the floor, probably a little more roughly than he needed to, but Mat would’ve done the same.

  “Shut up, you fool,” ordered Bonnie, as she tried to jerk out of Gómez’s hold.

  It seemed Petyr didn’t like women telling him what to do, because Bonnie’s words only made him
spew more.

  “Well, that was an eventful morning,” Mat said, repressing a yawn.

  “I’m sad I missed the fun, sir,” Birdy complained from where she was sitting at her desk.

  “I know. Next time,” he said, while also hoping that never again would he have human smugglers using his island as a drop-off point. That for the foreseeable future Piedras would be very quiet and boring, so he and Niall could get married and go on their honeymoon and come back to the island and find it the way they’d left it. For now, there were still a few things to clean up, and Cody Prescott was going to be burying his uncle in the next few days.

  “You can come along if Jeffrey Reynolds agrees to see me.”

  “Sir?”

  “I have a feeling he’s not going to like it when I tell him I know Duane Cooper killed my father.”

  “Do we know that, sir? For certain?”

  Birdy had missed Petyr’s rant and Bonnie Cooper trying to shut him up, as she’d arrived about an hour after the feds drove off to the ferry, the girls safely tucked into one of the black SUVs with Gómez driving and Ferreira calling shotgun. Klay and Richardson had custody of Petyr and Bonnie—personally, Mat thought they’d drawn the short stick, because the two perps fought like an old unhappily married couple. Just before they pulled away, though, he saw Bolic lean in through the car window and chat briefly with Richardson. Then the two of them traded places, Richardson getting behind the wheel of Bolic’s car.

  “As certain as we’ll ever be at this point, I think, and I refuse to bargain with Reynolds. I refuse to make my mother, or my sisters, go through his death all over again. He’s gone, and having Reynolds 100 percent confirm Cooper was responsible isn’t going to bring him back. I think my mom’s been through enough with Sean’s death too.”

  “A lot has happened this year.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  “Oh, sir?”

  “Yes?”

  “Soren Jorgenson will be starting in two weeks.” Birdy grinned at him.

  “When did he call? Never mind, who cares—that’s great news.”