Adam, Nick’s best friend since joining the team, was over in the corner, back to the wall, nursing a beer as his eyes roamed the room, ever watching. His golden boy looks garnered him plenty of attention from the hookers lined up in front of the bar, but he either wasn’t interested, or didn’t notice them. Most of his attention remained focused on the three Iraqis and an American sharing a pipe in a booth near the back. Nick could barely make them out through the smoky haze.
He kept his back planted to the bar, his gaze on the room, as a leggy brown-haired young woman sidled up to him.
“Hi there, handsome. You look lonely. Care for some company?" She kept her voice warm and welcoming, but her eyes when he glanced at her, spoke something else entirely. There was a world of pain and weariness in those spheres. She set her slender hand onto his forearm, stroking up and down, making it clear what kind of company he could have. For a price. How had she ended up in this godforsaken place? She should have been at home, maybe going to college, dating frat boys, not peddling her wares in this hellhole.
Every few seconds, she would send anxious little glances over her shoulder at the men sitting in the corner. Nick could practically taste her desperation.
Much as he wanted to help her, he wasn’t interested in sex with a kid. “Well, honey, I can't say as I've ever had a nicer offer, but I'm a little too tuckered out to party. How about I buy you a drink? You can sit and tell me a little bit about yourself, instead.”
Gratitude leapt into her eyes for a brief moment. Then, with a frightened look over her shoulder at the back booth, she whispered, “Thank you for your kindness, but I must go now.” Head down, she scurried over to the men's table, where the American grabbed her arm and yanked her down to his lap. She tried to shift away, but he reached around and gave her breast a hard squeeze, laughing when she cried out.
Nick started up off his stool in anger, but caught the Chief's brief headshake. He knew the rules, no interference, but shit, something needed done. Sinking back down, he frowned.
This is bullshit.
A sudden commotion at the poker table caught everyone’s attention. Jared pushed back and stood, his chair wobbling on its uneven legs. He waved his arms in the air, showing everyone his shitty hand of cards. Next thing you know, he’d reached across the table and pulled Steve out of his seat, accusing him of stacking the deck. Of course then the Chief had to step in and suggest they calm down before he slammed some heads together. Meanwhile, Adam rose from his chair and strolled over to the guy in the corner. Nick wasn’t sure what he said, but after listening for a brief moment, the creep cursed and pushed the girl off his lap to the floor, then dug into his pocket and pulled out a pile of cash, throwing it her way.
Nick grinned as he saw the Chief putting his cell back into his pocket. He must have called it in. If there was one thing the man hated, more even than losing at poker, it was seeing a bully in action. Something to do with his kid brother, Nick had heard through the grapevine.
The American—shit, it was the guy they’d been assigned babysitting duties to—pissed off now, said a few words to the men he'd been sitting with, slid out of the booth, and grey eyes flashing to the girl on the floor still gathering bills, then to Adam, stomped out of the bar. Good riddance, asshole.
Blinking, Nick refocused on his still shadowed walls, dawn's first blush just starting to lighten his blind covered windows, grateful the headaches he used to get with the slow return of his memory had tapered off. For the first couple of months they’d all but crippled him, the pain was so intense. Then as he learned not to force the recollections, to just let them happen, it became easier to bear. That was the first time.
The second time he’d found out while in hospital, his back swathed in bandages, how close he and his new team had come to being toasted. Thanks to Jake, who’d smelled out the bomber, they were alive today. Not everyone had been so lucky. Those were the memories he could have lived without. Seeing a member of his team blown to hell because he’d stopped to help a village child—one who happened to be wearing a bomb—was a nightmare he couldn’t escape. Cliff was one of the best. He’d left behind two little girls who’d never get the chance to walk down the isle with their daddy.
Stiff, he rose out of the chair he’d ended up spending the night in, and wandered over to the window facing Sara's house. His still undone jeans hung low on his hips, reminding him of last night’s pleasure.
He didn’t regret it. He couldn’t. But he wondered what thoughts had been going through her mind, as she rushed to get her clothes on, and get out the door. Was she sorry for confiding in him? Or was this about the two of them?
Wishing now they would have waited, he turned away from the darkened house across the street. Moving towards his room, he stepped on something soft and silky, and bending to pick it up, found Sara’s panties. She’d been in such a rush she hadn’t even grabbed them. They were going to have to talk this out later. He’d give her a little time to rest and then he was going to be at her door, hoping she’d answer it. He threw on a pair of sweats and running shoes and headed out into the brisk morning, Jake by his side.
***
Sara woke to the rich aroma of fresh coffee and—was that cinnamon? Rising, she threw on her robe over her bare skin, trying not to notice the still faint marks on her hips made from Nick's fingers holding her in place last night. Last night. If not for those prints and her borrowed dress resting over the end of the bed, she could almost believe she’d dreamt the whole thing.
She’d enjoyed herself with Ty. He’d been sweet, and fun. But then Nick had shown up, like some kind of misplaced white knight come to save the day. Sara had never thought of dancing as a type of foreplay, until last night. Even though Nick had not been the most skilled of partners, he’d swept her away.
Then later, confiding in him about everything––maybe she should have been embarrassed for crying all over his shoulder like that, but instead all she could feel was relief. It’d been bottled up inside, waiting for too long to explode. There had been no time for self-pity. She’d been too busy trying to stay ahead of Tom and his men.
Nick inspired feelings in her she’d never felt before. Even though he aggravated and frustrated her, he had also shown her he could be patient, kind and giving.
The lovemaking had been transcending. Even now, hours later, thoughts of it sent goose bumps shimmying up and down her spine. Sara had always played a passive role in sex. Tom preferred it that way. But with Nick, she had found herself being the aggressor, and she liked the sense of control it gave her.
He’d given her back her self-esteem, and she loved him for it. There, she’d admitted it. She loved him. She’d been sure Tom had killed her ability to care about any other man. Then Nick came into her life and blew that right out of the water. Sitting down on the edge of the bed before she fell down, Sara clasped her arms around herself and squeezed.
I’m in love.
Nick was everything that Tom could never be. Honorable, honest, trustworthy. Caring, kind and sexy. No doubt about that. Picturing him sprawled in that rocker last night with his big body sated, lips swollen, shirt off and jeans undone had her warming up all over again. Wanting to apologize for her abrupt departure, which she admitted now had been emotional overload, Sara left her room and headed down the hall to the kitchen, wondering how he’d gotten in.
When she entered the room, instead of a tall, handsome handyman, she found it taken over by her friends, Grace and Tess. They were sitting at the table eating huge cinnamon buns, cups of hot coffee steaming away. That made more sense, if she would have been thinking clearly. Nick couldn’t have gotten in without a key.
“About time you climbed out of there, missy. Or maybe there’s a reason you’d like to share with your good friends, about why you slept in for so long?" Grace teased.
Sara couldn’t help the blush that stole over her cheeks, or the hint of a smile that ghosted across her lips. “Hush you two, Jess will hear you. Where is she anyway
?"
“She’s fine, don’t worry your pretty little head. She’s out back playing ball with the dog and a certain blue-eyed hottie we all know and love,” Tess sighed. “I heard a little rumor that things got interesting at La Lune last night. Come on girl, spill.”
Floating over to the coffee machine, Sara poured herself a cup, staring through the window as Jess and Nick played toss. Nick looked as if he had just returned from another run, in sweats that hung low on his lean hips and a sweat-soaked shirt that lovingly hugged his abs. Jess was laughing at something he’d said, as they watched Jake chasing his tail a few feet away. Her heart swelling, Sara turned back to her friends, catching them grinning at her knowingly.
“You have it bad, don't you, baby girl?”
“What in the world are you talking about, Grace Martin? It was a first date, and Ty was a true gentleman.”
“Oh, I'm sure my nephew was,” Tess replied. “His momma done raised him right. But we're more interested in what happened after Ty was called away. My yogi happened to be there last night and saw the whole thing. She said it was the hottest thing since The Notebook. Details, we want all the juicy details.”
Sara wasn’t sure whether to be more embarrassed, or annoyed that her personal life was gossip central this morning. “So, should I take out an ad in the paper? Dumped woman catches ride home with handsome escort. Kind of catchy, don't you agree?”
“Oh, come on now, honey. You know we care about you, and want to see you happy, that's all. We're a couple of nosey old ladies, trying to live vicariously.” Grace apologized.
“Hey, watch who you call old, you old coot!” Tess countered.
Crossing the room, Sara leaned in and enfolded each woman in a hug. “Neither one of you are old, you’re ageless. I love you both. I’m sorry for jumping down your throats like that. I guess I’m still not used to small town gossiping. In the city no one cares whether you're injured or not, much less who you go out with.”
“Well then, I say thank God for small towns. I'd hate to go through life without my good friends watching out for me,” Grace said, reaching out to pat Tess’s thin arm.
“It's fine if you don't want to let us in on it, we'll sit here and have a nice cup of coffee with you and then be on our way,” Tess agreed.
“So…what's new?”
Sara burst out laughing. They really were priceless.
CHAPTER TEN
Frank Stein was having a very bad day. It had started bright and early in the a.m. with a phone call from Jared. It seems there’d been a miscommunication when security for the Vegas casino he was in informed him they didn’t allow card counting.
Who knew?
Ol' Jare thought they would appreciate him showing them their weaknesses. Turned out he was wrong. They sent him on his way, but only after some three on one time. That should have been a clue right there. Normally, casino security companies don’t go around roughing up the clientele. Whether they’re cheating, or not. The idiot should have considered himself lucky not to be wearing cement shoes and called it a day. Except Jared hadn’t appreciated getting the shit beat out of him. As far as he was concerned, he’d only been helping them out, and making a little dough as a reward for his trouble.
Unfortunately, they hadn’t seen it in quite the same way, and that’s where the trouble began. Ordinarily, Jared was the easiest going person you could ever meet, but get him pissed, and all bets were off. He’d limped back to his hotel, logged on to his computer, and proceeded to raise a little hell through a back door entry into their mainframe computer system. He triggered the fire alarm system, which in turn set off the sprinkler systems. At the same time he messed with the slots so they all started shooting out winning tickets, making for some very happy, if a little bit damp, customers.
Metro PD picked him up not long after as a person of interest and now here was Frank, six and a half friggin’ hours and two airplanes later, cooling his heels in their dismal little waiting room. Happy, happy.
A few minutes later, a fresh-faced rookie stepped out from behind the counter and nervously approached, “This way, sir, they’ve gone to get him now.”
Frank came to his feet, more than ready to kick Jared’s no doubt already bruised ass, just on principle. The rookie’s eyes grew round and he jumped back a couple of paces. Gesturing, he turned and started down a narrow hall, and Frank’s black mood turned even grimmer. He’d developed a real aversion to closed in places, after spending a good part of his Navy career in gloomy little holes on the lookout for drug runners, bombs, or gun-laden insurgents. He craved wide-open spaces and blue Texas skies these days. Sure enough, the little person in front of him led Frank right into a broom closet, disguised as an interrogation room. Man, Jared was going to owe him big for this.
As the rookie backed out and closed the door, Frank sat in one of three dinky little chairs pulled up to a pitted steel table that had seen far better days. He’d felt the eyes on him ever since he entered the shithole, and turned his full attention to the one way mirror in front of him. Placing both of his big hands face down on the scarred tabletop, he leaned in and mouthed, “Come on, let’s get this show on the road.”
***
The man standing on the other side of the mirror grinned. Good to see the chief hadn’t changed much in the past few years. He still commanded attention with no effort at all.
It could be because the man was built like a brick shithouse, six-five, and somewhere around two hundred eighty pounds, none of it extra either. On the other hand, maybe it was those steel grey eyes of his. If he ever had cause to reprimand his men, usually a slicing look stopped even the most pugnacious of them.
He hated that he had to stay standing there, behind that glass. He wanted nothing more than to go in there and shake the hand of one of the men who had been instrumental in saving his life.
“You can’t.” The other person standing in the dark room commented. She’d read his thoughts perfectly, which is why they’d made such an unbeatable team for the past five years. “If you go in there now, you risk everything. Don’t be an idiot.”
She was right. It sucked, but she was right. “Fine, go in there and find out what they know then. I’m telling you they’re clean. They’re being set up, and you know it.”
“I know no such thing. They’re your friends, not mine. Besides, people change. You know that better than anyone.”
He watched her leave the room, regret a lodestone around his heart. They’d once had a hot and heavy fling, but his own asshole attitude had destroyed that. He was lucky they’d managed to overcome it and remain partners, and more importantly, friends. She hadn’t deserved half the crap he’d put her through, but he was more glad than he could say that she had stuck by him through it.
***
Frank leaned back as the door opened and a woman walked in. Okay, this was getting interesting. Either she’d made a wrong turn on her way out of lockup, or he was receiving an early Christmas gift. He was hoping for the second, but figured on the first. “I think you made a wrong turn there, sweets, bail paying is down the hall.”
He’d been away from women too long if a prostitute was going to turn him on, but shit. He figured she was tall, maybe five eight or so, hard to tell though with those screw-me-now leather boots she was wearing. He traced the zipper he could see running up the inside of her leg, almost to mid-thigh. Licking suddenly dry lips, Frank admired the micro mini skirt in a hot pink and the impressive swell of her full breasts, barely covered by a slinky white top and three different lengths of a chunky beaded necklace that made him literally sweat as they draped across her nipples.
Her hair was raven black, long and straight and matched her boots for shine. She’d painted the pillowy softness of her lips in the same hot pink of her skirt. When he finally made it up to her eyes, the brilliance and intelligence he could see lurking there let him know what he had already guessed. This was not your average floozy.
“Mr. Stein, my name is Maggie Holt.
I have a few questions to ask you while they are working on the release of your friend, it won’t take long.”
Crossing his arms, Frank contemplated the charming Ms. Holt. What in Sam-hell did Jared have himself into this time? She was obviously no ordinary cop. The way she carried herself spoke of authority and he could tell from her toned body—which was no hardship to look at—that she was in great physical shape. He wasn’t sure what the get-up was all about, but he wasn’t complaining any. He knew he should have ignored that damn phone this morning.
“Sure, babe, anything you want, gotta say the uniform’s a winner by the way. I’ll need to see some I.D. though, and maybe a hint of what’s going on? Last time I checked card counting wasn’t a capital offense. What exactly are you holding my friend in for?”
***
Just what she needed today, a hard-ass. Maggie had already put in a fifteen-hour day. Her feet were killing her in the boots Stein admired so much. When she’d heard that Jared Ford, a person of interest in their case had been detained by the local PD for the destruction of property and computer hacking at a Casino, she’d called her partner. The two of them beat feet for the precinct, hoping to get a jump on the Feds who were sure to be on the way, before they had everything tied up in acres of red tape.
For almost six years now, they’d been on this case without it going much of anywhere. They needed to catch a break.
Tidal Falls (Wounded Hearts Book 1) Page 8
