Savage Deception

by R. T. Wolfe

  Her gun. She would lose her gun over this.

  Two in the morning came faster than she expected. The fight was over with. Her anticipation dropped with every passing minute. Yet, she still wore her boots, had her gun safely tucked on her belt and her spare in her ankle holster. Her coat hung from the hook on the back of the door. She was like a firefighter waiting for the bell.

  "I wonder what Strong and Lewis are doing," she said to him.

  "Maybe the same thing we are."

  "Wouldn't that be funny? Strong and Lewis in a bed and breakfast, I mean. Do you think they have backup on hold?" It didn't matter. She wasn't invited. "Hey, do you have a scanner thing? Ya know, to see if they get a bite? They won't be on a regular police scanner."

  His hair wasn't long enough to hide his ears, but it did hide enough of them at this angle. He pulled his hair back and revealed a single black earbud. Tapping it, he grinned.

  Tossing her laptop on the bed, she swung her feet over the side of the bed. "Seriously? You've been listening?"

  "Lewis checked in to say the feed was quiet. I assume he meant the bugs at Moody's. See? They were listening to you."

  Listening or not, that was all they did through the entire night and the next. Madison Square was a wash. They drove the four hours back to Northridge first thing Sunday morning.

  "We can try again next weekend," he said as he checked his mirror and merged onto 84 West.

  She assumed they were the only ones who stayed in the bed and breakfast and didn't have sex. And it was the second time at missing both targets.

  * * *

  The third time was a charm, Nickie hoped, in this case. Her first trip to the Terre Haute penitentiary could have probably been paid by the feds if she hadn't flown in Duncan's plane. The second and third were her idea. Tanner had better be in the mood for sharing. She was fed up with paying for plane tickets and for wasted time. Time asking the feds to include her. Her last time here to pick Tanner's brain. Time staking out Moody's place.

  And this time she was alone. Duncan was in L.A., delivering his latest work to his latest Hollywood star. She hated pouting, especially when it came from her.

  She didn't call ahead this time. She feared someone would alert the feds. Not that it was any of their business. She could be here questioning him about any cold case in the Northridge database. Luckily, the prison guards recognized her.

  They took her phone, her badge, her gun, her cuffs and searched her. It was getting to be mundane. She had to wait this time. It took a full hour to get Tanner in the room and made her appreciate what they went through the two subsequent times in having him ready when she arrived.

  Sheesh. She winced. He was a mess. His left eye was swollen shut and his lip freshly cut. She smiled through her wince.

  Tanner, on the other hand, was not smiling. His stance, the way he glared at her. The guard sensed it as much as she did, but instead of a grin from ear to ear as she was doing, he chose to use the handcuffs attached to the table and checked everything twice.

  "You little bitch," Tanner snarled low through his teeth.

  She leaned her chair back and crossed her ankles on the table. "You already knew that."

  "You knew what they would do to me. How could you lead me into a situation like that?"

  "You're joking, right? You mean a situation like raping girls too young to have had their periods? 'I've been winning for thirty years.' Isn't that what you said to me? And you're right." She let her legs drop and inched her face forward, just out of reach in case he decided to head butt her. "This is how it's going to be. You tell me what I want to know and you go back to the safety of your isolated, pathetic life. If you don't... if I even think you're lying to me, I'll feed you to the wolves and come back later just to see their handy work on your pretty face."

  Slapping the file down on the table, she growled, "Zheng. How far does this go? How far does he go?"

  For a moment, she thought he might spit in her face and she really hated when perps did that. Without flinching, she stared at him from one eye to the other. The noise of his cuffs broke their silent standoff. He pulled the file toward him, bending the corner on his cuffs.

  He took his time reading every word. She could see the cop in him as he did. It made her remember the time she respected him.

  "Did Mommy and Daddy want to hide the disgrace of their daughter?"

  "Careful, shower boy. You don't want to piss me off."

  "It wasn't my idea to transfer you. Someone had to keep an eye on you. I drew the short fucking straw."

  It was... staged? The words were a sucker punch to the gut, but she carefully kept her face even. "Go on."

  "You were clueless. And you made it obvious you had no intention of turning over old stones. I kept an eye on your computer. You never searched your past, nothing that could remotely be connected." He leaned in, and for the first time since the night he was captured, he ogled her like a juicy steak. "Why is that, I wonder? Then you got involved with the Reeds. What a cluster fuck. The fire chief had this thing for the aunt. You started getting warm to it and everything went to hell."

  "The file. What does this all have to do with the file? Why was the scene of the crime secured, as was the subsequent Amber Alert? Why was there no evidence of a break in at my parents' home?" She hadn't meant to ask that last question.

  "You might want to ask Edward and Ivanna that question."

  There was no need. She already knew the answer. They were disgusted with her. Had been since before she was abducted, but after... Why couldn't she accept it and move on? She had before.

  "Why not just take me out? Why the theatrics of a transfer?"

  "Take out Nicole Monticello of the Maryland Monticellos? You don't know how important your father is, do you?"

  "I'm asking one more time. Zheng. How was he involved?"

  "I answered to Moody. Zheng is beyond me."

  Chapter 27

  "You want another weekend off," Nickie's captain said as a statement. He stood from his chair and walked around his desk. His six-foot-four body towered in front of his desk. Leaning back, he crossed his arms in front of him.

  It was like sitting in the principal's office all over again. "I know, I know. It's weird. But, yes. I have time enough to take the next two dozen Friday's off."

  "Nick, it's me. You can talk to me. Are you... ya know, expecting?"

  Her body leaped from his chair before her mind told her not to. "Holy shit, Dave. Are you joking? No, I'm not pregnant. What do you take me for?"

  "A woman who is involved with a guy?"

  "And that means I'm knocked up? Chauvinist, much?"

  "You know that's not true. But you never come to me anymore. You're holed up in your office with your nose in your computer. You come in early. You stay late. You have pictures taped to your desk computer—yes, I looked—and now you want Friday off. Again."

  When he put it that way, it did sound like something huge. "I'm fine, really. You've been a great captain. You were an amazing mentor when I came here. I wouldn't be who I am today if it weren't for you. Thank you."

  "Then why are you talking like I'll never see you again?"

  The pain in her gut was real, as real as the possibility that after this weekend, she wouldn't see him again. She didn't think she would do time, hoped she wouldn't. But she most certainly wouldn't be allowed to work as cop ever again. Expanding her chest, she lifted her chin. "That's ridiculous. I'll see you at the team meeting this afternoon."

  * * *

  For the third time in less than month, Duncan lay holding Nickie at the only bed and breakfast in Alabaster. They were in a different room. This one smaller but with more windows. It was floral with pastel colors and eyelet lace curtains and pillow covers. They lay together, fully clothed, on top of the sheets and blankets, the thick comforter folded at the end of the bed. Her guns were in her briefcase, and her boots were stacked neatly at the side of the bed. She never stacked anything neatly.

&n
bsp; Something happened in Terre Haute. He wanted to kick himself that he wasn't there. Something happened that changed her. Something happened or maybe it was the last something one person could handle. The straw that broke the camel's back. She knew her father never accepted what happened to her in captivity. But to discover he went to great efforts to hide it, to withhold information about the scene of the crime that could help find her captors, he didn't know how someone came back from that.

  As a cop, she had stumbled upon a group of girls taken from the same organization that had taken her fifteen years ago. Found Zheng. The FBI didn't trust her. They used her, and then shut her out.

  Her head tucked tightly beneath his chin, resting on his shoulder. The faint smell of lavender filled his senses, as familiar now as the back of his hand. She was silent, much like she'd been for the last several days.

  Tonight was their last chance. Madison Square Garden turned out to be no more than willing adult prostitutes who were stationed in back rooms behind the scenes of the boxing match. He imagined their surprise when they were crashed by the FBI and a full tactical SWAT team. Duncan sensed Strong and Lewis were fed up. They had nothing concrete from Moody's white house, and no child prostitution rings emerged from their boxing tip. The last thing he'd heard on the FBI police scanner was that Strong and Lewis had returned to Langley.

  Movement from his chest caused him to lift his arms. She rolled to the side of the enormous bed, grabbed her shower bag and walked out the door. He couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten.

  He eyed his tablet. The visual stream at the white house showed no movement. The snow had melted, exposing the centers of the drive and the walks. He slung his legs off the bed and set his forearms on his knees. Tonight was their last chance, he repeated in his head. And if not, then what? He'd never considered what they would do if Tanner had misled them.

  Them. Who was he kidding? He was the civilian.

  He wasn't sure how long he sat as he did, but when the door reopened, he was surprised it was her already. Uncharacteristically, her hair hadn't been dried or styled. She wore no makeup. A short peach-colored towel wrapped around her body and tucked beneath her arms. She walked through the hallway of the bed and breakfast like that?

  "You need to eat," he said as he studied her face. It was gaunt and he could swear it seemed thinner.

  She stepped in front of him and dropped her towel. "I'm not hungry for food."

  The air left his lungs. His eyes darted to hers. In them, he didn't see want or desire. He saw need. He placed his palms low on her hips and wrapped his fingers around her flesh. It was cool to the touch from her shower. As he pulled her to him, she placed a knee on the bed. Asking. Inviting.

  He answered and trailed his fingers around her hip and over her skin until he found her. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head before her lids closed and her head fell back. He moved for her in the way he learned she responded, holding onto her back to keep her from stumbling. She shuddered beneath his hands and lifted her arms, resting them on his shoulders. He feathered his fingers from her firm stomach over her silky waist and up her ribs. He cupped her, taking her into his mouth. Fingers dug into his shoulders as he circled with his tongue, then pulled.

  He caught her as her knees buckled. Taking her into his arms, he laid her on the blankets and stood back, taking in the shape of her. He released the buttons of his shirt as he ran his eyes over the curves of her hips, the way her waist tucked in tightly beneath her ribs, all the way to her eyes, opened wide and watching. He tossed his shirt over the end of the closest chair and then followed it with the rest of his things. Her eyes were a deeper gray, darker, sadder.

  Lowering himself to her, he nudged between her legs.

  Nickie knew she was acting selfishly. His tongue was warm, yet left a cool breeze in its wake. The spot inside her knee, lazily along the length of her inner thigh too. "Oh." She shuddered and laced her fingers through the back of his hair.

  He knew every piece of her. Inside and out. Rarely was he gentle, were they gentle. But he knew. He always knew. His hands were everywhere, his mouth, his tongue. Carefully, slowly. He took her away from this place. It was exactly what she'd asked, and she didn't even need to ask.

  The rise was slow and steady, building like a ballad anticipating the bridge. Every inch of her trembled, but she hung on. He would keep her safe. Keep her grounded. She trusted him completely and took down her restraints. The peak was long and hard, her heels digging into his sides. And more. More until the bridge of the ballad turned into the culmination at the end of a melody.

  His kisses trailed a line up her trembling stomach. She came down from the high as the sensation of rough whiskers ran over one breast, then the other sending her again on an upward journey. Her arms and legs were still terribly weak, but she grabbed hold of his perfect backside with both hands, leading him to her. She trailed a hand around to find him and relished in the way he froze, then squirmed. The guttural sounds coming from deep in his throat satisfied her nearly as much as his teeth as they grazed her skin.

  Digging her nails into his perfect butt, she guided him deeper before releasing him. He paused and brought his eyes to her. They spoke more than any words could. She could feel him there. It took every ounce of restraint to let him lead. Her body shook with needs of more kind than one.

  His entry was quick, filling her completely. Her body took over. She dug her fingers into flesh and muscle, lifting to him, coupled and loved. This wasn't slow or gentle. It was two people who needed, needed more. More than this and more than each other. At that moment, it had to be both.

  He grabbed hold of the sides of her face, moving with her. "There you are," he said with eyes as black as night.

  Cries erupted from her lungs, her body, rushing to her core where they exploded, sending them over to an isolated place only they occupied. His body shook over her and hers beneath him. Sheer will kept her spent body moving until the last united push. He paused, shivered once more, then fell and covered her with the warmth of his body and of his heart.

  They lay there much longer than they normally would. She was relieved. The weight of him was something she needed that she couldn't quite explain.

  "They staged my transfer to Northridge." She didn't know where that came from, but a small piece of her fear disappeared as she said it. "Zheng pulled the strings, or maybe it was Moody." She shrugged as Duncan moved to her side.

  He lifted on an elbow as it all came out.

  "Tanner told me someone had to keep an eye on me and that he drew the short straw. It was like he was glad to finally be able to shove it in my face. I thought I was transferred because I was a good detective, a good cop. Now, I don't know."

  She hadn't consciously thought of it before, but it was true. Was she even a good enough detective to keep around? Or was her only purpose in Northridge so one of Moody's men could keep an eye on her?

  "Nickie, look."

  She turned her focus to him and saw that he noticed something on his tablet. Bolting upright, she watched as a truck plowed the parking lot to the side of the white house.

  "What time is it?" she howled, lunging from the bed and turning in a circle as she looked for her clothes.

  "Whoa," he said with hands outstretched. "The fight doesn't start for another two hours."

  He came to her and grabbed her wrists. Her heart was beating so hard, she could feel the rapid pulse in her head. "Okay," she said and bent over, putting her hands on her knees. This was going to be her last night as a detective. Four years in college followed by one in the academy. "Okay. We have time. Let's get ready."

  She took a second shower, and this time he joined her. They went over their strategy for the hundredth time as he shampooed her hair and she washed his back. When did she become the type of person who could be this comfortable with any human being?

  When they returned to the room, the sidewalks had been shoveled as carefully as a manicure. She affixed her belt, her cuffs, her
phone, and finally, her gun. Checking the safety, she reached for her ankle holster. It was going to happen.

  Duncan tucked one black earbud in his ear and adjusted a tiny box before sticking it in his shirt pocket.

  "Are you going to contact Strong and Lewis?" he asked.

  She stopped at the question. "If I tell them, they'll know we have access to the classified feed from the bugs you planted."

  "That seems highly ungrateful."

  She nodded. "I'd like to give them some time to respond." They had to be watching. Duncan said they were last known to be headed to Langley. She shook off the thought.

  "How much time is time?" he questioned.

  "They can call locals to cover for them if they need to." She could only hope she was making the right decision.

  Stuffing her shower bag into her duffle, she zipped it quickly and reached for her coat at the same time he clicked his briefcase closed.

  "Let's go."

  * * *

  Duncan parked in a spot he said Moody's cameras couldn't reach. How he knew that she didn't want to know. She was completely psyched. This had to work. The only glow in or out of the car was from the dimmed tablet light as they watched the white house. The place stood as quiet and somber as a graveyard.

  She saw an Expedition drive toward the exit gate. They slouched low in Duncan's SUV as it approached. But it didn't take the road to Moody's manor. Instead, it turned south and headed down the road that led to the warehouses and the white house. It must have stopped somewhere, because they didn't see it in the feed from Duncan's tablet for nearly twenty minutes. Nickie's blood boiled with anticipation.

  Two men parked crookedly in front of the white house. The taller of the two used keys from his pocket to open the front door. She and Duncan couldn't see inside and had no idea what they were doing, but they were still in there when three white station wagons pulled up to the gate. On the side of each, it read, 'Elegant Catering.'

  She could vomit.

  It was close to eleven o'clock, and the boxing match would be nearing the end. The men from the SUVs did not emerge as the caterers carried boxes of food and bottles of liquor, long folding tables and linens Nickie assumed were for the tables.