Relentless

by Vanessa Dare

  “She hates me, and that’s my fault,” I told him. “I have to protect her, regardless. Are you in, Mr. Carmichael? I’ve got my girl out there on her own so I need to know right now if I’m wasting my time.” I cocked my head toward the front door.

  “I don’t like your tone,” he replied coldly.

  “Like I said, I love her. No one fucks with my woman, so I need to bring Moretti down. Today, before that bastard finds her and finishes her. How would you feel if you found out someone wanted to harm your wife?”

  Carmichael went calm, still. A lethal gleam came into his eyes.

  “I can speak for my uncle when I say we respect your motivation,” Adam said, his words diffusing the tension. He pulled Carrie up from her seat with a gasp from her lips, slid into her spot and pulled her down on to his lap. The hold about her waist was tight enough to indicate he never planned on letting her go.

  That’s how I felt about Anna; I wanted to grab hold of her and never let go.

  Carmichael murmured something under his breath.

  “Uncle Frank, tell him you’ll help him,” Carrie pleaded.

  “I don’t like having a cop sitting in my family room on a Saturday under false pretenses,” Uncle Frank said, his voice indicated that I’d fucked up. Big time. “It’s not only your fault, but Carrie’s and Adam’s as well, since they both knew you were undercover.” He looked to the couple for confirmation. Their uncomfortable silence was agreement enough. “But if Moretti thinks you work for him, then you work for him. Undercover or not. Your plan is sound.”

  “Uncle Frank,” Carrie repeated, sounding a tad contrite for her deception.

  “I’ll help. It will be my pleasure,” Carmichael told me as he cracked his knuckles. “Like you said, no one fucks with our women.”

  Carrie nodded, smiled her relief. “Great. Let’s get this done,” she told him. She turned to look at Adam. “Get the stuff we need to make these murders look legit. I’ll tackle the wire tap angle with my contacts on the force. Grif…thank God I can call you that again, go get your girl. Once Uncle Frank has it set, I’ll text you where to meet. Shall we agree to eight tonight?”

  I looked to Carmichael and Adam. They both nodded, so I did as well. Only five hours to find Anna.

  “What are you waiting for, young man? You heard your sister. If you love that girl, go get her,” Carmichael told me as he stood.

  I got up as well, shook his hand.

  “Go get her so I can kill her,” Carmichael added with a chuckle.

  I nodded toward Carrie and Adam, and left the house as fast as I could to catch up with Anna.

  ***

  The heat was like a wet blanket when I stepped out onto the sidewalk. I looked both ways down the street having no idea which direction Anna took. A horn blared and I turned my head. Of course she wasn’t there. Where would she go? Could she get a new identity right away and disappear? I’d never see her again if she did. The very thought was crushing.

  I’d told Nadine I loved her, but the words had been empty, something she’d wanted to hear. I’d thought it was love, but now, only now after knowing Anna, caring for her, protecting her, did I know what love felt like. The look on Anna’s face had been telling. She’d smiled, grinned—beamed, even—at hearing those three words. The joy there was a miracle to see. Who else had said those words to her? Definitely not her father, nor her bastard ex-husband. Probably no one since her mom died. I had no doubt the first man to tell them to her had been me.

  An incredible first. I grinned at the thought, but sobered instantly.

  I completely blew it because with the love came a great big lie. A lie that had, until that point, kept her safe. A lie that proved how much I felt for her. If I hadn’t been in love with her, I wouldn’t have kept my job a secret. Looking back, I think I’d loved her ever since I bumped into her at the wedding reception. It had been instantaneous, like a lightning strike. I just hadn’t been ready for her then. Now, I wanted Anna more than my next breath. I just had to find her, then I’d never let her go.

  With a city the size of New York, she was going to be almost impossible to find. That boded well for avoiding Moretti’s hit man. If I couldn’t find her, then hopefully he couldn’t either. I just had to track her down first, before Moretti’s hit man. My fists clenched at the thought.

  Her apartment was my first stop. She’d mentioned her go bag before and it most likely was stored there. She’d need that cash, papers and clothes before she did anything rash. She was smart, though. Smart enough to hide millions of dollars from Peters and his digging. If she could do that, then she must have an escape plan if discovered. No one ran from an old life without Plan B in place. I dashed for the subway, knowing it would be faster than taking a taxi, even on a Saturday.

  By the time I reached her apartment, my T-shirt clung to my skin in the heat. To the doorman, I must have looked a little wild because he stopped me before I could get near the elevator. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to calm down, to relax and even try to smile as if nothing were wrong. “Hey, sorry,” I told the guy, whose name I remembered as Joe. He’d been working when I’d come in with Anna before. “Almost got run over by a crazy taxi. Do you need to call or can I just go up?”

  Joe relaxed at my story. Every New Yorker had been involved in some kind of altercation with a taxi and could relate. “Haven’t seen Miss Scott since I came on shift.”

  I nodded. “Okay. I’ll just try her cell then. We were supposed to meet up but I guess she’s behind.” I shrugged. “Women.”

  Joe offered that man-to-man slap on the back. “Tell me about it. My wife is late for everything.”

  “I’ll just go get a cup of coffee and come back. See you around, Joe.”

  I left the building, went around the corner and stopped to consider where to go next. Anna wasn’t at home. She worked for herself. She had no family. When I was really mad at someone, I wanted to beat the shit out of them. When Anna was mad, she’d want the same thing, but took the civilized route. Since I was the target of her anger, she had to release her angst somewhere else. Wearing a skirt and sandals, she wouldn’t just go for a run to work off her anger. She’d need to go somewhere where she could—

  Yes! I took off down the street in a sprint, hoping the excess energy would be burned off on my way to her karate school.

  Ten minutes later, I pulled open the door to the dojo, my eyes adjusting to the darker interior. There weren't any classes this late on a Saturday so Anna was alone. I stood just inside the doorway looking at her. She wore a pair of running shorts and a white tank top, feet bare. Sparring gloves covered her hands and she was beating the crap out of a heavy bag hanging from the ceiling. Jab, hook, uppercut. I had no doubt she was imagining my face on the leather as she followed all that with a backhand and a solid reverse punch.

  Relief had me exhaling. I’d found her. She hadn’t left. Hadn’t disappeared. She looked so good, pissed off and full of angst. Her skin was flushed, her stance aggressive. She was breathing as hard as I was.

  “You keep running away,” I called out from across the open space.

  Her head whipped around at my words, her ponytail flipping over her shoulder. She stood ready to spar, one foot in front of the other, hands up, blocking her body and face. It would be a one-sided fight; she could hit me all she wanted, but I wouldn’t hit back.

  I didn’t need anyone coming in to interrupt us so I turned the dead bolt on the door. I didn’t intend for her to escape…again. “You should know by now I’ll always find you.”

  She shrugged casually, lowered her hands as if she weren’t upset. Every line of her body screamed otherwise. “Why would you care?”

  This wasn’t going to be easy. Shit. I’d hurt her, probably as bad as every other guy in her life. Maybe worse. “I wanted to tell you,” I said, recognizing the words were pretty empty. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

  “Which time? At the reception when you told me you worked at Scorch? Was it wh
en we were in your office and you accused me of working for Moretti?” She turned and round-house kicked the bag with enough force to make me wince. “I’m surprised you didn’t just arrest me right then and there.”

  Jab. Jab, cross.

  “What was I to think when you showed up at the bar?” I asked. “Why would you show up there if you weren’t corrupt?”

  She turned her head, her ponytail whipping around behind her once again. “I needed help to save Elizabeth from Todd.”

  “Your record was so clean it looked sanitized. Only criminals or people with something to hide have records that look like yours. What was I supposed to think?” I slowly worked my way across the room.

  “That I had something to hide?” she asked, her voice bitter. The heavy bag rocked behind her. “Wait a minute.” She held up her gloved hand as she narrowed her eyes. “You knew. You knew when I walked into that bar about my record. How?”

  I ran my hand through my sweaty hair. “I was there when you were being questioned by the police.”

  Her mouth fell open and I swear I saw the gears working in her brain figuring everything out. “Our little run-in at the wedding reception wasn’t an accident.”

  I shook my head as I stopped just out of reach of her fighting weapons—her arms and legs. “The way you maneuvered Werbler and Gossing through their interrogation was really impressive. We’d never seen anything like it before. It had me wanting to learn more about you. Then Moretti wanted me to check you out.”

  Anna crossed her arms over her chest, cocked a hip. “So, when you held my hand at the reception, leaned in and whispered that you felt something for me, it was part of an act to get close to me.” She rolled her eyes and turned back to the bag. Punched it once, twice. “You must’ve been laughing at me. The naïve woman who melted at the first man who touched her in a decade.”

  Jab. Hook, uppercut.

  I closed the space between us, grabbed her tense shoulders and spun her around. Anna’s training kicked in. Crying out her frustration, she let her punch fly, clocking me right in the eye, making me stumble back a step.

  Shit, that hurt. The sting, the jarring wallop made me feel like a cartoon character with little birdies circling my head. Thankfully, she wore her sparring gloves. I had no doubt I’d have either a broken nose or a ruptured eye ball from that hit otherwise. Wincing, I rubbed my hand over my face. “You can hit me. Yell at me. Hell, I deserve it. But I won’t stand here letting you bad mouth yourself.”

  Anger flared in her eyes, what I could see of it through my one good one. She brought a knee up, but this time I was prepared. I turned my hips so her strike hit mid-thigh. Stepping around her, I moved one of my legs behind hers and buckled her, taking her to the soft red karate mat. I went down with her, knowing her longest weapons—her legs—could kick the shit out of me.

  I moved so my body covered hers, pinned her hands up by her head.

  “Get off me!” She was spitting mad. Wiggling her hips, she tried to buck me off. I countered by shifting my hips to maneuver one of my legs between hers.

  “You are going to listen to me,” I told her, my breath coming out in heavy pants. My one eye was still blurry, but seemed to be working.

  “Like I have any choice!” She bucked her hips up, trying to get me off. It wasn’t working, only made me realize—and Anna, too, by the hint of surprise on her face—that I wasn’t immune to her shifting.

  I loved this woman. What man in their right mind would let a woman clock him in the eye and practically unman him otherwise? She was feisty, sweaty and aggressive and it was turning me on. The feel of her beneath me was heaven and hell; she was alive and I had her right where I wanted her, but I couldn’t do what I wanted until she understood, until she forgave me.

  “I told Peters, my old partner, that I thought you were innocent. Right from the start in the police station. You blew me away in your little flowered skirt and white blouse.”

  Her mouth fell open when I told her what she’d been wearing that day, proof I really had been there. I covered her lips with my finger to keep her from talking.

  “The way you handled Werbler and Gossing—you were incredible. You can ask them. Then, only hours later, Moretti wanted to know who you were, sent me to that wedding reception to fuck the answers out of you.” She fought against my hold with those words. “I’d gone there with that in mind. When you ran into me and I shook your hand, it was all over for me. I fell in love with you right then.”

  “Please,” she said, her voice belligerent. “You hated my guts two hours later. That’s not love.”

  “Fine, we’ll table the talk about love for now. I’ll even skip the instant attraction I had for you. How I couldn’t, wouldn’t, fuck you for information. I wanted to know you. Be with you. You. But I was undercover and I had to know if you worked for Moretti. If I got you to cop to killing Bobby Lane, I could bring down Moretti. After six months of working for that asshole, I still had nothing solid to pin on him, not even when he directed me to kill you. I didn't record it, so it didn't happen. If you were in on it, it was a way to bring him down. I couldn’t stop being undercover. No matter the connection between us, I had to be sure. So I told you I worked at Scorch, knowing Werbler let it slip during the police interview.”

  “You set me up,” she said, her dark eyes narrowed to slits.

  “If you were innocent, you would have gotten on that plane with your fake, gay boyfriend and that would have been it. But you took the bait. You showed up at Scorch. When I saw you, even kicking that guy's ass at the bar, I took you for working for Moretti.”

  She stopped fighting me, finally lying still beneath me. I could feel the rise and fall of her chest against mine, the beating of her heart. “You were mad at me because you thought I tricked you.”

  “I thought you were faking it at the reception. Using your feminine prowess like a weapon. It totally worked, too. I was pissed because I’d fallen for that same trap with my ex-wife a long time ago. A guy doesn’t like being led around by the balls and then having them stomped on.”

  Anna threw her head back and laughed at that. “Feminine prowess? Are you kidding? I have no clue how to draw a guy in. Remember, I had an arranged marriage.”

  I ran my hand over her brow, pushing loose strands of hair back from her face. “Like I said, you hooked me right away.” I snapped my fingers. “That’s not something that’s ever happened to me before. I’ve seen so many bad things. Death, betrayal, cruelty. I’m jaded and think the worst.”

  “Then why did you come to New York?” she wondered. “I was gone, nothing to worry about.”

  “Moretti confirmed you didn’t work for him, but he wondered who you did work for. He figured Carmichael since you live here. He knew you came to the bar that night. No innocent woman would show up there.”

  “I did.”

  “Yes, you did,” I repeated. “For your half-sister. But your appearance made him nervous. You were a loose end, and working for his enemy, Moretti wanted—wants—you dead. He sent me to do it.”

  Searching Anna’s face, I looked for something, anything, that showed she wasn’t mad anymore. Understood what I’d done and why.

  “All of this because I went to Scorch that night?”

  I shrugged. “Yes. Moretti would have forgotten about you if you hadn’t shown up there. Really though, everything happened because of the rental car switch.”

  Anna groaned. “God, I want to go back and kill that valet.”

  I personally wanted to kiss the man. If he hadn’t sucked at his job, I never would have met Anna.

  “Because I went to Scorch, Moretti sent you?” she continued.

  “Yes, he wanted me to kill you. I couldn’t say no. If I did, he’d send someone else and my cover would have been blown. I came to New York because I couldn’t let Moretti kill you. Jesus, I’m a cop, not a killer.”

  “But he sent another guy to make sure.”

  “I don’t know if he thought I was soft on you,
if he found out I am really a cop, or what. If I’d told you who I really am, you’d be dead now. I love you, Anna.” I searched her face to see if she was truly hearing me. “I do, and I’d lie all over again if needed to keep you alive.”

  Anna

  My mind was trying to keep up with everything Nick said. With his hard body pressing me into the workout mats on the floor, it was difficult to concentrate on anything but what he’d done to me the last time he was above me like this. I felt every lean, hard inch of him. His thigh was between mine and he rubbed against me, making me sweat in a completely different way than my workout on the hanging bag.

  I’d been so mad at him. So furious that I needed an outlet. Karate had always helped me release tension, forget about the bad things that crept into my life, that popped up from the vault of bad memories. From Frank Carmichael’s house, I came directly to the dojo, changing into the workout clothes I had in my locker. Fortunately, I had a key to the front door since I helped teach classes, allowing me to get in and beat the crap out of something without having to explain myself to anyone. I’d used mental pictures of Nick when I punched and kicked and it had helped. By the time he’d appeared, I’d worked off some of my mad, but I had plenty left for the man himself.

  I hadn’t wanted to listen to his story, to find out why he lied, but he’d given me no choice. Lying beneath him, pinned to the mat, had forced me to listen. Once I heard, I understood.

  “We’re both really good at pretending to be someone we’re not,” I told him, looking up into his face. He’d put everything on the line. Everything. Tension left his body and he gazed at me with unguarded tenderness, yet a fierceness of someone who would do anything to protect the one they loved. He loved me. He did. I knew it, I could see it. I felt it deep inside.

  At the soft tone of my voice—I’d given up on anger—he smiled. “We’ve both had quite a bit of practice.”

  Nick climbed off me, stood and helped me to my feet. He held out his hand and I stared at it. “Hi, I’m Jake Griffin, but everyone calls me Grif. It’s nice to meet you.”