by Virna DePaul
One more thing to feel guilty about would send her over the edge for sure. And this time, she knew, she wouldn’t be able to pull herself back.
Her phone rang and she answered. “This is Deputy D.A. Linda Delaney.”
“Hello, this is Deputy Roskins in the jail. I’m trying to find D.D.A. Neil Christoffersen, but I’ve been told he’s already left. You were the last deputy listed in the file before him and I wanted to make sure your office knows about an in-custody defendant that’s been assaulted.”
She quickly inhaled. “Who is it?” But she already knew. And part of her knew she’d go to his side. Knew that she had to see him. That even though he might be a bad man, and bad for her in so many ways, he still needed her.
“Tony Cooper.”
* * *
Tony kept his eyes closed and moaned against the pain. For a minute he remained caught in its nightmarish embrace. His leg and throat burned. Why?
Memory returned in bleak images of jail and basketball games and swastikas. They must have brought him to the hospital. Automatically his hand fumbled for the nurse’s call button. He didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to remember.
He hurt like hell.
All he wanted was drugs. The drugs would bring him relief. They’d make him feel good.
But there was a reason he couldn’t have them...
Ah, right.
Because he was an addict.
After his run-in with Guapo, before he was in any kind of shape to tell the hospital staff he was addicted to pain meds, they’d given him Oxy. They’d thought they were being merciful, but all they’d done was feed Tony’s addiction so that after years of managing his desire for the drug, he once again felt on the verge of giving in.
He heard a noise and sensed someone beside him. He took a deep breath. He needed to tell them. No drugs. He couldn’t—
“Tony.”
His eyes blinked open to find a woman leaning over him.
Linda.
He’d dreamed of her so often throughout the past year and dreams were so much better than the cold reality without her. Why was she here now? Looking at him as if she still...cared.
Linda leaned over and touched him, cupping his face and smoothing her palm over his forehead as if she was checking his temperature. Her gaze had that familiar expression she’d often worn around him, despair and affection mixed in one confusing bundle. The times she’d been able to look at him with simple joy, with no doubt, were few and far between, and that was probably the biggest regret of his life. But right now there was no regret. He simply enjoyed her presence, wondering where they were. Why she’d finally come to him...
Once again memory clicked into place, hitting him with the force of a sledgehammer.
She might be here, but they weren’t together.
They weren’t ever going to be together again.
Hell, she wasn’t even going to be the lawyer prosecuting him for Guapo’s murder. Good and bad news, that. He wouldn’t be so distracted or tempted to tell her the truth. But he wouldn’t get the extra time with her, either.
For all he knew, this might be his last opportunity to talk to her.
It almost came rushing out of him then. His love for her. But he reminded himself of what he was doing.
Suddenly their gazes met and she saw he was awake. Swiftly she withdrew her hand.
“Where am I?” he asked.
“Jail infirmary. Do you remember what happened?”
“Yeah. I got into a fight with someone about a basketball game.”
“Right.”
He narrowed his eyes at her slow drawl. “I’m telling you the truth.”
“Just not the whole truth. Rumor is you were protecting someone else from getting coldcocked. Someone younger and with a big mouth.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Okay.”
“So why are you here? Were you hoping I’d made things easy on you and gotten myself killed?”
She paled and shook her head. Leaned closer, as if to mesmerize him with the color of her green eyes. “Don’t say things like that,” she said fiercely. “Now how are you feeling? Are you in pain?”
She sounded so much like herself, so much like the woman who’d jump to his defense if anyone, even himself, dared to put him down, that he couldn’t help smiling. She sounded as if she actually still cared about him. That knowledge filled him with a slight sense of unease and he said, “What if I am? You gonna get me some pills? Kiss my ‘owies’ and make them better?”
She blushed and he remembered how often she’d done just that, sprinkling butterfly kisses across his back and leg to distract him from his pain. He also remembered how thoroughly the distraction had worked.
“Stop trying to pick a fight and just tell me if you need anything,” she said softly.
“I need you,” he said before he could stop himself. “I always have.”
Eyes widening, she sucked in a breath. Then tears filled her eyes before she quickly blinked them away. “Tony,” she said on a breath, and it was all there in her voice—the same regret she’d felt on the night she’d broken up with him. So yes, he was right. She did still care about him.
But like always, that didn’t change a thing.
Even so, with the light behind her, her hair looked like a halo around her head.
An angel of mercy in a jail infirmary. And as much as he told himself he should take back the words of need he’d just voiced, that he should push her away yet again, he couldn’t do it.
Instinctively he reached for her. His angel.
He smoothed his knuckles against her cheek and, to his surprise, she let him. But it shouldn’t have surprised him. She was a natural caregiver. As passionate and vivacious and playful as she’d often been with him, she’d never been able to see him in pain without hurting herself. In addition to kissing his “owies,” she’d even taken a massage-therapy class so she could help him with his back and leg when they bothered him. But of course what would initially start as a therapeutic massage had almost always transformed into something sensual before too long. When images of their past lovemaking flashed in his head, his hand instinctively moved to cup her neck and pull her down toward him. But before he could, she pulled away.
He forced himself not to reach for her again.
She’d been right to reject him. He was in jail for killing a man! And hadn’t he just been wishing for the oblivion the drugs could bring him?
Once an addict, always an addict.
He was a high-maintenance mess. Far more work than caring for a dog ever would be and she’d already voiced her preferences for cats because even a dog would require too much of her.
“You ever get a cat?” he asked, surprising both of them.
She blinked, then laughed. “What?”
“You used to want one. When we were together. I was just wondering....”
Her expression closed up. “No. After what happened with Guapo’s men, I had a lot of physical therapy to do. And then catching up with work...well.” She shrugged. “I don’t have a lot of free time to give a pet.”
He stared at her, imagining her participating in hours of painful physical therapy because of him. “Do you still do physical therapy?”
“Occasionally. When something’s bothering me. Mostly...mostly my right knee. One of Guapo’s men broke it,” she said.
He closed his eyes in horror. “God, Linda. I wouldn’t blame you for wishing me dead. A whole lot of lives would be better off if I wasn’t around. Everyone knows that.”
“Not everyone. Not me. And Mattie would never say that. Not in a million years.”
He didn’t argue with her. She was right, after all. His sister had stuck by him and though she’d tried to talk hi
m out of coming back to Sacramento, in the end she’d continued to stick by him. If he needed her—correction, if he asked for help from her—she’d be by his side in a second. And that’s why he couldn’t ask for her help.
“Mattie left me a letter telling me about WITSEC.” When he said nothing, she gave an exasperated sign. “I know you can’t tell me where they are. Or maybe you don’t even know. But she was my best friend. Do you know if they’re okay?”
He shifted to sit up, and a wave of pain hit him with the strength of one of California’s northern coastal waves. Again he could barely stop himself from asking for drugs. From begging Linda to get them for him. But he forced himself to take several deep breaths until the urge passed. Still, she frowned as her gaze swept over him, as if she was trying to assess what part of his body was troubling him the most.
This wasn’t good. The fact that she’d told him about her knee injury and had even asked about Mattie was reminding him all too well of how easy it had always been to talk to her. He’d revealed things to her that he’d never told anyone else, some things that he’d been deeply ashamed of. And he’d always felt safe doing so. Until she’d left him.
“Small talk, Linda?” he said finally, knowing he’d get a rise out of her. Knowing she’d be diverted enough to at least not ask about his level of pain.
“So you won’t even tell me Mattie and Jordan are safe?”
“The answer is, I don’t know. Where they are or how they are.” Only half of that statement was a lie. He didn’t know where they were, but he had no doubt they were safe. Dominic Jeffries, Mattie’s husband, would make sure of that.
For months, they’d all been in WITSEC together—Dom, Tony, Mattie, and Jordan. But one of the conditions of him returning to Sacramento was that Dom move them again. And not tell Tony where they went. Just in case. “And it has to stay that way.”
“Even though Guapo’s dead now?”
God, he wished it wasn’t so. “Guapo has plenty of men who are willing to do his dirty work for him. That’s going to be especially true now that his drug business is up for grabs.”
“But it’s not up for grabs now, is it? You’ve apparently taken it over.”
“So long as I’m in jail, there’ll be plenty of contenders. But taking over his game? Yes, it was the plan all along, babe.”
“Since when?”
He stared at her though hooded eyes. “Since you and I both accepted what I truly am.”
“I never accepted that you were a bad man or a criminal, Tony. Just because you make mistakes doesn’t mean you’re unlovable. I just couldn’t be with you. You know why. You know what you are.”
As if unable to keep still any longer, she stood and paced beside his bed. He watched her with his heart in his throat. Her long-limbed stride was beautiful. Graceful. Agitated.
She suddenly halted and placed her hands on her hips. “Why?”
He dragged his gaze from her hips to her face. “Why what?”
“Why are you trying so hard to convince me you’re a bad guy? Why did you confess to murdering Guapo? Given our history, given how susceptible I’ve always been where you’re concerned, why aren’t you trying to play me? To gain some leniency? It’s what most people would do in your situation.”
He forced himself to smirk. “I hear the rumors. I know how hard you’re working to be a judge. To get the respectability you’ve always wanted. Maybe I just don’t want to ruin that for you. Or maybe throwing me out of your life finally proved to me how unsusceptible to me you really are.”
“Stop trying to make me feel guilty for that, damn it. It wasn’t what I wanted. But you gave me no choice.”
He scowled and before he could stop himself, he spoke from his heart rather than from his head. “How? By being weak? By being tempted to do something I knew I shouldn’t? Making mistakes doesn’t mean I’m unworthy of being loved, Linda? Isn’t that what you said? What a crock. You kicked me out of your life.”
“Not because I didn’t love you! Because you got hold of those pills knowing full well you were going to take them, Tony. If not that night, then on another one. You chose them over me and I couldn’t trust you anymore.”
“Well, we’ll never know for sure whether I would have taken them, will we?”
She froze. “What do you mean? It’s been years since we broke up...eighteen months since Mattie left...are you trying to tell me you never took those pills? That you’ve been clean since—”
That’s exactly what he’d been implying, but it had been a damn stupid move. Somehow he managed to keep his gaze directly on hers. “I didn’t say any such thing. Even if I had, you’d be a fool to believe me, wouldn’t you?”
She had nothing to say to that. And he knew she was getting ready to leave.
Desperately, without meaning to, he tried to stop her. “So despite throwing me out of your life, are you saying you are still susceptible to me?”
Her mouth pressed into a thin, bitter line. “I really would be a fool to admit that, wouldn’t I?”
The way she echoed his own words made him sigh. “Yeah. You would. Because you know who I am, Linda. I don’t have to pretend with you. Even when we were together, I always knew what I was.”
“You were always a little too willing to think badly of yourself. I suppose I didn’t help you with that, did I? Yet aside from the drugs, you always did the right thing, Tony. You were almost too damn perfect, in fact. I saw it most in how you were with Mattie and Jordan. Anything they needed, you were there, even before they could think to ask. You never forgot Jordan’s birthday. You were there for every ballet recital. You were there to babysit anytime Mattie needed you. And you didn’t just help your family, Tony. You helped total strangers. Do you remember Mrs. Ramsey from the Sunrise Nursing Home? She still asks about you. Still asks about those damn chocolate-chip cookies you used to bring them. You brightened up the day of total strangers and were always putting others first. You did it again a few hours ago by protecting someone more vulnerable than you.”
Too perfect? She’d thought he’d been almost too perfect? Hardly, he thought. No matter what he’d done well in her eyes, she’d always seen him as weak. Too weak to take a chance on. But even so, she was making a good argument and suddenly he wanted to cry, Why? Why had she left him if she’d really thought so well of him?
The question was on the tip of his tongue, and he clenched his teeth to keep it inside. Damn it, stopping her from leaving had been a mistake. She needed to go before he made another one. “I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know. And that makes me sad. Because despite everything we’ve been through in the past, you never lied to me, Tony. Yet something tells me you’re telling a whole bunch of lies now, starting with what happened with Guapo. I can’t help but wonder why.”
He shrugged. “Wonder all you like, Linda. But as of this morning, I’ve hired new counsel. Roger Lock. If you want to talk to me further, you’ll have to go through him.”
Chapter 10
Molly Snow was a professor’s wife whose husband devoted himself to his college students during the day but gave himself fully to her at night. It always turned her on to see the transformation in him—in herself—when the day was over. He would shed his conservative wool jackets with the dated leather patches at the elbow. Ruffle the hair that had been ruthlessly smoothed down with gel. And kick off the staid, ugly shoes that reminded her of a traveling salesman’s.
It was what kept their marriage strong. Shared secrets. A willingness to stretch boundaries and do anything the other needed. Even if it meant taking the latest street drug to spice things up.
Neither had an aversion to drugs. They didn’t do things like acid or heroin, but contented themselves with things that were relatively harmless, like pot or the new “in” thing—bath salts. They adde
d a nice zip to reality. She loved how they made her feel, and how they made him feel, and how, in the morning, he’d kiss her gently, sweetly, as if she was the most precious thing in the world to him.
But at night... Oh, at night... He’d turn to her, just like he had tonight, with heat in his eyes and a wicked grin and she’d shiver at what she knew was in store for her.
“You like this, don’t you?”
He squeezed her nipple, pinching it hard through her clothing so that the pain sunk all the way to her core. Yes, yes, she thought when he grasped her silk blouse and ripped it from her in three vicious pulls. Her skirt suffered a similar fate. Despite how rough he was with her clothes, his hands were gentle as they roamed over her.
That’s why she frowned when she felt the pinch of fear...and anger that washed through her. Anger and fear that was definitely directed toward him.
He leaned in to kiss her. “I love you, baby, I love you so much. Are you going to be a good girl for me? Let me do whatever I want? Say it. Say you’ll let me do anything I want.”
She almost couldn’t speak over the emotions washing through her. She hated him. He was a sick man and he was always trying to drag her down with him. But she forced herself to say yes, which made him smile and kiss her again.
Her eyes flickered to the lit candles that flickered fragrantly beside the bed.
In terms of weapons, they were deceptively harmless.
But she’d just have to be creative.
And she was.
An hour later his hands and feet were bound to the bedposts and she was sprawled on top of him.
She wasn’t sure if she hated him now or loved him.
Trying to figure it out made her head hurt, so she stopped trying.
For an instant she thought of the man she’d met at Club Matrix. He hadn’t looked like a drug dealer any more than she and her husband looked like users.
Her husband...
She turned back to him.
When she reached for the candles, he laughed, likely thinking she’d repeat the wax play they’d engaged in a few months ago. But that wasn’t what she did.
