I stopped rocking, sucked in the first decent breath I'd had in too, too long, and dashed my hands across my eyes wiping away the tears.
"Carl is out there, for good or for bad," Damon remarked, not looking at me, but out across the lawn to the Kahui's back door. "But he is not your main concern."
No, that was still my failure to do my job.
"Someone in CIB has been covering for the Crown Prosecutor," Damon added, widening my focus from just my immediate fuck up. "CIB is compromised. What are going to do about it?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, because really, I'd probably be suspended before the day was through and not be setting foot inside that department ever again.
"What I mean, Lara, is are you going to abandon CIB as well?"
"What?" I sat up straighter. "And what the hell do you mean, 'as well'?"
Damon turned to look directly at me, placing much needed space between us.
"You look set to abandon your career. It's written all over your face," he countered. "Guilt is not a good look on you, love. So, are you going to walk away from Pierce and Hart as well? Let them sort out your ex partner's mess on their own?"
"This isn't just Carl's mess," I pointed out firmly.
"No, but he's embroiled in it and he won't stop now."
No, he wouldn't. The profile was wrong. Carl had a taste for it now. Vigilante justice.
I got up and started to pace. Damon crossed his arms over his chest and watched me carefully from where he sat under the tree.
"I trust Pierce, completely."
"Good call," Damon offered.
"I think we can trust Hart too." I had the utmost respect for David Hart, and so had Carl. He was a tough old bugger, but experienced and focused on his staff. This was going to cut him deep. As deep as me. As deep as Pierce seemed to be. There were other good cops in CIB, but there were some bad eggs as well. Hell, my mind immediately went to Cawfield-the-bastard.
But I wasn't going to jump to conclusions. I'd follow the leads. I'd listen to my gut. And I would find out who had sold themselves out within our ranks.
"We're going to have to keep a tight lid on this," I said, thinking aloud.
"Then you better get to Hart before anyone else does," Damon suggested.
I nodded, pulled my cellphone from my pocket and dialled the Inspector.
"I'm pulling up out the front of the property now, Keen. Hold your horses," he said down the line.
"Out the back, sir. Come down the side of the house."
"Will do. Uniforms are just arriving now, they'll set up a cordon out front."
"Copy," I replied with a nod he couldn't see of my head, swiping the call closed.
I text messaged Pierce. Let him know to head out back once he'd organised the uniforms at the front of the Kahui house.
And then I paced. Damon watching on silently, somehow keeping me balanced by not doing a thing.
Both men seemed to time their arrival perfectly. Pierce stepping out of the back door as Hart rounded the side between the Kahui's house and the neighbour's brick wall. They saw each other, paused mid stride, and then continued on almost side by side to where I stood. Damon had risen from his seat beneath the tree as well.
Pierce offered me a puzzled look, his eyes taking in my rigid stance and Damon's protective presence at my back. I didn't provide an answer in any way.
"This is one hell of a pickle," Hart declared, checking out my state of dress and, no doubt, emotional well being with one swift appraisal from the bottom up.
"And it gets more complicated, sir," I replied, making Pierce's eyebrows fly up his forehead.
"Well, out with it," Hart demanded. "Give me your report."
I gave the Inspector a brief run down on what had transpired. It was harder than it sounds. I stuck to facts. I detached wherever I could. The retelling still sliced me to shreds inside. When I got to confronting Carl in the upstairs room, Pierce interrupted.
I was so shocked, or numbed by the chilling ache that had settled within, that I let him.
"You tried your best, Keen. It can't be helped that the door was locked and it delayed you entering the room."
All truth, not even stretched. Just presented in a way that covered for me. I held his gaze, saw the conviction in his eyes. He was offering me an out.
I wasn't sure I could take it.
Then Damon stepped forward. Choreographed to perfection.
"There's more. Forrester implied the Crown Prosecutor had help from within CIB."
This, of course, took Hart's complete attention. Away from the, as yet, undeclared confrontation in the upstairs room.
"Now, hold on, Michaels," Hart exploded. "That's one hell of an accusation. And right now, can we trust anything coming out of Carl Forrester's mouth? From all accounts the man has lost it."
"Even a crazy Carl is a formidable Carl," I found myself saying.
"So, what? You believe him, Keen?"
"It fits the motive, sir," I countered, somehow finding myself in the thick of a new case, and with burgeoning desperation, wanting to solve it. "The Crown Law Office wouldn't have been able to keep everything out of Police eyes. Some incriminating evidence would at some stage have crossed our desks. Law of averages," I explained. "And someone has made it go away before it was noticed."
"Law of averages is one thing, but it won't stand up in court," Hart shot back.
"Then let me find you the evidence, sir."
Hart stared at me for a long moment. I'm not sure what his set look meant.
Then finally he said, "Carl going rogue is not your fault."
"Not catching him, sir, is." Truth again, just not a complete confession. Pierce and Damon were rubbing off on me.
I was definitely unsure how to take that.
Hart started to pace. "This would have to be done on the quiet. The resources available to you would be extremely limited."
"She can use ours," Damon offered, making Hart stop pacing, Pierce smirk, and me to look at him open mouthed.
"That could work," Hart agreed. "Are you prepared to get HEAT involved? It could come out in the end."
"I go where Lara goes. HEAT goes with me," Damon quipped, giving a casual shrug to offset the telling admission.
Hart straightened up, his shoulders-back-chest-out-decision-made position. "All right, then. This needs to be done and it needs to be done in a way no one will find suspicious. Pierce, you're in charge of tidying this lot up and chasing down evidence of Kahui's involvement in the King spill-over case."
Pierce nodded. Not something he wasn't already aware of and currently assigned to.
"Keen, you're off the case completely. I don't want you associated with Kahui at all. It's bad enough you're associated with Carl. But to counteract that, I'm assigning you on loan to HEAT. Who I believe," he turned and gave Damon the evil eye, "has an arsonist problem in their midst."
"Bloody hell," Michaels muttered.
"You think my detectives don't notice these things, Investigator? And then don't inform me?"
"Don't look at me," I mumbled, when Damon began to glare in my direction. Pierce started whistling, staring up at the cloudy sky.
"Great," Damon growled. "I'll remember that, Pierce." Pierce shot him an amused smile.
"Officially," Hart said, bringing everyone's attention back to him, "Keen's on the HEAT arsonist case. Unofficially, she's on the CIB traitor in our midst case. You tread carefully on this, Keen. It could mean your career."
And he was not referring to it making my career, that much was obvious in his angry scowl.
"You all know what to do, now get on and do it," Hart declared, taking a step away towards the side of the house.
He stopped suddenly, heavy and unforgiving frown in place, and spun back, eyes on Damon.
"Get her out of here. She can make her statement from home." His offhand way of making sure I was taken care of. Knowing, I was certain, that today had been tough.
Message delivered, he carried
on toward the front of the property and out of sight.
Pierce walked up then, and placed a hand on my shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.
"We communicate outside of CIB on this. Watch your back." His eyes darted to Damon's. "You watch it too." Damon nodded. "Go home and have a glass of wine, Keen. This will all come out in the wash."
He walked off toward the back door of Kahui's house, where a uniformed officer had appeared.
I stood there silently, feeling like the earth had shifted under my feet. This morning I had thought Carl Forrester dead. This afternoon I'd been four feet away from his familiar face. I was now on assignment to another service, while investigating my own department on the sly. There could be no more alternate universe than this.
And Hart hadn't even mentioned catching Carl.
I knew it wouldn't be the last time I saw my old partner. He'd said as much. Now a stalker and a wannabe guardian angel. But definitely a thorn in my side.
I hurt. All over, not just from that barb. I ached in my chest. My stomach twisted into knots. And my head pounded with all the lies inside.
I was one step closer to the other side, myself. One step farther away from a path I had followed my entire life. The law is there to protect us, Lara-Marie. Stay on the right side of it, and it will always be your guiding light. Cross it, and it becomes a laser beam.
My father's words, in one of his more approachable moments. Words I'd lived by.
Words I was pushing from my life.
I turned back to Damon, who'd been watching me quietly from my side.
What's next?
"Your place or mine?" he surprised me by asking.
A soft, sexy smile on his lips told me a glass of wine wasn't all he had on his mind to help me forget this horrendous day. Incorrigible to the very end.
For a second I considered walking away. I hurt too damn much. Nothing was right in my world, everything was wrong. Feeling anything other than heartache felt impossible right then. Felt unjust.
Then I let my gaze trail over his features; his strong jawline, his dark, intense eyes, the constant stubble he has on his cheeks. His eyelashes. I'd forgotten how long they were, how they swept down when he blinked. Lush lips; the memory of them lavishing my skin with hot kisses. That body, and how fucking good it felt pressed against mine.
And like he had done in the past, just by being him, just by being there, he cracked the ice that encased me. He melted it with apparent ease. He made me feel. He made me want. He made me take a step outside of myself and long to go that much further with him.
"Yours," I finally said, starting to walk towards the side of the house and back to my car. "It's got a bigger bath," I offered over my shoulder with a shockingly natural grin.
He smiled back. It said it all.
Damon had broken through my shell, rescued me from myself, and was determined to do it again and again.
I ducked my head and kept walking, the grin turning a little dazed.
I shouldn't feel this. I shouldn't want it.
Then I heard him whisper, "Deal."
It was sealed.
Damon and I were a team. Partners. And I had a pretty strong feeling that he'd engineered it right from the very start.
The clever, irresistible sneak.
I realised then, that it didn't matter what I thought I should feel.
All that mattered was what I wanted to feel.
On a dark day, where darker memories collided with the darkest of realities, I'd found a flare of heat to melt the chill that had invaded my bones, frozen my heart, and iced my soul.
And Damon had given it to me.
Tomorrow, I'd face the shadows... because they would surely come.
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Read on for the first chapter in book one: Sweet Seduction Sacrifice, of the Contemporary Romantic Suspense Series by Nicola Claire: Sweet Seduction.
Chapter 1
Get a Grip!
It was the fifth time I had opened my front door to this. Twice this week alone. He was upping his game tactics, despite my latest threat to go to a lawyer and get things finalised once and for all. I thought changing the locks and reprogramming the security code on my apartment alarm, would have been enough of an indication it was over, but Brett was stubborn. Stubborn, secretive and crazy. Not what I had fallen in love with, he'd hidden that side of himself well for over seven years.
Seven years of my life gone. Poof! In a flick of an eye seven years had passed and what did I have to show for it? A loft apartment in the city, in one of the less opulent buildings. And my shop. My pride and joy. My dream come true.
I didn't really care about the apartment. Brett and I had shared it for over four years, before I kicked him out the first time, just over twelve months ago. There were already too many memories there for my liking, but as Brett had squandered all of our savings and I had thrown him out, I stayed in the apartment, took over the mortgage and continued to work in my store.
My store I did care about, though. I'd worked hard to realise my dream and Sweet Seduction was the spot to go for a delicious coffee, nibble on a decadent chocolate treat and grab the latest divine music in the form of a CD, old school vinyl and downloadable MP3. Seduction of the senses, that's what my dream was to me.
But I was beginning to see it was all in jeopardy. Imminent disaster on the horizon, my Mum would say. I admit, I've spent the past year denying it, but the writing was on the wall before I kicked Brett out that first time. We'd grown apart, hardly spent any time together anymore. He had his mates and seemed to be working more and more late hours. But I couldn't walk out on six years of a relationship without at least trying.
The trying became yelling, which quickly declined into slamming of doors and hours spent ignoring each other, and then took a nose dive right into mistrust and secrets and non-verbal messages that didn't invite trying any more. After trying for six months I kicked him out.
But that's not the worst of it.
I should have taken a second mortgage, sold my wardrobe of designer clothes, begged a loan off my parents, anything to cover the bills myself. What I shouldn't have done was let Brett Elliott back in the door. 'Cause once you do that, it's harder to say no again.
Four more suitcases packed and locks changed on the door. Four more will sapping, confidence crushing, stupid, idiotic weak mistakes. I had even begun to despise myself. But Brett is Brett. And the Brett I fell in love with was caring and funny and cute boy-next-door gorgeous and always knew exactly what I wanted to hear.
The last time I kicked him out was it. Locks changed, alarm reset, cellphone number replaced and a Trespass Notice filed. That final one was a shocker. I'd never gone to a police station in my life before, but my best friend Kelly made me do it. Said I had to take this separation seriously and there is nothing more serious than a legal document backed by the might of the New Zealand Police Force.
But, despite my drastic measures... now this.
I was already running late. Kelly and Lucas were opening the shop for me, but I was due at the lawyers' firm in half an hour. It would take me that long to walk there, but now I'd have to deal with this... this crap. Hundreds of dollars worth of roses left outside my door. He can't afford to help pay the rent this week, but he can somehow drop off - inside his no go area - six dozen red roses beautifully presented and expertly wrapped.
I stood there for several seconds wondering where the hell I'd discard them. They were not getting inside my home and I couldn't bear to look at them in the shop all day. My neighbours; a young professional couple, had tak
en the last lot, but my other neighbours consisted of a single guy, an old cranky biddy and a gay couple. The gay couple it was then.
I stomped down to Wayne and Edward's door and banged a couple of times. The flowers were too big to drag with me, they'd probably need a forklift to get them down this end of the hallway in one go.
The door opened and Wayne leaned a hand casually against the frame above his head, reading glasses halfway down his nose, checked shirt open and baring a well muscled chest, top two buttons of his faded jeans undone. He was munching on a piece of toast.
"Reading the paper over breakfast again, Wayne?" I asked and watched as he quickly removed the offending give-away glasses and shoved them in the pocket of his shirt.
"Hey, Sweetie. Aren't you late for work?"
"I'm late for a meeting with my lawyer," I replied and Wayne instantly perked upright.
"Finally," he muttered. I didn't give in to the discomfort of his words. "What can I do for you, Gen?" he asked with a smile.
"Um... I don't suppose you and Edward would like a little floral enhancement in the apartment, would you?"
"Floral enhancement?"
I turned slightly and nodded back down the hallway. Wayne leaned his head out the door of his apartment and nearly choked on his piece of toast. After coughing a few times he returned watery eyes to me.
"Brett?" he guessed.
I just nodded uncomfortably. It was one thing to rely on your neighbours to water your plants when you had to go out of town on a coffee shop convention, it was a whole other thing to ask them to be the receptacle of something you thought was only good for the trash, but couldn't afford the inner city garbage clearance bill.
"Leave it to me, Sweetie," Wayne said coming to my rescue, not for the first time either. "I'm sure Edward's bank would love to spruce the place up with some red roses. Red goes with electric blue doesn't it?"
I smiled, despite myself. Edward was the bank manager at the Queen Street branch of the Bank of New Zealand, whose chosen colour scheme was a bright electric blue.
A Flare Of Heat (H.E.A.T. Book 1) Page 32
