by Marcia James
“A week from now,” Dom murmured, squashing her concern that the end of this case would also be the end of Dalton and her.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” Suzi said. “Where does Victor Xavier fit into all this?”
“The owner of the Xecutive Branch is probably in the drug running up to his eyeballs,” Dalton remarked. “But we have no proof. We’re hoping we can get his lackeys to turn state’s evidence.” His mouth settled into a hard line. “But everyone agrees we’re not cutting any deals with Salvi.”
“Good.” Anger was clear on Suzi’s face as well. “Salvi has to be the one who had Jason killed.”
“I can’t wait to make the bastard pay.” Dalton’s eyes burned. “And I’ll personally see to it he doesn’t get off on a technicality this time.”
For several intense seconds, the three of them seemed bound by the strength of their common goal—putting Salvi behind bars. Then Suzi chugged the last of her beer, rose from her chair and set the bottle on the counter. She pulled on her down jacket, which was hanging on the back of her chair.
“Time for me to hit the road,” Suzi said. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”
“Okay, Mom,” Dalton joked, but he stood and hugged Suzi.
Instead of feeling jealous, Domino was warmed by his concern for his friend. Dalton had quite a few admirable traits. He was a keeper, but what could she offer him? She was a thirty-one-year-old workaholic who’d never had a successful relationship. Dom mentally blocked her insecurities. She wouldn’t let herself sabotage whatever time she had left with him.
With a wave, Suzi slipped out the back door and Dalton secured it after her. Then he walked back to Dom and cupped her face in his hands. “Tired?”
She shook her head. “I was until I saw you. I swear, you send a caffeine buzz through my hormones.”
Gentle and very thorough, he kissed her, gliding his hands to palm the nape of her neck. Dom’s skin grew super-sensitive, her nerves humming like a tuning fork. Then Dalton ended the kiss and slid his hands to hers. With a tug, he pulled her out of the kitchen and down the hall.
“Where’s Smokey?” she asked, following him to her bedroom.
“Conked out for the night,” Dalton said. “I arrived around seven, so we’ve been playing some games to pass the time.”
Once inside her bedroom, he closed the door and pressed her back against it. Using his tongue and his teeth, he explored the skin of her neck from her ear to her shoulder. Dom moaned with pleasure, trying to keep the thread of the conversation.
“What kind of games?” she asked, her voice breathy.
“Hmmm?”
“Games…you said you played games with Smokey?” she reminded him.
“Oh.” He kissed his way across her throat to her other ear. “You know, fetch, tug-of-war, doggie games.”
Somewhere in the fuzzy reaches of her mind, Domino couldn’t understand why she kept talking. “But I don’t have any doggie toys.”
Dalton stopped mid-nip and leaned back to look at her face. She briefly registered his guilty look. “Uh, how fond were you of those silver sandals—the ones with the rhinestones on the heels?”
With a half groan, half laugh, she pulled his lips back to hers.
Chapter Twenty-One
Domino swung her car into the 7-Eleven parking lot down the street from the appointed meeting place. She was a little early but she wanted to be close-by and ready when Dalton and Suzi staged their lunch at noon. Killing the engine, Dom grabbed her purse, hopped out of her car and strode through the slushy snow to the convenience store. She needed to buy something in case she’d been followed. Hell, this whole dog-and-pony show was for the benefit of anyone tailing Dalton, Suzi or her. For the plan to work, Salvi needed to believe Dom was on his side.
Buying a soda and a newspaper, she headed back to her car and climbed in. The February cold had worked its way through the age-worn seals on the VW’s windows, so Dom started the engine and turned up the heat. Then with one eye on the dashboard clock, she flipped through the paper.
Glancing up, she glimpsed herself in her rearview mirror—all kiss-swollen lips and bedroom hair. Domino smiled. Before leaving this morning, Dalton had lured her back to bed “for some good-luck loving”, he’d called it. The insatiable man would use any excuse to get his hands on her. The sex had been incredible, but it was his affectionate teasing that was battering down her defenses. She was very afraid her heart had already surrendered.
They’d spent most of Sunday in bed, laughing and playing, venturing out only for food. Today, her muscles ached in pleasant ways that had her flashing back to memories of their sensual marathon. Each time she recalled a vivid scene, Domino flushed with embarrassment and pride. She’d surprised herself with her willingness to try new positions and sexy games.
Suddenly warm, Dom turned down the car’s heater. She’d lost count of the number of orgasms she’d had with Dalton, yet she still yearned for him. At this rate, she’d end up in a twelve-step sex addiction program when the affair ended.
Not wanting to think about the future, she folded the newspaper and sipped her cola. Dom suspected one reason behind Dalton’s exuberant lovemaking had been excess energy. He was ready to arrest Salvi but they’d had to wait until today to set things in motion. So Dalton had allowed himself to think about something other than revenge for a day. And she’d been happy to chase that haunted look from his eyes, even for a few hours.
Domino focused on the clock. Ten after twelve. She drove the block to the fast-food rendezvous. Checking her mirrors, she kept a lookout but didn’t spot a tail. She turned into the McDonald’s parking lot and spied Dalton and Suzi eating at a table by the window. Time for her Oscar-worthy double take.
Dom parked and killed the engine. Wishing she were a better actress, she picked up her purse and opened her door. She had one foot out of the car when she glanced toward the McDonald’s, looked away and then snapped her head back to stare at the window. She let her mouth fall open as though shocked by the sight of Suzi lunching with “the enemy”. Then she quickly got back into her car and peeled out for the club.
Domino almost laughed. She’d felt like a silent movie actress emoting for the camera. But then she sobered. Her next stop was Salvi’s office and this time her very life just might depend on her dramatic skills.
* * * * *
“Did you see her?” Dalton asked as he picked up a fry. It’d been harder than he’d expected not to turn his head and meet Dom’s gaze.
Suzi snorted. “Her car’s covered with white polka dots. Even out of the corner of my eye, I can spot a spotted car.”
“It’s like a domino,” he explained. “Like her nickname.”
“Really?” Suzi considered for a moment and grinned. “Who’d have thought our intrepid DEA agent had a whimsical side?”
He recalled Dom’s frilly bedroom, so at odds with the DEA career operative. Images of flowered sheets led to body-stirring memories of a Sunday in bed. Dalton’s hand stalled halfway to his mouth, his double cheeseburger forgotten.
“Earth to Bull.”
At her words, Dalton snapped his attention back to Suzi.
“Have a nice trip?” she asked.
Feeling sheepish, he just grinned. Another time, he might have made a smart remark about hot women and hotter sex, but with Domino, it wasn’t just sex. What they had was private, special, even if he wasn’t willing to examine his feelings yet. There’d be plenty of time for that after they’d locked up Salvi.
“You two look good together.” Suzi sounded a little wistful. “So don’t fuck it up.” To reinforce her point, Suzi beaned him with a Chicken McNugget. He caught the deep-fried missile on the rebound and popped it into his mouth.
Don’t fuck it up. How the hell was he supposed to do that when he hadn’t felt in control of his life since Jason’s death. And now a woman he— Dalton interrupted the thought. A woman he cared about was playing a very dangerous game with a sadistic ki
ller while he sat in a fast-food joint. Damn it all to hell. Forcinghimself to concentrate on his meal, he tried not to worry about Dom’s meeting with Salvi.
* * * * *
“Suzi Cho’s a cop.” Domino stood inside the door of Salvi’s opulent office and forced some of Mistress Bella’s cockiness.
The club manager, seated behind his mahogany desk, glanced up, his face impassive. “Explain.”
With a confidence she didn’t feel, Dom closed the office door and lowered herself into one of the upholstered visitors’ chairs. “Suzi was eating lunch with Dalton Cutter. I saw them a few minutes ago at the McDonald’s on Route 50 at Linden Street.”
“Did they see you?” Salvi’s eyes never registered surprise. The man possessed a chilling reserve.
Dom sure hoped he wouldn’t kill the messenger. “I don’t think so.” She crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair. “They were inside the restaurant. I was just parking my car in the lot when I saw them through the window. I came straight here to tell you.”
“And you’re sure it was Detective Cutter?” Salvi put a world of disdain into Dalton’s title.
Domino frowned then nodded. “I’ll never forget his face.” She leaned forward in the chair again. “What gets me is I liked Suzi. We used to take cig breaks in the parking lot.” She allowed a look of disgust to cloud her features.
“I want you to keep befriending Ms. Cho,” Salvi instructed.
“What?” This was what they wanted, but she had to play it right. So Dom oozed incredulity.
The club manager shared his plan. “I have to know what the police are after. Ms. Cho was hired long before the incident with Detective Cutter. So what’s Cho’s assignment?”
He didn’t expect an answer but she needed to add some details Dalton had suggested. “The day after Cutter was found in the loading bay, Suzi asked me about it,” Dom offered.
“What exactly did she say?” Salvi’s hand traced the curved handle of a silver letter opener, the unconscious sexuality of the action disturbing.
“Suzi asked me if I’d heard about Joey and Hobart being arrested. I told her ‘no’ and changed the subject.”
“Interesting.” The club manager picked up the dagger-shaped opener and appeared to be studying his reflection in its polished surface. “Anything else?”
This was the tricky part. Dom concentrated on giving Salvi an open, unblinking stare that signaled honesty according to her training in the body language of suspects. “She asked about CC, your special guest from New York.”
With exaggerated care, Salvi placed the opener back on his desk blotter. The corners of his eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened, the most emotion he’d shown since she’d arrived. Domino didn’t wait for him to ask before giving him the “facts”.
“I was in the break room after my session with CC,” Dom began. “Suzi came in and said she’d heard about my special client from New York. When I didn’t say anything, she asked me if I thought CC might be one of the Cabazone family.” The flicker of anger in Salvi’s eyes was all the confirmation she needed about CC’s identity.
“And what did you say to that, Ms. Petracelli?”
“I told her I didn’t know the last names of any of my clients and I didn’t talk about clients anyway,” Dom said with all the sincerity she could muster.
“Good.” The word held a warning. “Anything else?”
Domino shook her head, maintaining her dominatrix attitude.
“You’ll stick close to our cop masseuse,” he ordered. “And you will keep me informed of her movements and her questions.”
Dom shrugged. “Sure, I can do that.”
“I’ll arrange for your schedules to coincide,” he said.
Salvi looked at the open file on his desk. She’d been dismissed. Dom rose and walked toward the door.
“One more thing, Ms. Petracelli,” Salvi stopped her with his words. When she turned back, the club manager managed a thin, cruel smile that was worse than a soulless glare from a drug dealer. “The Xecutive Branch rewards its loyal employees.” The unspoken phrase and punishes its disloyal employees hung in the air. “Given your new responsibilities, you’ll be seeing an increase in your paycheck immediately.”
“Thanks.” Dom forced a smile. The man gave her dread-induced goose bumps even when he was pleased. Then she opened the office door and left, striding down the hall with a nonchalance that would have done Mistress Bella proud.
* * * * *
Dalton tied a knot on both ends of the ragged T-shirt and tested its strength. It held and made a good tug-of-war toy for Smokey. He glanced down at the crazy-haired mongrel who was gnawing a squeeze toy Dalton had purchased. Was this scene domestic or what? It should scare the pants off him but driving over to Dom’s house every evening felt like coming home.
Since inheriting Jason’s place, Dalton had moved his few belongings into the cozy Cape Cod and had given up his furnished apartment. It’d been no great loss. There were monks’ quarters with more homey touches than that apartment. But living in his dead partner’s house didn’t seem right. And now, he’d transferred some clothing to Dom’s closet, justifying the action because they were working together. But he knew he was only fooling himself. Domino was getting under his skin.
“I’m in deep shit,” Dalton muttered.
Smokey looked up from the kitchen floor as though he understood the sentiment. Dalton patted his tufted head then walked to the refrigerator and opened its door. Inside were the groceries he’d bought that evening. Snagging a beer, he returned to the kitchen chair and sat down.
“So I’m stocking her fridge and leaving clothes in her closet,” Dalton said to the dog. “It doesn’t mean we’re living together.”
Smokey made a snorting noise. Disgusted, Dalton took a swig of the cold beer. He glanced at the wall clock, a silly plate-shaped thing with knife and fork hands. It was another example of a side of Domino few people ever saw. And it made Dalton’s chest ache to know she’d revealed that side to him.
“It’s pushing midnight,” Dalton told Smokey. “She should be home any minute.” The dog simply yawned and chewed the toy.
Dalton didn’t want to think about Dom’s meeting with Salvi, but he wouldn’t relax until he was sure she was safe. All day he’d helped Captain Bennett with the Cabazone family angle but they still had nothing solid to go on. His other cases had been reassigned. So he had way too much time to worry about Dom.
Smokey’s ears pricked a second before Dalton heard the garage door mechanism start its slow upward grind. He resisted—barely—the urge to walk to the garage to greet her. Not only would that put him in sight of anyone watching the house but Dalton was pretty sure Dom wouldn’t appreciate it. She’d mistake his concern for her with a lack of confidence in her abilities as an agent. So he stayed where he was.
Several excruciating minutes later, Domino walked into the kitchen, looking tired but happy. Because he wanted—much too much—to gather her to him, to see for himself she was unharmed, Dalton remained seated. But he smiled up at her.
“Hi,” she said, hanging her winter coat on the back of a chair. She wore a fuzzy sweater and a long, swirling skirt, one of the few feminine outfits he’d noticed in her jeans-filled closet. The colors were vibrant and her black boots cupped her calves, climbing her legs and disappearing under the skirt.
“Tell me about the meeting,” he ordered.
“Not so fast.” Dom straddled him and lowered herself onto his lap.
Dalton thought she’d kiss him and he stared at her mouth in anticipation. Instead, she leaned past him, picked up his beer and took a swallow. The smooth white column of her throat was just inches away and he hardened with his need to taste her. The spicy scent of her cologne triggered a primal and urgent response. But he fought to keep his mind on the case.
“Domino…” He sounded gruff and threatening.
Laughing, she set down the bottle, braced her hands on his shoulders and grinned. He suspected s
he was delighted with her effect on him. But as much as he wanted her, he waited.
“Spoilsport,” Dom teased. “Okay, here’s the scoop. I met with Salvi and it went as we hoped. He wants me to buddy up to Suzi and find out what she’s doing at the club.”
“Are you sure he doesn’t suspect you?”
Domino sobered. “With Salvi, you can’t be sure of anything. But I don’t believe he suspects me.”
Dalton nodded. “Then on Thursday, you’ll feed him the information about the supposed Cabazone meeting this weekend.”
“Yep. Now, can we focus on other things?” Domino pressed herself against the growing bulge in his pants and leaning forward, sucked his lower lip into her mouth.
The double sensation hacked away at his control. Dalton embraced her, his arms banding her body to his. He growled—or was it Smokey?—and took her mouth. She tasted so damn good and he was afraid he’d never get enough of her.
She cupped his face in her hands and tangled her tongue with his. Need stronger than he’d ever known speared through him. He pulled her sweater over her head and dropped it to strip off her bra. The warm weight of her breasts filled his hands before he pressed them together and drew her nipples into his mouth.
Dom’s breathy moans pushed him further from conscious thought. Now. He had to have her now.
He slid his hands under her flowing skirt, tracing his palms up her spread thighs. When he reached the wet silk shielding his goal, Dalton tore the fragile material and stroked his fingers inside her. He kissed her again, swallowing her gasp and relishing her response. Her fingers fumbled with his zipper so he shifted her and freed himself. The few seconds it took to retrieve a condom from his wallet and protect them seemed like years. But finally he was ready.
For a suspended moment, he stared into her desire-darkened eyes, memorizing how she looked the moment before they joined. Then he filled her and watched her eyes cloud with pleasure as she cried out his name.
* * * * *
Humming, Domino was cleaning the morning’s coffee out of her drip machine when someone knocked on her back door. Had Dalton returned? The idea sent a flutter of butterflies through her stomach. He’d left only ten minutes before but she was already missing him. A tiny, sane part of her love-muddled brain warned her she was riding for a fall.