She had to tell Gauthier about the video Landry had obtained. There could be a connection. “Sir, the other day, when Landry called me into his office, he had a video of me. It was taken without my knowledge while I was undercover.”
He shrugged. “He must have found it in the evidence files.”
“No. I personally went through every scrap in those files when we were building the case with the prosecutor.”
“You must have missed it.”
“I double-checked the evidence lists. No videos of this sort were logged. And besides, why would Landry have been going through the evidence? He had nothing to do with that case.”
Pulling into the now-empty motel lot, he parked the car. His eyes narrowed. “So what if he has this tape? What’s on it that’s got you so uptight?”
She swallowed and squared her shoulders. No way was she giving him details. “I was undercover, sir. Some of my actions, taken out of context, could appear… compromising.”
His eyebrows rose. “What are you saying, Morgan? Did Landry threaten you in some way?”
Tread lightly.
She pressed her lips together and arched her own brows. “All I’m saying is that this tape was not in the evidence files. I think we need to know where it came from.”
Gauthier raked his fingers through his hair. “What do you expect me to do? March into Landry’s office and demand he tell me about some mystery video based on nothing more than your word that it even exists?”
“Umm… yes?”
“Funny. I can’t do that. If I even hint that he might have done something out of line, I’ll be out on my ass. You’re a good cop, Morgan, even if you aren’t a rule-follower. But I can’t risk my career for you. Not without something more concrete.”
She sighed and leaned back in the seat. They were always having the same conversation, weren’t they? No matter. If Gauthier couldn’t help her, she knew someone else who would. “Fine. I’ll go to Lieutenant Jones.” With his contacts in the gangs and in the SQ, her former boss would get to the bottom of this.
Gauthier stiffened and cleared his throat. “Give me a couple days. I’ll look into it.”
She shot him a withering glare. “Great. And if the Vipers all go on vacation for the next two days, I might actually live long enough to hear your report. Sir.”
CHAPTER 17
When a car door slammed outside her motel room, Alyssa peeked through the gap in the curtains. A shadowed figure edged around the new rental car Gauthier had taken her to get before checking her into the new motel.
A jagged streak of lightening illuminated the dark night sky. Relief whooshed out of her when she saw it was Rémi, his long legs eating the distance to the stairs leading to her second-floor room. Much-needed rain pelted his body, plastering the beige dress shirt to his broad chest. His black hair gleamed wet, and the wind whipped several strands about his face.
She grabbed a plush towel from the bathroom, and when he moved out of sight into the stairwell, she threw the door open. Constable Thompson stepped out of the shadows. Gauthier might not have had enough resources to assign her a full detail, but it hardly mattered. With his linebacker physique, Thompson could handle almost any combat situation on his own. Concern tightening his already harsh features, hand hovering above his weapon, he took up a defensive position in front of her. “Everything all right, Sergeant?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Stand down, Constable. Everything’s fine. A guest of mine is arriving.”
He moved to the side as Rémi bounded up the steps. Catching sight of her, Rémi smiled and took the proffered towel from her hands. Her eyes darted to her bodyguard.
Thompson pulled a notepad out of his back pocket. “Name?” he asked Rémi.
She thrust her hands on her hips. “What’s this?”
“Sorry, ma’am, but Lieutenant Gauthier gave me strict orders to record the names of any and all persons who interact with you, the location and the duration of the… uh… interaction.” His face colored and he looked down at his notes.
Rémi’s gaze shot to hers, his dark brows drawn in a what-the-fuck look. She shook her head. Whatever game Gauthier was up to, she wasn’t playing. “Constable, record whatever information you want, but you will not be interrogating my guests.”
“Lieutenant’s orders.” He glanced up at Rémi. “Sir, what’s your name and your business here?”
Alyssa clenched her teeth to keep herself from saying something he’d write down on his stupid pad and report back to Gauthier. Instead, she clasped Rémi’s hand, pulled him into the room, and slammed the door in Thompson’s face.
“Sergeant! You can’t disobey orders.”
“Watch me,” she shouted before turning on the television. Switching the channel to MuchMusic, she raised the volume to give them some privacy. She set the remote on the dresser beside the television and flashed Rémi a saucy grin over her shoulder. “Well, that was fun.”
Head bowed, shoulders rounded, Rémi stood with his back against the door. Her heart stuttered in her chest. His tan skin didn’t have its usual glow, and deep lines bracketed his mouth. She raced to him, taking his cheeks in her hands and raising his head so their gazes met. How could she not have noticed right away how worn out and dejected he looked? She opened her arms. “Come here.”
Closing his eyes, he stepped into her embrace. When he buried his face in the crook of her neck, she tightened her hold and rubbed the tense muscles in his back, taking care to skirt around the bandages. “I wish I could have been there for you. Do you want to tell me about the funeral? Sometimes talking helps.”
Rémi snorted and lifted his head.
“What?” she asked, unable to keep the hint of hurt out of her voice.
He ran the tip of his finger along her cheekbone, caught a wisp of her hair, and tucked it behind her ear. “Sweetheart, you’re many things, but touchy-feely isn’t one of them.”
Okay, now she was hurt. “We had the same training, Rémi. I’m not asking you to bare your soul or anything. I just thought talking about the funeral might make you feel better.” She twisted out of his hold and sat on the couch, pulling her knees up and resting her chin on them. “Forget I even suggested it.”
Hands on his hips, he let out a tired breath. “Alyssa.”
Ignoring him, she hugged her legs closer. Talking would help him, she knew it would. Her eyes burned with tears she wouldn’t shed in front of him, not after being rejected yet again. How many times was she going to let him push her away? She pressed her forehead to her knees.
The seat dipped and she felt the heat of Rémi’s body beside her. His arm draped over her shoulders. Unbalanced, she teetered and fell against his chest. When she jerked the other way, his fingers tunneled into the hair at her nape and held her still. He lowered his head and stared into her eyes, searching for something. What? What did he want from her?
“Sweetheart, we can’t keep doing this.”
The anguish in his tone brought the tears forward. She tried to wrench her head out of his grasp, but couldn’t. Oh God. She squeezed her lids shut. She couldn’t let him see her cry.
“Fuck. I’m sorry.” Rémi pressed her head against his chest. His cheek rubbed her hair while his hands stroked her back. “We’re like two boxers in a ring, dancing around each other, waiting to see who’ll engage first.”
She exhaled slowly, willing away the moisture gathering in her eyes. “I shouldn’t have pushed. If you’d wanted to talk about Ellie’s funeral, you would have.”
His hands slid to her shoulders and began massaging away the tightness. “The problem isn’t that you pushed. It’s that I don’t think you really want to hear it.”
Her throat tightened and she had to struggle to get the words out. “Why would you think that?”
He leaned back so he could fit his finger under her chin. Her gaze locked with his. “Alyssa, sweetheart, someone tried to kill you today. But instead of talking about it, you want to discuss the funeral of a
girl you only knew for a few weeks.”
As he continued to watch her, his expression so full of compassion and sadness, her tears spilled unchecked. Unable to make herself move away, she leaned into his palm. He brushed his lips against the wetness on her cheeks. When he pulled back, his own eyes shimmered like a deep river at midnight.
A single drop escaped the corner of each eye, but Rémi didn’t turn away. Emotion didn’t detract from his power, tears didn’t make him weak. Despite everything, her brave warrior looked capable of conquering the world.
When Rémi looked into Alyssa’s beautiful eyes, a wounded animal stared back at him. An invisible hand clutched his heart. He understood exactly what she was going through. How her mind and her heart pulled at her in some nightmarish tug-of-war. The same battle raged in his own body. The spirituality of his people helped him during these hard times, but she had nothing and no one. Except him. And he wouldn’t let her down. He’d get her through this. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said gently.
She sniffed and wiped the back of her hand under her nose. “Guys like you, they don’t understand what it’s like to be a woman in this profession.”
“Guys like me?” His hands fell to his sides.
“You’re six-two and built to fight. If you cry, no one’s going to say you look weak, even if you’re blubbering like a baby. If I cry, the men immediately use it as an excuse that women are too emotional for police work.”
True. The women he’d worked with on the force had needed to be twice as bad-ass as the men to avoid getting picked on. But there was a flaw in her logic. “I’m not one of your co-workers. You don’t have to hide your feelings from me.”
Fresh tears marred her pretty amber eyes, and he was certain she didn’t realize her bottom lip was trembling. “What if once I start, I can’t stop?”
She was breaking his heart. He cleared his throat. “You wanted me to talk about Ellie, right?” When she nodded, he continued. “So, if it’s good for me to let my feelings out, then it’s got to be good for you too.”
Closing her eyes, she swallowed.
He’d take all her misery on himself if he could. But that wasn’t possible. Or healthy. If she wanted them to have a real relationship, she’d have to open up to him. And in return, he’d have to share a piece of his heart with her. A piece he could very well lose if they couldn’t find a way to be together.
She ran her hands along his still-damp shirt, her small fingers curling into the material. “I’m scared, Rémi. Really scared. Gauthier thinks the bombing might have been a Vipers hit. If he’s right, I’m as good as dead.”
His hands stilled on her arms. “Your cover’s been blown?” He pulled her against his chest. Fuck no! “You really think it’s them and not just someone from the rez? I’ve been off the force a few years, and things might have changed, but in my day, the Vipers never fucked up a hit.”
She nestled into the cradle of his arms and rested her cheek on his chest. “I really hope it is someone from the reserve. At least then I might have a chance of surviving.”
His heart crashed against his ribs so hard, she had to hear it. Hell, it probably banged against her cheek. Gripping her waist, he shifted her onto his lap. “Alyssa, I swear to you, you will survive this. I will fight to the death to protect you.”
Lifting her head, she gazed into his eyes and ran her fingers through his hair. “I know you’ll try.”
He frowned. “Do or do not. There is no try.”
Her face blank, she stared at him for a few endless seconds. Then she threw her head back and laughed. “Oh. My. God. You’re quoting Yoda? Now?”
His lip twitched, but he managed to maintain a serious expression. “The last of the truly great philosophers.”
“You’re such a nerd. And here I thought you were some sort of sex god.”
“Really? You thought that?” He was so proud of her. Not only had she admitted her deepest fear, she’d reached out to him, had allowed him to see her in a moment of vulnerability. In an act more intimate than sex, she’d let him see her tears, she’d given him her trust. But in true Alyssa fashion, that moment was over and done with. She’d already moved on to the next thing.
Which apparently was him.
Small hands fluttered along the front of his shirt, popping open button after button. Before he knew it, she was sliding her fingers along his chest to his shoulders and pushing the shirt down his arms, trapping them in the light material. When he went to tug it off, she shook her finger at him. “Uh-uh-uh.”
Ah, the lady wanted to play. “Cops and robbers, is it?”
She straddled his lap and began undoing his belt. “You got it.”
“Let me guess, you’re the cop?”
“Right again.” She barely glanced at him as her fingers worked to undo the button on his dress pants and pull down the zipper.
He frowned. “Now see, you’ve got it all wrong. I should be the cop.”
Blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes, she shot him a look of mock irritation. “Okay, let’s hear it. Why should you be the cop?”
“Because I’m the one with the big gun.” He grinned and pushed his hard cock against the little piece of heaven between her thighs. Her hands flew to his shoulders, gripping him as he bucked against her. He wanted to laugh, to tease her, but the only sound he managed to make was a choked groan. Her hips began to sway as she rubbed herself against him.
She moaned and the sound went through him, electrifying him like a bolt of lightning. He tried to yank his arms forward, desperate to touch her, to run his hands over her soft skin. To reassure himself that she was safe. But the material of his shirt gripped his elbows, locking them at his sides. “Alyssa, let’s play cops and robbers some other time.”
Her hips froze and she stared at him, puzzled. He tugged on his arms. Her brows shot up. “Oh, right.”
As soon as she freed him, he gripped her hips and stood up. Her legs wound around his waist, her arms around his neck. Tonight, they deserved a little romance. Tonight, they deserved a bed.
Alyssa admired Rémi’s too-handsome face as he set her on the floor beside the bed. She traced the high arches of his cheekbones, the straight line of his nose, the fullness of his lips. As he drew her finger into the warmth of his mouth, she held his gaze, sinking into its sparkling green depths, admiring the occasional flashes of gold and the long black lashes shielding his thoughts. How could a man be so beautiful?
Dropping her eyes to his chest, she ran her hands along the hard contours of his muscles, enjoying the feel of his heated skin against her palms. She inched her hands lower, over his smooth ribs and the ridges of his abdominal muscles, until her fingers met the thin line of fine hair that disappeared under the waistband of his slacks.
His hands closed around hers, bringing them to his mouth. He kissed the backs of her fingers, then each wrist. The courtly old-world gesture confused her. She’d been expecting more of what they’d shared before: slightly kinky, somewhat adventurous play. Not that she wasn’t enjoying this more tender side of him, but had he pulled out handcuffs and a paddle, she’d have been less surprised.
Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he pulled her between his legs and placed her hands on his shoulders. With infinite slowness, he lifted up the hem of her T-shirt, feathering tiny kisses on the exposed skin of her belly, inch by delicious inch. Every few kisses, he added a lick or a swirl of his tongue or even a nibble. Alyssa’s stomach muscles clenched in anticipation of every touch.
He tugged the T-shirt over her breasts, revealing her lacy white bra. “So beautiful,” he murmured hoarsely. His finger came to rest on one puckered nipple and flicked it lightly through the lace. She bit her lip as the playful touch sent sensations arcing through her body. He glanced up. The expression on his gorgeous face was that of a man who knew he was doing something right.
Sliding his hands around to her back, he unhooked her bra and pushed it up, freeing her breasts. For a long moment, he simply s
tared at them. He flicked her nipple again, but this time there was no barrier. When he used his nail to graze the swollen flesh, her back arched as she pushed herself closer to his mouth, her fingers digging into his shoulders. If he didn’t stop teasing her and give her want she wanted—right now—she’d go out of her mind. With a smile, he answered her silent prayer.
His warm lips closed around her nipple, drawing it deep into his wet mouth. She cried out at the exquisite pleasure. He lashed her with his tongue and gently bit with his teeth as his fingers toyed with her other breast. The quiet reverence in his touch, as he feasted on her, made her heart lurch. He made her feel adored, wanted, in a way she’d never felt before. When he switched sides, she wound her hands through his long hair, still a bit wet from the rain. Holding him against her chest, she reveled in the brush of the silky strands on her skin.
He kissed a path up her neck, along her jaw, to her lips. His mouth closed on hers in a soft kiss. She ran the tip of her tongue over his lips, but instead of opening to her, he stopped kissing her and just held her. Concerned, she moved her hands to his cheeks and tried to tug his head up. Without meeting her gaze, he buried his face in her hair and nuzzled her throat. She tugged a little harder. “Rémi, look at me.”
After one final press of his lips against her neck, he met her gaze. The glimmer of unshed tears in his eyes shocked her. Was he too upset about Ellie to have sex? Jesus. What kind of woman would practically maul a grieving man? She hugged him to her. “Oh, God. I’m such a bitch.”
His shoulders stiffened and he pulled away from her. “What? Why would you say something like that?”
“I didn’t even give you a chance to say no.”
“Say no to what?”
She smoothed his hair and took a deep breath. Poor guy was so messed up, he couldn’t even follow a conversation. She bent forward and kissed away the wetness on his cheeks. “You’re still upset. I ignored that and… I’m sorry.”
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