That sounded like a strange use of her talents, but I was not going to complain. There was no reason Skye would lie about that. But even in the simplest missions there was plenty of potential for things to go wrong. I knew I wasn't going to rest easy until I heard from her again.
"That's good. But are you sure you can do it?"
"What are you talking about? I spent months in Evidence. Why would this be any different?"
"Well, you know you're going to have to keep quiet for most of the day, right?"
She huffed indignantly. "I never! The nerve on you! I don't know where got the idea that I talk too much?"
"I didn't mean that. You're… fidgety. I mean, you have a lot of energy."
She seemed somewhat mollified.
"Yes, I am probably going to be bored out of my mind for most of the time. But I like my odds of not getting shot this time."
Or assaulted by a serial rapist. She was nice enough not to mention that.
"That's the first thing I want to hear when your mission finishes."
"I promise."
The small noises she made were music to my ears. I could feel her squirming to find something else to say just to keep talking to me. Anything other than the secret things we never acknowledged in daylight.
*
Fifty-six days later, the phone rang at 5.38 in the morning. It wasn't a familiar number but it was a California code.
"I did it!" Skye said before I could say anything.
Her voice brimmed with glorious energy. I wished I could see her.
"What is this it of which you speak?" I asked.
"It is only the greatest thing ever! It is that for once I managed to get out of one deep cover mission without getting hurt. I'm not going to have to do any physical therapy, mandatory counseling, or mountains of paperwork."
She sighed deeply and I imagined her lips slightly parted and her eyes closing. I rarely got the chance to see Skye relaxed. Even during meditation her posture was more alert than relaxed. Even after having an orgasm… something inside her didn't give in. I wished I could see her. The background noise was very familiar, but it had to be about 3 in the morning on the West Coast.
"Where are you?"
"At the Station. It's bedlam here. They arrested like a hundred people so it's all hands on deck now. I don't care, I'm finally free! You were right, by the way."
"About?"
"It was so boring! Gah! If I never have to look at a bookshelf again…"
'I bet you looked hot.' I held back the thought. I'd been worried about her since she told me about the mission, but I'd also had intense fantasies about dealing with a sex bomb librarian.
"And the college students! I swear they all thought they were watching the opening sequence of a porn whenever they looked at me. Don't men have anything other than sex in their mind at that age?"
"Not just at that age."
The words escaped me. My brain was a bit foggy and getting up at six didn't just mean waking up. The silence at the other end of the line was almost perfect. Except the sound of her breath.
"Whatever do you mean, Detective?"
Her tone was playful but her voice was taut. Her breathing sped up and I sensed her catch fire. I heard people around her going about their business, and I remembered how little it mattered when there were people next to us in the elevator. But that was a lifetime ago.
"I'm glad you're ok."
"Thanks."
She sounded just a little disappointed when she said that. I didn't have the strength to play with her any more. I would be her friend, but nothing more unless it was a hell of a lot more.
*
A week later, I was so annoyed at Katherine for working the week before her wedding instead of pestering the caterers or going to a bachelorette party in Las Vegas that I actually left the station at the end of my shift. At least I wouldn't be her excuse for staying at work instead of doing wedding related things. I didn't know what they were, but I knew that most women would not take the time to look into a cold case with their partner instead of dealing with out of town relatives and last minute crises.
I was on a treadmill when Skye called, two hours after the end of my shift. The decision to answer her was more difficult than it should have. After all this time in which I encouraged her belief that we were just friends, I should be able to handle any conversation with her.
"Woods."
I tried to put some distance between us, treating her call as if it was any work related call.
"Guess what?" she said, not even bothering to introduce herself.
"What?"
"I got offered a position in Robbery-Homicide!"
"Congratulations. I'm very happy for you," I said, almost entirely sincere. The truth was that I was also happy for myself. Once you got into Robbery – Homicide, there was little reason for undercover jobs. Those were essential in Vice and Narcotics, but if there was one thing nice about murders was that you knew where you stood with murders. "When are you starting?"
"I didn't accept it yet."
"Why not? Isn't that what you wanted?"
"Things change… I'm not sure I can handle being in Homicide."
I had no reply to that. She was a competent cop, but not everyone was cut out for Homicide. As much as I wanted to know her safe, I couldn't guarantee that she would be as great at it as she was at working undercover.
"You can always transfer if it doesn't work for you," I said.
She sighed. "I guess. It's just… I don't know."
"What are your career prospects in Narcotics?"
I was acting as her guiding counsellor. Didn't LAPD have people for that? It was frustrating to help her cement her future in Los Angeles when I wanted her to make up her fucking mind and break off any contact with me to let me get on with my life. It didn't matter that my life would be shit after that, at least I'd know something for certain.
"No idea. I never imagined I'd stay in this Division too long."
"There's always Traffic," I said.
She giggled, and tried to cover it up with a cough.
"You might have something there. I used to love CHiPs."
*
She showed up a few weeks later. It wasn't a coincidence that she chose Father's Day. On that Sunday in June, Skye came back into my life full force.
"I love you," she said.
Who did that? Who had the guts to show up and declare their love in the middle of a park in Brooklyn after weeks of silence?
Thinking back at that moment, I realized that although I felt it, I hadn't said it back. Days went by, turning into weeks, and I was getting more and more scared of how well she fitted into my life. She had moved back to New York, this time she had a permanent job in the Organized Crime Division. We kept our relationship discreet, but not secret. She rented another dingy studio where we had sex half of the time. I started to consider the possibility of getting a double bed for the main bedroom in my parents' house. My house. Our bed.
Once I took that step, we rarely went back to having sex on her uncomfortable and very noisy couch.
Chapter 20 - Happily Ever After
On a morning in November, Katherine and I drove to Riker's Island to talk to an inmate in connection to our current case. The last time we'd been there, we had talked to Viktor Petrov. The kiss replayed again in my head. It didn't burn as badly since I had talked to Skye and she had said that she didn't remember much from that last fight, let alone what had happened after. I couldn't help feeling some satisfaction to know that he was still rotting in that hell hole.
The correction officers didn't say anything, but they seemed a lot more cautious than usually when they took us through the paces. My cop sense tingled and the thought of a prison break pinged against my mind. As if reading my mind, I heard Katherine's whisper while we waited for the prisoner.
"Is it just me, or security got tighter than it was last time?"
"It's tighter," I confirmed.
Long a
fter we left the prison, I couldn't shake the feeling of something terribly wrong. When we got to the station, I checked if maybe we missed any reports about Riker's, but I couldn't find any official statements. Even so, I was sure something was not right there. I trusted my instincts above paperwork. It wouldn't be the first time they kept quiet about something serious.
A glance at the computer screen told me that our shift had ended half an hour earlier. Married life seemed to suit Katherine, because she was clearing her desk. A profound affection rose in me as I watched her put on her jacket. It was good to see her look forward to get home. Skye and I hadn't reached that level. We were still playing the dating game and although she kept a minimal supply of necessities at my place, she still lived out of a travelling bag. We each had a change of clothes in the trunk just in case we'd spend the night, although for the past few weeks, she was the one staying over.
According to our routine, that evening she was doing her laundry and tidying up her flat. Which meant it was one of the evenings when I could stay late at work, as I used to… before her. She didn't expect me to show up, but in the privacy of my soul, I had to admit that I missed her. I followed Katherine's example and I cleared up my desk. Skye would still be in her flat.
As I was driving to her place, I thought about getting her some flowers, but decided against it. She spent so little time there, the flowers would end up being another thing she had to throw away in the weekly house cleaning routine. Maybe not flowers, but there were other things I could get her. I stopped by a fancy lingerie shop and picked up a few things I would love to take off her in the right circumstances. I left the box in the trunk next to my own change of clothes. Skye's flat was ok for a quickie, but I wanted her in our bed for all the other things.
*
Before unlocking the door, I heard a man's voice inside the apartment, and I switched instinctively to cop mode. My hand went straight to my gun, and weapon in hand, I turned the key fast and I pushed the door open. I went inside Skye's apartment as if I was entering a hostile area, trusting my instincts above the expectation that everything should be fine and it was the TV, or the super fixing stuff. My instinct hadn't failed me.
Viktor Petrov was in the middle of the room with a towel wrapped around his hips. He raised his hands before I said anything. The tattoos on his chest proclaimed him as a made man in the Russian Mafia, but he was unarmed and he didn't present an immediate threat. Except I knew he was supposed to be in the depths of Riker's Island not in Skye's living room
From the kitchen, Skye's dishwasher made its usual deafening noise.
"What?" she shouted.
Neither of us spoke, frozen in a deathly silent stare. She came in with a plate full of sandwiches.
"What did you sa-"
Her voice died when she saw me. How good of a liar was she? There wasn't even a trace of shame on her face. I saw a mere sparkle of guilt in her eyes, but her voice was perfectly calm.
"Please let the gun down."
"He's a convicted murder. And a fugitive," I said without lowering my weapon.
"Do you trust me?"
No. At that moment I did not trust her.
"How did he get out?" I asked, postponing the confirmation of her betrayal.
"We helped him escape."
"We?"
"The OCD. He's a cop, Nick."
"No cop would be allowed to do what he did, I don’t care how deep the cover."
"He's a Russian cop," she said and I saw the eyeroll.
I arched an eyebrow. "That sounded almost true," I said. As well as I knew her, she was too good of a liar to just accept that. "Even a Russian cop can't be part of the torture of American citizens. Or murder someone."
"To be precise, I work for the Russian Federation's Security Service." Viktor spoke for the first time.
"Under license from the State Department. I'm his handler."
Only then I lowered the muzzle of my gun. The huge muscles moved under Viktor's tattooed skin as he relaxed a little.
"How long?" I asked.
"I got his case a few weeks ago, but I had to get him out of Riker's the day before yesterday."
She finally set the sandwiches on the table in front of the couch. Viktor reached for one and wolfed it down in a few bites. He worked his way through half the plate before I put my gun back in its holster.
"Why?"
"There's a new guy who sees him as a threat and there's a contract on his head."
"Why not pull him out officially?"
We were talking as if Viktor wasn't even in the room, and it helped me keep at bay the other question. As long as we treated him as a pawn on the chessboard, I didn't have to think about the two of them having sex. The image of that damned kiss flashed through my mind.
"He's very well placed in the organization. He worked his way up the ranks. He's the right-hand man of the guy we want to run the Bratva on the East Coast."
"We're not having sex," Viktor said after he finished the last sandwich.
I looked sharply at him. He shrugged and he looked at me with more understanding than I felt comfortable accepting from him.
"I'm sure you care more about that than about the OCD's strategy for their crusade against the Bratva."
He was right. I noticed the blush that crept on Skye's cheeks and guessed that she hadn't told Viktor about our relationship.
"And you'll keep him indefinitely in your apartment?" I asked Skye.
"Well, no. For one thing, the couch in my office is damn uncomfortable. For another… I'm sure we have another leak in the Department and he's not safe in New York."
"Then?"
"Magnolia Grove."
That was a surprise. The place was sacred to the Walkers. How much did she care about this man?
"He's one of us, Woods," she said
The look on her face was older, more jaded. Haunted. Familiar. I understood her. The Russian Mafia had their code. Their brotherhood. But there was a blue blood that ran deep through the veins of all cops. And an even darker shade of blue in those of us who risked our lives and our sanity going into the lion's den pretending to be like the very people we despised.
When she finished her weekly chores, we left Viktor in her apartment and we drove back to my place. I was going to have to teach her a lesson.
"You've been a bad girl."
She shifted in her seat. Maybe I shouldn't turn this matter into one of our games. It was serious and the revelation that she hid something from me bothered me deeply. I might use mind games with my suspects, and I got them to confess using word traps, but I found myself unable to have an open conversation about important issues with the woman I loved.
"I know," she whispered.
She squirmed even more, trying to hide that she was rubbing her thighs together under the severe grey skirt.
"Stop it."
She looked at me inquiringly. Her lips were parted and I could see her eagerness to take commands.
"Spread your legs."
She parted them, but she put a mere two inches between her knees. Her pencil skirt was tight, not allowing her much space. I knew exactly how tight it was because I had chosen it for her. I loved watching her struggle to take small steps in high heels. Thinking about why I love that particular piece of clothing annoyed me because she had taken it to work.
"You can do better," I said. "Farther."
"But the skirt…" she tried to protest.
"Was that a no?" I asked her in the low and menacing tone she had showed me time and again that she loved to obey.
"No. Yes. I mean it's…"
She gave up talking and she pushed her thighs farther apart, pressing against the confines of her skirt.
"Better."
I loved that skirt but it was not going to survive the night.
After a few minutes, her legs started to shake. She was going to relax them soon. I sped up looking for a good place to pull over just as the shaking became more visible. She wasn't relaxing
her muscles. I both loved and worried about her single-minded commitment. The tenacity with which she obeyed me was one of the most powerful aphrodisiacs I had experience. At the same time, her ability to withstand pain made our games dangerous. She had taken a lot of pain and injury in her missions, and she had never broken down. In the months we'd been together, I had never taken her to the limit. She had never used the safe word.
She wasn't going to use it that night. What I had in mind for her was on the lighter side of our games. As soon as I killed the engine, I reached over to her side and pulled her knees apart in one sudden, violent movement. The sound of the ripping fabric entwined with her gasp of surprise and delight made me instantly hard.
This scary strong woman chose to obey me without question. She gave me her full trust with an abandonment that should have scared me. She gave me free reign to take her wherever I wanted, and her willing submission fanned the flames of my dark fantasies.
I gripped the hem of her skirt and pulled hard until it ripped all the way and I had a full view of her pussy. I traced my fingers over her soaking wet panties. It was hard to resist the temptation to forego the game and get straight to fucking her. She was wearing a pair of the delicate panties that were part of my purposeful gifts. I chose them because they would look great, and they were easy to tear off her. She purred under my touches, and I kept teasing her clit through the lace. Her whimpers of pleasure faded into frustration the more I kept her on the brink of orgasm. When she was close to tears, I hooked my fingers in the elastic band of her panties and ripped them off. Her gasp of surprise was followed by a gasp of pain spiced pleasure when I slapped her pussy.
She snapped her thighs together instinctively. I shoved them apart again, and slapped her exposed pussy harder. She shivered again, but this time she kept her legs spread.
"You will stay exactly in this position until we get home."
"Yes," she said.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Sir."
The full moon gave enough light to have the full impact of her pose. I leaned over and started eating her up. I flicked my tongue over her clit and I felt her hands in my hair. She wasn't pulling me away, and she wasn't pressing me into her. She ran her fingers through my hair frantically and her breathing became loud and erratic. I made her come faster than I intended, but I couldn't help myself. She tasted sweet and wild, her response to my touches was more intense than I anticipated and it drove me to want her to fall apart.
Haunting Woods (Under Covers Book 2) Page 8