Trust No One

by Velvet Vaughn

  An honest, upstanding cop wouldn't be wearing a disguise. Dorian grabbed her hand and stuck his head out before jerking it back as the door opened. "Stay low," he ordered, tugging her down. They eased into the hallway.

  Glass crunched and they froze. "Son of a bitch," a voice growled, too low to be recognized. "I knew I'd seen that reporter chick before."

  He must have spotted the photo she left on display. Stupid move on her part. Now he wouldn't have any trouble tracking her down since he had her name. Her foot connected with a table and she gasped.

  "Police. Who's there?" the voice called out in a deep drawl.

  Dorian pulled out his Glock. "Come-on." He half-picked her up, half tossed her towards the bedroom just as a bullet lodged into the drywall beside her head.

  "Freeze."

  Dorian turned and fired, forcing the man behind a wall. "Go, get to the car," he ordered, exchanging gunfire. "We're coming out the back," he informed Dante.

  Kendall bolted to the sliding glass door and jimmied the lock, panicking when it wouldn't budge. She frantically jerked the handle, almost fainting with relief when the lock finally sprung open. Once out on the balcony, she turned back, waiting for Dorian. She refused to leave without him.

  "Go," he yelled. "I'm right behind you."

  Kendall climbed over the railing and eased herself down the bars so she was closer to the ground. Telling herself to bend her knees, she dropped to the ground and landed on all fours. A little dog in the apartment below Stefani's started yipping angrily. She stood, glad to find she hadn't sprained anything, and ran through the open courtyard. Ducking behind a row of bushes, she prayed for Dorian to emerge any second now.

  #

  Dorian clipped off one more shot, hoping he'd given Kendall enough time to get to the truck before he burst through the sliding glass door and vaulted over the railing. He hit the ground on a roll, his injured shoulder screaming in protest. He ignored the pain as an annoying little yapper in the apartment beneath Stefani's scratched at the glass door, pointy teeth bared. Dorian bet he was all bark, no bite. A light snapped on inside. He needed to make like Pete Rose and Charlie Hustle.

  He was up and running as bullets pinged the ground around him. He was dismayed to see Kendall's beautiful head pop up above a row of bushes. He should've known she wouldn't listen to him. She lifted her arm and squeezed off a few shots, forcing the perp to back off. He smiled. Damn, she made a great partner. He snagged her arm and urged her in front of him, shielding her with his body. He guided her to the waiting truck and opened the back door, shoving her inside before crowding in after her. Dante barely slowed, peeling out and maneuvering through the complex before the door even closed. When he came to the exit, he flipped on the lights and blended into traffic. Sirens blared in the distance as they motored away.

  "He knows who I am now," Kendall said in a worried tone.

  He gathered her close. "I won't let anything happen to you," he vowed.

  Once they were safely away from the area, Dante glanced in the rear view mirror. "You found a lipstick drive?"

  Dorian nodded. "You heard the story?"

  "Perfect hiding place. I absolutely would not have thought to look in there," Dante mused with a hearty laugh.

  Dorian laughed with him and glanced at Kendall. She wasn't joining in, she was digging through all of her pockets, a look of horror on her face. She met his eyes and gasped in dismay. "It isn't here. Oh God, I must've dropped it while we were escaping. Come on, we have to go back."

  "If you dropped it outside, there's too much activity right now. The place will be crawling with cops after the gun shots. We can't risk it. We'll go back in the morning."

  #

  Kendall rocked slowly in the porch swing, a glass of red wine in her hand. It was pitch black outside, the only sounds coming from crickets singing a night melody and tree frogs croaking along off-key. A breeze blew in from Lake Michigan and she hugged the sweater tighter around her body.

  How could she have been so stupid to lose the flash drive? It was the first solid lead they had into who killed her friends. Dorian had managed to hold on to a key during an explosion and subsequent swim through a lake. If it was her first mistake, she might have been more willing to forgive herself, but she'd also lost the gun that was undoubtedly one of the murder weapons.

  The door creaked open and Dorian appeared. He took a swig from a bottle of beer and padded over to the swing, his brows raised in question.

  "You sure you want to sit with me? I'm a disaster."

  He lowered his massive bulk into to the seat, causing her to bounce. He swung his arm over her shoulder and pulled her to his side, using his feet to set the swing in motion.

  "Why are you a disaster?"

  "Lost a flash drive, forgot the murder weapon in a park, take your pick."

  "Babe, the gun would've been a bust. It would've been wiped…guy was a pro. As for the flash drive, we'll find it in the morning."

  "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

  "Did it work?"

  "A little," she admitted with a smile, burrowing closer to the heat of his solid body. "Where's Dante?"

  "Bedroom." He held the bottle between his first two fingers and took a drink. "He wanted to check in with his son."

  It was so peaceful sitting in the dark, listening to the sounds of nature at night, the scent of Dorian's subtle aftershave wafting to her. She closed her eyes and sighed. They popped open when his big hand covered hers. She felt his intense gaze on her and she met his eyes. He sat his bottle down then took her glass from her. She was mesmerized. After he got rid of the drinks, he pulled her closer with their joined hands and sifted his other through her hair.

  "You are so damn beautiful." He covered her mouth with his. Fireworks exploded. That this big, strong warrior could be so gentle and tender brought tears to her eyes. He treated her like she was precious. "I won't break, Dorian."

  That opened the floodgates. He groaned and pulled her onto his lap. His mouth devoured hers. "I've tried, but I can't stay away from you, Kendall." Both of his hands framed her face. "You're like a drug and I'm completely addicted."

  "Oh, God…me, too." He removed her sweater, which was good since she was now burning up. He urged her to stand and pulled down her yoga pants. Then he freed himself and guided her on top of him. She sank down and they both gasped at the pleasure. He set the swing in a gently swaying motion while they found an easy rhythm. It was exquisite and she would never last. She wanted to scream his name to the great outdoors as they exploded together. When she could breathe again, she enjoyed the feel of him inside her as the swing gently swayed.

  "What is it that you do to me that most of the time, I can't even get undressed?" he mused.

  She whispered a naughty reply into his ear. He jerked to life inside her.

  "If we didn't have a house guest, I'd carry you inside and make love to you in front of the fire all night long."

  The reminder of Dante and the possibility that he could join them outside had her reluctantly breaking apart and righting her clothes. Dorian adjusted his and she settled beside him on the swing. They sat in companionable silence, the gentle rocking of the swing lulling her into complete contentment. There was something she wanted to ask him and now seemed as good a time as any.

  "Will you tell me what happened to your shoulder?"

  He was quiet for so long, she didn't think he would answer. It had something to do with his last case and it involved a woman. Dread pooled in her stomach the longer he remained silent. Maybe she didn't really want to know.

  Finally he spoke. "I became involved with the primary on my last case."

  "Primary?"

  "The woman I was supposed to be protecting."

  Jealousy slammed through her. She had no right to feel so possessive, yet she did.

  His hand unconsciously strayed to his damaged joint. "I took a bullet…nicked an artery. Almost died."

  The way he said it, so emotio
nless and fatalistic. Like maybe he should have died. "What happened?"

  He gazed out into the darkness, picturing the event that almost ended his life. She shuddered. She might not have ever met him.

  "Blair was married to a very influential man. So influential in fact, he called the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff a friend. According to Blair, he also liked to use her as a punching bag. She'd never reported him to the authorities because as much as she despised what he did to her, she didn't want to damage his image. And she said he always apologized and swore it would never happen again."

  Kendall grunted. "Abusers always say that."

  He nodded in agreement. "We took the case because she was very believable. Blair was fragile, a little damaged, in definite need of protecting. She was hiding out from an abusive husband…or so I thought. He'd disappeared and she feared for her life. I was protecting her until he could be found." He sighed and ran a hand down his face. "She kept coming on to me, but I don't date married women and I certainly don't mix business with pleasure." He grimaced. "Or I didn't..."

  "Go on," she urged softly.

  "One night, she gave me something to drink, said she was trying a new health food shake. She was into all kinds of healthy, tofu, veggie drinks. Like an idiot, I drank it."

  "Rohypnol?"

  "MDMA," he corrected. "She slipped me a Molly. After about fifteen minutes, the drug kicked in and she pretty much attacked me. I was hyper-sexual and so turned on. One part of my brain knew it was wrong but the other didn't care. I had to quench this insatiable lust." He cleared his throat. "She had this planned for months. She wasn't an abused wife. Far from it. Her husband was very caring and very, very rich. She wanted all of his money to herself. He'd been away on a business trip—not hiding out as she said. She'd been texting him and knew to the minute when he would arrive home. She wanted it to look like I was raping her so that her husband would be irate and shoot me. Then she would shoot him. Her story to the authorities would be that he barged in and we both died in the ensuing gunfight. We'd both be dead so she could weave any story she wanted and there'd be no one to disprove it."

  "My God," she whispered. "She thought she would get away with it?"

  "Yeah. But apparently the dose she gave me wasn't quite strong enough for my size and weight. The effects were wearing off. She'd already swiped my gun, so when her husband came home, she shot him, point blank. He was dead before he hit the floor. She wore gloves, thinking they would save her from gun powder residue. Then she grabbed a different weapon and turned to shoot me but I was able to move in time. She got my shoulder instead of my heart."

  "How were you able to keep from getting shot again?"

  "Luck. I jumped off the bed, intending to stop her but the effects of the drug and the blood loss made me stumble to my knees. Her next shot went over my head."

  "How did you stop her?"

  "As soon as I realized I'd been drugged, I was able to push the panic button on my watch that alerts the COBRA staff that I need urgent assistance. With the GPS, they were able to send help right away. There was a cop a street over. He rushed to the scene and when he barged inside, Blair panicked and tried shooting him. Her plan was unravelling. He shot her in the arm and was able to subdue her until backup arrived. She still had both guns and the gloves. Plus, there was gun-shot residue all over her clothes and blood-splatter from her husband, which she never even considered.

  "Medics arrived soon after and I was able to tell them that I'd been drugged so they could do tests at the hospital. They determined it was MDMA."

  "Why do you carry so much guilt?" she asked. "And before you say anything, I can see it in your face."

  He shrugged. "I shouldn't have slept with her."

  Kendall gaped at him. "Slept with her? She raped you," she all but screamed in outrage.

  "Men can't be—"

  "Yes, they can and you were. You might've participated in the act but you were under the effect of a drug. Surely you realize that?"

  "I didn't do my job. A good man died."

  "Looking back now, what would you have done differently?"

  He shrugged a shoulder.

  "Not a damn thing, right? So why are you beating yourself up? Get over it, Demarchis. You aren't perfect, no one is. We just do the best we can and move on."

  He mimicked dialing a phone and putting it to his ear. "Hello pot? It's the kettle. You're black."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "You telling—no, ordering me—to get over it when you are beating yourself up over losing the flash drive and gun."

  She crossed her arms. "Apples and oranges."

  He chuckled and pulled her closer, setting the swing into a gently rocking motion.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Sunday, September 26

  Hillary Billings was soaking up the historic sites in Greece. She'd always wanted to visit but never had the chance. Doing so now with a native as a guide was a surreal experience. Mama Demarchis' sister Helen was leading the tour, and her English was very good. She knew everything about the history and significance of each place they visited.

  The Acropolis was amazing, an incredible monument to the achievements of the ancient Greek civilization. It contained the Parthenon, probably the most iconic symbol of the country. She'd visited the one in Nashville, Tennessee and while impressive, it couldn't hold a candle to the original. The Erechtheion, an ancient Greek temple on the north side of the Acropolis was equally extraordinary. It was dedicated to both Athena and Poseidon. It also contained the Porch of the Maidens, the most beautiful monument she'd ever seen. Six draped female figures, or caryatids, support the structure like columns, the folds of their robes similar to the fluting of the nearby Ionic columns. Each caryatid's weight was supported on one straight leg with the other bent at the knee to rest on the ball of the foot. It was, in one word, spectacular.

  She almost felt guilty for having so much fun on the company dime. This was definitely a paid vacation. Dorian had wanted his mom and sister away from Chicago until they could catch the killer, but nobody really thought there would be any trouble. Hillary took her job seriously and kept alert, scanning for any threats. But so far, this had been the easiest job she'd ever worked.

  She was glad she'd brought her digital camera to preserve the memories. Daphne packed both a digital and one that used film. Hillary didn't even realize they made film anymore. Daphne was an extremely talented photographer. She'd shown Hillary some of her digital shots and they were stunning. She captured the essence of whatever she photographed. The lighting and framing of her shots was museum-quality. She definitely had a career in photography…if she chose to pursue it. Hillary had been stunned when Daphne spent the entire flight to Greece grilling her on what it took to be a good agent. She wanted to follow in her brother's footsteps and become a security specialist. She was already a brown belt in Tae Kwan Do, and was proficient at firing a weapon, something her brother taught her. She was determined and dedicated, two qualities that made a good operative.

  Daphne skipped over and locked her arm through Hillary's, guiding her down the street to drool over a display of decadent chocolates in a bakery window. They'd just left a restaurant that served authentic Greek cuisine and the entire meal had been on COBRA's dime. She loved expense accounts. As good as the food tasted, it was nowhere near as delicious as Mama Demarchis'. Hillary knew she'd never be able to eat Greek food again without thinking of the generous woman and her amazing culinary talents.

  "Mama, you and Aunt Helen come stand next to Hillary," Daphne instructed. "I want to get a picture of the three of you with the beautiful architecture of this building as the backdrop." Daphne arranged them in place and then stood back and lifted her lens.

  Two men approached in dark clothing and sunglasses. Awareness crept down Hillary's spine and she automatically fingered her weapon.

  "Hillary, quit moving or you'll ruin the picture." Daphne adjusted the focus and framed her shot.

/>   Everything happened quickly. Hillary urged Mama and Helen to the chocolate shop, ordering them inside, while yelling for Daphne to run. One of the men lifted a gun before she could draw and fired. The bullet impacted her Kevlar vest and knocked her backward. She slammed into the building with the beautiful architecture that Daphne had been trying to capture. Thank goodness for COBRA's policy of wearing body armor at all times on a job. Still, she was having trouble catching her breath. The next shot pierced her non-shooting arm. The pain was excruciating. She fired at the man with the weapon, but the other one grabbed Daphne. She squeezed off another shot and was relieved to see the shooter fall. But the other man held Daphne in front of him like a shield.

  Daphne was putting up a fight, elbowing him in the stomach. He doubled over but didn't lose his grip. Then she stamped on his foot, but he was wearing boots while she was wearing a cute pair of gladiator sandals she purchased on Ermou Street. Hillary wore a matching pair. Daphne tried slamming her hand in his nose and he grunted, then she swung her arm down to punch him in the groin. The man "oofed" but kept his hold. Mama Demarchis and her sister were screaming. People had stopped to gawk, but no one wanted to interfere in a gun fight. A car screeched to a stop and the door swung open. The man shoved Daphne inside. Hillary lunged for her but this time, the bullets that hit her stole both her breath and her consciousness.

  #

  This case was getting to Ron Daulton. He'd even started buying the jumbo container of Tums. They had no leads and no one was coming forward with information. The only thing for certain was that Mrs. Hofstra did not tie an anchor to her leg and jump into the lake by herself. She had help and someone knew something.

  Cory came rushing into the command center with his laptop. "Look what I found." He arranged the computer on the table and lifted the lid. "I pulled footage from every available camera within a ten mile radius of the doctor's office during the time of the fire. It's taken me hours but I finally spotted this vehicle caught on a traffic camera at an intersection two blocks away." He opened a program and a sporty red vehicle appeared on the screen. "According to the time stamp, this was taken approximately ten to fifteen minutes after the fire would've started, as determined by the arson investigator's calculations." He drew a square around the driver's side of the car and the photo enlarged and focused.