by April Cronin
It was rough at first, her own doing, but once Peter took over, it softened quickly, his lips gentle, his tongue prodding, and when she opened her mouth to him, he savored the taste of her. She moaned, gripping her fingers into the shirt at his back, their tongues twisting and dancing around each other. The heat she'd come to know he could create in her, pooling in her loins.
And what heat it was! It scorched her, from head to toe as she was immersed in it, and it felt glorious! Like molten lava pouring over them both, consuming them with such force, such passion. Harmony was on her back beneath him before she knew it, the weight of his body pressing her into the plush cushions of the couch, the hard length of his torso melting into the softness of her curves.
But it didn't scare her in the least.
His hands skimmed up and down her body, touching the inside of one jean-clad thigh, scraping the sensitive flesh of her abdomen, the pads of his finger digging into her arms and shoulder as the kiss spun wildly out of control. Harmony was sure they were going to make love, right here on the couch.
Until a loud noise sounded behind them, startling them out of their feverish embrace.
Viktor stood before them, clearing his throat. A tall blonde woman standing next to him, each with a knowing grin on their Nordic faces.
Peter and Harmony sat up quickly. Shoving a pillow into his lap, Peter put his face in his hands and groaned. Blushing, Harmony righted her clothing and stood, holding a hand to the newcomers.
“Viktor I presume?” she said, biting her lip, her cheeks still flushed and red.
Despite himself, and the laughter bubbling inside him, Viktor remained composed, taking her hand and giving it a good shake. “And you are Harmony? It is very nice to meet you. This is Sandra.” he said, indicating the woman next to him. He too spoke in a Russian accent, though his was not as thick as Peter's and his English much more fluent. The woman next to him just smiled, taking her hand as well and shaking it in a delicate and feminine way.
“So nice to meet you both.” she agreed, turning to Peter who had finally reined himself in, and now sat on the arm on the couch, his hand resting on the small of her back. “I think I should go.”
“Do not leave on my account.” Viktor cut in, thoroughly embarrassing them both for the second time.
“No, really, I should go.” she said again.
“I will walk you out,” Peter said, standing and piercing Viktor with an angry stare lest he decide to laugh at them again. “I am very sorry about that,” he said, holding the door open a moment later, Harmony standing just on the inside of the threshold.
She smiled at him, then scuffed her feet against the hardwood floors as she looked down at them. Peter lifted her chin, and though he towered over her, he looked at her with such a softness that she almost didn't want to leave. But rather, she would have gone straight up to his room and taken up where they had left off, if only he'd asked.
Peter sighed however, leaning down and placing a gentle kiss upon her lips. “Please say that I can see you again?”
Her eyes still closed, her mouth bereft as he pulled away, she curved her lips into a smile, “of course.” she whispered, trying to tamp down the surge of emotion that roiled within her.
“Spokojnoj noči, miss Harmony,” he said in Russian, his forehead still resting lightly against her own.
“How beautiful.” she murmured, “but what did you say?”
“Da, you are beautiful,” Peter remarked, laughing now as her eyes closed to mere slits and she looked at him with such suspicion. “But I merely said goodnight.”
“Oh. Goodnight Peter.” She sighed.
Harmony waved to him, and walked down the path to her car, looking over her shoulder twice to see him leaning in the doorway, his legs crossed over each other as he watched her walk away. His stance so masculine, his face, the smile that graced his lips, she'd dream of this tonight. She was sure of it.
Amanda Orsini sat uncomfortably in a hospital gown, on the exam room table, her arms crossed over her flat chest, a sneer on her face as she waited for Cassie to come back with some new clothes. She hadn't signed on for all this. Perhaps she should have looked into what a rape kit had entailed before agreeing to have one done.
How humiliating! Peter was going to pay for this for sure!
They'd forced her to stand on a piece of paper, while they shook out her clothes, combed through her hair, then made her undress, bagging her favorite skirt and the shirt she had torn. They took blood, they swabbed her mouth, and every inch of her body, even scraped underneath her fingernails. They took pictures, and they examined her, down there. She bulked at that of course, told them she hadn't been raped, and since they'd already photographed the scratch and swabbed it, she didn't see why anything else was necessary.
The stupid nurse, who claimed she was some sort of specialist, had told her it was all part of the procedure, since it happened so fast, how could she be sure he hadn't gotten a finger under her panties? Maybe he had left some of his DNA behind.
But she knew better, there would be no DNA down there, of course, she couldn't tell them that, so she let the woman do her job, gasping when her cold gloved fingers touched the inside of her thigh, the stupid woman! Of course, now that she had thought about it, something had occurred to her, and she had told the nurse she had a boyfriend, that they'd just had sex that morning.
It was another lie of course, but Travis, her current boy toy would cover for her, for a price. She'd have to remember to call him. The nurse nodded and made note of that, telling her she'd probably have to let the police know so they could rule him out.
And Cassie, damn her, had taken advantage of the situation, leaving immediately to go and fetch some clothes for her, she had to come back to talk to the cops though, and promised she wouldn't be long. No, just long enough to leave her there alone while they poked and prodded her!
Just about the time Cassie returned, and Amanda was allowed to get dressed, two officers showed up to take her statement. They too claimed to be part of some special unit. Whatever, they were probably idiots too!
One of them was male, a big guy with a head full of gray hair and a protruding belly, probably ate one too many doughnuts. The other was a woman, she was on the taller side, with long black hair and brown eyes, prettier than she expected most cops to be, and she seemed sympathetic to her situation. Which was good, she'd need these two schmucks to believe her story, after all.
They made her go over the details several times, asking the same questions over and over, just in different ways. She also had to hand over her cell phone so they could send a copy of the picture of her and Peter, to their own phones. Satisfied with her answers though they turned to Cassie.
“And what about you? What did you see?” The man, who called himself Detective Allen, asked her.
Cassie seemed nervous, stammering a little in her response, so Amanda gave her a slight nudge, glaring at her. “I uh, I didn't see much, I heard the scream, and as she said I ran around the corner.” she gulped, the two cops exchanged glances. “He must have heard me coming, because when I got there, I saw a man running away, and Amanda was lying on her back on the ground.”
“And did you recognize the man?” The woman, her partner had called her Darla, asked, writing something down on a pad of paper.
Cassie shook her head, “he had blonde hair though, I think.”
The officers looked at each other again, then Detective Allen said, “Alright, I think we've got everything we need, if we have any further questions we know where to find you.”
“That's it?” Amanda huffed, crossing her arms over her chest again. “Are you going to arrest him now?”
Darla, though she had been introduced as Detective Simms, shook her head, “We'll go and talk to him in the morning, but until the DNA evidence comes back, we have to tread quite carefully. This is bound to make a splash.”
“You're damn right it will,” Amanda shouted, furious now. “I want that bastard ar
rested! He tried to rape me! He can't get away with it!”
Allen made a lowering motion with his hands, “calm down young lady. We understand what you must be going through, but we have to follow procedure.”
Amanda huffed again, “fine. How long does this DNA crap take?” she asked, rolling her hands around for effect.
Darla gave her another sympathetic look, “three to four weeks, if he cooperates.”
Detective Allen looked over some notes made by the nurse that had done the examination, then pointed his pencil in Amanda's direction. “Oh, I uh, I see here something about a boyfriend? I'll need his name and address; he'll have to give a sample so we can rule out his DNA.”
Crap, Travis's price was sure to go up. She thought to herself, then rattled off his name and contact information. She'd have to call him as soon as they left and make sure he wouldn't blow this whole thing out of the water. He'd likely want a big piece of the pie for having to lie to the cops. Then again, he might just find the whole thing exciting, the big dope.
“Is there anything else?” Amanda griped, she was more than just a little ready to get home and take a shower. This whole thing was turning out to be more work than it was worth. Yeah right, I'm going to nail his ass. She sneered to herself.
“I think we're good,” Darla said, motioning to her partner who left the room. Then she handed a card to Amanda, “here's the number for a counselor we often work with, in case you need to talk about it.”
Amanda took the card, shoving it in her back pocket and gave the officer a sad smile, trying to play it off. She thanked her, and once the coast was clear, grabbed Cassie and headed for home. Glad the hardest part was over.
Or so she thought.
When he and Darla, detective Simms, were back in their cruiser, Allen turned to his partner, “what did you make of that?” he asked, putting the car in gear and heading for the station. It was late, they'd get a fresh start in the morning, but they still had paperwork to do, and they'd need to submit the rape kit for testing.
Darla shook her head, “that poor girl, I can't imagine what she's feeling.”
Allen snorted, “poor girl my ass.”
“You don't believe her?” Darla asked, her tone incredulous.
Darla had a bleeding heart, wasn't cut out for this job. Detective Rick Allen had been doing this a long time, his current partner, Tammy Kingsman, was on maternity leave, so he'd been riding around with Darla Simms, a rookie by all accounts. Oh she'd done a few years on patrol, as well as a couple in homicide, but at 32 she'd decided she wanted to work sex crimes, and Allen wasn't sure why. Maybe she was good with the victims, but hell, sometimes it was hard to tell who the victim was, and in this case, he'd bet his pension it wasn't Miss Amanda Orsini.
But don't tell Darla that. Women just didn't lie about such things.
And maybe that was true ten years ago, when false accusations were few and far between, and even then probably had some grain of truth to them. But in this day and age? Nah, he didn't think so. People were suing people left and right, and he'd wager that Ms. Orsini was a lover scorned, or maybe the hockey player had just flat out turned her down. Yeah, that was more likely, she was just looking to make a buck off the poor guy. First thing on his agenda was getting a copy of her text messages for the last twenty-four hours and checking her call logs, social media accounts.
If she was smart enough to get a rape kit done though, he'd bet she was smart enough to keep her mouth shut about things though too. Never hurt to look though.
But he'd keep his suspicions to himself, for now, wait and hear Mr. Petrovic's side of the story.
“I've got an idea or two about what I think happened,” he grumbled, never taking his eyes off the road.
“Mind telling the rest of the class?”
“Maybe tomorrow.” They pulled into the parking lot of the precinct then, both getting out of the car and stretching before heading inside. “I'm beat, let's just get this paperwork done and call it a day. There's always tomorrow Darla, there's always tomorrow.”
Chapter 6
The Accusation
Harmony couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned, Lupus lifting his head and whining at one point, clearly sensing her discomfort. She patted him on the head, then dropping her feet over the side of the bed, she got up and went to the kitchen.
After a glass of hot chocolate, and a few cookies, she plopped down onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. She couldn't get Peter and their almost love making out of her head.
The way he had touched her, he was so gentle, and yet, she felt the undercurrent of power and desire. He had been holding back for sure. And that made him so much more endearing to her. That he could want her so fiercely and at the same time be able to control his urges so that his touch was tender rather than rough.
She had realized by now that she wanted him just as badly. She wanted to know what it felt like to be claimed by him, it wasn't enough that his eyes bespoke the kind of passion he could show her, she wanted to feel it. She wanted to feel him, hot and sweaty, and naked, all over her body. And she would. By God, she would damn it! To hell with caution, what had that ever gotten her?
Well, everything really. But whatever, Peter wasn't Hector, and she could see that as clearly as she could see the sun rise every day. She knew he came from a respectable family, and that he was dedicated to his job, he didn't do drugs, not even steroids, nor was he an alcoholic. So how much more did she really need to know about the man?
It wasn't fair to expect him to wait until she knew his entire life story, though she was certain he would if she asked him too. And that was just another check in the right box, Peter was being beyond patient with her, he was practically putting her up on a damn pedestal! Okay, so maybe he wasn't going that far, but he did treat her like some sort of delicate hothouse flower. Which was kind of sweet really. She'd never met a man who could be so gentle, and yet elicit such a powerful response from her. Peter was an enigma, one that she was determined to figure out.
A knock on his bedroom door woke Peter early the next morning. Not that he had slept all that well to begin with. He had to take a long cold shower after Harmony had left, and then he had crawled into bed, shoving his head in his pillow and thinking embarrassingly back on how the night had all gone down. He should have brought her up to his room, for the love of god, he would have stripped her bare, right there on the couch!
The knock sounded again, pulling him from his memories, and rightfully so, every time he thought about Harmony and her lithe little body wriggling beneath him, he felt like he'd need another cold shower.
“Da, is open.” he called out.
Viktor poked his head in, looking around the room as though he almost expected to see someone else in there with him, then with a sheepish grin, that quickly turned serious he looked at Peter and said, “the police are here to see you.”
Peter shot up in bed, “the police?” he exclaimed, his thoughts racing, thinking about Harmony, was she hurt? Was she okay? No, no he had to get a hold of himself, this had nothing to do with Harmony. “The police?” he asked again.
Viktor nodded, “da Peter, the police. Get dressed and come down, they are waiting for you.” He said, closing the door behind him.
Throwing on a pair of sweats and a team issued t-shirt, Peter pointed a finger at Sadie, who lifted her head and yawned, “stay!” he said, leaving the room and closing the door behind him so she wouldn't follow. He took the stairs two at a time, and came to a halt just inside the living room. There sat two detectives in plain clothes, a man, and a woman.
The man stood, holding out a hand to him, “good morning Mr. Petrovic, my name is Detective Allen, and this is Detective Simms, if you don't mind, we have a couple of questions we'd like to ask you.”
Peter nodded, “da, okay.”
“Do you speak English fluently?” The woman, Simms asked him then, making Peter go a little red in the cheeks.
Sensing his discomfort, Viktor steppe
d in between them, “I speak fluently, Peter can understand most of what you say, what he cannot I will translate for him, and I will be happy to translate his response as well.”
They seemed content with that, everyone taking a seat on either the couch or the loveseat, and the two officers pulling out their notebooks and flipping through a couple of pages. Detective Allen looked at him then, holding his pencil at the ready.
“Peter, can you tell me where you were around 10:30 last night?”
“Da, yes, I was here,” he answered, his eyes narrowing. “What is this about?”
“All night?” Simms chimed in, her eyes shooting lasers at him. Or so it seemed, there was such contempt there, but Peter couldn't begin to understand why.
“I was at the bar, McDonough's, before that. I was there with Andre.”
Detective Simms stopped writing, looking up at him, “Andre?” she asked.
“Andre Lepowski, he is our teammate.” Viktor supplied.
Before Simms could say anything else, her partner cleared his throat, “And what time did you leave the bar Peter?” he cut in.
“About 10:15 or so, I do not have a watch, but I was watching the ESPN on TV, I remember it was just after 10 when last I looked at clock on their station.”
“Was anyone here with you when you came back? Perhaps you?” Allen asked, pointing his pencil in Viktor's direction.
Viktor shook his head, “I did not come home until after 11.”
“Harmony was with me,” Peter interrupted, blushing as he said her name. “Not at first, but she got here before Viktor did. She left when he came home.”
“Harmony is the girl he's seeing, they were on the couch..” Peter cleared his throat and shot Viktor a look, laughing, Viktor turned back to the police. “She left when I came home.”