by Jo Leigh
“You’d look great in a hat.”
“I have a hat.”
“Really?”
“I’ll wear it for you sometime.”
“Do me a favor?” she asked.
“Whatever you want.”
“Don’t wear anything else when you show me.”
He kissed her. Nothing too extravagant, not yet. Merely a preview of coming attractions.
Later, despite his best intentions and Rebecca’s outstanding choice in underwear, she was so obviously exhausted when they finally climbed into the big hotel bed at two-twenty, that he couldn’t do anything but hold her as she fell asleep.
By all rights, he should have been out like a light himself, but maybe it was the coffee, maybe how far out of his comfort zone he’d been all night, but he stared at the sliver of light coming in from the privacy drapes as his thoughts bounced around like a nine-ball off three rails.
If it wasn’t about how much he wanted to see Rebecca again, it was about how stupid he was for wanting to see Rebecca again, and if neither of those made his gut tighten enough, he settled on the odds of William West being Vance Keegan 2.0, hiding his corrupt past with a fake identity and some excellent plastic surgery.
It took him a hell of a long time to get to sleep, but at least Rebecca was using his good shoulder for a pillow. That made up for a lot.
WAKING UP TO NO ALARM AND Jake wrapped around her like a warm blanket was everything a girl could want out of life. He must not have been up for too long if his fuzzy smile was anything to go by.
“Morning,” she said, careful not to breathe in his direction.
He kissed her forehead. “Morning, gorgeous. I’m thinking about ordering up a lot of coffee. Maybe some French toast. You like French toast?”
She nodded, stifling a yawn. “I’ll go do stuff,” she said. “But save my shower for after.”
“That’s a hell of an idea.”
“There are robes. In the bathroom. Big, thick white robes. I’ll bring you one.”
“Thanks. Anything else you want from room service?”
She shook her head, then felt him watch her ass as she walked away.
They lingered over food, teasing each other with cool feet sneaking up naked legs. Jake, aside from looking at her as if she was stunning despite her raccoon eyes and hair from her nightmares, continued to be amazing. Crazy amazing, like someone had built him to her exact specifications.
He did a recap of the evening that made her laugh and blush, showering her with kudos. Nothing would have pleased her more than spending the rest of the day in bed. And the night. Unfortunately, she did have to leave by two because as much as she deserved a day off, she wasn’t going to get one. There were too many details to handle, her own notes and follow-up calls to enter on her calendar.
But it was only noon now. She put her cup down, then took his cup and put it on the room service tray. The edges of his lips curled up as she untied the robe’s belt and pushed the thick terry cloth off his shoulders. She could only get so far, but Jake was quick, and he took over where she left off. She stripped herself bare, then rested once again on her knees.
Naked and mostly hard, Jake reached for her, cupping her cheek in his large hand. “You take my breath away,” he said. “I want you all the time.”
She turned her head to kiss his thumb. “Make love to me?”
“Yes.” He shifted his hands to her shoulders and eased them both down on the bed until they were on their sides, inches apart, their gazes holding. “I never know where to start with you. If I go for the kiss, I can’t see the rest of you. I don’t have enough hands to touch every part of your body at once. I love being inside you, and believe me, I’m a big fan of coming, but then I have to rest, and that seems like such a waste.”
It wasn’t the same giddy shiver in her tummy. As strong, yes, but not the same. This was a warmth, deep down, that spread into her limbs and her chest and her throat and her hands. They met in a kiss, and he tasted like Jake beneath the maple and coffee.
As his hand ran down her arm, slowly, gently, tears built behind her closed lids. She liked him so much, she didn’t know what to do with it. This was new. A part of herself hidden all these years. Triggered by his touch and how he saw her. So calm, so assured. He didn’t care about her lineage or that she could be a snob or that she lived in a bubble of privilege. He had looked past all of it from that first night.
What surprised her even more was that she didn’t care that he had no job, that his body was torn up, that he lived in a world she’d barely known existed.
His kiss deepened and she was on her back, with Jake settling between her legs. Everything felt slow as honey; even the light coming in from the terrace window steeped them in amber. She touched him, ran her palms down his back and over his shoulders and felt the muscles move beneath his skin. She breathed his breath and they rubbed against each other in a slow, easy dance that could have gone on forever. There was no rush to get to the finish line. This was enough. This was heaven.
She looked at his dark hair, mussed from sleep and her fingers, then down his strong back, so beautiful. Even the scar was a map of his character. He’d survived so much. He should have been bitter. Mad at the world. But that wasn’t Jake.
He was a wonder. He’d expanded her world. He made her laugh and made her come and he was a terrible dancer. The way he talked to his father was something she’d dreamed of as a child. That she would wake up one day and her family would be close and they’d laugh together at silly things. That her dad would light up when she walked into a room. It was all so tempting.
Yet as much as Jake filled her with joy, she couldn’t picture a future with him. But she wanted to. God, she wanted to.
She loved him. Oh, what had she done?
“You’re trembling,” he said.
Her fingers had gripped him so tightly, she had to be hurting him. She spread her thighs, lifted her hips with an urgency that hadn’t been there a few moments ago. “Make love to me. Please.”
He looked at her, his lips moist from her kisses, his eyes curious and a little worried. “Yes,” he said again.
When he stretched to reach the condoms left on the bedside table, she clung to him even as she loosened her grip.
JAKE GOT HOME AT four-thirty that afternoon, still tired, leg and shoulder aching. The boys were on the porch, of course, giving him hell.
“My goodness, that was some party,” Pete said, leaning back in his plastic chair. “I didn’t think those fancy dress shindigs lasted all night.”
“Maybe now he’s been with hoi polloi,” Liam added, “he doesn’t want to hang out with us regular Joes.”
Jake made it up the porch stairs and shook his head at the old busybodies. “Hoi polloi doesn’t mean what you think it means,” he said.
“Oh, so now we don’t know English.” Liam shifted. “Well, excuse me.”
“I’m tired and cold and I need to get out of this damn monkey suit. But feel free to make fun of me in absentia.”
The old men laughed, poking at each other as Jake hit the door. He gave his dad a grin, then went inside. Shower first, then he’d hit the computer. The downstairs unfinished bathroom made him groan with guilt. He’d get to it, but first, he had to see if there was any current record of Vance Keegan. Maybe the guy was in prison, maybe, more likely, he was long dead.
After another set of stairs, each step harder to climb, Jake started a hot bath, then went back to his room to put on some normal clothes. It wasn’t as if he’d hated the party or felt overly uncomfortable. He just couldn’t see making a habit of it.
That was the fundamental issue, wasn’t it? Now that his uniform wasn’t NYPD blue, it was worn jeans and comfortable shirts. He wore shoes he bought from the mall, he got his boxer briefs in a three-pack and his hair cut for five bucks at the local barber.
Rebecca and him? They were impossible. For a sprint, yeah, okay, but for the distance? No way.
He got into
the tub even though there wasn’t enough water yet and started massaging his thigh. Later he’d call about adding a therapy session. The muscles around the wound had gotten so damned tight it felt as if with the next step his whole thigh would tear in two. It was impossible to think when it got really bad, and according to the doctor, he was looking at a long rehab. Years. He’d never be the same, but if things went well, he eventually wouldn’t have to depend on pain pills to get through a day.
Yet another reason he and Rebecca had a time limit. She could have anyone. The last thing she’d want to be saddled with was some broke ex-cop with no future.
He pressed down on his quadriceps with his thumb, digging into the worst of the pain. It hurt like a wildfire, spreading up, down, throughout his whole body. Why the hell was he even thinking about anything long-term? He had no clue what he was in for. What kind of life he could have, let alone what he wanted.
Rebecca was a slice of fantasy, that’s all. He’d check on Keegan, make sure it was his imagination going off the deep end, and then, well, he’d see. She might not want to go out with him again, no matter how great this morning had been. He might wise up and end it before things got more complicated.
By the time he’d finished his soak and taken his damned pill, he’d changed his mind about hitting the computer. Instead, he went downstairs. His dad was in the kitchen, putting a piece of pumpkin pie on a paper plate.
“Did you eat dinner?”
“What are you, my mother?”
“Fine. Get rickets. See if I care. And cut me a piece, would ya?”
Jake reheated a cup of coffee then took both paper plates to the breakfast nook. Mike wheeled himself up to the table and managed his own cup.
“Where’d the boys go?”
He shrugged. “Liam wanted a lift to the mall. He needed some slippers or some damn thing.”
Jake shoveled in some pie. “So I’m at this shindig, this party for millionaires, and I hear this guy laugh.”
His father didn’t look up. Ate. Drank.
“I recognize the laugh. Weird laugh, one you could ID easy, you know?”
The nod was noncommittal, but Jake hadn’t gotten anywhere yet.
“The last time I heard it, I was on that joint task force. With the FBI and the ATF?”
“Your guy got away.”
“Yeah. It was his laugh. That same weird fucking laugh.”
His dad looked up at him. “That’s what, a dozen years ago?”
Jake nodded. “I thought it was peculiar especially when I saw this guy from the front. He’s got the same build, roughly, but the details are wrong. Hair, nose, eyes, jaw. But this guy, big shot, tons of money. Rebecca’s trying to get him to donate a fortune. Anyway, he’s got this cleft palate. Sewed up, but the scar is there. Like Stacy Keach.”
“Yeah?”
“My guy had a cleft palate. It didn’t look as good back then, but come on. The laugh and the lip?”
“Could be a coincidence.”
“I know. It’s more likely that it’s nothing. That I got the laugh wrong. I mean, when’s the last time you believed eyewitness testimony? It was years ago.”
“He might have been in a fight. Been in a car wreck. Split his lip.”
Jake nodded again. Ate some more pie.
“On the other hand,” his father said, “you could have identified a fugitive. They had him on a murder charge, right?”
Jake sighed. Sat back and stretched out his leg. “Probably wouldn’t hold up now. Evidence gone. Witnesses unreliable from the get-go.”
“Might be worth a look.”
“You think?” Jake asked, studying his old man’s face. No way Mike Donnelly was going to toss him a bone. If Jake was full of crap, his father would say.
“What’s your instinct tell you?”
“That he wasn’t right.”
“There’s your answer.”
“I could be completely wrong.”
“That’s true. So take your time. Be careful.”
“I’m not a cop anymore.”
“Jakey, you’ll be a cop till the day you die.”
REBECCA WALKED INTO HER condo just after nine-thirty, and she had enough energy to drag herself to her bedroom, strip, leaving her clothes in a heap, and fall into bed.
Things could have gone better at the office. She’d tried, she’d really tried to keep on task, but her thing with Jake had her tied up in knots.
Wasn’t love supposed to be all rainbows and unicorns? All she felt was confused. It was supposed to have been a one-night stand. She hadn’t meant to get involved with him. He was a wounded ex-cop from Brooklyn. She was…
She was exhausted. And scared. As unsure about what to do as she’d ever been. The idea of not seeing him again hurt. Physically hurt. But if she did see him again, what then? It would just exacerbate the problem. And if they wanted to take it to the next step?
He couldn’t leave his father to come live with her. Besides, Jake was a proud man. He wouldn’t want to live off her money. She wanted to believe she could become part of his life, but really? Commuting from Brooklyn? Living in a row house?
It was all too much, and her brains were scrambled from the banquet and Jake and the very real possibility that she’d become a person she didn’t like very much. But she’d have to deal with it later. Maybe take a few days away from Jake, let things settle. She needed time. And some kind of miracle.
AT TEN-THIRTY, JAKE WAS AT the computer, his coffee fresh, and his leg had simmered down to bearable. There were a lot of hits when he typed in Vance Keegan’s name in Google. But each link was about the past, the distant past. The biggest single subtopic was the missing money. They’d been expecting millions, and even the best forensic accountants hadn’t been able to trace where all that loot had gone. The press had outdone themselves condemning the police, the FBI and the ATF. A separate task force had been put together to pinpoint the blame, and Jake’s anger at reading about it was just as acute as it had been when it had happened.
But this wasn’t about history, this was a mission of discovery. He wasn’t having much luck. By the time the eleven o’clock news came on, he gave up on finding Keegan and started looking into West. Who was from Nevada. Henderson, born and raised.
The guy was worth a fortune. But he wasn’t flashy with it and kept a relatively low profile. He was a venture capitalist who’d made some smart moves, including getting out of real estate before it had all come tumbling down. He was involved with a large number of limited partnerships that specialized in chains, everything from dry cleaning to mortuaries. There weren’t a lot of articles about him.
According to the company bio, he was the same age as Keegan. Unmarried, no kids. He’d started his company with profits from a windfall, an inheritance from his uncle, his late father’s brother. He’d invested the money, and the rest was a quiet success story.
Nothing hinted that West wasn’t exactly who he said he was. But nothing eliminated the possibility either. What was really clear was that Jake didn’t have near the access he needed. But he knew someone who could get deeper. A lot deeper.
Gary Summers was an old buddy, a guy Jake had known in college. Gary had been into computers, specifically hacking, since high school. He’d been approached by the government and decided that the good guys had the best toys so he’d signed up. He was an independent bastard, only taking on contract work that interested him. The two of them didn’t talk about specifics, and that was probably why they were still friends.
Jake sent him a text. The answer came when he was downstairs helping his old man get ready for the stairs.
Come on up. Next week? Few days? U bring the beer. Send prelim info to 192.175.2.2.
Satisfied for the moment, Jake thought about calling Rebecca, just to hear her voice, but it was late, and he hoped she was sleeping. At the thought, his own exhaustion hit him like a truck. Waking up alone would be a bitch.
12
THE OFFICE WAS QUIET AS A crypt; she
should have finished her work hours ago. To make matters worse, it was Sunday, day three of her self-prescribed time-out.
Jake had wanted to see her. He’d asked her to the movies, offered to feed her, even suggested a trip to a real Irish pub. She’d begged off each time, and while her reasons were legitimate, they weren’t the whole truth.
Sadly, it turned out time away hadn’t made her situation any less confusing. She missed him. Thought of him so often it was absurd. Why was it that even though she’d chosen to keep her distance, it felt as if she was being punished? Yearning, it seemed, wasn’t just in storybooks, and it had a specific shape and weight right in the center of her chest.
She rubbed her eyes, stretched her neck, then pulled out Jake’s trading card to look at his gorgeous face. She thought about her last phone conversation with him. He’d seemed tense. Probably because he could sense she wasn’t telling him everything. They’d made love on Thursday morning. They’d bonded intensely, well, she had at least. Based on their phone conversations Jake’s world hadn’t been rocked off its axis. The two of them hadn’t discussed it. By now he probably assumed she was withdrawing since the banquet was over. After she’d seen him in her native environment and found him lacking.
It would be much simpler if that were true.
She should call him.
Rebecca glanced at the clock. Ten minutes had passed since her last check, which had been ten minutes after the glance before. Ridiculous. She picked up the phone and hit speed dial 1. He’d moved up from speed dial 17 on Thursday before her self-imposed exile.
He answered after the first ring. “Hey.”
“The thing is,” she began, “if I finish answering the emails and writing up the last two reports, I can start tomorrow with a clean slate. All the work from the banquet will be finished on my end.”
He paused, then said, “I see. How long do you think that’ll take?”
“Longer than it should. I’m in slow motion.”
