Rogue

by Izzy Gomez

  Her hand slipped free to wrap around his wrist but she neither urged him to touch her harder nor pushed him away. Her squeezes gave him an extra gage of how much she enjoyed his strokes.

  When he scraped his teeth across her shoulder, she gasped and squeezed his wrist so tight she might cut off an important blood supply. But he still had blood going to his most vital organ, so who cared?

  "That's not…ahhhh."

  He switched the angle of his thrusts and apparently caught something good inside. She cried out with every slide. Her body tightened on his cock. Her foot rubbed up and down his calf. Her hand moved to his ass and pulled him as tight as he could get.

  His thrusts picked up speed. He couldn't hold back. The end was in sight and holy hot damn she felt good. So hot and tight and wet and all the things a woman should be.

  She cried his name as she came, nails gouging his hip. Painful pleasure surged up his spine. One more thrust. Two. Three.

  Colored lights burst behind his closed eyes. Pleasure exploded, starting in his cock and ripping through his body. He shoved deep again. Oh hell yeah.

  He let go.

  Limbs too heavy to move, he held her against him, face buried in her hair. Gradually, she relaxed in his arms. She might have fallen asleep. Hell, maybe she'd passed out from pleasure.

  On a purely sexual level, it hadn't been the best of his life. But hot damn. He'd never had sex this intense. This emotionally shattering. He was pretty sure he knew what it meant.

  He was madly in love with her.

  Every time Amanda sat in Helen Fischer's kitchen she was struck with serious kitchen envy. The open, sunny space made Amanda wish she'd chosen a career in something more lucrative than civil service. Trophy wife, perhaps.

  Amanda helped herself to a Diet Coke from the beautiful stainless steel Whirlpool Gold French door, bottom freezer refrigerator–the exact model she'd pick if she won the lottery and could renovate. She'd swear her soda tasted better coming from this refrigerator.

  "How was your doctor appointment today?" Popping the top on her can, she faced Gabby over the wide breakfast bar. That had shiny marble countertops. They'd probably think she'd lost it if she started stroking the counters. But they were so pretty.

  "I'll live." Gabby's voice lacked her usual pep. She was a perfect trauma nurse, able to stay upbeat through anything. Except being raped by her best friend's brother.

  "Will you heal?" Amanda asked.

  "Well enough." Gabby kept her eyes on her hands, folded on the counter.

  Amanda wasn't used to having to hold up the conversation. That was Gabby's job.

  Even if he hadn't killed three people, even if he hadn't ripped apart their already screwed up family, Amanda would forever hate Todd for dulling the shine in Gabby's eyes.

  Dammit. She didn’t know how to do this. It was why she did well in homicide. Dead victims had no emotional needs.

  She took the stool next to Gabby's and swiveled to face her. "God knows I'm not the best at emoting. But please don't shut down and not talk about this."

  Gabby smiled. It was good to see, even if it wasn't as wide as usual. As Before.

  "Did you ask the doctor about counseling?" The words stuck in Amanda's throat. If the tables were turned, she would hate the idea of talking to a stranger about something so intimate.

  But she also knew it was the only way Gabby would recover. Rape wasn't something to face alone.

  Gabby still wouldn't meet Amanda's eyes. "Not yet."

  "Gab."

  Gabby finally looked up. "I will. I promise." She took Amanda's hand and squeezed.

  The mark around Gabby's wrist from where Todd tied her up had faded to a sickly yellow-green. Another week and it would be gone. At least the bruises healed quickly.

  "I know you're trying to help," Gabby said softly.

  For the millionth time in the past week, Amanda felt useless. Which made her itch to get up and move and do something. Her toes wiggled inside her shoes. Thankfully, Gabby couldn't see the extent of her discomfort. "I could introduce you to the Victim's Advocate. She works through the DA's office, so I don't know her that well. But she has a great reputation."

  "Thanks. I have her number. And I was going to call the Counseling Center. We refer people there all the time."

  Of course Gabby knew the resources. Duh. "Promise you'll call."

  Gabby grabbed Amanda's can and took a gulp. "I promise. I know I can't do this on my own. I'm just not ready yet."

  Amanda retrieved her can and started to take a drink, then set it down. Gabby had drained it, the sneak. At least that hadn't changed. "I know I'm not anyone's idea of a perfect shoulder to cry on, but I'm here."

  "Your shoulders are great. Otherwise I'd have kicked you to the best friend curb years ago."

  Amanda laughed. "Thanks, I guess." She went back to the refrigerator for another soda. "You have until Thanksgiving. If you're still moping over turkey, I'll carry you to an appointment myself."

  Gabby chuckled and it sounded so like the real Gabby–the Before Gabby–it made Amanda's chest ache. She remained facing the refrigerator so Gabby wouldn't see her closed eyes or pained expression. The burning behind her lids would go away in a second.

  "Something else you need in there?" Gabby finally asked.

  "Dinner." Amanda grabbed the first thing she saw, an acorn squash. Perfect. She'd roast it, whip up a salad, and they'd have dinner. She'd stopped by Freddy’s on the way to get custard. Because every pity party deserved decadent chocolate, and she and Gabby hadn't done that yet. God knew they were due.

  Amanda set the squash and the soda on the counter, the drink safely out of Gabby's reach, and went in search of a knife. Like everything else in the kitchen, Helen's knife set was beautiful. Was it pathetic if Amanda drooled, just a little?

  An image flashed through her mind. Her living room. Her favorite sandoku knife. Pressed to her throat. Todd's whisper in her ear. Her whimpers.

  Her breath came a little faster. Sweat popped up at the base of her skull. She couldn't move. The knife wobbled in her hand and she tightened her grip.

  "Amanda? You OK?"

  "Fine." She shook her head to clear the memory. "Just tired."

  "Maybe you shouldn't be playing with sharp objects." Helen wandered into the kitchen, stopping at the counter where Amanda had left the squash. She held out her hand.

  Knowing better than to argue with her surrogate mother, Amanda handed over the knife.

  Smiling sweetly, Helen took it. Amanda resumed her seat next to Gabby and watched as Helen began preparing.

  Watched as Helen drank from Amanda's soda. A nice long drink. The can tinked as she set it down. Nearly empty.

  Like mother, like daughter.

  As Amanda rose to get herself a third soda, her phone rang. Probably Greg. She pulled it out and checked the display.

  Unknown.

  Her skin prickled. Chills crept up the back of her neck.

  "I gotta take this." Amanda gestured with her phone to the French doors leading out the back.

  "Don't be long." Helen tapped the squash with the knife. "I need you to tell me what to do with this."

  "Slice it in half and get rid of the seeds. Heat the oven to four hundred. Melt half a stick of butter and mix it with a quarter cup brown sugar. I'll be back before you need to do anything else." Amanda stepped into the cool night air and shut the doors behind her.

  Only then did she slide her thumb across the screen to answer the call. "Schreiber." Her voice came out too cautious. Dammit, she needed more authority.

  "Have you made up your mind?"

  Todd's familiar voice sounded foreign. Goosebumps popped up along her arms. She should have grabbed her sweater.

  Yeah, that's why she was chilled. Short sleeves.

  "You can ask a million times. The answer won't change."

  "I've got a nice letter all written. Ready to send to your bosses. It tells them all the things Hank did." He sounded matter-of-fact. Like
they were discussing last night's sitcoms. No big deal.

  "All the things you knew and didn't report."

  "Go ahead." There was her confidence. Completely fake, but he didn't need to know she was trembling inside. "The word of a rapist and killer versus a respected detective." If he did it, she wouldn't be able to lie to the Captain. She'd admit to it. But again, Todd didn't have to know.

  "It's a mark on your impeccable reputation. Makes people start to wonder."

  His quiet menace, hidden behind the façade of good ol' Todd, was infinitely more terrifying than if he'd been yelling or threatening. Hell, it was almost as terrifying as when he'd held the knife to her throat. Of its own accord, her hand moved to the butt of her gun.

  "Don't worry. I'll send a copy to your boyfriend. You wouldn't want secrets between you." Bitterness and disdain coated his words.

  "Make all the threats you want. I'm still not helping you." Hyperalert, her eyes scanned the row of bushes along the edge of the Fischer's property. There were too many shadows he could hide in; she was too exposed. But she absolutely couldn't have this conversation in front of Gabby.

  "No one has to know."

  "I'd know. And what would stop you from coming back in a year and threatening to tell how I helped you?"

  "My word."

  Hysterical laughter burbled from her throat. "Yeah, that's worth a lot. What do you think I can even do for you? The entire city is looking for you. We have loads of evidence. People sorta notice when you kill three people. And we cops, we tend to report it when someone ties us up in our own home and holds us against our will."

  "You can get me out of the country." Again with the logical, nothing-to-see-here-folks tone.

  "Sure. No one would find it at all suspicious if I buy a plane ticket to Mexico right now. In a male name."

  "I don't know. You're the cop. You know how people get caught, so you should know better than anyone how not to get caught."

  The bushes rustled. In a flash, she unholstered her gun and aimed.

  "Believe it or not, I don't spend a lot of time thinking about how I would get away with murder." Rabbit. False alarm. Still, she kept her gun in hand.

  "Then make the evidence disappear. Enough so a good lawyer could make enough reasonable doubt that they couldn't convict me."

  She probably could. And never have a solid night sleep for the rest of her life. "No. Fucking. Way."

  "You did it for Hank." Rage simmered beneath his words.

  She was struck between wanting to cry about who he'd become and wanting to scream at him for what he'd done. And underneath it all was the fear.

  Was that another rabbit? Rabid squirrels? The damn wind? He could be in the neighbor's yard, right now.

  Her spine straightened and she raised her gun, trying to see past the shrubbery into the next yard.

  No, it couldn't be him. She would hear him talking. She had to stay calm. Use logic. He had to be at least a few houses away.

  Didn't he?

  Sweat popped up along her hairline and on her upper lip. Icy fear snaked across her skin.

  "It doesn't matter what I did for Hank. He didn't kill anyone. And he never once laid a finger on my best friend."

  Todd's deep breathing came through the phone, a grating sound. "Fine," he finally said. "You refuse to help me. Is that your final answer?"

  "It was my final answer the first time you asked." How many times was he going to make her say it?

  " I guarantee, you'll regret this."

  "Send the fucking letter, I—"

  Her phone beeped as the call disconnected.

  Chapter 28

  Mentally exhausted and emotionally empty, Amanda wanted to drop down on the grass, bury her face in her hands and have a nice long cry. But she was an idiot if she stayed in the yard, exposed. She'd been an idiot to come out here in the first place. But she hadn't been thinking.

  Gabby and Helen both watched her cautiously as she closed the kitchen doors behind her. Gabby looked wary; Helen looked motherly and concerned. Amanda wanted to secure the doors with iron bars and bulletproof glass. She settled for closing the Venetian blinds as she fought the urge to run to Helen and throw herself into the older woman's arms. Helen was the closest thing Amanda had to a real mother. She really needed one right now.

  Instead, she wiggled the phone before putting it in her pocket. "Work stuff."

  Gabby's eyes narrowed. She knew Amanda was lying.

  Helen studied her, expression mirroring her daughter’s. Finally she stepped to the side. "Well, come tell me what to do to this squash. Dazzle us with your culinary expertise."

  Amanda made quick work of the squash, losing herself in the simple task of drizzling the vegetable with the sugared butter and sliding it in the oven. Side by side, she and Helen prepared a salad while Gabby sipped a soda and watched. She'd finally gotten her own can.

  Salads done, Amanda and Helen sat on either side of Gabby and dug in while the squash baked.

  After a few bites, Gabby kicked Amanda. "So, was your 'work stuff' a call from Greg?" She said his name in a sing-song voice.

  Boy gossip. Nostalgia washed through her. Lifetimes ago, the girls they'd once been had sat in this kitchen, gossiping about boys. And, because Helen made to-die-for homemade ice cream and because she was cooler than any of the other moms, they'd let her listen in on the gossip.

  "No." And for a few minutes, Amanda wouldn't think about who the call was from.

  "How are things with him?" Gabby's voice was teasing.

  Amanda's cheeks heated. Stupid blushing.

  Helen chuckled and Gabby pointed at Amanda with her fork. "I thought so. There's something a little different in you the last week."

  Amanda forced herself not to squirm. “Exhaustion? Stress?”

  Gabby laughed. "You always have those. This is a good thing, doofus."

  "I know. I'm not good at talking about it. You know that."

  "Do I ever." Gabby rolled her eyes. "If it makes any difference, he's got my seal of approval."

  Amanda shot Gabby a questioning look. “When have you met him?”

  "He and Al came by earlier today. Had a few questions." She forked up a too-big bite of salad and forced it into her mouth.

  "He didn't mention it." Not that he had to.

  "I think it was Al's idea."

  "He's cute," Helen said.

  "And he seems like a great guy. A keeper," Gabby said.

  Amanda wasn't inclined to disagree on either count. But she didn't know how to answer so she focused on the smells filling the room. Butter and sugar and caramel and autumn.

  Perfect.

  "You're staying with him, right?"

  Judging from the temperature of her cheeks, she must be purple by now. "I can't stay at my place until we…" Her words trailed off. She didn't want to say Todd's name.

  Gabby's eyes dropped to her salad. "Catch him. Todd. You can say it." She stabbed a cucumber slice with approximately seven thousand times the necessary force.

  Helen laid a hand over her daughter's. Amanda tensed, fingers digging into her thigh, as she waited for someone to break the silence.

  This really fucking sucked.

  Gabby shook her head as if shaking off a memory. “I won’t ask if you’re sleeping with him." Her voice was overly cheerful. “I know you don’t want to answer in front of my mom. And we know anyway.”

  Amanda needed a drink. She’d get another soda. Maybe she’d get to drink this one.

  “So instead I’ll ask if you’re in love with him.”

  Caught off guard by the question, Amanda’s foot caught in the rung of her chair and she stumbled, banging her knee on the corner of the island. Pain shot from her kneecap up her thigh and down her shin. She steadied herself on the counter and put all her weight on her left leg.

  “Am I what?” She wasn’t. Was she?

  The panic making it hard to breathe was from hitting her knee, not from the idea of love.

  “I thi
nk that’s a yes,” Helen said in an exaggerated whisper.

  Amanda limped to the refrigerator. Damn that hurt. Yay, another bruise. “No, it’s not a yes.”

  “So you’re not?” Gabby asked.

  “I didn’t say that.” Amanda pulled out a can and hobbled back to her chair. “Honestly, I haven’t had time to give it much consideration. I like him. A lot.” A whole hell of a lot. But like and lust weren’t the same as love.

  “Fair enough,” Helen said. “Keep us posted.”

  Amanda laughed. Helen’s tone was as if they were setting the date for a dinner party.

  “Speaking of things keeping you busy,” Gabby said, “how are you handling things?”

  This conversation was hitting all the highlights. Amanda inspected her salad, as if the greens might give her a revelation.

  “Are you letting yourself grieve?” Gabby’s tone was somber.

  “Just because you weren’t close with Karen or Hank doesn’t mean you’re not feeling loss,” Helen added.

  “I know.” What did it say about her that she didn’t particularly feel the need to mourn their losses? She was sad for her dad and Emily, but not for herself.

  “And your brother,” Helen added. “I know it can’t be easy for you to accept that...” Her voice trailed off as she again reached for Gabby’s hand.

  Snippets of her recent conversation with Todd flipped through Amanda’s head. “That he’s batshit insane?” she mumbled.

  “For starters.” The bitterness in Gabby’s voice matched the bitterness eating at Amanda every time she thought of the brother she’d loved.

  “Are you dealing with it, Amanda?” Helen asked. She couldn’t have sounded more like a sternly concerned mother if she tried. Amanda almost smiled.

  “I don’t have time right now. We’re focused on finding him.”

  “If I have to promise to get help, so do you,” Gabby said.

  “I know. I will. Once we find him, I’ll make an appointment with the department shrink.” Just saying it made her skin twitch. She’d met with Dr. Bridges a few years back when a particularly gruesome murder case gave her nightmares. Talking about her deepest, most intimate feelings with an essential stranger was not her idea of fun. But Gabby and Helen were right; it would take more than time to heal these wounds.