by Izzy Gomez
“Oh my God.”
He'd been so absorbed in his memory of that horrible day, he’d almost forgotten Amanda.
“Over a baseball team?” Her voice was as incredulous as her wide-eyed, turbulent expression.
He shook his head but didn’t answer. “My dad immediately stepped away from the guy who hit him and tried to talk Gorkey down. My dad’s real good that way. Stays calm when the rest of the world is freaking out. But Gorkey wasn’t listening.” The following moments were hazy in Greg’s memory. He’d never been able to remember exactly how things escalated.
“I don’t remember all of what they said. One minute my dad's trying to talk this kid into putting away his gun, the next my brother is on the sidewalk, bleeding.”
He started at the feel of Amanda’s hand covering his. It was strong and solid as she stroked him. He laced their fingers, needing her touch. The small contact calmed him, soothed a place inside that was still raw from Phil’s death.
“Gorkey shot him twice, once in the chest and once in the stomach.” He swallowed hard. His throat, hell, his whole body ached. Memories were crazy that way. “It was a .45, and it ripped through him. He was probably dead before he hit the ground. I didn’t know what to do, but I’d been around my dad enough to know I had to stop the bleeding. So I dropped down next to him and tried to cover it with my hands. Like it did any good.”
His attempts had been a joke. Blood gushed out of those wounds faster than any geyser. But he’d had to do something. He’d never forget that sense of panic. His big brother, his idol, was going to die if he didn’t help.
He'd felt that same panic, that choking sense of helplessness, when Michael Denney was killed. He'd remembered Phil's death countless times over the years, but until he'd tried to stop the blood oozing from Michael's multiple gunshots, he'd never truly relived it. That night, Greg had looked into Michael's eyes and seen Phil. They were both just kids.
He'd asked to leave the Gang Task Force the next day.
“That’s the only time in my life I’ve seen my dad freeze. He just stood there, staring at Phil. Like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing." The memories of Michael were still too fresh. In comparison, it was almost easy to talk about Phil.
“Gorkey and his friends ran, of course. A couple cops came out of the bar since they’d heard the shots. So they took off after the guys. And I—“ Emotion choked off his words. So much for easy. It still hurt so much. Most days, the pain was minimal. Something he carried with him but barely noticed. But when he let himself remember, his heart was as raw as it was fifteen years ago.
Time didn’t heal every wound.
“I sat there, thinking maybe I could save my brother. And hating myself for wearing that damn t-shirt.”
“I don’t…" Amanda’s voice was barely a whisper. "I wish I knew what to say.” She cupped his cheek and he leaned into her hand. It cooled his hot cheek.
As painful as it was to relive that day, it felt right to tell her. Felt right to share this part of himself with her. He’d never told a woman about Phil before. At most he mentioned his brother was dead. But he never discussed why or how.
“Tell me you haven’t been blaming yourself all these years,” Her serious eyes studied his face. “You know it wasn’t about baseball, right?”
He nodded. “We found out my dad busted Gorkey and his brother for robbery a few years back. They were affiliated with a gang, and Gorkey lost his kid over it. When he got out, he targeted my dad. Decided since my dad took away his kid, he’d take away my dad’s. It could just as easily have been me.” A shudder trickled down his spine. That thought never failed to chill him.
“Is that why you became a cop? Because your brother couldn’t?”
Uncanny how well she understood him. “I’d been thinking about journalism. Gonna be an investigative reporter, uncover things the cops couldn’t because they had to follow procedure.” Ah, the naïveté of youth. “After Phil died, I quit school for a semester and went a little nuts.” He’d even started a misguided affair with Melissa, Phil’s would-be fiancée. Despair had bonded them. “Around Thanksgiving my mom threatened to kick me out of the house if I didn’t get my act together. So I went back to school, got my degree, then applied to the Academy in Indianapolis.”
"And you worked with gangs because of your brother."
Again, she got him in a way no one else did. Even his parents didn't understand his need to fight back against the gangs. Dad was the opposite. Couldn't handle the gang cases anymore. They hit too close to home. "It was a way of continuing to get justice for Phil, I guess."
"I heard about what happened with that kid. Shot in front of you. Is that why you left?" She squeezed his hand tightly. The small connection lessened the burn in his chest that came with talking about Michael.
"It was like with Phil. I tried, but I couldn't stop the bleeding. And Michael was even more of a kid. Fifteen. He kept his nose clean, but his older brother pissed off the wrong people so they came after the whole family." Fittingly, the people Michael’s brother pissed off were from the same gang Gorkey ran with. It all came fucking full circle. He'd never told his parents that part.
"I got hit in the arm with a ricochet. Bled a lot, but no real damage. Didn't even notice it until someone pointed out my shirt was soaked." He'd tried so hard to stop Michael's bleeding. But the kid was shot seven times.
Amanda squeezed his hand hard and lifted it to press a kiss to his knuckles. Need shot through him. He flexed his arm to keep from jerking her onto his lap. "You do realize homicide isn't much better than gangs?"
Greg tried to stay focused on the conversation but suddenly all he could see was her mouth. He needed to taste her. Needed to touch her more. "I know. But I needed a change. Something not so close to home. I've done what I can for ridding the world of gang bangers. It's time for me to move on."
It was time for them to move on from this conversation. "And that's another answer to your question of why now. Because I'm moving forward. I want new things in my life." Might as well just throw it out.
"And one of the things I want is you."
Chapter 13
Greg looked like he wanted to eat her up. Or pounce on her. Amanda wasn't sure when it happened, but in the past few minutes the conversation and mood had taken an abrupt turn.
She stood and tugged on their joined hands. “Let’s go into the living room.”
She really wanted to take him to the bedroom, strip off their clothes and spend the night helping each other forget. But she also wanted to enjoy the torture of seduction.
He sat on her overstuffed, body-swallowing couch, not bothering to look around at her sparse décor and drab furniture. All his attention focused on her. Terrifying.
And so damn hot.
He tugged her hand until she sprawled across his chest, his hard thigh trapped between her legs.
Damn, that felt good. She pressed against him, trying to relieve some of the ache.
For moments that stretched into forever, she traced patterns across his solid chest, his hand stroking gently up and down her back. She laid her cheek on his chest and listened to the drumming of his heart.
He slipped a finger beneath her shirt and traced a line along her skin. She shuddered, causing her to press harder onto his thigh. She couldn’t stop herself from moaning.
She felt more than heard the chuckle vibrating through his chest.
As one hand slid over the small of her back, he used the other to tilt her face to him.
“You’re really sexy, you know that?" He smiled gently but flames danced behind the blue of his eyes.
She managed not to snort.
“Don’t try to tell me you’re not.” He pulled her leg against his groin so she could feel the solid ridge beneath his jeans.
Her breath caught as heat radiated through her whole body. She practically vibrated from how much she wanted him.
Before she could form a response, he captured her mouth. He didn’t wa
ste time teasing and coaxing. He took.
His lips and tongue covered hers, owning the kiss. She responded instantly, meeting his kiss, rocking against him, trying to give them both relief. She needed to get closer. Needed to feel how much he wanted her.
His hands shoved beneath her shirt, stroking bare skin. She shivered as he pulled the garment over her head and tossed it to the floor. A twist of his fingers and her bra fell away.
He moved to her breasts, pinching one nipple between his fingers, the other between his teeth. Desperate, she dragged her nails through his hair and moaned his name.
Had it been only this morning she'd resolved to keep her distance? This was still a bad idea. But a bad idea that felt so good. In a way she hadn't felt good in far too long.
Needing to feel his hot skin against hers, she yanked his shirt from his waistband. When her burning skin touched his, they both moaned. He kissed her fiercely, and electricity and desire burned through her.
He tugged at her nipple, pulling a cry from her throat. She rode his thigh, knowing it wouldn’t be long before she lost control. Still half-clothed, she hovered on the edge of orgasm. Her body heated, pooled, rushed, dampened, ached. She needed. She needed so much.
As much as her body ached to come, she didn’t want to go alone. She wanted him inside her, wanted to feel his answering pleasure when she found hers. She slid her hand down his smooth chest to tug at his belt.
His hands moved to her shoulders. Pushed her back. He ripped his mouth free.
Dazed, she couldn’t quite process what he’d done. Her hand continued to work the leather strip from its loops.
He watched her with unfocused eyes. Seeing he was as turned on as she made her own hunger soar. She ground against his thigh, both wanting the release and to savor the sweetness of teetering on the edge.
His hand wrapped around her wrist and he pulled her arm back. “We need to stop,” he said, breathless. He contradicted his words by shifting his hips to rub his erection against her thigh.
“No we don’t." Amanda tried to free herself from his grasp so she could continue undressing him, but he was too strong. He brought her hand to his chest and held it against his hot skin. When she tried to tease his nipple, he curled her hand into a fist and covered it with his own, holding her still.
Confused and needy, she lifted her eyes to his. They still flamed bright blue, were still glazed with lust.
“If we’re going to refrain from having sex tonight, then yes, we do.” His whole face was rigid, jaw tight, eyes tense.
“Then let’s have sex tonight.” Seemed pretty simple. To hell with what she’d said to Gabby earlier about not having a fling with a co-worker.
To further her argument, she rubbed her thigh against him.
He closed his eyes and groaned. “I don’t think I need to tell you how much I want to.”
With her free hand, she cupped him, drawing another moan from his throat. He was thick and ready and damn she wanted him.
“So we’re in agreement." She was all for foreplay, but they were both plenty turned on.
“As much as I want it…" He sighed, opening his eyes. The flame still burned, but he’d turned it down a notch, despite how he throbbed beneath her hand. “As much as we both want it, we can’t. Not tonight.”
Even with the lusty fog receding, she didn’t understand the problem. “I’ve got condoms." She tried to get up. It was past time to take this to the bedroom.
He anchored her to him with a hand on her hip. “Shit,” he ground out behind clenched teeth. “Don’t move like that. You’re killing me.”
“If you’d move with me..." She smiled at him through lowered lashes but panic bubbled at the edge of her mind. Was she making a fool of herself? He was turning her down, repeatedly, and she kept begging. His body clearly wanted to fuck her, but his mind apparently disagreed.
He moved her off him, setting her next to him on the sofa. Not looking at her, he picked up her shirt and handed it her. “Put this back on.”
Humiliation seared through her. She’d thrown herself at him and now he couldn’t even look at her.
She turned her back and pulled on her shirt. Remained facing away from him. She didn’t want to see his face as he tried to let her down gently.
His fingers brushing aside her hair made her jump. His lips pressing against the sensitive skin of her neck made her shiver. Goose bumps spread down her arms. She tried to turn but he slid his arms around her waist from behind, holding her in place.
“I fully intend to have sex with you." His breath teased her ear as he spoke. She shivered at the implication of his words. “Believe me, it’s taking all my self control to keep that from happening tonight.”
Her chest was too tight to respond. Did she get angry he’d turned her on and intended to walk away or feel relieved he wasn’t rejecting her? At least they were equally uncomfortable.
“But I don’t want this to be a fling. Not only do I find you gorgeous and sexy and want to spend hours tasting every inch of your skin-“
His words conjured images of them spread on her bed, him sucking her nipples while she gasped his name. The throb between her legs intensified.
“I want to know you. I like you, and it’s been a long time since I could say that.”
Her body was disappointed but her mind got excited. She wasn't gorgeous, but enough men hit on her that she knew she was attractive. But since Zack and she broke up, she hadn’t met anyone who actually wanted to get to know her.
Her stomach felt unsettled but she wasn’t sure if it came from anticipation or abject terror.
Greg tugged her shoulder and she turned. Their eyes met and her skin sizzled. His eyes no longer flamed but they definitely smoldered.
She liked that he couldn’t look at her without heat.
“I don’t wanna fuck this up by...well, by fucking." He laughed dryly.
She smiled. “I’m not sure I agree with your reasoning, but I’m not going to tell you it’s tonight or never.”
He raised his eyebrows, expression hopeful. “Promise?”
She nodded, trying not to be too disappointed he would leave soon. She was too keyed up to sleep, too keyed up to veg out in front of trashy TV. Too keyed up to do anything but imagine all the things they could do if he weren’t such an annoyingly decent guy.
He grinned, his face losing ten years. “I guarantee, I’ll make it worth the wait,” he murmured, feathering his lips against hers.
Her stomach dipped and swayed. How did he expect her to let him leave after that promise?
He nibbled at her lower lip, teasing her with the tip of his tongue.
Amanda closed her eyes and sighed.
Abruptly, Greg jerked back. “OK, not going there again." He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Traced his finger along her cheekbone. “This is looking better.”
She’d been so caught up in him, she’d almost forgotten about her bruised face. “Good.”
He pressed a kiss to her wrist. “And despite an excess of sexual frustration, I’m glad I was in the neighborhood.”
She smiled. When was the last time she’d smiled this much in one evening when not a single one was forced? “Me too. And the sexual frustration is entirely your own fault.”
“And now,” he pressed his lips to hers in a brief but still breath-stealing kiss, “I’m leaving before I change my mind."
Before either of them could move, an electronic trill cut through the silence. It took Amanda a second to realize it was her cell phone signaling a text message.
“I should check that.”
Greg nodded. They looked at each other for another long, heavy moment. To hell with her phone. When he started leaning toward her, she leaned toward him. His lips brushed hers and she sighed.
Before she could sink deeper, he jerked back. “Get your phone. I need to go.” He shoved to his feet and retrieved her cell for her from the desk.
She unlocked the darkened screen and tapped the screen to b
ring up the new text message. She started to skim but after the first few words she froze. She felt like she'd been dunked in an icebath.
backstabbing bitch got what she deserved–stabbed in the back just like she did to me. then I fucked her good. poetic justice.
She read it again. And again. Twice more. No, it couldn’t be. It was a sick joke. Why was he sending it to her?
“Amanda?” Greg’s voice, low and worried, cut into her thoughts. “What’s wrong?”
She must look as panicked as she felt. She opened her mouth to respond but no words came. So she extended the phone.
As his eyes scanned the screen, his face grew hard. “Shit. This has to be him. We haven’t released how she died, or that she was sexually assaulted. No one could know this except the person who did it.”
She wrapped her arms around herself to keep from trembling. Dammit, she shouldn’t be this spooked. She was a cop. She knew how to take care of herself.
But how did he know her cell phone number?
Greg pulled her against him and she went willingly. She rested her cheek against his chest and tried to find comfort. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever fix this. They’d catch whoever did it and put him away for life and it still wouldn’t fix things. Because this was her family.
“You need to be careful,” he murmured against her hair. “We already suspected someone in your family. Now he’s targeting you.”
Her family. Right. That’s how he got her number. Hank had her number.
She untangled herself from Greg's arms and checked the display. "He has Karen's phone." She shook her phone at him. "This message came from her phone."
"We'll get a location on it. Maybe someone saw him."
Because a guy sending a text message from an iPhone really narrowed down the suspect pool. Even if they could find a witness, it didn’t make it any less freaky that her brother was likely a murderer. Or that he was targeting her.
She forced herself to step away from Greg. “I wonder what he meant by 'I fucked her good.'”
