by Kylie Brant
Jack’s mouth dried. In what had to be deliberate slowness, she inched the fabric down a fraction at a time, revealing a tiny scrap of black panties. When they finally made it down the length of those silky thighs she tugged them the rest of the way and stepped out of them. And the sight she presented did nothing to harness his restraint.
Breathing like a stevedore, he used his one last sliver of sanity. He retrieved a condom from his jeans with the intention of putting it on and carrying her to his bed. But she took it out of his hands and stepped closer to him, her eyes on his as she opened the wrapper and sheathed him, her movements as excruciatingly slow as her earlier striptease. His good intentions abruptly evaporated.
He hooked an arm around her waist and hauled her closer, his hands streaking over her skin, his touch just shy of desperate. Sneaky little demons from hell were surging through his veins, calling to untamed instincts he usually quelled.
Moving her backward until the wall was at her shoulders, he caught the side of her panties with one finger and gave a tug, felt them come apart in his hand. He lifted her then, his only thought to have her. To bury himself so deeply inside her that it would be impossible to tell where he ended and she began.
Lindsay clasped her ankles around his waist and he nearly groaned aloud, sweat beading on his forehead. Her position opened her slick softness to him and he guided himself to her moist opening, his breathing ragged.
Her head lolled on her shoulders as he nudged her opening with the tip of his shaft; his muscles tightened as he battled back the savage urge to take her with one hard stroke.
Lindsay’s back bowed as she slammed her hips against his, taking him partially inside her. With her action he was lost. He surged into her, every nerve in his body quivering at the possession. He closed his eyes, sensation crashing inside in a rollicking careen toward release. He was helpless to temper his movements as they strained together, his hips pistoning against hers in an effort to get closer. Deeper. Faster. Harder.
She buried her face in his neck, muffling a sob as she climaxed. Her inner walls clenched and released around him, the tiny pulsations working on him. Need clawed through him as he hammered into her, colors wheeling behind his eyelids. Abruptly he came, pleasure screaming through his system. And when he let himself fall, he thought of nothing but her.
Chapter 11
They made it to the bed. Eventually. And the second bout might have been more leisurely, but it was no less satisfying. Now Lindsay lay in Jack’s arms, wondering distantly how much time they had before Jack’s fellow officers began invading the place. She couldn’t rouse herself enough to care.
“So you grew up on a dairy farm. Just like the song.” Jack’s voice was muffled, as his head was buried between her breasts. “You know. Eight maids a’milking. Always thought that was sorta sexy. I always picture eight hotties dressed up in those little French maid uniforms, right? Strolling off to milk the cows. And then maybe, I don’t know, playing naked in the hayloft or something after.”
“That’s a truly touching Christmas sentiment,” she said dryly, giving his hair a tug. “The reality was somewhat less picturesque. And certainly less pornographic.”
He lifted his head to grin at her and her stomach gave a quick little flip. With that devilish smile he could thaw a polar ice cap. She’d only recently discovered she wasn’t Eskimo material.
“Or maybe girls didn’t have to help with chores where you grew up.”
“Since there was just my sisters and me, yes, we helped.” Somehow she thought stories of hooking cows up twice a day to the milking machine wouldn’t match the vision he’d shared. There was nothing mildly romantic about the daily routine of feeding and watering cows and mucking out stalls. Or the late nights during calving seasons. The long days of vaccinations.
She’d detested the monotony. Strained against the rigid parameters of her parents’ fundamentalist religious beliefs. But she hadn’t run away. True, her mom and dad had vehemently opposed her plan to go to New York City with Wendy after graduating early, but they hadn’t forbidden it. Perhaps they’d realized even then that she’d have gone anyway.
“Faith was six years younger than me. Hope was eight years younger.”
“Grace, Faith and Hope. Your parents had high standards.”
“Standards I rarely met.” And that, she recognized, had been the real reason she’d left. “I was always doing something to disturb the status quo. Like flying Billy Simpson’s underwear from the church steeple—don’t ask. Falling asleep in church. Swiping the communion bread when Wendy and I made fondue…I was a trial to my parents.” A trial and a puzzle they had no real interest in solving. Her sisters had presented no such problems. They’d gotten up when asked, did their chores without question and never begged to go to town to do something. See a movie. Hang out with friends. Anything but slowly suffocate on that farm.
And she’d wondered, in the years she’d been on the run, if that had changed. Faith would be nineteen. Had she spent her high school years arguing to join the swim team? Play volleyball? Date? Or was she content to accept the life her parents mapped out for her? A job with the farm-supply store in Ellison. College on a rigidly religious campus nearby.
Those were the questions that circled in Lindsay’s mind like busy little ants on those nights when sleep was elusive. She’d gone to New York to experience life for the first time and, yes, to get away from her parents’ strictures. And for the first time in her life she’d felt able to breathe. But she’d never meant to leave her family completely. Niko was responsible for cutting her off from them. Her choices had been made with their safety in mind, but all of them had suffered in the process.
As if he’d felt the change in her emotions, Jack slid an arm under her. When he rolled he brought her with him, situating her atop him. Jack smoothed a palm down the line of her back. “I’ve got a trak phone ordered. The officers will bring it when they show up. You can safely use that to contact your parents.”
She nodded, oddly disoriented by the thought. It seemed strange to suddenly have that freedom. As if her world had skidded off its axis and suddenly been put right again.
But it really wouldn’t be anywhere near right until Niko was no longer a threat. To her or to those she loved.
“We need to get moving.” Despite his words, Jack didn’t stir, except to continue that soothing stroking down her back. “Get cleaned up. Rebandage your head. We’re going to get company in less than an hour, and then things will start hopping.”
He looked up at her, his free hand pushing her hair back from her face to cup her cheek. “It’ll all be over soon. The only thing we need from you at this point is information. You don’t have to expose yourself to risk. I’ll make sure your safety is the first consideration in whatever strategy we come up with.”
And when she stared into those dark eyes the realization punched through her: she’d do whatever it took to keep this man safe, too. And something told her their plans were bound to be at cross-purposes.
With a little rearranging, his living room had been changed into a staging area. Captain Telsom, Tactical Commander Mendel, entry team leader Tom Nelson, Chief of detectives Gary Franks and Detectives Bruce Folsby, Rich Simmons and Lance Pruin were setting up whiteboards on easels, laying out legal pads and placing a tap on Jack’s phone, just in case. Jack knew more tactical members would be in the area, as well as three plainclothes officers posted around the outside of his town house.
But it was tough for Jack to concentrate on organizing the chaos when he was supremely aware of Lindsay in the next room.
With the trak phone Simmons had brought in, she’d called her parents for the first time in over three years. He craned his neck, but all he could see of her was her back as she spoke in a corner of the kitchen. He tried to imagine not speaking to his mom or stepdad for that long and failed. Somehow it was easier to imagine not speaking to his older sister for a long period of time, as she was, in his estimation, a couple ho
rmone levels shy of certifiable, but…he had a choice. They all lived right here in Metro City. He could talk to all of them anytime he wanted. Spend holidays with them. Drop in for dinner.
Lindsay effectively had to cut her family out of her life for thirty-eight months.
“Langley!”
His attention jerked to the captain, who was regarding him impatiently. “I asked if you have any tape.”
“Sure.” He went to his desk in the corner and pulled open a drawer. Through the window he could see the unmarked car sitting across the street and the plainsclothes detective inside. With all the evidence of the precautions being taken to protect Lindsay, he shouldn’t have this knot in his gut. But he had a feeling it wouldn’t ease up until this thing was over and they had Rassi in custody.
And Lindsay was safe, once and for all.
When he’d turned back to the captain to give him the roll of tape, Lindsay was rejoining them from the kitchen. He surveyed her critically. Her eyes were bright, but there was color in her cheeks that hadn’t been there when the detectives had started filing in. He hoped that was a good sign.
He tossed the roll of tape to Telsom and continued past the man to Lindsay. In a low voice, he asked, “Everything all right?”
She drew in a shaky breath but nodded. “For now. It was so…difficult. Especially trying to explain enough to my parents so that they’d understand the need to leave the farm for a while without terrifying them.”
“The county sheriff’s office should have given them a rundown already.”
“They did. My parents have no frame of reference. It’s hard for them to take it all in. But they agreed to go to my aunt’s in Madison for a few days. Neighbors will take over the chores until they get back.” Her expression determined, she added, “This needs to be resolved as soon as possible.”
“It will be.” Because he didn’t trust himself not to reach for her, he tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “But we can’t rush this. Every last detail will be planned and replanned. If you’re ready, I think we can begin.”
Nodding, she walked past him and caught the captain’s eye. Telsom straightened. “Ready, Ms. Bradford?”
“I am.” Her gaze scanned the others in the room. “I’m not sure where you want me to start.”
The other officers stopped what they were doing and made their way back to the center of the living room.
“I’d like everyone to hear for themselves the story you shared with me earlier this morning.”
The only sign of stress she showed was the tightness with which Lindsay clutched at the back of the couch, where she remained standing. “My real name is Grace Feller. I’ve been running from a man named Niko Rassi for over three years.”
The room was mostly quiet as she narrated the story she’d only told him in bits and pieces. Mostly under duress. Jack remained silent throughout until she came to the events of yesterday, and in quick, succinct words he revealed what they’d learned about the shooter since.
When they were finished, Captain Telsom stood up and passed out some folders. “I’ve been in contact with NYPD. These are files on the information we’ve been able to put together on Rassi.” He gave the men a few minutes to flip through the information in them before continuing. “This guy’s a professional. And if New York’s right on this, he’s had a lot of practice. We have to be careful, and we can’t make mistakes. We may only get one chance at him.”
He looked at Lindsay. “Ms. Bradford…Feller…has kindly offered her help in drawing Rassi out. We can conclude he came here for her, and since he missed the first time, he’s going to be anxious for another chance.”
“I suggest you let me contact him.” Lindsay had the attention of every man in the room. She looked a bit frail but determined, Jack decided critically. She’d changed into jeans and a tank top beneath an unbuttoned short-sleeve navy blouse. The stark white bandage was partially visible through her hair, and the adjective he’d verbalized after she went home from the hospital sprang to mind again. She looked tragic. But he understood her objection to the term. Because despite what had befallen her, she was nobody’s victim. She wasn’t cowed. He was the only man in the room who understood just how strong she really was.
“I can use the trak phone to call his New York number. He’ll be checking his messages. He has a business there to run and I imagine he wouldn’t risk missing a communication from the Portinos. I’ll leave the number of this phone. He’ll call back.” The fleeting flicker of expression across her face was difficult for Jack to identify. “I’m sure of that.”
“I’m thinking we can arrange a meet between the two of them,” Jack put in. “He’ll expect her to be afraid. He’s threatened her family and tried to kill her. But Lindsay still has something Rassi wants so he’ll also expect her to negotiate. We could pick a spot, public enough for her, deserted enough to satisfy him.” He looked at Commander Mendel. “Can we get a decoy officer to stand in for her?”
The commander wasn’t given a chance to respond. “That wasn’t the deal.” Lindsay’s voice was sharp. “I go. This isn’t some dumb guy off the street you’re dealing with like Mitch Engels. There’s a reason Rassi hasn’t been caught. He’ll have some sort of strategy in place to verify my identity before he ever gets anywhere near the meeting place. If something’s off, he’ll know it, and you’ll blow your chance at him. And my family will still be in danger.”
That knot in Jack’s belly tightened. He glanced at Mendel. “It’s an unnecessary risk. She can fully brief the decoy on any personal information Rassi might bring up to test her identity. Or we can wire the female cop and Lindsay can feed her any answers she might need. There are multiple ways to go about this that don’t involve placing her in Rassi’s sights.”
“It’s my choice—”
“The hell it is.” He knew the other men were looking at him speculatively, but there was a fear growing inside him that wouldn’t let him back off. She couldn’t understand how quickly situations like these could go to hell, no matter how well they were planned. And if it went south, she’d be grabbed by Rassi or she’d be dead. Just the thought had a cold sweat beading on his forehead.
With effort, he managed a steady tone as he addressed both Telsom and Mendel. “A trained professional in that position is best for everyone. She’d react quicker, for one thing. She’d think like a cop, which would be a huge bonus in a situation like this.”
“The original deal still holds,” Lindsay interjected. “We do this with my full involvement or I make the same offer to the feds.”
“Why don’t we all calm down and we’ll start dealing with the details,” Telsom suggested mildly. “I’m going to get a water. Anyone else want one?”
There was a chorus of yeses, so he walked in the direction of the kitchen, saying as he passed Jack, “Langley, why don’t you help me serve these bums?”
He had no choice but to fall in behind the captain. When they got in the kitchen and out of sight of the other men, however, the other man turned on him, a steely look in his eye. “What’s going on with you, Langley?”
Jack set his jaw. “Nothing. I’m stating my opinion.”
“I got that. What I don’t get is whether it’s an objective one.”
Stepping carefully in the verbal quicksand, Jack replied, “You know I’m right. There’s no reason to use a civilian when a cop can do the job better.”
Telsom was getting testier. “Ordinarily, but since her cooperation hinges on her involvement, in this case we use the civilian. She’ll have SWAT coverage. She’ll be safe enough. What I need to know is, do you have any personal interest here?”
The conversation had just gotten trickier. Jack met Telsom’s gaze and lied. “My interest and my opinions are strictly professional.” Any other answer would have gotten him bounced from the case, and there was no way he was chancing that.
Looking unconvinced, Telsom said, “Good. Then we don’t have a problem, do we?”
Clench
ing his jaw, Jack shook his head. He yanked open the refrigerator with barely restrained violence and started withdrawing the bottled water the detectives had brought in. He had a problem with this, all right. But the play was predetermined, and if he wanted in the game he’d keep his mouth shut and follow orders. Because their biggest challenge wasn’t letting Lindsay face down Niko Rassi again.
It was keeping her alive while she did it.
Lindsay didn’t take more than a couple bites from her pizza before her stomach rebelled. She replaced it on her plate and reached for her water instead. By the growing mound of empty pizza boxes, the detectives situated around the room didn’t share her queasiness.
Jack was having no trouble eating. If she’d counted correctly he was on his third piece and good-naturedly arguing with the man next to him over his next slice.
She wondered if she was the only one who could see through his easygoing surface to the temper simmering beneath.
Perhaps, since the temper was directed at her, she was the only one aware of it. And she sorely wished everyone else in the room could disappear for ten minutes so she and Jack could just have it out and get it over with.
Not that discussions had ever proved particularly fruitful where he was involved. She set the water down on the counter with a little more force than was necessary. He seemed to think handcuffs and petty larceny passed for a mature exchange of opinions. And all the discussion in the world couldn’t change the fact that they’d never agree on this issue.
She picked at the corner of the bottle’s label with her thumbnail. How could he understand how terrified she was at the idea of seeing Rassi again? But that emotion was nothing compared to the thought of sitting safely in Jack’s apartment hoping things went well with the meeting they set up. And the mountain of guilt she’d suffer if the plan went awry and someone else paid with their life.
Just the thought filled her with a sick pool of dread. In the grand scheme of things, she had far more important things to concentrate on than Jack’s mood.