by Danae Ayusso
Cat cocked an eyebrow, but made no move to take the bottle.
“Are you deaf?” Melissa asked, her overly thin eyebrows pulling together. “I said get me another beer.”
“Puttana,” Cat hissed. “Fanculo, cagna!” she snarled giving her a gesto dell'ombrello.
Colt smirked.
Goddamn she is sexy when pissed.
“Well I never,” Melissa gasped.
“This is Cat, and she isn’t the hired help,” Colt informed the stunned woman, then threw his arm across Cat’s shoulders and escorted the seething Italian away from the confused woman. “Flesh wounds would only get you more attention than you can afford,” he warned, pulling out a chair at one of the empty tables in the far corner and motioned for her to sit.
Cat was still glaring at the dumbfounded woman staring at them from across the hall as she sat. “Chi cento ne fa, una ne aspetti,” she hissed.
Colt sat in the chair next to her and tried to keep from laughing. Never did he think that Cat, of all people, would be the jealous type, yet he found it strangely arousing. “And what does that mean?” he asked.
“What goes around comes around,” she said, her accent so thick that he felt as if he’d suddenly fallen in to the middle of Italy.
“She’s just a money hungry bitch,” Colt assured her. “She spent the first twenty minutes I was here rubbing up on Jimmy, and he surprisingly rubbed back… It was stomach turning,” he admitted.
The corners of Cat’s mouth twitched. “His skill with the ladies is stomach turning or the fact that he was rubbing up on a flat assed puttana?” she asked, looking over at James and cringed as the laughing and smiling Sheriff rubbed his hands up and down one woman’s arms as if he was trying to warm her up before she started laughing and playfully smacked him in the chest. “Figlio di puttana,” she said with a cringe.
Colt leaned over and whispered, “I don’t know what you said, and I’m rather confident that it was beyond vulgar, but it was, by far, the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Cat laughed and released her hold on the grip of the gun tucked at the small of her back. “Fair enough. If that’s the type of women Eureka has to offer, I can almost understand why Pope started targeting them…you know what I mean,” she quickly added when she realized how callous that sounded.
“Did you find anything of use?” Colt asked, changing the subject.
“Eureka has a very bloody and depressing past,” she said and he nodded. “I can’t believe the retired Sheriff wasn’t fired after his first year. Everything was always chalked up to an accident. It doesn’t make sense in the least.”
Colt looked over at her. “Did you go talk to Jessie and Jamie Brick at the Eureka Herald?” he groaned.
“And if I did?”
“Those two grew up reading Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys books and it transcended into adulthood. Everything is a bigger conspiracy in their opinions. When Tim Smith shot himself while cleaning his gun, those two at the Herald reported that it was his Father’s ghost that finally took him out since it was Tim who accidentally shot him twenty years earlier in a hunting accident. The judge made them recant the accusation and print a front page apology. It’s a monthly thing with those two.”
Cat leaned back in her chair and pouted. “So the fact that there were small footprints leading away from the frozen lake that your grandfather fell through wasn’t true?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Not to my knowledge. My Grandfather was drinking while ice fishing, as usual, and the ice was too thin in the spot he cut and he fell through. With all of his winter gear on there was no way that he could have gotten topside. They found the body after the thaw because he was on the bottom of the lake.”
She nodded her understanding. “If you weren’t with him, and he was drinking and fishing alone, who called it in?”
Colt opened his mouth but promptly closed it.
“That’s what I thought,” she said. “Your parents are a little harder to figure out since the scene wasn’t processed. It could have been an accident, but I don’t see how a car could have driven off of that bridge, unless the bridge was changed since then… Does talking about this bother you?” she asked.
“Yes and no,” he admitted. “What bothers me is the fact that you are hell bent that Pope has killed more than the six people that we know of and he’s doing it simply because of me.”
She nodded. “When you put it like it, yeah, it sounds real bad.”
Colt snorted.
“Did you compile a list of potentials?”
He nodded. “I just have to write it down. Are you ready to get out of here?”
“You have to ask?” she scoffed.
“We better sneak out before they start the music and Emma forces us to dance…she’s aware I got laid.”
Cat looked over at him. “Did you give her the details on the drive over?”
“No, but the woman is something else. I car pooled with Jimmy.”
She chuckled. “I’ll give you a ride and let Nato figure out his own ride…sadly, he’s like Frankie so he’ll most likely be in the arms of one or two ladies tonight. Come on.”
“I’ll meet you outside,” Colt said. “I’m going to tell Jimmy I’m taking off. I don’t want to start another fight with him over something so trivial.”
Cat softly smacked his cheek. “You heartbreaker you.”
He leaned into her. “That’s a spanking,” he warned.
“I look forward to it,” she purred then headed for the exit.
“Evil woman,” he grumbled under his breath then headed to find James.
The crowd was getting thicker and it was near impossible to navigate through it without bumping into someone. Colt grumbled an apology under his breath as he went, keeping his eyes down so not to inadvertently invite more conversation than a passing apology.
Emma was at the banquet tables and waved him over. “You taking off?” she asked, handing him some wrapped plates filled with food.
“Yeah, I’m starting to…yeah.”
She nodded. “Anxiety attack, Colt. It’s called an anxiety attack and everyone nowadays have them. Take off, and I’ll let Jimmy know that you turned in for the night when he’s done rubbing up on the Solomon girls…what has gotten into that boy?” she asked, making a face as she watched her grandson over in the corner.
“I don’t even want to get into that one this evening,” Colt grumbled, taking the plates from her. “Thanks, I’ll talk to you in a few days, if all goes according to plan,” he said and kissed her cheek.
“Ooh, death by sex,” Emma teased with a wink. “Make sure you get plenty of fluids and remember, I would love to be a great-grandmother.”
His eyes widened. “No comment on any of that,” he said, trying to shake the thought from his mind. “Make sure that horny FBI agent doesn’t do something stupid.”
She continued to smile. “I’ll take him home with me, he can crash on the couch. Did you know he’s Italian?”
“Yeah, I picked that up.”
“Italians are excellent lovers,” she reminded him and he shivered. “Goodnight, Colt.”
“Night, Emma,” he said and hurried for the side exit before the night got any more awkward.
It wasn’t hard to find her, the Bronco was idling towards the back of the parking lot so he headed towards it.
Dad said, ‘If a woman reaches across the car and unlocks your door for you then she’s a woman that’s self-sufficient and doesn’t need you to take care of her. And that means that she wants to be with you because of you and not what you can give her. Always remember, Colt, that it’s the little tests that tell you the most about a woman’s character. I should have given a million of them to your mother, but if I would have, I wouldn’t have gotten you.’ I don’t need to give Rossi tests...do I? Vicks wouldn’t have passed any of them. She always waited for me to open the door for her and to pull out her chair and take her jacket. Not that any of that’s a bad thing, but it’s annoy
ing waiting for a woman to hurry her ass up and get in the car, especially in the middle of winter.
“You okay?” Cat asked as she reached across from the passenger seat and pushed the driver’s door open for him.
Colt smiled.
That was a step above just unlocking it. Test passed.
“I couldn’t be better,” Colt assured her, putting the wrapped plates of food behind his seat. “Emma is going to try to seduce your little friend,” he said, buckling his seatbelt.
“Good for her,” Cat said, not at all grossed out or concerned. “Your place or mine?”
This is it. A first…I can do this. She deserves it.
Colt looked over at her. “Do you trust me?” he asked, the question sounding slightly strangled.
Cat gave him a look. “Do you really have to ask?” she countered.
“I have the next two days off and I’d like to spend them with you and only you. There’s a small Rangers’ Station retreat about a hundred miles away. It’s private, no cell service, no television, it’s kind of rustic…” he said, the words spilling from his lips in a rush.
Please say yes. Please say yes.
Cat smiled. “I like the way you think, Fury,” she said.
He smiled in return. “Did you need to grab anything or can we just go?”
“Let’s just go,” she said. “I have no need for clothes for the next two days, and neither will you.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he drawled and she moaned contently.
The two days they spent together wasn’t nearly enough in Colt’s opinion. Packing up and wiping down the Rangers’ Station was one of the hardest things he’s ever done. He didn’t want to go back, didn’t want his Heaven on Earth to end, but most importantly, he didn’t want to leave Cat. They had hardly left the bed, and when they did, they always ended up back in each other’s arms kissing, holding, and caressing the other. Never did he imagine that loving someone and being loved in return could feel like that. For the first time in his life he felt content, happy, complete, and loved unconditionally.
Even though Cat won’t say the three words he longs to hear, Colt knows that she feels them simply because of the way she looks at him, touches him, kisses him, and makes love to him. His Dad told him when he was younger, when Colt asked about girls for the first time, that you know a woman loves you because of the way she looks at you. If there is warmth in her face and dedication in her eyes, then they love you and are worth risking everything for. At the time he didn’t grasp what his dad was saying, but he’s starting to remember many of the things his dad told him about life and women—Colt didn’t realize his dad was a romantic at heart. It made him miss him and regret that they didn’t get to spend more time together; that he was taken away from him at such a young age.
And for those two days at the Rangers’ station, Pope and Daniele Calandriello didn’t exist. It was only Cat and Colt in the world. There was no hiding, no doubts, no questions, and no guilt. For two days Cat and Colt were just that, Cat and Colt, not a Lieutenant on the run from one of the most powerful mob families in New York and not a Detective harboring guilt for something that he had no control over. For two days, they were young newlyweds, an old married couple, best friends and partners without a care in the world.
But two days would be all they could have, even if it wasn’t nearly long enough.
Colt dropped Cat off at the Paterson Estate cabin, and when he did, it felt as if he was leaving a piece of his heart behind. Together, they checked the dark, cold cabin before he kissed her passionately, trying to silently reassure her that he’d be back and he’d protect her no matter what, and unbeknownst to him, her kiss was a promise of the same thing. Reluctantly he left, watching the door close and lock behind him, and then drove to the station with a knot in the pit of his stomach.
When he opened the door to the station and walked in, everyone turned and looked at him before getting to their feet. He looked at his watch; he was still fifteen minutes early so something was obviously wrong. As he headed into the station more, he noted Agent Gerard and the deputy sheriffs each had their hands over their sidearm.
Damn it. I knew it was too good to be true. I just couldn’t have two days in Heaven without being cast into Hell as payment.
Colt held his hands out to the sides, showing he wasn’t going for his gun. “Let me guess, Seven appeared,” he said.
James nodded. “Where were you?”
“I had two days off, remember?” Colt said, nodding that it was okay for Salvati to take his sidearm when the FBI agent mouthed, ‘This is bullshit.’
“Colt, where were you?” James pressed.
“Rangers’ station on the south side of Lick Lake,” Colt answered; he saw no reason to lie about that. “What’s going on, and why is everyone itching to shoot me?”
Agent Gerard stepped forward. “Detective Fury, the seventh body turned up Monday afternoon. It was Melissa Sanders and you were one of the last people to see her at the spring celebration.”
“In theory,” Colt interrupted, slowly sliding out of his jacket and tossed it on the closest desk. “I saw her, everyone saw her, I said goodbye and got the hell away from her. The woman was a real piece of work, but not one that I would waste my time or energy on, and if it was Pope that killed her, he obviously has issues because he went from virgins to skanks.”
Way to invoke your inner Rossi. Obviously I’ve been spending way too much time with the mouthy Italian…and I couldn’t be happier about it.
Salvati chuckled and unconvincingly tried to cover it with a cough.
Colt next tossed his handcuffs and badge on the desk and emptied out his pockets—he knew the routine from administering it countless times himself—then crossed his arms over his chest when done. “Other than my lack of being in Eureka when the body turned up, I’m assuming that you have some concrete evidence to pin this on me since you’re all looking at me as if I’m standing here giving you a full confession.”
James sighed and shook his head. “Colt, we know you didn’t do it, but it’s not looking good. You were the last to see Melissa alive.”
“And you were the last to see Joanne Hubbard and Raven Shadowdancer alive,” Colt countered. “So does that mean that you’re a person of interest?”
No one said anything.
“Didn’t think so,” Colt continued. “What other lovely circumstantial evidence do you have?”
“Shut up,” James hissed, trying to silently convey that this wasn’t the time or place.
Colt ignored him and addressed the person truly in charge: Agent Gerard. “Do you have a partial fingerprint, which could have easily been planted on the body or at the scene, especially since mine are on record thanks to being a retired Army reserve and am currently on the force?”
“Colt!” James snapped, giving him a look.
“Oh, I know! A shoulder length blond hair without a follicle attached which suggests that it fell out naturally instead of being ripped out leaving the follicle attached for a DNA test, which would suggest it was from the victim fighting back.”
“Colt, shut up!” James yelled.
“Unless you have some size ten Altama combat Vulcanized boots hanging around…” Colt sneered, glaring at the unamused FBI agent.
The deputies looked at each other confused, and Mickey eyes widened and his complexion blanched.
No one had ever seen Colt pissed before, and at the moment he was livid.
“You don’t have shit to hold me on, nothing that will stand up in court and get you an arrest warrant,” he sneered, “so you might as well show me to my home for the next forty-eight hours while you scramble to find something to hold me on, Agent.”
Mickey stepped around him and unlocked the door leading to the holding cells. “I’ll take you, Detective Fury,” he eagerly volunteered.
Salvati shook his head. “I got this one, Probie.”
“But-” he started to argue, but stopped when Salvati glared at him.
/> Colt led the way, since it was his own damn department, and Salvati followed, closing the outer door behind them.
“You don’t have to say it,” Colt said in a clipped tone.
“I’ll do the needful,” Salvati said. “Your cell phone locked?”
“Of course,” Colt said, stepping into the cell in the far corner and Salvati leaned against the door. “We both knew this was coming.”
Salvati nodded. “Contingency plan?”
“Protect her at all costs,” Colt said with inarguable finality in his tone.
“Yes, Sir,” Salvati said and closed the cell door.
Colt sat down on the single bed attached to the back wall and leaned against the cinderblock and prepared himself for the longest forty-eight hours of his life.
****
Salvati watched as the livid Italian packed back and forth in the living room of the Paterson Estate cabin. Once he told her that Colt was arrested for suspicion of Melissa Sanders’ murder, she’d been yelling and cursing in Italian so fast that even he couldn’t keep up with her.
“I would be a much better suspect in that puttana’s death than Fury,” Cat hissed.
He nodded. “I know, and that’s why he’s locked up.”
She looked over at him. “That isn’t why he’s locked up! Pope planted something on the body, a hair or partial print or something which would tie Seven to Fury. And the only way he can clear his name would be to have an alibi, and one guess who that is!”
“You,” Salvati said, even though it was a purely a rhetorical question. “Rossi, what if they find something more that could tie him to the body and only your alibi would clear him, then what?”
“Then we aren’t worth a damn at our jobs, Nato. Even a goddamn rookie could see that this is nothing but a ploy. Hell, if what I think and feel is correct, and Fury is the reason behind the killing, not the person behind them, then this set up was solely to find out the identity of the woman he’s sleeping with.”
