by V. K. Powell
Her thoughts returned to their near kiss in the conference room: the silky softness of Regan’s face between her hands and her hot breath mingling with her own. A sharp stab of desire rattled Syd and she momentarily lost her footing on the wall, tilting sideways over the street.
“I assume this note on the door was for me.” Regan entered the loft waving a piece of paper in her hand. When she saw Syd dangling over the wall, she stopped mid-step and clutched the note to her chest. “Dear God, will you come down from there?”
Syd regained her balance and jumped from the wall, landing directly in front of her open-mouthed attorney. “I wouldn’t leave my door unlocked for just anyone. What’s the matter, Counselor, afraid of heights?”
Regan glanced at Syd’s mouth as she spoke, then backed away from her. “It’s not the heights that bother me as much as the reckless disregard for life. I certainly hope this isn’t a tendency that carries over to your job.”
The comment was like a solid jab in the gut. “I assure you that if I seem reckless, it’s only with my own life.” She motioned to a pair of Poang chairs on the balcony and settled into one. “Would you care for a glass of wine or a Coke?”
“No thanks. This is a professional visit.”
“Your call sounded urgent. What’s happened that would require a home visit on Friday evening?”
Regan squirmed uncomfortably in the chair and looked out over the city. Her blue eyes sparkled with light from the street below, but her face appeared drawn and serious. Syd waited patiently for her to get to the point of her visit. After Regan had her say, she intended to find out about Nashville. She could not rest until she knew what had caused such a highly competent woman to lose that case and leave town.
Regan’s gaze shifted around the balcony, back to the city skyline, and finally came to rest on Syd. “I got a call from Dean Bell today. He’s representing the plaintiff in our suit.”
Regan was finally coming to the point. In their brief association Syd had already learned that she believed in delivering bad news eye to eye. This gesture alone told her volumes about Regan’s character and made her seriously doubt what she’d heard from Nashville. Syd met her stare with equal candor and waited.
“Bell has copies of the Internal Affairs secret file and your therapy notes.”
Panic oozed through Syd like an arson fire from its source. She’d spent her entire career facing physical danger, but this threat seemed more vague and insidious. The defensive weapons of her job couldn’t help her now. She felt unprepared and afraid. “How?”
“Discovery and a well-crafted subpoena. He’s threatening to leak the contents to the press, obviously to damage your reputation and sway public sentiment.”
Syd recalled the few sessions she’d had with the department’s shrink and felt relatively sure she’d adhered to the unwritten rule of “deny everything and demand proof.” But the so-called secret IA cache was another issue. She had no idea what juicy tidbits, personal or professional, were relegated to those smut files. The information was never shared with officers, even on request. The IA files reputedly consisted of calls and letters that never rose to the level of a complaint or were simply not actionable under departmental rules and regulations. It was also rumored that the brass often reviewed them when considering officers for promotion. Anything of an unsavory nature could affect an officer’s chances for advancement and he’d never know it.
“What’s in the IA file that could possibly be so bad?” Syd asked.
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
Syd shook her head in dismay. “You haven’t seen it? Their attorney has it and you don’t? How is that possible?”
Regan’s lips were drawn into a thin line. “The department has been giving me the runaround. But the chief promised I’d have them in the morning. I just couldn’t risk you hearing about this in the media if Bell makes good on his threat. I’m so sorry, Syd. I’m doing the best I can.”
Helplessness blanketed Syd. “Is that what you told Ken Fowler?”
Syd immediately regretted her angry outburst. Her words registered like a slap across Regan’s face and made her blue eyes darken and her face pale. There was obviously more to this story, and her callous delivery had injured Regan. Her usual composure crumbled. Wanting to mitigate the damage, she said, “I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that. I just needed to know who was representing me, so I checked you out.”
Regan’s posture was stilted as she rose and paced the balcony. She answered in a low, deliberate tone. “And you still don’t know who I am. If you believe one lost case defines me or my career, you’re more naïve than I thought.”
Syd tried to regain some of her initial righteous indignation, but the pain in Regan’s eyes tugged at her heart and demanded further explanation. “I’m really sorry for upsetting you. There’s obviously a lot I don’t know. Can you tell me what happened?”
She considered the hypocrisy of her question. How could she ask Regan to share something that caused her such pain when she was unwilling to reveal her feelings about the shooting? Such disclosures required more trust than she’d given.
Regan paused at the parapet, surveying Syd as if evaluating whether to answer her question. Her internal struggle was emphasized by several deep inhalations and exhalations. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely audible over the street noises below.
“I’ve never told anyone the entire story. I trust you’ll be discreet.” Without waiting for a response, she said. “I received the Fowler case a week before my partner of fifteen years left me for her boss. Turns out she’d been sleeping with her the entire time we were together. I guess it took that long to choose between us.”
Regan delivered the information with the composure of a court brief, but Syd struggled to dislodge the knot of emotion that gathered in her throat as Regan spoke. She had no idea what a fifteen-year relationship felt like, but the range of feelings that contorted Regan’s face was almost tangible. She wanted to comfort her but wasn’t sure she knew how without being misunderstood. It had been so long since she’d reached out for any reason other than sex that she didn’t trust herself. Clenching the chair arms, she listened as Regan spoke.
“I spent the days on my feet in court and the nights on my knees begging Martha to come home. I just couldn’t hold my world and someone else’s together at the same time. In the end, my job and my relationship both came apart.”
Overcoming her internal resistance, Syd joined Regan at the parapet. She awkwardly slid her arm around her waist and stood beside her. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
“I’m not making excuses for losing the case.”
“I know. You’re not the type.”
“There’s more.”
“You don’t have to go on. This is obviously hard for you. I appreciate you sharing it with me. And I will be discreet.”
“You need to know the rest. The young officer, Ken Fowler, left the department after I lost the case. Three months later he committed suicide. So, you see, I do know what it’s like to kill another human being.”
Syd’s body stiffened. She felt as if she’d explode from the stew of feelings bouncing around inside her. She was angry at herself for not getting the whole story from her contact in Nashville. She was scared that the same thing could happen to her if they lost. She was worried about Regan’s ability to handle the case. Yet a small part of her was relieved that Regan had some idea of the guilt she felt about killing someone, though the circumstances were vastly different. But mostly, Syd was deeply sad that she’d caused Regan to relive this devastating part of her life.
The pain in Regan’s eyes turned liquid and rolled down her cheeks; her body trembled and she swayed forward. Syd instinctively wrapped both arms around her and held her close. She felt an immediate connection where their skin touched and a tactile craving where fabric separated flesh. The joining was more intimate than any she’d ever experienced, less physical but decidedly more arousing. Her de
fault sexual response seemed anemic compared to the feelings of empathy and nurturing that had overtaken her.
“I can’t imagine how painful it must’ve been to lose a partner in the middle of all that.”
The muscles along Regan’s back tightened and she pulled back from Syd. “No, you can’t. You’re a serial polyamorist who’s probably never had a relationship last longer than your orgasm.”
Regan’s words stung, but rather than her usual impulsive reaction, Syd considered the comment and decided it was close to accurate. “My track record isn’t very good, but I know pain when I see it. I’m amazed that you haven’t given up on love altogether.”
“What makes you think I haven’t?”
“You feel things too deeply, Regan. And you’re not bitter. That means your heart is still open.”
“And what about you? You never answered my question about how you felt during the shooting. Do you remember?”
Syd gazed at her as if she’d asked the most idiotic question in the world. The muscles of her abdomen knotted. Regan had been honest with her. Why the hesitation? She stifled the emotions bubbling unbidden to the surface. “I felt absolutely nothing. I’m certain of it.”
She could barely speak through the shroud that seemed to surround her, as if she were in a coffin. Then tears rushed from a small part of her that still seemed alive and stung her eyes. She squeezed them tight to keep them from betraying her.
“Can you just wave your magic lawyer stick and make it all disappear?”
“I really wish I could.” She took Syd’s hands in hers and gently stroked the backs with her thumbs.
Syd watched Regan’s thumbs slide across her hands and allowed the sensation to soothe the tension in her chest and calm the urge to run. She’d been physically closer to numerous women in her life but never felt as intimately touched. For someone who wanted to be in control of her surroundings, Regan didn’t seem concerned about allowing herself to nurture and comfort. If she was worried about exposing herself, she did not allow her reservations to change her behavior. The innate courage in that choice touched Syd on a level she couldn’t quite explain.
“I’m all right,” she said.
“No, Syd, you’re not. And don’t give me that tough-cop crap. I’m not buying it.”
“What makes you think it’s an act?”
“It doesn’t go with everything else I see in you.”
“And what exactly do you see?”
Regan smiled. “A sensitive woman trying to survive in an insensitive profession. A human being torn between her personal values and the ones that the job imposes on her. An officer traumatized by a decision to live or die, to kill or be killed. A woman struggling to cope with anguish so profound that any attempt to feel is like ripping open an old wound.”
“Stop. Please stop.”
“I’m sorry. I just hate to see you suffering so much.”
Syd gently squeezed Regan’s hands and released them. “I can’t do this. Please don’t ask me to do this.”
“Do what?”
Syd vacillated between her need for self-protection and the raw emotion in Regan’s eyes. If nothing else, that look demanded honesty. “Feel.”
“The only thing worse is not feeling.”
Regan brought their bodies together again in a warm embrace that elicited another round of uncontrollable emotion in Syd. Her muscles tensed in their usual defensive response, then released as if fatigued from months of exhaustive overuse. Regan’s firm body against hers felt like a haven of refuge. Syd tried to disengage but was transfixed by a sensation more compelling than any she’d ever experienced. She rested her head on Regan’s chest and was comforted by the rapid pulse of her heart. Tears escaped and soaked the soft cotton fabric of Regan’s shirt.
Sliding her hands up Syd’s back and over her shoulders, Regan cupped her face, brushing away her tears. Her long fingers combed through Syd’s hair and palmed the back of her head. Syd gazed into azure blue eyes that sparked with heat as Regan licked her trembling lips and lowered her mouth to Syd’s. When their lips touched, the warmth of Regan’s mouth made Syd light-headed.
Regan tentatively traced Syd’s lips with the tip of her tongue, moistening and requesting entry. Syd opened to her and met Regan’s tongue with equal reverence. The moment their mouths fused together, all hesitancy vanished. Regan’s tongue plunged deeper as if reaching for Syd’s soul. Her mouth pressed forcefully against Syd’s like a protective covering to seal even the air out.
“Mmm.” Syd was unsure if the sound came from her or Regan as their kiss deepened. She tried to remember the last time a first kiss, or any kiss for that matter, felt this perfect. Her entire body was on fire. They were only kissing but she felt like she was being stroked and stimulated all over. She leaned into Regan and rubbed against her muscled thigh, physically begging for flesh and blood to replace her imaginings. Syd couldn’t suppress the need building inside her for long. It was like a craving for something she’d never had but knew instinctively she must experience.
She drew Regan’s arm from around her waist and guided her hand to the heat between her legs. “Touch me.”
Regan broke their kiss to catch her breath and looked down into Syd’s face. “I want you so much.”
“Then take me. Please.”
Closing her hand over Syd’s crotch, Regan squeezed. “You’re so wet.”
The physical evidence of Syd’s arousal seemed to release a vampire in Regan. She kissed and sucked Syd’s uncovered flesh wherever she could make contact: her face, neck, ears, arms, and hands. Regan’s mouth was hot and hungry against Syd, whose tingling skin and normally cool face and neck were afire with patches of red heat. Regan rubbed and clawed the denim fabric between Syd’s legs with one hand while simultaneously tugging at the hem of her T-shirt with the other, to dislodge it from her jeans.
Syd reached down, ripped the shirt from her waistband and over her head in one swift motion. Her unencumbered breasts rose and fell with each labored breath as she waited for Regan to touch her exposed skin. Regan looked at her with lust-hooded eyes, her breathing heavy. Then all movement stopped. Her gaze swept up and down Syd’s body as if taking stock while she made a conscious decision. Syd had seen that look of hesitation too many times to ignore it. Rational thought was trying to interrupt and discount the body’s needs.
She gripped Regan’s right hand, holding it in place between her legs, and reached for her left. She cupped their joined hands over her left breast. “You want this as much as I do.”
Regan gently massaged Syd’s breast and it puckered to life in her hands. She jerked the tender flesh between her legs one final time and backed away. “You have no idea.”
Syd followed the retreat. “We don’t have to stop.”
“Yes, we do. This is wrong and I apologize. You were vulnerable and I took advantage.”
“But you don’t understand, I—”
“I understand enough to know that this is not right, even if you weren’t my client.” She paused, and her tone was sorrowful more than accusatory when she spoke again. “I’m not willing to be another notch on your sexual belt. Good night, Syd.”
Regan turned and walked out of the apartment, leaving Syd with a hunger she knew no one else could fill and an ache that prevented giving chase.
Chapter Nine
Gil Brady caged a fresh beer between his fingers and avoided Syd’s questioning gaze. He’d asked her to meet him at the Cop Out for a drink on the way home from his Saturday shift. He hadn’t talked much about his wife in a few days, and Syd hoped that was good news for their marriage. His sullen demeanor said otherwise.
“Well, we’ve covered every call you went on today,” she said after they’d spent half an hour. “Are you ready to tell me why we’re really here?”
Syd knew she sounded short but she’d been irritable since last night. Images of Regan Desanto kissing and touching her body resurfaced when she least expected them, constricting her breathing
with jolts of emotion too intense to categorize. Her entire day had been an exercise in self-control as waves of desire overtook her when she should’ve been thinking of other things.
She decided she must have been more tired than she realized. She’d not only allowed Regan to take charge of their interaction, but she’d enjoyed relinquishing control. Normally her submission in sex play was a conscious choice and was still about her control. While partners appeared to be in charge, the final decisions were always hers. But with Regan, she’d simply let go and felt completely safe. Even more telling was her inability to verbally respond when Regan disengaged, practically insulted her, and left. Her usual reply would’ve been some quip about what Regan was missing, but Syd felt like she was the one losing out.
She wondered what was happening to her. Her life was getting more bizarre by the day. Last night she’d kissed her attorney, loved it, and wanted more. Today she couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was infuriating. Still, her distraction level was no excuse for being unkind to Gil. “I’m sorry for being snappish. Something’s bothering you…want to talk about it?”
Gil looked around the club again before finally asking, “What’s so special about this place?”
“What do you mean?”
“My wife loves it. It looks like any other bar to me.”
“I’m not sure I can answer that one. Jesse runs a tight ship and doesn’t put up with any nonsense. That makes all kinds of folks comfortable coming here.”
“All kinds of folks, huh?” His slow, deep voice sounded flat and sarcastic.
Syd detected an unasked question. “What do you want to know, Gil?”
“I wish my wife could read me as well as you do.” He took a long pull from his beer. “Do you meet other women here, you know—like that?”