Undercover Mistress

by Amethyst Ames

  “Okay.” A yawn stretched her features as she fumbled for something to put on.

  Angus picked up his T-shirt and handed it to her, then grabbed a blanket and pillow while she pulled the shirt over her head and picked up her gun.

  He’d barely gotten her settled on the couch before she was asleep again, and he smiled as he tucked the blanket around her. “I love ye, Katie, whether ye like it or not, and I’ll not be letting ye go,” he murmured. “We belong tae each other.”

  Leaving the overhead light off in his office, he turned on the desk lamp and sat down. He knew searching the archives was a long shot. After all, whatever had happened to Kate could have been personal, not something newsworthy. But he had a gut feeling about this.

  Two hours later he found it, buried on page two of the newspaper. The headline read, “Queens Man Arrested in Beating Death of Wife. Nine-Year-Old Daughter the Only Witness.”

  A chill ran over him as he looked at Kate, sleeping so peacefully in the next room. The article didn’t mention her name, but it had to be her. The location was right, as was the time period.

  He hit the print button on his computer and then scanned the story again. It wasn’t long, only stating that Elwood Carson had been arrested in conjunction with the death of his wife, Joanne, forty-year-old mother of two, and that the daughter was expected to testify. Both children were currently in the custody of their maternal grandmother. The date for Carson’s trial was listed, and it also gave the name of the prosecuting attorney, Glenn Roarke.

  He was familiar with Mr. Roarke, the man who was now the district attorney. He’d met him at several parties over the years and knew he was a fan. That would help. Trial transcripts were public record, but he didn’t want to wait weeks for a copy. Maybe Roarke could give him the information he needed.

  Angus ran a hand over his eyes. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like for a little girl to see something like that. But he knew enough about spousal abuse to understand that Carson hadn’t just erupted one night and killed his wife. It must have been going on a long time. And Katie had lived with all of it.

  It explained so much about her. Her choice of professions had all dealt with protection. Had she tried to protect her mother and failed? Was she trying to make up for that perceived failure now?

  “Ah, Katie,” he whispered. “‘Twas not yer fault, Love. Ye weren’t much more than a baby.” He wanted to go to her, hold her, tell her he understood, but he knew she wouldn’t appreciate it. She would reject his comfort just as she rejected the idea of being loved.

  What had happened to her that night? He needed details, something that would tell him why Kate was so terrified of love. Maybe with a little more knowledge he could get her to talk about it. First thing in the morning, he was calling Roarke.

  He stuck the article under a stack of papers on his desk then turned the computer off. Leaving the lamp on, he moved quietly to Kate’s side and lifted her, blanket and all. She snuggled against him and sighed his name.

  “Ssh, Love,” he murmured. “Yer safe now. I’ll take care of ye.” He brushed his lips over her hair as he carried her toward the stairs. “But yer goin’ tae have tae get it out in the open where it can stop poisoning ye, Katie. ‘Tis the only way ye’ll ever be free of it.”

  * * * * *

  It was a beautiful Monday morning and Kate felt wonderful as she adjusted the water temperature in the shower. It had been a bit strange waking up in Angus’s bed when she remembered falling asleep on the couch, but it had been nice, too. She had a vague memory of his voice murmuring to her, making her feel safe and warm. Too safe and warm.

  She shook her head as she stepped under the spray and grabbed the soap. Angus was getting to her and she couldn’t push the feelings away anymore. Already the thought of leaving him was bothering her badly. This case better not last much longer or she was going to be in trouble. She had a mental image of herself ten years from now, racking up tons of frequent flier miles so she could meet Angus for a round of hot sex two or three times a week.

  When she realized she was actually considering it, she rested her forehead against the tile with a groan. What was she going to do? She would never be able to settle for anything else now that she knew what it was like with him. She didn’t want the fantasy, she wanted the real man.

  As though he’d read her mind, the shower door slid open, revealing Angus in his naked glory, all tanned skin and fluid muscles, a magnificent morning erection jutting out in front of him. He stepped under the water and put his arms around her waist, pulling her against his hard, wet body.

  “What were ye groaning about?”

  “You.” She gave him a weak smile as she ran her hands over his chest. “I was picturing flying here to see you two or three times a week for the next ten years.”

  “I’ll make it worth yer while.” He nuzzled her neck.

  “I know, but I’ll be broke after two months.”

  “Then stay here and save the money.”

  “Angus-“

  He picked up the bottle of shampoo. “Close yer eyes.”

  She’d barely obeyed the command before he dumped the entire contents of the bottle on her head. Spewing and sputtering, she tried to reach the spray of water but he held her in place. Both of his big hands moved over her body, working the soap into a thick lather. Since he was intent on using her as a sponge, before he was done they were both covered in bubbles from head to toe.

  “I think we’re clean now,” she said wryly, laughing as she blinked water from her eyes.

  “Aye, but in pain.” He looked down at his erection.

  She pursed her lips as she contemplated the part of him in question. “It does appear to be rather swollen.”

  To her surprise, he reached down and closed his hand around his cock. His fingers were long and elegant, and covered more territory than her smaller hands. They stroked his erection slowly as he watched her, pausing at the apex of each stroke to run his thumb over the head. She licked her lips. Never had she seen a man do that to himself and it was making her insides turn to molten lava.

  “‘Tis swelling more each second, and not a condom in sight,” he breathed. “What do ye think we should do?”

  Part of the shower spray, the part she wasn’t blocking, hit his chest and abdomen, the water trickling down his skin and over tight muscles in luscious rivulets. It misted the back of his well-corded fist, turned a deep bronze by the dampness, and dripped onto his cock.

  The overhead lights struck glimmers of radiance from his smallest movement. They shimmered across his broad chest, caressed the flexing biceps in his thickly muscled arms, and highlighted his wonderfully long legs. He looked glorious and sensuous, like a big cat that was poised to leap.

  She couldn’t look away. “I’d say you have the situation well in hand. Unless, of course, you’d like some help.”

  “‘T’would be nice.” He leaned back against the tile, his hand still moving, his eyes heavy-lidded.

  “What do you want me to do?” She lifted her gaze to his and was amazed to find his face flushing red. “Angus? Is there something in particular you want?”

  “Aye,” he whispered. There was a brief hesitation. “I want tae feel your mouth on me again.”

  His embarrassment at the request touched something deep inside her, made it feel like her heart had swollen to fill her chest. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed him. “It would be my pleasure,” she whispered before sinking to her knees. “Just don’t stop what you’re doing.”

  He hesitated. “Ye want me tae jack off while ye do it?” His accent had thickened almost to the point that she couldn’t understand him.

  “Yes. Slowly.” She watched for a moment longer, saw the pre-come gather on the end of the broad head, then slid her hands up the tense muscles of his thighs before reaching around to grip the tight cheeks of his buttocks.

  He was staring down at her, the skin on his face stretched taunt over his cheekbones, his lips
parted in anticipation. Leaning forward, she kissed his testicles, feeling his shudder as she pulled each one into her mouth to taste. With a final lick, she moved on to nuzzle the head of his cock, letting it brush against her cheek, her lips, before her tongue captured the salty fluid, savored his taste. As her lips covered only the small slit, she sucked gently and Angus’s body arched, his cock thrusting against her lips in a silent plea. His free hand trembled as it lifted to her hair, caressed her cheek.

  Eyes open, she watched his big hand milk his cock as she sucked and licked, and this time when she took him in her mouth, she didn’t demand. She took her time and made love to him, caressing and kissing, using her tongue to both arouse and tease. It did something indefinable to her, knowing she could make his body shake like that— make him lose control. He wasn’t talking this time, he was simply feeling, thanks to her. Kate smiled at the thought.

  And she hadn’t lied. It was her pleasure to give him this. As a matter of fact, she loved it. When he erupted—crying his release—she sucked harder, felt his sperm hit the back of her throat and licked frantically, unwilling to miss a single pulse. And when he slid, trembling, down the wall to the shower floor, she used her tongue to soothe the aftershocks, her own body aching with the need for release.

  It wasn’t until his body relaxed that she realized this wasn’t the only thing she loved. He had trapped her. Snared her in a web of emotions she would never be free of. God help them both, she loved him.

  Stunned and scared out of her mind, she went still. When Angus gathered her close she didn’t resist, didn’t try to get away.

  His hand moved over her, caressing her. “Now ‘tis ye’re turn,” he whispered.

  The words barely registered on her bruised mind. Abruptly, she wrapped her arms over her head, a whimper caught in her throat. It wasn’t true. Desperately she struggled with the fear paralyzing her. It wasn’t true.

  “Kate?” His anxious voice seemed to come from a long distance. On some level she was aware of the water going off, of being lifted and carried.

  “Katie, talk tae me. What’s wrong? Did I hurt ye? Please, Kate.” He wrapped a blanket around her and held her on his lap.

  She shook violently, teeth clenched. “I don’t love you,” she ground out. “I don’t. You can’t force me to love you.”

  “It’s okay, Katie.” His voice was a gentle croon as he rocked her. “No one is goin’ tae force ye. Yer safe now.”

  “Oh, God.” She turned in his arms, buried her face against his chest. “I can’t love you. I’ll die if I have to go through that again.”

  “Tell me.” His hand stroked her wet hair gently.

  The memories flooded her and she sobbed. “My…my father was an alcoholic. Every night he’d come home late, so drunk he could he barely walk. But he could hit. Oh, God, he could hit.” She dragged in a breath of air. “No matter how hard my mother tried, he always found something to get mad about. Supper was cold, the house wasn’t spotless, she was wearing the wrong clothes.”

  Sobs wracked her body, but once she’d started, she couldn’t stop the flow of words. They poured out of her like a river over a broken dam. “I tried to stop him. I’d get between them, yell at him, but it was like he didn’t even know I was there. And every time his fist would connect he’d tell her how much he loved her, that he was only hitting her for her own good.”

  She clutched the blanket tighter and tried to still her shivering, but the tremors only came harder. “I begged her to leave him but she wouldn’t do it. She said she still loved him, and that what he did wasn’t his fault, it was a sickness. I was afraid all the time. Afraid of what he’d do to her, afraid he might hurt Crystal.”

  His grip tightened until she could barely breathe, but he still rocked her. “What happened that last night?”

  A shudder ran over her and she closed her eyes. “It was late. Later than usual. I’d put Crystal in her crib and was getting ready for bed when he came in. He didn’t say a word at first and I was praying that this time would be different. Then I heard my mother scream. She’d never done that before. I didn’t stop to put my nightgown on, I just ran. I knew I had to stop him, this time he was going to kill her.”

  “But ye were too late,” he whispered.

  Tears soaked her face and she sobbed with every breath. “She was lying in a pool of blood on the kitchen floor and he was still hitting her. I fought him, God, I fought so hard. He grabbed at me, but I dodged. He caught my panties, twisted his hand in the elastic. I tried to get away from him, tried to reach my mother, but he wouldn’t let go. He told me it was an accident, that he didn’t mean to hurt her, that he loved all of us. The police came before I got away from him. One of the neighbors had called them. My mother lived twelve hours, but she never woke up again.”

  She leaned back and looked into his eyes earnestly, hiccups interrupting her sobs. “Don’t you see? I can’t love you or anyone else. I won’t live like she did, I won’t. Love is a sickness that can’t be cured. All it does is cause pain.” More tears spilled from her eyes, drenching the already soaked blanket.

  He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs moving over her cheeks. “Ah, Sweetheart. Yer parents didna love each other. Ye dinna hurt people ye love. Yer mother was right though. ‘Twas an unnatural sickness. One they both participated in. What happened was not yer fault, Katie. Ye couldn’t save her. She was too afraid, too dependent on him tae stand up for herself and get out. Ye canna keep blamin’ yerself or go on hiding from love out of fear.”

  She listened intently as he stroked her hair back.

  “Real love between a man and woman is a wondrous thing, Katie. Something special only the two of them share. There’s nothing violent about it. I’ve loved ye since the beginning. Have I ever raised my hand tae ye?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “And I never will. I’d die before I saw ye hurt. I know there must be others ye know who’ve made a good marriage, one filled with love.”

  “No.”

  “What about yer sister? She didna love her Danny?”

  Kate hesitated. “It was only the sex.”

  “Then why did she mourn him so long? She could have gotten the sex from anyone. Ye told me yerself others asked her out and she refused.”

  She sat up straighter and wiped her eyes. Was it possible she’d been wrong about Crystal and Danny? She’d never really asked her sister about her marriage. Maybe it was time she did.

  Keeping the blanket around her, she slid off his lap. “I need to wash my face.”

  “Will ye be okay now?”

  She nodded, then looked back at him. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

  “Aye. I found the newspaper articles last night.”

  “I sent him to jail, you know. He died there. And I don’t regret doing it.” Her tone was fierce, daring him to chastise her.

  “‘Twas your right. Ye did what ye had tae do, Katie. Ye probably saved yerself and yer sister.”

  It felt as if a ten-ton weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She took a deep shaky breath. It hadn’t been her fault. She’d done the right thing. “Thank you.”

  “Ye dinna have tae thank me. I love ye, Kate.”

  Her stomach clenched, waiting as the panic started to creep over her. But this time, there was something else mixed in with it. She stared at him, not sure yet she could trust this new feeling growing inside her. “I’ve got a lot of thinking to do, Angus.”

  “Aye, I guess ye do.” He stood. “Go on and wash yer face. I’ll be downstairs putting the coffee on if ye need me.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Need him? More than she’d ever believed possible. Kate dressed in jeans and a T-shirt then sat limply on the side of the bed. She felt like she’d been run over by a cement roller and dragged twenty feet. All she wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep, but she knew it was only her body’s defense mechanisms kicking in.

  She couldn’t hide from this anymore.

  Slow
ly, she picked up the phone and dialed the number for the boutique. Crystal was laughing when she answered, but she sobered fast when she heard Kate’s voice.

  “What is it? Kate, you sound terrible.”

  “Crystal, I need to talk to you.”

  “Hang on.” She held the phone away from her mouth, but Kate heard her telling Howie to take care of business. “Okay, I’m back. Spill it.”

  Kate hesitated. “Crystal, did you love Danny?”

  “Of course I did. You know that—” She stopped abruptly and sighed. “No, you don’t know it, do you?”

  “I’m not sure I even know what the word means.” She wasn’t going to cry again. She really wasn’t. A single tear slid down her cheek but she ignored it. “My head keeps telling me that people fall in love and get married all the time without it being the way it was with our parents. But deep inside, part of me doesn’t believe it. Crystal, I’m so afraid that if I let myself love someone I’ll end up just like Mom.”

  This time it was Crystal who hesitated. “I don’t know what Mom was like. I don’t remember her and you won’t talk about her.”

  Kate rubbed her forehead. “I think maybe I should have. A long time ago.” Slowly, she began to tell her sister the truth until finally the story spilled out in a rush—the years of abuse—the times when she’d tried to interfere and ended up taking the blow aimed at her mother—their father’s warped avowals of love with each painful strike. Crystal remained silent for several heartbeats after she finished.

  “I’m so sorry, Kate. Sorry that you had to go through that alone, sorry I didn’t make you talk about it before.” She sounded as if she were crying. “Now you listen to me, damn it. That was not love. What Danny and I had was love. I would have died in his place if I could have. God knows I wanted to die when they told me he’d been killed. I didn’t know how I was going to go on without him. If not for you and Sammy I don’t think I could have. He was part of me, Kate, like we were two halves of a perfect whole.”