Floored

by Paton, Ainslie

  “What is this?”

  “I used to do this for Mum.”

  She turned to look at him. “You got in the bath naked with your mum?”

  He pushed her back around so she was facing the same way he was. Mum wouldn’t recognise this head massage from the ones he gave her, kneeling behind her while she lay on the family sofa watching TV. He poured another cup of water over Cait’s hair. “Yeah, we were a very close family.”

  She laughed. He flicked the cap off her shampoo bottle and poured a dollop in his palm. Jasmine; the smell of summer coming. “Close your eyes.”

  “You’re going to wash my hair.”

  “No, I’m going to mow the lawn.”

  She half laughed, half sighed as his fingers made contact with her scalp. He soaped her head and the length of her hair vigorously, keeping her head tilted back so he didn’t get shampoo on her face. Then he rinsed it using the cup. Now for the masterstroke. He filled his palm with conditioner. She knew what was coming and relaxed against his legs. First he toyed with her. Smoothing the conditioner all through her hair, but touching her lightly, fleetingly, the best kind of tease. So good it was starting to get to him too.

  “Oh my God, Sean.”

  The husk in her voice put a hurry up on how bad it was getting to him. He leaned down over her, silky conditioner getting all over his chest. He whispered in her ear, “Wait, it’s better than God, I promise.”

  She groaned and wrapped a hand around his ankle. “Blasphemy.”

  He moved his hands so they cradled her head. “Foreplay. Get ready to see angels.”

  She gasped as he pressed his fingers into her skull, tracing the suture lines. He made small, slow circles and sweeping loops, clockwise then counter clockwise. He pressed firmly against her temples and held still. He traced her hairline from her forehead around to her ears using his knee to support her neck, pressing, holding, pressing, till the points under his fingertip softened.

  She groaned and wrapped her other arm around his leg. “Devil.”

  “Hmm, but you like it.” Fuck, he liked it too. Seeing her this way, unwound; enrapt, so totally open to him.

  “Oh Lord, yes. Don’t stop.”

  He bent forward, lips on her forehead. “Not till you see heaven, baby.”

  Her eyes fluttered closed and she arched, pushing her head further into his hands. He lightly pinched the rind of her ear, kneading it all the way around, then tugged gently on both earlobes. Then back against her skull, he used his thumbs to stroke and circle, press and hold, and felt her grip on his ankle tighten. His own grip on reality was getting increasingly ratty. Watching her react to him, hearing the sounds she was making had him stone hard and aching. He kept his thumbs and fingers moving and felt himself drowning in the sense of her pleasure. Her nipples were tight buds, her breath came with hitches and gasps and she alternately twitched and sagged against his legs.

  The bath was too small for both of them, but not if they were standing. He could turn the shower on to rinse her off. It would be cruel to make her stand, but he could hold her up. She took the decision away from him by lifting her head and turning to face him, water sloshing back and forth. There was a glow in her heavy-lidded eyes he’d never seen before.

  She got to her knees and a lap of water slapped the tiled floor. “You’re my heaven.”

  So why did she look like she was going to damage him? She was an otherworldly creature. Her hair was slicked to her head, rippled from the pathways his fingers carved. Her flesh was rosy and shiny, her lips, red and plush and open, her face flushed. When she crawled toward him, sending more water over the edge, he knew what form that damage would take. In a battle between her mouth and his tattered restraint, he was going to thoroughly enjoy losing. When she closed her mouth around him, he rocked back and smacked his head on the wall. That was an asset under the circumstances. It gave him something else to think about while her lips assaulted his skin and battered his senses. This was her version of a head massage. Fuck—it topped anything he’d done for her.

  “Jesus, Cait!” And bye-bye coherence. Every other thought was jerked out of him, half formed; every sound was a throat deep garble. His fingers were back in her hair. Beautiful. His eyes locked on what she was doing. Hell. When she used her hands as well, he nearly ripped the shower curtain, rail and all, down on them. Holy fuck. She wasn’t going to stop. God. She wasn’t giving him a choice. Water everywhere. He’d had a plan and this wasn’t it. “Cait!” This was more, better, so fucking, Cait, good, fuck, fuck. “Christ!” He saw heaven too. But it wasn’t fluffy clouds and peace shit, it was Caitlyn Mary Ann Murphy.

  He took her to bed with squeaky clean wet hair and pruney skin. With a new plan. Make her climb the walls and scream for him. When she did and they were both spent, she told him Stud’s fishing story. He cursed. Not that something like this was a surprise. This was what offenders who had value in a police investigation got asked to do, and did it to the best of their ability if they wanted to walk away with a fresh start. He wanted that for her, he understood her desire to play the game, but not if the risks were too high, and until he knew the details he couldn’t assess that. Cait stayed calm and spread that cool reasonableness on him. Not that it set.

  When she slept he got up and dressed. Faded, torn trackpants, too short. Cheap runners with the toe hacked out of one, no socks. A black hoodie with the sleeves cut off, and a broken zipper, over a thin stained singlet. He’d told Cait he had an early start, helping on a stake out. It was a half-truth. If she woke and saw him like this he’d need a better cover.

  He hit the streets. His old haunts. The places drug mules and informers, messenger boys and wanna-be hard-arses lurked. He scored, he swigged from a bottle of cheap rum, for the show of it. He talked to whoever would look at him without pulling a knife. He avoided bikies and anyone in obvious colours. He bought two hookers muffins and coffee for breakfast. By 9am he had a fair idea what Stud was up to and it shit all over the definition of managed risk.

  46: Choices

  You’d need a white collar and rosary beads to get behind who felt the most guilt. The only one who showed it was Blue. Tail between her legs, she left the room the second Sean came in.

  Cait’s eyes bugged out when she saw his get-up and yeah there’d be an explanation needed for that, later. She was sitting at the dining table with Stud. Sean brushed a hand over her hair, a vision of her in the bath, wet and abandoned to pleasure momentarily distracting him. He felt the scunge of the night all over his skin. He shouldn’t have touched her. Christ, he wanted a shower.

  He looked at Stud, sprawled at the table. “It’s mean out there. I don’t want her doing this.”

  “Dumpster dive fancy dress was an authorised piece of police business then was it, Sean?”

  “I didn’t say anything about police business. I went for walk.”

  Stud sat stoically still. “Not a fucking walk authorised by me.” He switched his attention to Cait, and Sean moved to catch it. “Don’t take it out on her.”

  Cait’s eyes were at a tennis match, flicking between him and Stud. She settled on Stud. “I’m sorry. I told you I didn’t want to keep it from him.”

  “I told you to try.”

  “Back off, Stud. Let me make it real easy for you. It’s too hot. Cait’s out. We find another way.”

  “There is no other way.” Stud was too fucking cold.

  “We use me instead.”

  “You?” Now he was paying attention.

  “Yeah in all my post-Fetch ‘fucking bastard was a cop we want him dead’ glory. I’m the perfect lure.”

  “How is that any different to every day since Bold Park? You have nothing they want, except blood.”

  Cait swung her face up to him. “What, Sean? What does he mean?”

  Stud shifted his weight forward on the chair, he eagle eyed Cait. “I mean, sweetheart, our boy has been fair dinkum drive-by shootout fodder since Perth. Guess he didn’t tell you that, eh. If he ha
dn’t been shacked up with you, he’d have needed his own safe house.”

  Cait’s eyes came back. She aced him with an expression strongly suggestive of drowning him in the next available body of water. “He did not tell me that.”

  “Ah, Cait. I’m keeping my head down. It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay. You didn’t tell me that.” She turned to Stud. “Which one of us is at the most risk?”

  Stud knew how to pick his battles. He kept his smug mouth shut.

  “Caity, this is what I do.”

  “This is about taking the fall for me or some macho crap like that?”

  He was cranky, filthy and itchy, and wanted this over with, but that made him smile. “No, it’s about me being trained for this shit.” He went down on one knee by her chair. “There’s no good reason for you to be at risk.”

  “Stud says it’s a controlled risk. I won’t be in any danger because I’ve got information they want about the ledgers and the money.”

  “He’s using you.”

  “I’m not stupid. I know that. I’m using him.”

  “Smart girl.”

  Neither of them looked at Stud.

  “Tell me how you think this is going to play out. How Stud told you it would.”

  She nodded. “Your informer network has a lock on Justin. But he needs to show himself. He’s been told I’m refusing to co-operate with the police. That they have nothing on me. He thinks I still have the money and the ledgers. I sit in a cafe. He’ll be told where to find me. I wait. When he shows, Stud’s team grabs him. I don’t even need to speak to him. I’m just the bait.”

  Sean wanted to haul Stud out of his chair and beat him till medical discharge was a distinct possibility. It’d wait. He focused on Cait. “He didn’t tell you about the sharks. Justin’s has his own protection. He won’t be alone. If he’s as important to the identity theft and the money laundering part of the Pariah’s operation as we think he is, they’re not going to give him up without a fight.”

  “Is that what you learned last night?”

  “No.”

  “What then?”

  “There are two agenda’s running. Justin wants the money back. Wacker wants the ledgers and the software code which incriminate the Pariahs.”

  “I don’t see how that changes anything.”

  He looked at Stud. “Tell her. Tell what I found out.”

  “Need to know, Sean.”

  “Yeah, that’s how I thought you’d play it.” He turned back to Cait. He reached for her hand but she shifted so he couldn’t take it. He sighed; he’d have given anything not to have had to tell her this. “Wacker wants to use you to get to me. He’s betting if he nabs you I’ll show myself. So this is over. You’re not involved. We find another way.”

  “By that you mean you want to put yourself out there so the whole world can shoot at you.” She moved her glance to Stud. “That’s what he means, doesn’t he?”

  “Yeah, that’s what he means. It’s not an option.”

  “Ignore him, Cait. This is you and me. It’s my call. You don’t need to worry about what happens next.”

  She stood abruptly and gave him the evil eye. Cranky was catching. “Don’t patronise me.”

  “Cait.” He followed her up.

  “Don’t marginalise me. Don’t tell me what to think or do, or make my decisions for me. Stud said the risk was minimal. You just explained how the risk to you is a whole wild ocean bigger. You come in here all undercovered up and suddenly it’s all about what you think, what you want. You haven’t asked me what I want.”

  He frowned at her. What wasn’t she getting here? “I’m not trying to manage you. This is not like asking if you want steak or pasta for dinner.”

  “No. This is about my life. Mine. Not yours.”

  “Fuck, Cait.” He dragged the hoodie off and it threw over a chair. It needed to be burned, like the rest of what he wore. “I’m aware of that. In case you missed it, that’s what I’m trying to protect.”

  “Don’t do this to me, Sean. You don’t get to do my penance for me. You don’t get to put yourself on the line for my crime. If I don’t do this I’m back to needing a lawyer and worrying about how to get clear of all this.”

  “It’s an arbitrary deal, Cait. It’s not the only way to go. My bet is you’ve already done enough to get a fresh start out of this. He didn’t tell you that.”

  She turned to Stud. “Is Sean right?”

  Stud rubbed his jaw. “It’s not Sean’s call.”

  He rounded on Stud. “You bastard. You can fix this so she’d not in danger.”

  “All right, let’s humour that idea for a minute.” Stud crossed his leg, ankle on knee, as though this was a social gathering and he was up for a good chinwag. “We put you out there instead of Cait and sure as the Pope’s a Catholic you’re a dead man. You’d have been a dead man back in Perth if they could’ve gotten to you.”

  He didn’t look at Cait, but he heard her gasp. He knew she gripped the back of a chair. “Fuck, Stud. No. I can handle it. We can handle it. With the right back-up it’s another day at the office.”

  She had her hand on his arm. Light and cool. “No. This is my decision.”

  He took hold of both her arms and drew her to him. “No, Cait.”

  She shook him off and stepped away. “What part of this being my decision don’t you understand?”

  “Jesus Christ, Cait. This isn’t a freaking democracy. This is gang war.” She needed to do what he asked. She turned her back on him. Pig-headed, wilful, beautiful bitch, she was going to carve his chest in half.

  Stud was on his feet. “You heard your woman, even if you didn’t fucking hear me.”

  He turned on Stud. “I hear you. I hear you want to send a civilian out to do police work.” The table between them had to go. He moved around it, same time as Stud stepped clear. “I see you dangle that freedom carrot but keep her ignorant of the real risks. I smell your rat fucking cunning and I can’t believe you won’t let her walk away and use me instead.”

  Stud was up in his face. This was a replay of the night in the hotel. She nearly got killed that night. He couldn’t lose this time.

  “I’m not sending you into the line of fire. Before you think about putting yourself there you should know you have a tail.”

  “You stuck a bloody tail on me?” Was Stud lying? Apart from last night, he’d been laying low. Deliberately being careful. He’d have been aware of having an extra shadow. He looked for Cait. She was in the doorway to the backyard; Blue was leaning against her leg. Had he simply been too distracted to notice? It was possible. He shook his head, he wasn’t ready for Stud to shove him.

  “You’re a predictable bastard.”

  He stepped back; Stud advanced and he got shoved again. “I could see this coming.”

  Sean knew what this was. Stud was trying to break him, make him lash out and this time he wouldn’t get away with it.

  “Your escort has instructions to make life hard for you.” Another shove. He kept his fists down, banked his adrenaline and backed up. “You do anything stupid now,” another shove, this one more like a punch, and he moved back with its force. “I’ll have you held for interfering with an investigation.” Which is exactly what Stud wanted. Stud stepped into him again. “You hear me, Sean?”

  He let the man’s ugly tea breath flood his face. He held his ground, but every instinct, every sense was screaming at him to take Stud down. “I hear you and we’re done.”

  “Good.”

  Stud’s weight shifted onto his back foot and Sean moved in close, grabbed a handful of t-shirt. “You and me.” He shoved Stud away. “We’re done. I’m out. I quit.”

  “You can’t fucking quit.”

  They both knew it was a stupid thing to do. They both knew he’d do it for Cait. It didn’t solve his immediate problem. If he really had a tail, they’d still be on him and if Stud wanted him detained he didn’t need to be his superior officer to make it happen.
But if he quit, no one was responsible for what he did and they couldn’t stop him protecting her.

  He broke eye contact with Stud and went to Cait. “Baby, pack a bag, we’re getting out of here.” He’d put her somewhere not even Stud could find her. He put his arm around her shoulders. Bridie would organise a lawyer and he’d have Cait’s freedom fixed without any threat to her safety.

  Behind them Stud said, “Don’t do this, Sean.”

  She turned her body into his and brought her hand to his face. He only got sorrow from her touch. “I love you, Sean. I understand what you’re trying to do.”

  “Caity.”

  “You can’t make my decisions for me. I get that it’s risky. But I trust Stud.”

  Was he hearing her correctly? She was voting with Stud. She was fucking abandoning him.

  “I can’t go with you. I have to see this through.”

  He dropped his head, brought their foreheads together. “You don’t trust me to know what’s right for you?”

  She raked her fingers through his hair. “Not in this. You’d risk yourself for me and that’s not going to happen.”

  She moved to kiss him and he pulled back. He wanted to put his shoulder to her stomach, flip her over his back and carry her out of here, away from this horror show. “I can’t let you do this.”

  “I’ve made my decision.”

  He shrugged her hands away. “Then you do it without me.”

  She gasped. “No.” He had to brace himself against the shock and hurt in her voice, the wounded look in her eyes. She had to know he was serious about this. It was the last card he had left to play.

  “You’re safer here, Cait. He’s one man.”

  They both ignored Stud.

  “Come with me, baby.”

  She dropped her head and Blue gave a confused whine and came to lie at her feet. “I can’t.”

  “Look at me, Cait.”

  She lifted her face and her eyes were fragile frost on a cold bottle on a hot day. He had to show her he meant what he said. He palmed her cheek. “You don’t have to do this and you can’t protect me.”