Dirty Trick

by Christine Bell

  “Let’s loop around the pond and head back,” he said, hoping his voice sounded normal. “I have to run to the station this afternoon for a quick training on our new night vision goggles.”

  “Sounds good,” she said, tossing a quick smile over her shoulder. She seemed happy, but distracted. Thinking about her “date” last night? He found himself fighting back another twinge of totally irrational jealousy. What an asshole. Here he was, lying to his best friend, and he was the one with hurt feelings? Love was a fucking kick in the balls sometimes.

  She pushed off, slipping her water bottle back into the pocket of her heavy sweatshirt. She breathed into her hands and rubbed them together.

  “Want my gloves?” he asked. “Or my coat?” He started to unbutton it, but she stopped him.

  “Nope, you know my stance on wool.”

  “Right, I forgot. Only sheep should wear it.”

  She liked to say that a sweater made of fiberglass insulation would be more comfortable. Maybe it was the softness of her skin that made it tough on her. His dick hardened painfully when he recalled again exactly how soft that skin had been. Against his fingertips…against his lips. So hot and—

  “Alrighty,” she chirped, cheerfully unaware of his perverse thoughts. She wrapped Gandalf’s leash tighter around her wrist then tipped her head forward up the path. “Onward.”

  He whistled to get Skeeter’s attention, and they started the hike toward the lake. She chattered happily beside him, telling him about all the new clients she and Serena had managed to wrangle over the past month and sharing a story about one guy who was impossible to fix up because his mother showed up on every single date. He did his best to listen in spite of his churning thoughts.

  “Is his mom single, too?” he asked, crouching to move a fallen limb to the side and clear their path.

  “She actually is. Why? You interested?”

  “Nope. But that’s the key right there. Find the mom a man, and she’ll be happy enough to leave junior alone. She’s probably lonely.”

  Grace moved ahead and looked back at him. “Wow. That’s pretty frigging good.”

  She sounded impressed, and that made him wish he had some more good ideas to throw at her.

  “If you ever get sick of saving lives and want to do something important, let me know,” she teased. “I think we can find a spot for you at Love Will Find a Way.”

  Her grin made his shoulders tense, but not because she was so damned hot, although she was. More because she looked so trusting. Like she could tell him anything. Like she cared about him and genuinely liked being around him. Like he was her best fucking friend. And he was nothing but a phony.

  Out of nowhere, the weight of his secret felt too heavy to carry for another second. Had he been fooling himself in thinking that he’d be able to carry this through? That she’d be able to forgive him for what he’d done, or that he’d been right to do it in the first place?

  “Grace, wait a minute.” He slowed as they approached the steep incline, wanting to talk to her before they got too out of breath since the next section was steep and more of a climb than a hike.

  She had already set one hiking boot onto a boulder and had her bare hand wrapped around a thick tree root to hoist herself up to where Gandalf stood proudly waiting for his mama to join him. She threw a questioning glance over the shoulder. “What’s up?”

  “I need to tell you something—”

  He never got the rest out because there was an ominous crack. The root that had looked so sturdy broke off in her hand, and she went careening backwards.

  She released Gandalf’s leash and pin-wheeled but couldn’t catch her balance, and before he could get close enough to grab her, she was flat on her back, her head landing mere centimeters from a jagged rock. His stomach pitched as Gandalf let out a mournful yowl and Skeeter barked.

  Trick dropped to his knees into the leaves beside her. “Grace?” God, what if there was another rock underneath her that she hadn’t been lucky enough to miss? He searched the ground for blood, but saw none. “Answer me, damn it.”

  Her dazed eyes stared up at him, and she shook her head. She couldn’t answer him. His heart thudded harder as all the possible reasons for that ran through his panic-stricken mind. Paralysis? No. She’d shaken her head. Severed vocal chords? That was ludicrous. So what then?

  She sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. “Holy crud, that knocked the wind outta me!” she said and then drew in another lungful of air.

  “Did you break anything? What hurts?” He began to systematically run his hands over her limbs, starting with her ankle, up her calf to her thigh and back down the other side. “Does your stomach hurt? How about your back?”

  Her pale face went pink and she crossed her arms over her waist. “Um, yes. No, I mean. I’m fine. You don’t need to check the rest.” Her voice had gotten a little squeaky, and he stilled. “Calm down, seriously. I’m fine.”

  She sat up and blew the curls off her forehead with a huff. A crown of maple leaves circled her head, and he plucked each one out.

  “I think I would’ve had it, but then I turned around and I didn’t feel the root start to give. Good thing I didn’t do that a little further up, because I would’ve landed in the creek.” The nervous babble, likely from the dump of adrenaline, ceased and her eyes widened. “Is Gandalf all right?” She looked around and the dog, who’d gotten distracted sniffing Skeeter’s butt, lumbered over to sit next to her. She hugged his big body to hers and sighed. “We’re okay, right big guy?”

  Trick felt some of the tension drain out of him. It hadn’t been that bad of a fall but, on the force he’d seen some pretty innocuous accidents result in truly tragic outcomes, so it had scared the shit out of him. And maybe it was worse because it had been his fault that she wasn’t paying attention in the first place.

  “A little stiff there,” she admitted, pushing herself to her feet. He took her arm to steady her, and she straightened. “Not too bad, though.” She mumbled her thanks and stuffed her hands into her pockets. “So what were you going to tell me before, anyway?”

  He stalled, brain whirring on high. Maybe her fall had been a sign. Another supernatural assist from The Great Pumpkin. Even if it wasn’t, he was taking it as one because the need to confess had all but disappeared. Another few days. That’s all he needed, and by then he’d have a chance to convince her that Catman wasn’t the only one who could blow her mind.

  “Nothing. I was going to see if you wanted to go out for happy hour tomorrow night instead of Thursday. I’m on call the rest of the week.”

  She shrugged and picked up Gandalf’s leash. “Sounds good to me.”

  He took the leash from her unresisting hand. “He tends to walk you, and I don’t want him rushing you until you get your legs back under you. We should probably head back. The dogs got some exercise in, and you’re covered in mud down your back.”

  She wrinkled her nose and tried to crane her neck to see over her shoulder. “Ugh, okay. I’m going to go along with you and pretend that’s all mud.”

  She was limping a bit, and he resisted the urge to hold her hand or take her arm as they made their way back down in the direction they’d come. He would have done it without blinking even a day ago, but now it felt weird. Like, just by touching her, he might give himself away. Luckily, by the time they got back to her house and wound their way around to the front door, she was walking normally and most of his worry that she’d really injured herself disappeared.

  She spun around to face him on her doorstep and rolled her eyes. “Sorry my clumsiness cut our hike short. I’d say come in and hang out until lunch, but—” she gestured to her backside with a grim smile “—I have to scrape some manure off me, take the world’s hottest shower, and then I have a date with a heating pad.”

  He nodded, “No problem. I’ve got to swing by work anyway, but give me a call tomorrow.”

  She stepped through the door, and the mastiff followed behind her.
>
  As he watched her retreating back, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d missed his one chance to come clean before things got even more out of hand. But already, after only a day, she seemed so much more confident. So much happier now that she’d found someone who actually moved her for the first time since before Victor. He couldn’t take that from her. No, he’d come this far, and he wasn’t going to stop until Grace realized exactly how amazing she truly was.

  And if that took another date with Catman before he could tell her the truth, so be it.

  …

  Grace stretched out on the recliner, burrowing deeper into the heating pad. Luckily, other than a little stiffness in her lower back, she felt fine. No residual issues from her little trip that morning. It was a good thing because she had so much on her mind already, worrying about babying some injury was the last thing she needed.

  A far more concerning problem was Trick.

  And Catman.

  And the damned tingles.

  She’d been so sure, after her night of wild sex with a man who’d sent her spidey senses reeling, that when she saw Trick again, the feelings she’d had since the first day they’d met would have disappeared. She’d been so convinced that they were nothing more than a fluke. Granted, he was a great looking guy, and before Victor, he was exactly the type of man she would’ve gone crazy over. But her priorities had changed and having people in her life that she could trust was way more important than sexual chemistry. Or so she’d thought. Now though, she wasn’t so certain.

  Could it be that Serena was right? That picking guys like boring Seth and shutting herself off to someone for the sole reason that she might feel too much for them was a bad idea?

  She peered out the window in the direction of Trick’s house and wondered idly if he was back from work yet. He’d recently been made SWAT commander, the youngest ever in Salem, after dragging an injured team member out of a building under fire. Between that and the men’s deep respect for him and his top-notch scores in marksmanship and other combat training, he’d been a shoe-in for the promotion.

  Her chest went tight as she thought of the last time he’d been out on a call. It had been more than a week ago, and she still wasn’t over it. His team had gone in to back up the PD’s narcotics unit during a big drug raid. The “chemists” inside got tipped off somehow and, in their haste to hide the evidence, got sloppy. The whole meth lab blew and a huge fire had broken out. She’d seen it on the news and had known exactly how serious it was. She’d been climbing the walls waiting for him to pull into the driveway that night. As soon as she’d heard his car, she’d run next door to check on him and nearly keeled over with relief that he was okay.

  And what is that?

  Because they were friends, and she cared about him. It was nothing more than that, tingles be damned.

  She tucked her feet under her butt and picked up the remote. Originally, she’d planned to go over some new client dossiers, but her brain was buzzing like a swarm of mosquitoes over a swamp, and she highly doubted she could focus on anything at all, never mind work.

  She’d resigned herself to watching a mindless repeat of Say Yes to the Dress when her cell phone buzzed. She blew out a sigh of exasperation when she saw it all the way across the room on the side table near the door. She flipped down the foot rest and went to retrieve it, relieved when her back barely gave a twinge.

  She peered at the screen and frowned.

  Blocked number.

  Probably a telemarketer. She was about to put the phone into the pocket of the hoodie she was wearing but then stopped. What if, by some crazy chance…

  “Hello?”

  “Hello.”

  Her pulse skittered, and she dropped the graham cracker she’d been holding. “Is this Catman?”

  His low chuckle sent a shiver skittering over her spine. “It is. I told you I’d be in touch, so here I am. In touch.”

  She pulled out a kitchen chair and lowered herself into it, the attack of nerves making her legs feel weak.

  “How are you feeling today? Any regrets?”

  She hesitated, thinking of her hike with Trick that morning. “No. How about you?”

  “Are you kidding me? That was one of the hottest nights in my life.”

  She toyed with the strings of her yoga pants and whispered, “Me too. Hands down.”

  “So what do you say we do it again?”

  Silence hung heavy as her mind raced. Did he mean have sex again? Or did he want to take her on a date? She didn’t even know his name or what he looked like…not completely, anyway. And still, her heart pounded at the thought of seeing him again. Or maybe it was because he was a mystery that made him so intriguing? Either way, she knew one thing for sure. She couldn’t say no. “Okay.”

  “I feel like we got off on a great foot, so what say we play a little game?”

  “What kind of game?”

  “Meet me at the movie theater on Seventh and Broad at nine o’clock tomorrow night. Find the oldest movie playing and buy a ticket. Sit in the back row and wait for me. I’ll be there shortly after it starts. And Grace?”

  She swallowed hard and croaked, “Yes?”

  “Wear a skirt.”

  He disconnected, and she was left staring at the phone, dumbfounded.

  Briefly, she considered calling him back to cancel. This was crazy, wasn’t it? Meeting a stranger who seemed intent on doing lascivious things to her in the movie theater? What would Vic say? She glanced down at the screen and remembered he’d blocked his number. Clever boy. He probably knew she’d want to back out at some point, and now she wouldn’t be able to contact him. He might not know it, but she was far too polite to blow him off.

  She set the cell phone down on the kitchen table and sucked in a steadying breath. Blocked number or no, she couldn’t lie to herself. She was going to that movie theater. Whatever happened, she wasn’t quite ready to let Catman—or what he represented—go yet. Not until she knew if these tingles were the real deal or not.

  Chapter Seven

  Trick pressed end on his cell phone and set it down on the long, locker room bench next to him. His hike with Grace had given him a lot to think about, and his conversation with her just now had only added to it. He’d never felt so torn in his life. On the one hand, his stomach was tight with anticipation at the thought of their date tomorrow. On the other, his guts were churning with guilt and the very real fear that he was handling this all wrong.

  “What’s up, Mathews? You coming or going?”

  Alec strode into the locker room with a towel hitched around his hips, still wet from his shower.

  Trick tucked the phone into his pocket and shook his head. “Going. I just came in to tie up a few loose ends on a report from yesterday and squeeze in a workout.”

  He’d hoped hitting the weights hard would work off the extra energy that he hadn’t gotten to burn when his hike with Grace had gotten cut short. Turned out, even after a grueling circuit, he still had adrenaline to spare.

  “Me and the guys are going down to Merilee’s if you want to come.”

  Merilee’s was a topless bar just outside of town where some of the single cops—along with a couple of the married ones—hung out after work sometimes. He’d never been a big strip club guy, preferring to spend his time with women he could see naked in private, but he had gone pretty regularly for the chatter and to shoot pool. B.G. Before Grace.

  “Nah, man. I’m going to take a quick shower and head home. Early day tomorrow.”

  “No worries,” Alec said and closed his locker with a snap.

  “I think you should be worried.” Ricky Silva, a vice detective, came into view, yanking off his sweat-stained t-shirt, a smirk on his face. He eyed Trick suspiciously. “Seems like you never hang out anymore. Some piece of tail got you on lock now or something?”

  Silva wasn’t a bad guy. He was just ignorant when it came to women. Which was why Trick didn’t plow his fist into his face for unknowingly calling
Grace a piece of tail, even though that was his first instinct.

  “Nothing like that,” he said. Because that was the truth. Grace had never asked or expected him to be anything other than who he was. And to her, he was a ladies’ man. A guy who hung out at strip clubs and hooked up with women—lots of women—for a night of fun. He’d stopped going because he didn’t want that life anymore, and part of getting the life he did want included making Grace see he was more than that. He pushed off the bench. “I’m looking for someone to settle down with, and I’m not going to find that at Merilee’s.”

  “True that,” Alec murmured and then grinned. “But I’m going to go anyway.”

  Trick chuckled, heading for the shower as Silva called after him. “I don’t know about you two but they got this new Brazilian dancer, and I could settle down with her like a motherfucker.”

  For all his bravado, Trick had never even seen Silva talk to a woman, so a lot of this had to be a front. He almost wanted to tell the guy it was okay. That not wanting to be alone and wishing you could find one person you could spend your life with didn’t make you less of a man. In fact, it became clearer to Trick every day he spent with Grace that it made him more of a man.

  He tugged off his sweat-soaked workout clothes and cranked the shower up high and hot before stepping under the spray. Too bad Grace hadn’t noticed how much he’d changed. That he was a different person because of her. But she was paying attention now.

  To Catman, not to you.

  He clenched his jaw, annoyed at the irrational anger he felt toward the alter-ego of his own creation. Just one more date. One more chance to get her to see what it could be like between them, and then he’d tell her the truth.

  …

  Twenty-five hours and eleven long minutes later, Grace stood at the ticket booth. She loved her job, but this particular Monday had been interminable. She couldn’t wait for this exact moment, but now that it was here, she found herself wishing she had another hour. Or five.

  She stared at the marquis and then dug out her wallet to pay the eight dollars to see La Bon Petit. Foreign. Old. Discount. Score. Hopefully no one else would be there so they could…what?

  Her hand shook as she took her stub from the attendant.

  “Theater number seven,” the pimply kid said with a flash of braces.

  She smiled weakly, feeling every bit the dirty, old woman, and hurried across the lobby to the theater. Briefly, she glanced at the concessions stand and wondered if she should get a soda or some Raisinets and then realized how ridiculous that would be. They weren’t going to actually watch the movie.

  She looked around and pushed the door open, legs nearly buckling with relief when she saw that she was literally the only person in the theater. Okay, she could do this. She looked around at the empty seats and selected the one in the farthest back corner. It was tucked away so that, even if someone else did come in, they wouldn’t be able to see her from behind them, especially in the dim light.

  The trailers began to roll, and she took off her coat. She laid it in the seat beside her before settling in her own chair, the nubby fabric scraping the backs of her bare thighs.

  Wear a skirt.

  Remembering the silky promise in his voice made her nipples go hard beneath her sweater. Bold. She was so damned bold because she’d gone a step further and left the bra and underwear home too. Fear lanced the burgeoning need, and she wondered if that had been a mistake. Would he think she was being too forward? Would he be annoyed that she’d taken the initiative? Short of leaving and scrapping the whole evening, there wasn’t anything she could do about it now.

  And she wasn’t going to do either of those things.

  She’d spent the past two hours wondering what they would do in those tiny seats. How he would touch her. If they would tease and stroke until the lights came on and then run out to his car or if they would somehow manage to complete the act right there in the theater. She moaned under her breath as a gush of heat warmed her thighs. The last of the trailers ended, and the room went pitch black before the opening credits lit the screen.

  She pulled out her cell phone to check the time. Quarter after nine. He should be here by now, no? But there were no missed calls, and surely he wouldn’t have made the effort to call her, set up a date, and then not show.

  The door creaked loudly, and she tensed, staring at the sliver of light anxiously. Would she be able to see his face? Or would she have to wait until the movie was over? She found herself torn. She wanted to see him, but the mystery of it all, the naughtiness of it made her feel so hot inside. Like she’d swallowed the sun.

  A tall figure stepped into the room, and her hands went slick with sweat. She opened her mouth to whisper to him, but stopped when a second, smaller figure followed behind. A woman. The pair made their way down aisle hand in hand and Grace could barely stomach her disappointment. It wasn’t him. And worse, if he did show, they were no longer alone. She watched, an empty ache filling her, as the couple chose their seats toward the middle row. She was so intent on seeing where they ended up, she jumped when a low voice murmured in her ear.

  “You came.”

  She jerked in surprise and looked up to see him standing over her. His face was obscured by the black hooded sweatshirt he wore, but she’d know that voice anywhere. Unless, of course, Christian Bale happened to enjoy French films as well. A familiar tingle washed over her, and her thoughts immediately went to Trick.

  Only Trick wasn’t here. And besides, he’d been happy for her just like he was when he found out that she’d hooked up at Chaz’s party. Exactly the way a friend should be. Which was exactly how she’d wanted it from the very beginning, so second-guessing herself over it now was nothing but selfish and silly. She shoved aside the disappointment and focused on the man in front of her.

  “I did,” she whispered softly. The relief was overwhelming, and for the moment, she didn’t care that they wouldn’t be able to do whatever it was he’d had planned. The fact that he’d shown up and had wanted to was enough for her.