That thought surprised him—that protecting the woman in his arms was more important to him than working his case. Maybe not so much that it mattered more than how much more it mattered. When had she, when had any woman, gotten so under his skin that his first priority didn’t remain the job?
She stirred and mumbled something in her sleep. He couldn’t make out what she said, but her distress was apparent. “Shh,” he whispered, stroking her back in a soothing manner. She quieted almost immediately, sinking against him in a way that made his body harden and his thoughts scatter.
Jonathan sighed. With him unable to sleep and her plastered against him, it was going to be a very long night.
Dana woke to the sound of thunder crashing in the distance and the slap of rain against the window. Instantly, she knew she was alone in her bed, even before she caught him standing by the window. He faced half toward her and half toward the window as if he were keeping vigil over both at the same time. His face was turned toward the window now, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Even from there she could make out the shape of his gun tucked into his open waistband.
A flash of lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating his features. He looked pensive, melancholy, maybe. Or maybe she was projecting her own emotions onto him, as listening to the rain fall often made her sad. Either way, he seemed to have gone to a place he hadn’t intended her to follow. She contemplated closing her eyes and pretending to be asleep, when he spoke.
“Did the rain wake you?”
Until then she hadn’t been sure he knew she wasn’t sleeping. “Yes.” She sat up and realized she was under the sheet and a light blanket had been spread over that. He must have done that when he got out of bed.
She drew her knees up and rested her elbows on them. Still he hadn’t looked at her and her impression of his mood remained. She searched for something innocuous to say, something harmless that might somehow also lift his spirits.
That much, at least, she figured she owed him. Never before had she relied on a man for his strength or his protection or his comfort. He’d given her all three and much more. Her body still resonated with the power of their lovemaking. The scent of it still lingered in the air.
For all that she felt gratitude, and other deeper emotions she didn’t want to examine too closely at the moment. For now, she’d settle for knowing what was on his mind, or failing that, erasing it from his consciousness for a few moments.
“Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
His head turned and he fastened his gaze on her. “Of course not.”
“Why on earth did you transfer into the 44th precinct?”
He offered her a self-deprecating smile. “The reason isn’t all that strange.” He shifted to turn his back to the window and crossed his arms. “My first assignment was in the 23rd, which is a schizophrenic detail. Half the precinct’s territory is the upper west side, the other half is Spanish Harlem. As you can imagine, two very different types of clientele.”
She nodded.
“The rich folks treated us like dirt because we were civil servants. The poor people treated us like dirt because we were cops. At least with the poor folks, there was some chance of building up a rapport, helping out decent people in a bad situation. Holding some dowager’s poodle while she got into a cab wasn’t my idea of police work. I got out of there as fast as I could.”
She could imagine how demeaning such treatment would be to a man like him. “Why homicide?”
“They asked for me. Not Shea, the current commander, but the one before him. You don’t say no to that.”
Maybe most cops wouldn’t, but she suspected he had more personal motives for agreeing to the transfer. She didn’t press him, though. If he ever wanted to tell her, he would. She was satisfied with that.
For now, she was concerned with him, the man, not the cop. She scanned his face as another bolt of lightning hit. Lines of fatigue showed around his eyes. She wondered if he’d gotten any sleep at all or if he’d risen from the bed to prevent sleep from overtaking him.
She swept the covers aside. “Come back to bed, Jon,” she said in a solicitous voice.
He did as she asked, pushing away from the window. He left his gun on the nightstand and his jeans on the floor. As he slid in beside her, she drew the covers over them. His arms closed around her waist, bringing her down to him. She loved feeling his hard body, all sinew and muscle next to hers, under her fingertips.
The first time they’d come together had been about heat and passion, this second time was about exploring and discovering. Their hands, their mouths, touched, sampled, tasted, as if they had all the time in the world and nothing else mattered. All the while, the rain beat a steady tattoo against the windowpanes.
When finally, as they lay side by side, he entered her, she gasped, reveling in the feel of him inside her, filling her, only to retreat and fill her again just as slowly. She wrapped her leg around his back, pulling him in deeper, but she didn’t urge him to go faster. She was enjoying the sweet torture of being almost at the brink but not toppling over.
But obviously, he grew impatient. His fingers grasped her buttocks as he thrust into her deeper and with more urgency. Her neck arched and she called his name, unable to hold back any longer. A bolt of pure pleasure sizzled through her as white hot and electric as the storm outside. An instant later, his grip on her tightened and his body spasmed against hers.
Dana buried her face against his neck as their breathing normalized and their damp bodies cooled. His hand stroked over her back in a soothing motion. It took her a few minutes to realize when it stopped and his breathing had evened out. She pulled back to look at him. Sleep softened his features and lent him the look of a little boy.
She pressed her lips to his. “Sweet dreams, Jonathan,” she whispered. She laid her cheek against his chest and slept, too.
The next time Dana woke it was to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom at the corner of her room. Jonathan. Her first impulse was to go join him under the warm spray of the shower and see what developed. She quashed that idea almost immediately. Jumping into his shower uninvited would smack of an intimacy that wasn’t there yet. They hadn’t settled anything between them yet, including whether or not last night was a one shot deal. He’d even offered her the use of another bed while she was in his apartment, though, judging by his lovemaking last night, she’d be a fool to spend any time in any bed but his.
She sighed, sitting up and drawing her knees up. What was he doing up so early, anyway? It was still dark out and the bedside clock showed four thirty-five. He probably wanted to get to his apartment before the neighborhood started waking up. Whatever the reason, he’d probably be hungry. She knew she was. She put on her robe and headed down to the kitchen.
She’d already finished the bacon and was pouring eggs into a skillet when she heard Jonathan’s footfalls on the stairs. He appeared a second later dressed in the clothes he’d worn last night. But he hadn’t bothered to tuck in his shirt. That and his morning stubble lent him a rumpled look she found appealing.
He came up behind her, slid an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. “Morning.”
She chuckled. He sounded as sleepy as she felt. “I made coffee. Help yourself, if you don’t mind. I’ll have the rest of breakfast finished in a minute.”
“Thanks.” He released her and went to the counter where the coffeemaker stood.
Dana gave the eggs a last turn then flicked off the burner. “I hope you don’t mind scrambled. I didn’t know what kind of eggs you liked.”
“Scrambled is fine. I didn’t intend to wake you up this early.”
She shrugged as she portioned out food onto two plates. “I’m a light sleeper. It comes with the territory.” She laid both plates on the table and sat.
He sat at the appropriate place and set his coffee cup on the table. “Being a nurse?”
“Raising a kid alone. Not to mention caring for my mother a number of year
s before that. She died of MS when I was seventeen.”
“Is that what made you want to become a nurse?”
“I guess it was a matter of getting paid for what I already knew how to do. It’s amazing how much you learn about medicine when you are someone’s care giver.” She forked up some eggs and brought them to her mouth.
“You raised your brother alone since then?”
“Me and the parochial school system.”
“Where was your father in all this?”
“If you find out, let me know.” For a long minute neither of them said anything. Dana focused on her food, contemplating how similar their lives were in this regard. Both of them had lost their parents at an early age, hers to illness and abandonment, his to a car accident and a heart attack. At least he’d had the support of his brothers and sister. She’d been alone.
“How long will it take you to get ready?”
She’d been so lost in her own thoughts his question startled her. “About ten minutes. I never unpacked my bag from this trip I was supposed to take.”
“Why didn’t you go?”
She formed her hand into the shape of a gun and fired off a couple of mock rounds.
He let out a heavy breath. “Then we’d better get going. I’d prefer to get to my place while it’s still dark.”
Dana sighed. Just what she needed. Another reminder that this wasn’t about two lovers sharing a post-coital breakfast. This was about keeping her out of harm’s way long enough for him to find out who wanted to harm her.
She’d eaten as much of her meal as she planned to. She stood and went to the trash to scrape her plate. “I won’t be long.” She retreated to her room to shower and pack what few toiletries she needed to add to her suitcase.
Once they were in his car headed south on the Major Deegan, she asked, “Where is home for you, anyway?” She knew from Joanna that he lived somewhere in the Bronx, but exactly where she had no idea.
“One sixty-second off the Concourse.”
The fact that he lived within the boundaries of the precinct he’d once served didn’t surprise her. “Part of your plan to serve the community?”
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “There’s some merit to living in the community you police. You get to know the people, build a rapport in a way you don’t get commuting from Westchester or Long Island. I can’t tell you the number of times that I’ve cleared a case because someone sought me out to tell me what they saw, what they heard, who they know did what. It’s a well-known cop axiom that the best cop is the one with the best snitches. But no one’s going to open up to you if they don’t trust you.”
He stole a glance at her and grinned. “Besides, where else in the city are you going to get a spacious two bedroom apartment for under six hundred bucks?”
She couldn’t argue with him there. Many of those old buildings on the Concourse featured apartments with as much square footage as her entire house. Jonathan’s apartment was the same, with a large kitchen, dining room, huge sunken living room, two bedrooms and two baths.
She gave herself the two-cent tour while he changed for work. It was a typical man’s apartment complete with black leather sofa and manly-man big screen TV. But he had actual books on his bookshelf, mostly crime and horror fiction, and the artwork on his walls was a cut above what you could expect from most men. And the place was actually clean without him having time to neaten up before she arrived.
After peering in the second bedroom she understood why he’d put two beds in there instead of one. She recognized some of the toys in the room as belonging to Joanna’s two boys. He must have decorated with them in mind.
If she wanted to know what the master bedroom looked like, she’d have to wait. After a brief stint in the bathroom to shave, he’d gone to the bedroom to dress. She started to head back to the living room when his bedroom door opened. She turned around to see him walking toward her dressed in a navy blue suit.
Something in his face or in his demeanor told her he was back to being a cop. Still, he laced his fingers with hers and led her toward the front door.
He stopped halfway down the hallway and pulled her to him. “I don’t suppose I have to remind you not to go out. The whole point of you being here is for no one to know where you are.”
“No. You don’t have to remind me. I’ll probably spend the entire day sleeping, anyway.”
“You have my numbers. If you need anything, call.”
“I will,” she said, but she knew she wouldn’t—not unless someone was breaking down the door. He had a job to do and didn’t need her distracting him. “Be careful, Jon.”
For a moment, he looked at her with an expression she didn’t understand. Then he leaned down and claimed her mouth for a brief kiss. “I’ll try to be home early.”
Since she had no idea what time early might be for him, she just said, “Okay.”
He opened the door and went through it. She closed it behind him and locked it.
Now all she had to do was find something to occupy her. Despite what she told Jonathan, she was too worked up to sleep. It was too early to call Joanna to tell her she wouldn’t be coming to the house today to help her settle in with the new baby.
With a sigh she slumped onto the sofa that faced the TV and flicked it on using the remote. She found the local Bronx station, intent on listening to the news. After weather and traffic reports aired, the lead stories repeated. Only one of them held her attention. Apparently Reverend Robert Jones was set to hold a rally on the steps of the Bronx courthouse at ten o’clock.
Dana ground her teeth together. Who knew what that man was up to. But considering she could see the courthouse from the living room window, she’d probably hear every word.
When Jonathan arrived at the stationhouse that morning, Mari was, as usual, already at her desk. For a change she seemed anxious to see him. Despite that, the first words out of her mouth after he sat down were, “You sure look like hell.”
He pulled his chair closer under his desk. “Thanks for reminding me.” After he’d brought Dana to his place, he’d had to shower and shave quickly in order to get there with some sort of punctuality. Combined with the lack of sleep from the night before, he was sure he looked like the devil. “What have you been up to?”
She grinned. “Since someone ruined my evening last night, I headed over to Jackson’s watering hole. Folks there confirmed that our guy hadn’t started the fight.”
Funny, no one had volunteered any information on who instigated what the first time they’d gone to the place. Most of the folks still around at that time claimed not to have seen a thing. But then everyone knew they were cops. Dressed as she was last night, he doubted anyone would have recognized her as the same policewoman who’d been there a few mornings before. No doubt there were plenty of things a man would tell a pretty girl he wouldn’t tell a cop.
“Where did you leave it?”
“The A.D.A. is writing it up as self-defense.”
While he was glad the case was cleared, he doubted that’s what had Mari so eager to see him. “What else have you been up to?”
She sighed dramatically. “Nothing important. I just figured out why Moretti has such a hard-on for you.”
“Why is that?” Not that he really cared, but he was curious as to both what she found out and why she’d bothered.
“Way back when Moretti had some ambition, he wanted to be seated where you are now. But he got on someone’s shit list in the department, whose and how I’m not exactly sure. The powers that be made it clear that where he was was all he’d ever be.”
“And he blames me for that?”
“Probably not, but you have to admit it probably sticks in his craw that you came on after he did and he’s still where he is. He must have been on the job a good decade before you ever showed up on the scene and you get bumped up, not him. And coming from the same squad . . .”
He shrugged as Mari’s words trailed off. Neither Moretti’s stalled
career or his loss of faith were Jonathan’s problems. But if what Mari said was true, that probably explained Moretti’s dislike of her, too. She’d moved to homicide three years ago after some city report was released claiming a lack of diversity among the NYPD’s special units.
The NYPD’s response had been to reassign Mari, a self-described demographer’s wet dream, as she was part black, part Latina, female and short—the whole crap shoot in one little bundle. There were those who still believed she hadn’t earned her shot just because of the way she got it. Mari, of course, couldn’t care less.
Considering her indifference he wondered why she’d bothered to investigate. He said as much.
She crossed her arms. “Never let it be said that I don’t have my partner’s back. And speaking of which, what did you do with our witness?”
As segues went, that wasn’t a bad one. “Somewhere safe.”
“I figured as much.” She let out an annoyed sigh. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Stone.”
He knew what concerned her. “When have I ever let anything get in the way of getting the job done?”
“Uh, never,” she said in away that suggested that’s why she was concerned this time.
The sound of Shea’s office door opening drew his attention. Although the blinds to the office had been closed since Jonathan walked in, he would have been surprised if anyone other than the police commissioner had been closeted in the office with him. No doubt both men wanted a briefing so that they could plan what to tell and how much to the press attending Pierce’s funeral.
Shea appeared in the doorway. “Stone, Velez.” He nodded toward his office.
Jonathan glanced at Mari to gauge her reaction. She winked at him. “Showtime.”
Fourteen
“I understand you have something happening in the Pierce case.”
That came from the commissioner, Franklin Brooks, a man it was easy to distrust on first glance. His long nose and thin face lent him the look of a ferret. As far as Jonathan knew, he was an okay guy in that he gave the appearance of putting his men’s welfare ahead of his own ambitions. Whether that was true or not was anyone’s guess.
Body Of Truth Page 17