by K. A. Tucker
“I thought you needed to go home?” His blue eyes dance as they take me in.
I smile, my hands rubbing the contours of his chest that I so desperately want to spend the night with. “I just wanted to make sure you knew how I felt about you.”
He leans down and matches my kiss. Somewhere behind us, I assume Warner is watching.
■ ■ ■
“Are you insane?” I yell into my phone, kicking my heels off. I figure if my handler’s about to tear me a new asshole and get me kicked off the case, I should go down swinging.
“What the hell was I supposed to do? The last thing I heard was that 24 made you in the club. Then nothing. Fucking static!”
I frown. “What? You mean you couldn’t hear us after we parked?” I quickly play the damning conversation back in my head, trying to remember what was said and when.
“I don’t know if it was because of the underground vents, but I couldn’t hear a thing. I thought . . .” Warner’s words trail off.
“You thought my cover was blown.” It all makes sense now.
“Yeah. That’s the only reason I would risk the case. You know that.”
I flop into my couch, feeling the lead weight float away. They didn’t catch Luke’s comment about the gardens. “I get it. Sorry for yelling at you.”
“Did he say anything important?”
“Nope.” I kick off my heels. “Just small talk. Sorry.”
“You kidding me? We got some good intel tonight. I called one of our translators and had him listen to the recording right away. Basically, 24 is going into business with someone else and it involves SUVs. The Russians are pissed.”
“A deal with 36, maybe?” Shit, I’m not supposed to know that. Luke only told me about that possibility on the yacht that night. I quickly add, “They’ve been spending a lot of time together, so that would make sense.”
“They didn’t say. But 24 did say, and I quote, ‘Luke only does what I ask him to.’ ”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Every day, the evidence against Luke dribbles in. Soon, it’s not going to matter whether he incriminates himself through me. We’re going to catch him, regardless. Maybe that’s for the best. This is going to end anyway. Maybe Luke never has to know who I am, what I’ve done. He will go to jail and I’ll go back to Washington, D.C., and that’ll be the end of this. That would certainly be the best outcome for me after the hole I’ve dug for myself.
But the possibility of this doesn’t bring me any relief.
“It’d be great if you could find out exactly what 24 asked 12 to do.”
I push the ever-present tension away so I can get through this call. “Sure. I’ll just pull my wand out and get Luke to speak.”
There’s a pause. “Luke?”
“I meant 12. Look, I spend so much time with him. What do you expect?”
“I expect you to keep your head on straight.”
I roll my eyes, silently chastising myself. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, they talked about a deal going down next week. Try to find out when and where.”
“I’ll just pull my wand out and—”
“Alright, smart-ass.”
“You’ve been in my shoes before, Warner. You know when a target is ready to trust you. 12 isn’t ready yet. I asked him if he understood what they were saying and he immediately brushed me off. You heard it.”
“Yeah, I did. But you need to start getting deeper. Don’t get me wrong—you’re doing great. We’re getting somewhere, inch by inch. But we need to move this along now.”
“Why?” Warner’s never pushed me before. That’s his boss’s role. “Is Sinclair worried about getting an extension on the warrant?”
“We’ve got plenty to keep this going. I’m more worried about 12 keeping his damn hands off you for too much longer. I’ll give him some credit, given his previous routines, but I don’t see how much longer he’s going to buy the whole abused girl story.”
I’d say we’re far past that. “I can handle 12.”
“Like you did tonight?” There’s that edge in his voice again. It’s almost an accusation. Or maybe my guilt is starting to affect my hearing.
I ignore it. “Hey, did you catch the exchange about Luke’s car being stolen? Vlad seemed genuinely surprised. I don’t think he was the one who had it stolen.”
He sighs. “Well, we’ll find out within the hour, no doubt. If it was him, he’s going to ditch the one he has like a ticking time bomb. And then that angle is fucked.” Warner swears under his breath.
“Okay. Listen, I’ll set up dinner for tomorrow night. You guys should get some sleep.”
“Yeah. Bill just left and I’m heading out too.”
“’kay. Good night, Warner. And thanks for looking out for me.”
I hear his hesitation. “We’re all just doing our jobs.”
Some much better than others.
■ ■ ■
I down the glass of water by my bedside, diluting the salty aftertaste in my mouth.
“I’m so glad you’re feeling better,” Luke murmurs, eyes closed, his perfect, naked form stretched out across my bed. Sated. “I wish I could return the favor.”
I nuzzle up against his side in nothing but panties, my face burrowed in his neck. “Another time.” I’d love that time to be right now, but I can’t very well all of a sudden not be on my period. Even Luke would find that odd, I’m sure.
Fortunately he doesn’t find my method of communication tonight—opening my bedroom blinds, turning my lamp on, and standing in front of the window, waiting for him to notice me—odd. In fact, he says he loved our game of semi-charades. Me, beckoning him with my hand and then patting my bed. Him, holding up a leash and ten fingers, for ten minutes. Me, watching him purposely peel off his dress shirt and pants in front of me and replace them with his track pants and T-shirt.
Me, unzipping my dress and letting it drop to pool at my ankles.
Him, running out the door and making it here in five minutes, his breathing ragged, Licks on his heels.
Us, free of any federal wires.
Unfortunately, I’m now left with an ache in my lower belly that has nothing to do with my period, squeezing my thighs together in frustration as I drape myself over him and inhale his delicious scent.
“Any big plans for tomorrow?” he asks.
“Well, I was thinking that I should maybe call Elmira. Go shopping or something with her.” And see what I can get out of that woman about this deal her husband made with Luke. I slowly circle his nipples with my index finger as I casually ask, “Do you think you could call Aref and get her number for me?”
He paws for his phone on the nightstand, making me laugh.
“I didn’t mean right this instant. It’s two a.m.”
A lazy, satisfied smile touches his lips, making him look all kinds of adorable. “I need to call him anyway. He’s probably up. And if he’s not, I’ll leave a message.” A second later, “Aref, hey . . . Vlad paid us a visit tonight . . . Somehow he found out . . . Yeah . . . Don’t know . . . Nope, pretty pissed off actually. You may hear from him.” I hear a low murmur coming from the phone but I can’t make out any of the words. “Okay . . . Listen, Rain wants to meet up with Elmira. Send her number to me so I can pass it along? . . . Cool. Later.”
His hand flops down with his groan.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nah . . . Nothing.”
“Doesn’t sound like nothing.” I can feel the thread of tension begin to course through his body again, the one that vanished with his release. So I reach down and wrap my hand around his semi-hard cock. He exhales and his stomach muscles spasm as I begin stroking slowly. But finally, with a light sigh, I feel him relaxing again. “It’s just that thing earlier, at the bar.”
“The angry Russian?”
“Yeah. Remember how I told you that Aref wanted to do more business with Rust? Well, Rust agreed to a deal and somehow Vlad found out. That’s why he was pissed.”
“Why would he be pissed about that?”
“Because he’s an asshole? Don’t really know. He’s still getting what he wants, so it shouldn’t fucking matter.”
“Should you be worried? Will he stop doing business with you?” Selfish hope swells inside me.
“I’d actually be happy if we were done with him. I don’t like him. But, I doubt I’ll be that lucky. He just wants to be a dick about it, I guess.”
I open my mouth, about to ask him the million-dollar question—what is his uncle in business with Aref and Vlad for—when his phone chirps. He holds it up for me. “One sultry Iranian wife’s number, as requested.”
“Sultry, hey?” I peel myself away from him so I can save Elmira’s number into my phone. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Anything for you.” His eyes drift over my near-naked body. “How are you feeling? Can I do anything for you?”
Yeah. Walk away from these people before it’s too late.
I force the sadness down with a smile. “Lying next to you feels good. You’re like a giant heating pad.”
“Well, in that case . . .” He yanks me back to him and, taking my hand in his, he guides it back to his now full erection with a playful grin. “I swear, I’ll make it up to you.”
■ ■ ■
“Come over tonight. I’ll pick up dinner. Some lasagna or something.” I hear the smile in Luke’s voice.
“Is that your way of telling me you want me to make real lasagna tonight?” That’s a whole day’s production, if I want to make fresh noodles and everything.
And yet I know that I’ll do it if Luke asks me to.
“I’m just kidding. We can have whatever you want. There’s a great Thai place nearby.”
“Let me grab it. Say, seven?”
“Just text me when you’re on your way.”
“I’ll call. I like hearing your voice.” Texting has become too dangerous now. I can steer a live conversation, cut off words before they implicate anyone. But a message from Luke saying “Thanks for last night. You give amazing head” is pretty black-and-white in the transcripts.
My relief escapes in a sigh when I hear the line go dead. I have survived another recorded conversation without getting burned by Luke revealing what we’ve been doing. How I’ve broken my team’s trust and jeopardized my career, because of feelings I have for my target. Because this isn’t just about the case for me anymore.
I’m able to reconcile my guilt somewhat, telling myself that everything Luke has revealed to me, he’s revealed only because I’ve crossed the line with him. That rationale doesn’t come without side effects, though. Namely, the little voice in the back of my head that’s not so little anymore. That screams and yells at me. That tells me I’m an idiot. That Luke isn’t going to change, that he’s lying to me because that’s what he is—a liar and a thief. That I’ve dug myself into a hole that I need to start trying to get myself out of.
That I’m not really helping Luke by hiding all of this from my team. Maybe slapping handcuffs on his wrists and hauling him into the station, bursting his bubble about the fictional Rain, and making him admit everything that he’s admitted to me is the only way to help him.
Maybe . . .
My next call is to Warner, to set up cover. “I’m going over to 12’s place tonight, for dinner.”
“ ’kay.”
There’s a long pause of dead air, something I’m not used to with my handler. “Warner? You okay?”
Another long pause. “The Porsche was moved again three hours ago.”
“So, I was right. Vlad didn’t have it stolen.”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
I frown. Who else would want to steal Luke’s car, specifically?
“I’m assuming we’ve passed to a second fence. A two-deep fence line is what we’ve seen in the past for these big rings, so hopefully the next stop is the cargo container.”
The next stop. How much closer will that be to the person who can finger Luke in a lineup? “That’s good.”
“Yup.” Again, that tightness in his voice.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, just . . . Rebecca and I decided to take some time apart.”
So the girlfriend finally has a name. “I’m sorry, Warner.”
“It is what it is.” So matter-of-fact. “What do you have planned for today?”
“Uh . . . just some grocery shopping and stuff. I’ll talk to you later?”
“Sure.” The phone clicks awfully fast. He’s obviously more upset about his breakup than he’ll ever let on.
Maybe I’ll buy him a case of beer and invite him over later this week.
But today . . . today, I have something more urgent to do. Searching out Elmira’s phone number, I head over to the safe behind the painting and dig out my personal phone to make the call.
Chapter 45
■ ■ ■
LUKE
“Fuck!” I slam my phone down, earning Miller’s glare. “Sorry. The cops are still dicking me around.” My car was supposed to be released last week, but apparently they have a backlog in their investigations unit. They said I’d get it back next week. Maybe.
Miller grunts as he eases his body out of his chair and drops several checks on my desk. “Here. I guess you’re supposed to sign these now, right?”
“What is this for?” I eye all the digits staring back at me.
“Tax man.”
“Already? I thought all that got squared away with the lawyers when we changed ownership over.”
Miller laughs, an odd and grating sound. “You’re never squared away with paying taxes. These are the next installment. Don’t worry, the money’s already sitting in the account to cover it. You just have to sign it over.”
I scrawl my name across the line and hand it back. “Don’t ever leave me, Miller.”
He responds with another grunt as he ambles back to his corner. I pick up the plaque that showed up mysteriously on my desk this morning, tracing the engraved letters that spell out “Nurse Boss Boone.” And I smile. Tabbs and Zeke are obviously behind it. It’s their way of congratulating me, while still getting their digs in. I don’t mind so much anymore.
I can’t believe this garage is mine. Not bad for a twenty-four-year-old guy. Based on the numbers I just handed over to the government, and the earnings statements I saw while signing ownership papers, I could make a good, solid living off this place if I keep it up.
A good, solid clean living, running this place and flipping cars, just like Rain suggested.
I eye my burner phone sitting next to my personal phone. Quiet and unassuming. I haven’t gotten used to it. Do I really want to spend the rest of my life carrying one of those around? Wondering who’s listening on the other end?
Do I really want to sit at a bar with my girlfriend and my uncle and worry about an angry Russian showing up to yell and spit at us?
I lay in Rain’s bed last night for hours, listening to her breathe against my chest, thinking about everything. Wondering if, when she actually finds out what I’ve been doing with Rust, she’ll change her mind and leave me.
Stupid, really. If I should be worried about anything, it’s jail time, not losing my girlfriend. Yet Rain, and what she’ll think of me, is the one constant worry that keeps popping into my head. Lately, it’s even louder than my worry about disappointing Rust if I tell him that I think I want out.
What will he say?
Chapter 46
■ ■ ■
CLARA
“Did they give you any trouble?” Elmira closes in for a double air kiss on either side of my face.
“Not at
all.” Aside from the registration lady’s once-over of my jeans and black boots. By the time I made it through the security gate, a valet, and a front desk, I knew this was the most exclusive of exclusive clubs.
“Good. We pay enough in membership fees that they shouldn’t.” She offers me her trademark smile—small, slightly standoffish—before gliding down a long hall with signs pointing toward the swimming pool. Other signs point toward the squash and tennis courts, a curling rink, and a golf store. Double-glazed doors with iron inserts hide a spa. I’m guessing the soothing smell of essential oils in the air is coming from there.
“Thanks for meeting me today.” Honestly, when I called Elmira this morning, I expected to get her voice mail, but she answered. I held my breath when I suggested lunch and I deflated with disappointment when she declined, saying her day was full. Then she suggested I meet her here, as she was on her way for her morning swim.
“Of course. You sounded like you wanted to talk.” She leads me into the spacious change room. “These are all visitor lockers.” She points to a row of cream-colored metal. “It’s quite secure, so you’re fine to leave your purse, your jewelry . . .” Dark, youthful eyes—free of all traces of makeup except some mascara—flicker to my chest, where my dragonfly pendant normally hangs. “I’ll meet you out there in five?” She doesn’t even wait before she disappears around the corner.
My wariness grows. She makes me uncomfortable. If it weren’t for this case, and for Luke, I’d go out of my way to avoid her.
But she may know something that can help me, I remind myself, as I peel off my clothes, slide on the bathing suit that I stopped and bought on the way here, and head out to the pool. Elmira’s already there, her shiny black hair tucked into a cap, making her look more like a little girl than ever before. We’re the only two in the pool area. I do a quick scan of my surroundings, as I always do. No lifeguard, no cameras. No other swimmers.
That’s a little surprising, given the people milling about the rest of the clubhouse. But this isn’t a bathhouse with hidden, steamy alcoves, I remind myself. This is safe, neutral country club territory.
Still, the hairs on the back of my neck rise. If not for the wall of windows opposite me, overlooking the green, I’d be more than a little concerned.
