by Amy Valenti
For a second, I wasn't sure he'd continue, but he did, his fingers flexing and curling into fists at his sides. “Morgan was on a business trip, and Laura found you. If he'd been in the country, he would have gone to you himself and, best case scenario, you'd be dead."
I returned his gaze, forgetting to breathe, putting it all together. I understood his words, and the significance of the phrase best case scenario rather than worst, but emotionally, it hadn't sunk in yet. Too many things had happened already. “Zach—"
"I'm sorry, Faye."
I blinked up at him, the uncharacteristic apology taking me by surprise.
"If he hadn't been on that business trip, he would have taken you before I even realised there was a threat."
He was trying to hide it, but I could sense it all—the anger, the frustration, the helplessness he felt. I wished I could make him see he wasn't solely responsible for my safety.
"You can't wrap me in bubble wrap and stick me in a drawer somewhere. I'm a grown woman."
His eyes darkened a little at my words, and when he spoke, his voice was low, gruff and too damn masculine for its own good. “I know."
I took an instinctive step forward, narrowing the space between us to inches. He was just a little taller than me, and I looked up at him through my lashes, my pulse kicking up a gear at the way his dark hair caught the daylight.
He dropped his gaze to my lips, and my every sense became perfectly attuned to him in the inevitability of what came next. He leaned in, so close, his breath lightly tickling my face. I fought the urge to close my eyes, swaying towards him in return until—
His cell phone rang and we both froze, rousing ourselves from the spell that had fallen over us. Stepping away from me, he answered with his usual terse greeting, and I headed for the stairs, needing to get away before the unavoidable, awkward ‘I gotta get going’ moment arrived.
Once I reached the lab, I flopped down into my desk chair and tried to calm down.
It will probably never happen again, right?
He knew how I felt, and in that perfect moment of helpless frustration he must have channelled his emotions into something less painful, something he'd definitely have regretted later. Pierce wasn't the type to let his guard down that far more than once, so all I had was this memory, which was growing less intense by the second.
I dropped my head into my hands and closed my eyes, intent on savouring the warm surge of pulse-pounding desire for as long as it lasted.
Pierce
Once I'd narrowly resisted firing Layton for keeping me in the loop, I turned to find Faye gone, and I couldn't even begin to unravel the tangled knots of emotion her absence spun me into.
Part of me was relieved—I didn't even know what I would have said to her if she'd still been standing there. I'd judged my mood right when I'd decided not to go to her after I'd got the truth out of Morgan.
When I'd heard her voice, out by the river, I'd known I was going to make a bad call one way or the other. When she'd asked me if I needed a hug, my imagination had gone into overdrive.
How could one person be so fragile, yet so tough at the same time? Seeing her there, with my mind still full of Morgan's vitriol, I'd needed to hold her close and reassure myself that she was okay—that even though I'd failed to perceive the threat, she hadn't come to harm. Once she was in my arms, though...it was as if she was the one who was protecting and comforting me.
And once I'd processed that she was safe, everything about the embrace drove me crazy—her scent, her warmth, the sound of her breathing... Then she'd nuzzled my shoulder just a little, hardly aware she was doing it, and I'd started to feel myself slipping out of control. If I didn't move away, she'd feel what she was doing to me, and then...
So I'd stepped away, pulled myself together, and we'd headed back here. I hadn't known how to tell her, but I hadn't wanted her finding out from someone else. So I'd given it to her straight, and I'd apologised.
That had shocked her—I wasn't usually one to let my guard down. But of all the people in my life, there was no one less likely to exploit my weaknesses than Faye.
"Hey, Zach! What, no coffee for me?"
Remembering the words she'd uttered on so many occasions, I couldn't help but smile. In some senses, there was no one more likely to exploit my weaknesses than Faye, but only in the most benign of ways.
One of those weaknesses had surfaced when she'd reminded me she was a grown woman. I'd never doubted it, despite her sometimes childlike enthusiasm. And she'd heard it in my voice, seen it in my eyes, and she'd responded to it as if she'd been waiting for me for years.
I'd been a heartbeat away from kissing her, calling the elevator without breaking off, pulling her inside, slamming my hand against the emergency switch and...
That had been two minutes ago.
Now, she'd beaten a fast retreat, leaving me with no clue how much of the last few minutes was wishful thinking, and how much of her reaction I'd actually interpreted right.
One thing I knew for sure was that under normal circumstances, Faye wasn't the type to avoid discussions. There had been times when she'd been distressed and uncommunicative, but for that fraction of a second before my cell phone had interrupted us there'd been no trace of that in her expression.
If she was avoiding me, she needed time to think. How long she needed and what we'd say to each other once she was done, I couldn't fathom.
I didn't second-guess myself often, but today I was making a habit of it.
The only thing I could do right then was go back upstairs, make sure Morgan talked himself into as many years in prison as possible, and ensure he was never in a position to hurt Faye again.
* * * *
"I mean, Pierce has a certain type, right? And so does Faye. She dated that guy in the CSU for a while, remember? And then that girl she brought along on my birthday, that time. What I can't figure out is what this chick has that appeals to both of them. If I was dating someone Pierce used to date... Well, he has pretty good taste in women; it wouldn't be surprising. But Faye sharing romantic tastes with Pierce just doesn't—"
"Don't you have something more productive to be doing, Santoro?” I snapped, heading for my desk.
Santoro winced. “Sorry, boss."
"Keep talking and you will be. That warrant in yet?"
"It's just come through,” Beaumont confirmed, getting to her feet.
"Go,” I said, then beckoned to Layton. “Come."
Morgan's lawyer looked more like an apprentice accountant than an attorney, and did Morgan about as much good as one. Layton followed me into the interrogation room, shattering their expectation that I'd be outnumbered two to one, and Layton and I alternated questions, giving them no breathing room to think or anticipate.
When I asked for Morgan's alibi for Leigh's murder, he said he was watching TV at home, alone, and I knew we'd got him.
"What'd you watch?” Layton asked, before I could.
"Don't answer that,” the lawyer advised, buying Morgan some time to think.
"Come on, Mr Hawkins,” I said to him. “If he's innocent, he won't mind the question."
Morgan named a show, and Layton busied himself pulling up TV schedules on whatever new gadget he'd bought that week. “Hmm. Weird. I can't find that on any of the schedules for that night. What channel did you say it was?"
After that, it was over in a matter of minutes, and I left Layton, with a word of praise, to make the arrangements for transfer to a holding cell. I headed next door to take care of the final issue.
Laura raised her head wearily from her arms when I went in. “How much longer do I have to stay here?"
"Not long,” I told her, sitting down. “We've just arrested your husband for the murder of Samuel Leigh."
Her eyes widened with genuine shock, then filled with bitter tears. “No... First my brother, now my husband? You monster!"
"It's not personal, Laura.” Part of me felt bad for her—some women surrounded thems
elves with people with inclinations toward violence and crime, without even realising they were doing it. Laura was one of them.
She stubbornly clung to her anger—she needed someone to hate, and I was the easiest target. “Oh, spare me."
Shaking my head, I told her, “We have you for theft of property. Your alibi for the night of the murder is watertight—I know you weren't there. What I do need to know is whether or not you knew what your husband's plans were."
"I don't get into my husband's debt problems,” she snarled. “I took the wallet, I looked through it in the ladies’ room, and there was no credit card and not much cash. I sent him a text message telling him there wasn't enough, then I went back out to finish my drink and go home with Faye. I don't ask him anything that might make him angry—don't you get that? You can't even imagine living with someone like him."
"I'm a cop, Laura. I've seen a lot of things,” I said quietly, receiving only an eye-roll in return. Conniving bitch or not, she didn't deserve the life she'd been given. And I believed her about not knowing about Leigh's murder.
The more pressing thing on my mind was whether she knew about the plans her husband had for Faye.
"You told Faye you should have knifed her while you had the chance. That what your husband wanted to do?"
I didn't think it was possible for her to get any paler, but she managed it, whispering, “Is that how he killed that guy?"
If she hadn't been a hell of an actress that would have been all the proof I needed to find her innocent—Leigh had been beaten to death. Because it was Laura, I lied. “Yeah. And the thing I've found about coincidences like that? They're not coincidences."
She drew into herself, staring at the table top without seeing it. “I didn't know, I swear. I just... I lay awake that night, after Faye fell asleep, a-and I wondered what Garth would ask me to do. I knew he was working up to something involving her, and my mind, it just threw up all these possibilities... Earlier today, I wanted to hurt her, I wanted to scare her, but I swear to God I didn't—"
Satisfied with her answer, I got to my feet, and she blinked up at me. “What...?"
"He wasn't knifed,” I said, and watched her face darken with anger at my ruse. If I'd been within arm's reach, I was pretty sure she'd have tried to slap me right about then. Maybe she'd even have been justified. “I needed to test your innocence, and you passed."
"Great,” she said sarcastically. “I'll just take my conviction for petty theft and get back to my ruined life. Thanks, Zach."
Sighing, I offered my hand to her. “C'mon. I'll escort you out."
"Don't you have to charge me or something, first?"
"If I was gonna charge you, yeah. As it is, I'm letting you off with a caution.” The conflicted gratitude and loathing on her face was hard to watch. “Do you wanna talk to your husband first?"
Laura stared at her hands, rubbing the finger that must have held her wedding ring, when she wasn't trying to fool people into thinking she was single. Abruptly, she rose, and there was steel in her posture and voice as she replied, “No. Let's go."
She didn't speak on the way to the foyer, and neither did I. There was only one thing left unspoken, and I waited until she stepped out of the elevator to say it.
"Laura."
She turned to look at me, her bravado almost crumbling to misery as her eyes met mine.
"Take care of yourself."
Surprised into speechlessness by my statement, she just stared at me, unable or unwilling to process the concern. I reached out and pressed the button that would take me back to the bullpen, and as the elevator doors slid shut she spun and began to walk quickly towards the exit, scrubbing at her face with her hand.
If she looked back, the doors closed before it happened.
Faye
I expected Pierce to call when he'd finished in interrogation, but I heard the scuttlebutt about Morgan's conviction from Palmer, who'd heard it from Layton, who'd been in there with Pierce when it happened. Allegedly.
So when thirty minutes had passed without a call from him, I started to worry. Our friendship had survived Pierce learning about me and Laura. It had survived Laura's vicious words in the interrogation room, though that had definitely strained things a little. It had survived Laura's revelation that she'd been using me to hurt Pierce, and Morgan's that he'd planned to do God-knows-what to me.
That tense, breathless, electrifying moment when we'd almost kissed might have been the last straw. What if I'd lost his friendship in a search for something more?
Curling into my desk chair, I watched my computer screen flicker as AFIS discounted print after print. It was gonna be a while before I got anything, and technically I had other stuff I could have been doing, but I needed a few moments to order my thoughts first.
The lab phone rang, and I almost jumped out of my skin.
Could it be Zach?
"Lab..."
"Hey, Faye.” It was Santoro, and I suppressed a disappointed sigh. “Guess who just got roped into a two-day firearms safety workshop?"
"I'm guessing you?"
"All of us,” Santoro said glumly. “Me. Layton. Beaumont. Even Pierce."
So that was where he was. “They're making a team leader take a firearms safety workshop?"
"Public relations pacifier after that uptown cop misfired and killed a civilian. It's mandatory—commissioner's orders. We got unlucky by wrapping up a case in time to be in the first wave. They're even putting us up in lodgings for the night so we don't skip out. Guess Pierce's reputation precedes him.” Santoro sounded about as impressed as I expected Pierce was.
"So why are you calling me? Need me to bust you out?” I teased him.
"Just call me if you find any leads to follow up on in any of our active cases?” Santoro pleaded.
"I promise, Santoro.” Biting back a grin, I placed the phone back in its cradle, feeling a lot better than I had a couple of minutes ago. Now Pierce's absence was explained, I was less freaked out.
Plus, it gave me a little breathing room to figure out my next move. Not that I had any idea what that was.
Pierce
Being stuck in one of the precinct's safehouses with a bickering team of cops, an hour's drive from my place, wasn't what I'd envisioned for the evening. I pointedly stayed out of their way, sitting out in the garden, staring up at the stars and tuning out the faint noise of their conversation.
I didn't need to be there, but I didn't have a choice. It was all about politics and nothing to do with actual proficiency, so all I could do was sit there and overanalyse the events of the day.
Part of me wanted to call Faye, just to hear her voice. I didn't even know what my next step with her would be. The way our last conversation had ended, I couldn't even be certain what she expected from me.
All I knew was what I wanted to believe—that Laura's words about Faye wanting me were accurate. That she wanted to submit to me as much as I wanted to top her.
At least I didn't have to worry about how to tell her I was in the BDSM scene.
Guess all I can do is wait until I next see her, scope her out and go with my gut.
I'd never had much difficulty picking up on Faye's train of thought, even if it sometimes took me a couple of days.
If she really was too dominant to submit, the way Laura insisted she was... I could cross that bridge later.
My focus tonight should be on not letting my imagination run away with me. If I start taking for granted that she'll want to be my sub, I'll miss signs I'd pick up on otherwise.
But, God, the thought of ordering her to her knees was a tempting one.
Faye
"What do you have for me, Faye?"
I'd had a while to think about it, and I thought I had it figured out. Okay, so it had taken a fairly sleepless night and a lot of stupid ideas to get there, but at least I had a plan of action.
Shooting a smile and a sideways glance at Pierce, I answered, “What do you want?"
Allow
ing him a second to process the question, I spun and looked at the evidence strewn over the table. “Ummm...shell casings, fingerprints, carpet fibres, blood. Take your pick."
He shrugged. “Lady's choice."
He was smiling a little, but with Pierce that could have meant anything. And he'd just missed a perfect chance to give me an order. Did that mean he was stepping back, saying he wouldn't get involved with me? Or was I overthinking?
"Okay...” I immersed myself in the science of the case, shoving my insecurities to the back of my mind...for now. Part of me wanted to look at him while I gave my reports, but I was too afraid I'd see rejection in his face, or lose my train of thought and stutter like an idiot. So I just kept focussed, giving him what he'd asked for.
Maybe it was the only thing he'd ever want from me.
When I'd finished, he leaned in closer to me, and it was almost instinctive to tilt my cheek towards his kiss. It was the first time he'd touched me since the hug we'd shared out by the river—the hug that had started out comforting and ended awkwardly.
His fingers were warm against my skin and I looked up into his face, startled that he hadn't just kissed my cheek and left me to think over his latest actions. His touch was gentle, his gaze searching, but there was something deeper about this connection.
He could have ordered me to my knees with a word, and I couldn't hide it from him. Not when I could sense the darker desires beneath the concern and affection in his face.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, then let it go.
Submitting.
He dropped his hand from my face to my shoulder and squeezed, the move simultaneously reassuring and possessive. Then he spoke, and I forgot how to breathe.
"Do we need to have a conversation, little tease?"
My brain might have played over the pet name dozens of times, visualising over and over the scenario Laura had described. I might have whispered the words last night, alone in my apartment, my hands wandering and my breath quickening.
Hearing him address me as little tease for the first time was still a million times better than I could have imagined. Acutely aware of his touch, I opened my eyes to meet his gaze.