by Gibson, Mira
“Yeah? You want to take my picture?”
“If it’s candid and if I can get you near a few homeless people.”
“Homeless people love me,” he teased, cradling her lower back with his arm as they started off down the cobblestone path that led into the park.
Soon they were walking hand-in-hand, the warm wind breezing through and the sun casting the most beautiful light on the scenery. Being with Kevin was natural and easy. She felt relaxed, all prior anxiety about Vishnevsky and the dark underbelly of this city having been washed away simply because she was with him.
He asked about the art opening he'd missed and anecdotes began pouring out of her, which made him laugh. She then segued into telling him about the meeting she'd had with Abigail Sorenson, the curator at Windsor Fine Art. Tasha had shown the influential woman six of her prints, explaining she would have them blown-up for the exhibition, and Abigail had given her advice on the additional shots she would need to round out the collection.
When they came to a pond surrounded by cherry blossoms, he pulled her in and kissed her deeply. A gust of wind rushed in from the water, causing a flurry of pink pedals to flutter all around them.
It wasn’t until after they had walked deeper into the park and Tasha had captured several shots of unsuspecting vagabonds as well as of Kevin standing under a tree, near the water, beside a statue that to Tasha couldn’t compare to her new man’s good looks, that she asked him about what had kept him from meeting her and her friends at the gallery.
They were sitting on a bench, his arm around her, her hand on his thigh, the late afternoon sun lowering with the onset of dusk. The lamps around the park came on and soon the darkening park twinkled with amber light.
“I know my text was a cop out,” he said in a smooth voice edged with remorse.
She latched on to his pun. “Cop out?”
“I didn’t want to say too much.”
He let that hang for a moment as he gazed across the pond. She analyzed his expression, but couldn’t get a firm read on him, and when he looked at her again, his eyes were so intense that she found her gaze falling to his lap.
“Avandeyev has his hooks in Reilly, my sergeant,” he went on, grimacing. “I had no idea how bad it was. The Russians own my precinct.”
“Jesus Christ,” she breathed.
“I mean I’m not naive. I know dirty cops exist, but as soon as Reilly saw I wasn’t going to drop it... maybe I pushed too hard-”
“You didn’t,” she said to reassure him.
His brows drifted up as if to say, That’s debatable, and then he disclosed, “He’s trying to turn me.”
“Turn you? What do you mean?”
“He sent me down to Coney Island,” he explained. “That’s why I couldn’t meet you last night. Reilly thinks the best way to get me to walk away from what happened, what you saw, is to drag me so deep into it that I’m convinced I’m as much to blame as they are.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He gave me an address to a meat packing facility,” he said. “It’s not a legitimate business, but a front for Avandeyev. Vishnevsky was there-”
“What?” she blurted out, squaring her shoulders to him and so stunned that she didn’t even blink.
“I went in full uniform,” he said as if it might calm her down. It didn’t. “I threatened to arrest him.” He began shaking his head and his gaze softened as though he was remembering the ugly encounter. “I played it all wrong. I should’ve gone in plain clothes. I should’ve acted like I was there to sign up for whatever depraved operation they had going. But I went in with two fists in the air... sort of. My sense is that they’re selling drugs, but I couldn’t get a read on it. Instead of welcoming me onto the payroll, as if I’d ever turn like that. Christ, I’d rather be dead than dirty.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Yeah, well...” he trailed off then came to his point. “They threatened me so I threatened them back.” He locked eyes with her, stating, “Manhattan is bigger than the 26th. There are dozens of precincts throughout the city and Avandeyev doesn’t own all of them.” He was shaking his head again and looking off into the darkness that was peppered with twinkling lights. “I’m looking at suspension.”
“Reilly can’t suspend you,” she objected. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“They’ll put something on me,” he insisted. “They’ll find something and connect it to me. With the heat every cop gets in this city for all the bureaucratic mistakes that have been made... bad search and seizures, bad stop and frisks, even using too much physical force to make an arrest could get you pulled off the job. He’ll find something.”
Tasha wanted to convince him that they wouldn’t, that he’d be fine, that he was doing the right thing, and though she knew with every fiber of her being that Kevin Wright was quite possibly the only cop who was doing the right thing, she couldn’t promise the rest.
All she could do was lean in and kiss him. His hands grasped her shoulders then slid up her neck until he was holding her face and kissing her with such passion that she could feel his anxiety.
After a long moment—the kiss deepening, Kevin breathing her in, and Tasha moaning softly and resting her hands against his firm chest—he drew back, looked at her, and said, “When threatening to arrest Avandeyev didn't work, I affirmed that no one was going to find out about what happened on the pier. It made me sick to grovel, but I did everything I could to convince him that the crime had been buried so deep it would never see the light of day.”
She nodded to show she was on his side.
“But then I told him that if anyone came after you, Tasha, I would kill them.”
Stunned, her mouth drifted open, but she drew in a deep breath, closing it.
He added, “I don’t think that was the right thing to do. It was a bad move. I could see it in his eyes. He’s too proud, too powerful to stand for a threat like that.”
“Shit,” she said softly.
Staring deep into her eyes, he told her, “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I can’t strike first.”
“So I’m a sitting duck?” she asked fearfully.
“No,” he cut in. “You’re not. I’m not walking away from this. If I have to go to another precinct, get an entire department on board, if I have to go to Internal Affairs and shine a light on this whole thing, I will, whether it means risking my career or not.”
“How could it risk your career if you’re doing the right thing?”
He was somewhere else entirely for a moment, gazing off in no particular direction and shaking his head. “Six months ago, one of the detectives in my precinct was arrested for murdering a prostitute. His name was Whitmore. He didn’t remember picking the girl up. He didn’t remember going back to his place and he didn’t have one shred of memory that he’d slashed her throat. He woke up to discover this poor woman’s body in his bed.” Kevin locked eyes with her. “It was Avandeyev. He had his goons drug Whitmore and all because the detective had tried to get out from under him.”
“How do you know this? I mean how do you know it was Avandeyev?”
“Because he told me after I’d threatened him.”
Tasha was so shocked that she couldn’t even breathe.
After a long moment, she asked, “What are we going to do?”
He shot her a stressed smirk at her use of the word we then said, “For starters, I don’t want you alone ever.”
She wasn’t going to fight him on that. She didn’t want to be alone either and started mentally brainstorming her schedule and how she might get away with being with Greer and Jennifer every second. But would the mere presence of her artsy friends dissuade the Russian mob from coming after her? She didn't think so.
“Do you always have your gun on you even when you’re off duty?”
“Always,” he said.
It made her feel slightly better, but it wasn’t as though she could be near him when he was working at
the station.
“It’s getting cold,” he said, rubbing her bare arm to warm her up. Cap-sleeves were fine in the afternoon, but this button-down was too thin for the night air. “My place?”
Glancing down at her camera, she said, “I have to transfer my shots onto my computer.”
“If we go to your place, we should stay there.”
“Are you okay with that?”
He smiled and kissed her cheek. “Of course.”
As they walked along the cobblestone path and out of the park, he asked, “So this photography exhibition of yours...?”
“What about it?”
His arm was around her shoulder and he pulled her in, kissing the side of her head and causing her to sidestep as they trailed along.
“Am I invited?”
“Ha!” she blurted out. “Will you show up if you are?”
“Hey, it’s not like your work was on display last night,” he pointed out. “And yes I’ll show up. You’ve got at least twelve pictures of me now. I need to know if I could have a second career as a model.”
When his joke landed, they both tensed a bit, each hoping that Kevin wouldn’t lose his position at the 26th just because he’d gone up against a monster whose reach could be farther than either of them could foresee.
Ten blocks later, Tasha keyed into her building and they trekked the five flights of stairs up to her studio apartment. She turned on a few lights, as Kevin shut and locked the door. The air felt stuffy, the day having warmed up quite a bit, so she drew the curtains back and opened the window then set her camera down on the coffee table. A cool breeze flowed into the space and as she turned, Kevin wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Are you trying to kill me with that short skirt?” he whispered, his face near hers, his chest pressing against her breasts, his hips angling into her body.
“I didn’t know I’d be seeing you today,” she told him playfully and their lips met.
As he kissed her, he hooked his fingers down the waist of her skirt, feeling for the edge of her panties. It was relaxed yet teasing and Tasha realized this was the first time in a long time that she felt like she had a boyfriend. Sure, she might be jumping the gun. This was all so new and they hadn’t talked about where their relationship was going and if it would last beyond the clear and present danger they faced, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t savor the moment.
They traveled around the coffee table, kissing their way to her bed, as Kevin fumbled to unbutton her shirt. She helped him, shrugging the garment off her shoulders and tossing it to the floor.
As if seeing her in her bra had compelled him, he wriggled out of his jacket, letting it fall, and yanked his tee shirt up and over his head. He looked damn fine, bare-chested in his tight jeans. After a moment of eyeing him, however, she asked, “Where’s your gun?” as she worked his jeans open, popping the button and drawing the zipper down.
“Ankle holster,” he said softly in a deep voice.
He stepped back to show her, lifting the hem of his jeans and revealing a black gun braced against his outer ankle.
“You had it with you last time?” she asked.
He shot her a crooked smile, breathing, “Yeah,” and as he unfastened the holster and set the weapon on her desk, he mentioned, “I can be discrete about slipping it off.”
She had to admit if only to herself that it was a turn on. In general, the idea of guns scared her, but knowing that Kevin was trained and licensed to carry was a different story.
She grabbed his hips, feeling his smooth skin, the hard flanks of muscles spanning around his abs—lick lines, she thought. And wouldn’t she like to?
They stared at each other for a lustful moment and then quickly Kevin wrestled out of his boots and jeans, as she popped the clasp of her bra open and let the black lace fall. She didn’t know she’d be seeing Kevin tonight, but she had certainly dressed with him in mind.
He helped her out of her skirt, groaning at the sight of her black panties and angling to see her ass. He let out a satisfied breath, discovering she was wearing a thong, and then pressed against her.
She could feel his erection through his navy briefs—hard and big—but without warning, he swung her around, lifting and setting her gently on the desk. Instinctively and in anticipation, she spread her legs and placed her heels on the surface, while Kevin took a step back and drank in the sight of her—breasts swelling with each inhale, her head tipping back against the wall, her thighs long and shapely, a thin strip of black satin between her legs.
He neared her and with warm fingers pulled the black material aside, exposing her vagina and groaning at the sight.
When he began gently fondling her, running his fingertips up and down her labia and exploring the silken folds, she let out a moaning breath.
Using his free hand, he worked his briefs down, his hard erection springing free and slapping against his lower abdomen, as sculpted as it was.
He angled his penis against her inner thigh as he stimulated her with his fingers, making her wet and slippery, playing with her clitoris and causing her to ache.
Then in a quick, confident motion, he lifted her hips, slipping her panties down her legs, which she straightened only to assist him in discarding the garment before planting her heels against the desk again.
He let his briefs fall and stepped out of them then grasped her waist firmly, as he began teasing her, running the tip of his erection along her slippery genitals.
She focused on the feel of him. The head of his penis felt hot and firm. Watching him pleasure her with teasing strokes turned her on. Her breathing quickened and soon she was dying for him to press into her—the sweet sting of his body entering her to soothe the hot ache inside—and fill her with his hard erection.
“Do you even know how sexy you are?” he asked in a smooth and quiet voice.
She smiled and grasped hold of his penis, feeling how hard he was for her and helping him to angle in.
As he penetrated, slowly and groaning, she savored every inch, his girth sending a hot wave through her loins and causing sweat to bead between her breasts.
“Oh God, Tasha,” he moaned, filling her.
When his erection was met with firm resistance deep inside and his hips rested flush against her inner thighs, he began grinding.
The heat and friction, slippery and smooth, was enough to launch her towards the peak, but she breathed deeply and soon he started thrusting in slow, deliberate strokes that hit her g-spot.
“If not being alone,” she said, moaning between each word, “means having you inside of me like this, then sign me up.”
He let out a breathy laugh, angling deeper, as he found her clitoris with his thumb and began delivering a firm massage.
That was all it took. Suddenly a powerful stream of heat flooded through her and she knew she was close to climaxing, but she didn’t want this to end so she grabbed his hand and sucked his index finger into her mouth.
He groaned, thrusting and gazing down at her. He cupped her breast with his other hand as if holding on for dear life and quickened his pace.
The next thing she knew, he had lifted her, scooping his arms under her ass and carrying her towards the bed, his erection still angled deep inside of her.
They fell together, but he rolled her and Tasha found herself straddling him and gazing down at Kevin who was now lying on his back.
She held his hands, lacing their fingers, as she grinded on top of him, but soon he was cupping her breasts, as she worked his body to her pleasure.
“Yes,” she breathed, overcome with a tight surge of ecstasy rushing through her.
“I want to come with you,” he said and her eyes popped open.
They had completely forgotten a condom and realizing this, she settled and stared at him, mouth gaping.
“We didn’t put on-”
“Shit,” he said, lifting onto his elbows.
Though her mind was locked on their error, her body hadn’t quite ca
ught up. He felt too good inside of her and when she began gyrating her hips and relishing the feel of him, long and thick and hard, he smiled and took her hand.
“We should put on a condom,” he told her then quickly added, “for the record, I’ve been tested and I’m clean.”
Was this bad? She didn’t want to stop.
“Are you on birth control?”
Her answer flew out of her even before she had thought it, “Yes.”
And hearing as much must have been enough, because Kevin pulled her against him and rolled so that he was on top.
Pumping into her, Kevin groaned in her ear.
Suddenly, a hot wave began building inside of her and her entire body relaxed in the throes of a surging orgasm. She plowed her fingers through his dark hair and moaned, her head tilting back as the mounting pleasure seized her.
He could tell she was on the brink of climaxing. He quickened his pace accordingly, thrusting to bring himself there in perfect timing.
She cried out, the peak of her orgasm hitting her hard, and Kevin groaned, overcome with the same bliss.
Smiling as wave upon wave coursed through her, Tasha had never felt so close to another man. It felt like he was hers, her guy, her person. Emotions flooded her and they felt so close to love that she had to question whether or not she was crazy.
He slowed, settling on top of her, and gazed into her eyes. His forehead was sweaty so she brushed it dry with her hand.
“I like you,” he said, making her smile.
“I like you, too.”
The look of ease on his face was enough to melt her heart.
He rolled off of her, curling her into his arms and they laid there for a long while, Kevin stroking her wild, black curls and Tasha breathing in the scent of him.
After drifting into sleep, he woke her as he climbed off the bed, whispering, “Gotta use the bathroom.”
Though her eyes floated shut again, she heard him pad down the short hallway and close the door. When the distinct sound of the shower running came muffled through the bathroom door, Tasha fell asleep again.
But it didn’t last.
She woke with a start, as a gloved hand covered her mouth. Terrified, she tried to scream, but it was no use. The man glaring down at her was pressing his hand to her mouth so hard that she couldn't breathe. He spat through his teeth, “Don’t you dare make a sound.”