Storms of Change

by Radclyffe

  “Dr. King.”

  “Hi,” Reese said.

  Tory dropped the chart and sat up straight. “Reese? Are you at the base?”

  “For a few more hours, then I’m shipping out. How are you?”

  “Oh God, I miss you.” It hadn’t been what she’d meant to say, but the sound of Reese’s voice made her forget her resolutions.

  “Same here. I don’t suppose that’s going to change any time soon.”

  “No, I guess not,” Tory said with a small smile. “I’m so glad you called.”

  “Still seeing patients?”

  “Mmm.”

  “Tor,” Reese said, her voice low and husky, “it’s late. You should be home.”

  “Almost. Just a few more minutes,” Tory said, feeling a little bit of her world slide back into place with the familiar sound of Reese’s concern. “How about you? Is everything all right?”

  “Fine. Just a little hectic.”

  “Is your father there?”

  “No,” Reese said. “I have a message to call him as soon as I arrive.”

  Tory laughed. “Insubordinate already, Colonel?”

  “I needed to hear your voice.”

  Tory caught her breath. “Oh, sweetheart. Me, too.”

  “So,” Reese said after a few seconds of silence, “I guess I can expect Reggie to be spoiled beyond recognition, what with all the time she’ll be spending with Kate and Jean.”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  Reese laughed. “Small price to pay. I’m glad you have them. That we have them.”

  “I’d be lost without their help.”

  “I’m sorry, Tor—”

  “We’re past that now, sweetheart. We love you. All of us, so much.”

  “I love you too, baby.”

  Tory closed her eyes, imagining Reese’s face, absorbing the sound of her voice as if it were a touch. “Can you tell me anything? Where you’re going? What you’ll be doing?”

  “I’ll be onboard ship for the next week or so until we reach Mosul, and then our unit is headed for Baghdad.”

  “Well,” Tory said, clenching the pen she held in her right hand so hard her fingers ached, “I’m not surprised.”

  “We’ll mostly be doing cleanup, Tor—transport, escort, and containment. The main resistance is broken.”

  “Of course. I know.” Tory didn’t believe her. She watched television. She listened to the news. She knew it wasn’t that simple, but she wasn’t going to argue. Reese was trying to protect her, and she needed to believe that she could. She needed to be secure in the knowledge that Tory was all right. Tory inhaled slowly and forced a note of lightness into her voice. “Still, you’ll probably be busy polishing whatever it is that you Marines polish with such devotion, so I won’t worry if you don’t call every day.”

  Reese laughed. “Phone calls might be tricky, but everything is computerized. I’ll e-mail as often as I can. Just don’t worry if you don’t hear from me—”

  “I understand,” Tory said quickly, wondering how in God’s name she was going to stand not knowing what was happening to her over there. “I’ve got a message for you from KT.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  Tory smiled at the faint edge in her lover’s usually calm voice. Although Reese and KT got along well, they were too much alike not to feel the tiniest bit competitive. “She said to tell you to get your ass back…no…your goddamn ass back as soon as possible. I agree.”

  “You can tell her from me that’s at the top of my list.” After another pause, Reese said, “I’ve got to go, Tor.”

  The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach hit so fast, Tory was nauseous. She dropped her pen and pressed her hand hard against her abdomen, waiting for the sensation to pass before trying to speak. “I love you.”

  “That’s just what I need.” Reese cleared her throat. “Kiss Reggie for me.”

  “I will.”

  “I love you, Tory. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Bye, darling.”

  “Bye, baby.”

  The line went dead and Tory dropped the receiver onto the desk. She pressed both hands to her eyes and took deep breaths, willing the sick surge of panic to dissipate. She’s going to be fine. She won’t get hurt. She’ll come home soon. Nothing will happen to her.

  “Tory?” Randy said tentatively from the doorway. “You okay?”

  Tory brushed her palms over her cheeks and sat up. She smiled at her receptionist, who looked worried. “Yes. Just tired.”

  “I can reschedule the last three. They’re all regulars.”

  With a shake of her head, Tory braced her hands on the desk and pushed herself upright. “No. I’ll see them.”

  “Was that Reese?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is everything okay?” Randy asked softly.

  “Just fine.” Wondering when, if ever, she would begin to believe her own lies, Tory lifted a chart from the desk. “Don’t worry. Everything is fine.”

  *

  Carter wanted to see Rica. She hadn’t thought of anything else all day. Somewhere in the last twenty-four hours she’d gotten completely off track. In her line of work, she was used to events moving rapidly. She’d learned to shift alliances in the blink of an eye, had become adept at altering her cover story just enough to divert suspicion at a moment’s notice, and could fake almost anything, from anger to an orgasm, with little effort.

  Now, she couldn’t find her groove. She couldn’t get her mind off the many images of Rica—weary and vulnerable that first night at her father’s, reserved and aloof in the gallery, sensual and seductive that morning. The memory of Rica’s voice, her touch, drew Carter along Commercial Street toward the gallery like a salmon struggling upstream to die. She couldn’t stop herself.

  She walked with her head down, her hands in her pockets, mentally arguing with herself. She knew she needed to back away, because every atom in her body wanted to take up where that kiss had left off. And she couldn’t afford to be thinking with her hormones in the middle of a case. Not just for the sake of getting laid. And obviously that was what Rica was interested in. Her remarkable turnabout since the day before—her very, very sexy change of heart, Carter thought—was clear evidence that was all Rica was interested in.

  And what the hell is wrong with that? That’s exactly what you want, Carter muttered under her breath. Let her call the shots. Let her think she’s in control. It’s a perfect setup to gain her trust and find out what you need to know. Carter laughed. Who are you kidding? She is in control. You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, and she’s got you tied up in knots.

  Carter tensed when a hand closed around her arm, and she automatically pulled away. The grip tightened, and surprised, she stopped to face the interloper.

  “Jesus Christ, what are you still doing here?”

  Special Agent Marilyn Allen dragged Carter out of the stream of pedestrians into the mouth of a narrow unpaved alley that led down to the beach. “You’re the one who’s walking around talking to herself. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing.” Carter glanced worriedly across the street. They were in direct eyesight of Rica’s gallery and the lights were still on, which meant she was still there. “Look, this is a bad idea. We can’t be seen together.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Fine. But not—aw, shit.”

  The lights went out in Beaux Arts and Rica stepped out the front door.

  “What?” Allen said, her voice rising.

  “Quiet,” Carter snapped and yanked Allen a few feet further down the alley into the shadows. She risked one look back toward the gallery and cursed again. Then she shoved Allen against the nearest building, treated her to a full body press, and clamped her mouth over Allen’s open, astonished one.

  *

  Rica pushed redial on her cell phone as she cut diagonally across Commercial Street toward the path to the beach. It was one of those early May nights that felt more like summer than spring
, and she’d rather walk home along the water than dodge the unseasonable late night crowds.

  She frowned as she listened to Carter’s phone ring unanswered, annoyed that she didn’t even know her cell number. The only listing that directory assistance had available was for the law office, and it probably didn’t ring in Carter’s apartment.

  On the other hand, it was ridiculous that she was even contemplating chasing after a near stranger when they didn’t know each other well enough to have exchanged telephone numbers. She turned down the alley toward the harbor, snapped the phone shut in disgust, and dropped it in her shoulder bag. A low moan drew her attention to two figures in the shadows. There was barely enough light to make out the shapes of two women writhing in the heat of passion, arms and legs twisting about one another, hands frantically grappling for purchase. One yanked the other’s shirt from her pants, exposing a pale patch of skin to the moonlight.

  Quickly, Rica averted her gaze, but not before she’d seen enough to send a searing bolt of arousal through her. She imagined Carter as she’d seen her that morning, sleek-bodied and strong, with her narrow hips pumping between Rica’s spread thighs, pounding against her swollen sex until Rica came screaming beneath her.

  “God,” Rica whispered, walking faster until she sank into the warm, soft sand. She stopped a few feet from the water’s edge and opened the top button of her blouse. Her body was flushed with heat. She tilted her head back and let the damp breeze wash over her face and neck.

  She had wanted women before in her life, some with hunger, some with need. Some for hours. Others for far longer, or so she had thought at the time. Some she’d considered friends, other strangers. Carter was all of them, and like no one she’d ever met before. Sitting out on the deck with her the evening before and that morning, she’d found Carter easy to talk to—charming and open. Unassuming and even a little bit uncertain. And then a look that was more raw than simple desire had come over her face, a dark shadow had eclipsed her clear gaze, and something dangerous had leapt to the surface. Her mouth had been hard and demanding, yet she had held back. Even as they kissed, Carter hadn’t pushed, hadn’t tried to take from her more than she was ready to give. Hadn’t even tried to take what Rica wanted to give. Rica had felt desire tremble between them, had felt the swift clench of muscles when she had brushed her fingers over Carter’s abdomen. There was want there, every bit as urgent as her own. And still Carter had hesitated.

  “Why?” She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly chilled. Take a chance, Angie had said. Rica wasn’t certain she even had a choice.

  She thought about calling Carter’s number one more time but decided that she didn’t want to hear the unanswered phone. She didn’t want to wonder who Carter was with. Whose mouth she might be tormenting with irresistible, unbearable pleasure.

  *

  Groaning, Agent Allen dug her fingers into Carter’s back and plunged her tongue into Carter’s mouth. Carter felt as if the air was being sucked from her lungs as Allen threatened to consume her with the voracious kiss. A hand snaked between her legs and squeezed down so hard she grunted in surprise. Then just as quickly, Allen elbowed Carter viciously in the ribs and jammed her knee between Carter’s legs in the exact spot her fingers had just been exploring.

  “Oh, fuck,” Carter gasped as she released Allen and staggered away, collapsing against the wall. She locked her knees to keep from falling while she doubled over and struggled not to vomit.

  Allen gripped a handful of Carter’s hair and yanked her head back. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  Carter found herself staring into Allen’s furious face. “Trying not to puke. Let go.”

  “Jesus,” Allen said in disgust and stepped away. She pushed back her hair with trembling hands and stared into the street.

  Carter braced a palm against the crumbling planks of the building and slowly straightened. She squinted down the alley, blinking tears from her eyes. She couldn’t see Rica. Her groin pulsed with pain, but the nausea was subsiding.

  “That was Rica who passed us a minute ago,” Carter muttered through gritted teeth.

  Allen swung her head around. “What?”

  “Rica. I didn’t think…it would be a good idea if she saw us together.”

  “I didn’t see her.”

  No, you were too busy trying to swallow my tongue. Who would have guessed you were that kind of hungry. Carter rubbed her ribs. “Nice shot.”

  “You could have faked it. You didn’t have to assault me.”

  “Believe me, I didn’t enjoy it.”

  Allen stiffened. “You’re not only ineffective at your job, Wayne, you’re dangerously unbalanced.”

  Carter straightened up, wincing at the lingering ache in her crotch. “I’m so happy we shared this time together. Have a nice night.”

  When Carter started to step around Allen, who stood between her and the street, Allen gripped her arm again.

  “I said we needed to talk.”

  “It can wait. I need a drink. And some aspirin.”

  “You can have all the alcohol you want as soon as you’re debriefed. Then I couldn’t care less what you do.”

  Carter stopped. “Debriefed? What are you talking about?”

  “I said, not here.”

  “Christ.” Reluctantly, Carter followed Allen across the street and up one of the narrow streets that connected Commercial to Bradford. Toome was parked halfway up the block in the familiar gray sedan. Obviously, they’d never left town.

  “If you two keep hanging around, you’re going to blow my cover,” Carter said as she slid carefully into the backseat. Allen packed a lot more power than her thin frame suggested.

  “You’re not going to have to worry about that any longer,” Allen said as she lifted a briefcase onto her lap and extracted a folder from inside. “And it’s lucky for you that we did stay in town. At least someone involved is gathering vital information.”

  Carter leaned her head back against the seat. “And I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “We’re taking you off the case. This part at least.”

  “What?” Carter snapped, jerking forward. She was pleased to see Allen recoil even though the front seat was an effective barrier between them.

  “It’s come to our attention that the initial intelligence on Pareto’s daughter was wrong.”

  “You mean Rica isn’t going to lead us anywhere because she’s not involved with the business,” Carter said, a surge of relief rushing through her.

  “No,” Allen said sharply, “we have no evidence that Ms. Pareto is not part of the organization. But our new information makes it very clear that you’re not going to be of any use to us as far she’s concerned.”

  Carter shook her head, wondering if the kiss had deprived Allen of essential oxygen. “You want to try speaking English?”

  “She’s not a lesbian, Wayne. She’s Lorenzo Brassi’s lover.”

  Carter laughed. “Wherever you’re getting your information, it’s wrong.” She wasn’t about to tell them about the near tryst she’d had with Rica that morning, because she didn’t intend to tell Agent Allen anything that she didn’t have to. And for some reason, the time she’d spent with Rica had felt personal. It wasn’t about business.

  Allen leaned between the seats and dropped a file folder into Carter’s lap. She shone her Maglite on it. “Open it.”

  “Christ,” Carter muttered, shaking her head. She flipped the folder open and blinked as the glare of the intense light reflected off the shiny surface of the photograph. Lorenzo Brassi stood with his arms around Rica, one hand nearly cradling her breast. His mouth was against her neck. The bastard looked like he was one step away from fucking her standing up. Carter recognized the gallery in the background.

  “That was last night,” Allen said with a hint of triumph in her voice. “I’d say they look rather friendly, wouldn’t you.” She flipped the photograph aside with one neatly trimmed fingernail to reveal ano
ther underneath.

  This time Rica’s hands were on Lorenzo’s chest and their hips were almost fused together. Carter couldn’t see Rica’s face because her hair had fallen forward to cover most of it, but Brassi had a look of arrogant pleasure on his. Carter wanted to kill him. She closed the folder.

  “This doesn’t mean anything.”

  “We followed them while they took a lovers’ stroll through town and out onto the pier. They were very cozy the entire time.”

  Carter looked at Toome. “You take the photographs?”

  Toome nodded.

  “You agree with her?”

  Again, the agent nodded. “It’s been rumored that Brassi and Ricarda might marry. The old man is in favor of it.”

  Carter felt another swell of nausea, and it had nothing to do with the blow to her groin. She hadn’t been wrong in what she’d seen in Rica’s eyes, or in what she’d felt when they’d kissed. If marriage was in the works, she couldn’t believe it was anything other than family business. “That doesn’t change anything.”

  “It makes it less likely that you’re going to get anything substantial from her,” Allen replied. “You’ve already got a strong contact with Rizzo, and there’s no point in risking that. You’re to back off on the daughter. We’ve got surveillance on Brassi. That will be enough.”

  “I don’t take orders from the FBI.” Carter opened the door and stepped out. “I’m not changing anything until I talk to my team.”

  Allen powered down her window. “Talk all you want. It’s already been decided.” She smiled at Carter. “Have a nice night. And take care of that…headache.”

  Carter watched them drive away. She wasn’t thinking about her sore ribs or her throbbing groin. She was thinking about the image of Lorenzo Brassi with his hands all over Rica Grechi. It was just as well she hadn’t been the one to see it, because even now she wanted to wipe that smug look off his face with her fist.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Carter slid into a booth in a roadside diner in Eastham, thirty miles up the Cape from Provincetown. Her partner, State Investigator Kevin Shaughnessy, sat across from her with a plate of eggs, sausage, and pancakes and a look of unbridled lust on his florid Irish face. “You’re early.”