by Julie Kenner
She reeled from his abrupt shift. “But . . . but what about . . .” She gestured helplessly to her feet.
“What about them? It’s not like I can call the police department and say be on the lookout for Damian in velvety black Mary Janes because they give him super ninja powers. Larry would fall off his chair laughing.”
“True,” she said with a nod. “And on the upside, I doubt they would fit on his feet. I really can’t see him walking around with them on his hands.”
Joe’s expression lightened. “He does have a reputation to maintain.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, that gives me at least a day while Lucy convinces him to try it.” He smiled. “Plenty of time for dinner.”
Micki shifted uncomfortably, grimacing as she felt her panty hose snag. Seconds later, a run shot up her ankle. “Joe . . .” she began.
“Micki, you don’t have the shoes anymore, do you?”
Her gaze jerked back to his face. “No. I told you—”
“They’re far away from you. Aren’t influencing you in any way, right?”
“Lucy has them. I told you—”
He arched a brow in the sexiest smirk she’d ever seen. “So, don’t you think it’s time we found out if we like each other completely outside of the shoe influence?”
She swallowed, unable to keep her insides from melting into a gooey little puddle. “Are you sure you want to?”
His smile turned both hungry and mischievous at the same time. It was a really good look. “Ohhhh yeah,” he drawled. “I’m definitely interested.”
She felt her cheeks heat, and abruptly spun on her heel. “Then let’s stop by my home first. I need to get some new shoes.”
They never made it to the restaurant. Joe started talking about how he admired her spirit and her willingness to try new things. Stupid little compliments, but they worked because he seemed to mean them from his heart. It was the most natural thing in the world to kiss him in thanks for his words. And once kissing, well . . .
Apparently, Joe had stopped by a drugstore on his run home this morning, and he had a brand-new box of condoms in his pocket.
Hours and hours of ecstatic heavy breathing later, Micki rolled over onto her side and pressed tiny nibbles into his jaw. “Well, I guess I can safely say we have chemistry,” she drawled.
“Chemistry, physics, and I think a healthy dose of poetry,” he murmured back, his eyes still closed. But he still managed to move his lips to meet hers.
Micki smiled. She couldn’t agree more. Instead of the wild tumble lovefest of last night, they had enjoyed long leisurely kisses that progressed to tender excitement. Today had been as perfect in its sweetness as yesterday had been in its fantasy fulfillment. Who knew she had such passionate range?
They continued to exchange tiny nips until his stomach growled. Micki laughed. “You promised me Italian food. So . . . will pizza do?”
“Mmmmm,” he said against her jaw. “I think I love you.”
It wasn’t meant as a serious statement. It was just a joke about liking a woman who would accept sex and pizza rather than a fancy Italian meal. But Micki’s heart froze nonetheless. And when she stiffened, so did he.
He pulled back, his eyes widening in horror at what he’d just said. “I—,” he began.
“No worries, Joe,” she said at the same moment. Her heart was beating triple-time. “What’s your favorite pizza?”
“I didn’t mean it like it sounded—”
“I know, Joe. It’s fine,” she said as she pushed out of bed. She couldn’t look at him. Not because he looked so panicked, but because she had no right to be so devastated. Sure they’d known each other for the whole school year, but they’d only just begun talking yesterday. She didn’t even know how she felt about him. No way could she expect him to have figured his own feelings out.
“But I’m not sure I don’t mean it,” he continued. “I mean, it’s just too soon. I really want to get to know you more. I really like what we do together.”
She glanced back at him, her eyebrows arched. “Joe, it’s okay. I liked it, too.”
He flushed a deeper red, one that really made his skin look rugged. “Well, yes, I liked that. I like it a lot. But I mean, I like being with you.”
She didn’t think she could bear to hear any more. Those three words could not be said casually between lovers. Not to her. So she leaned forward and pressed her finger against his mouth. She would keep the tone light even though it killed her.
“Joe, focus here. What kind of pizza do you like?”
He lifted her finger off his mouth and gently spread her hand before he pressed a long, tender kiss into her palm. It was a small gesture, but so sweet her eyes teared up. “I love whatever pizza you want. I’ll eat anything, even if it’s vegetarian.”
She grinned. “Pepperoni and sausage?”
His eyes sparkled. “Now I really do—”
“Don’t, Joe,” she whispered. “Don’t joke about it. I’m in a vulnerable place here, and I think I could easily fall in love with you.” Maybe she already had. “So don’t tease me if you’re going to turn around in a week or a month and start parading around some big-boobed wonder.”
He straightened, his face shifting into harder lines. “We’re going to have to talk about this obsession you have with breasts. Believe me when I say that I like yours just fine.” He reached to stroke her left one, lifting its tiny weight almost reverently. His touch was so perfect that she arched her back to give him better access.
His lips descended. Soon he was stroking her nipple with his tongue, and she was gripping his shoulders as the strength left her legs.
“Show me that you want me, Joe. Just me. No shoes, no kung fu power—even if I’m a bleeding-heart liberal who can’t make it in Indianapolis. Show me that you—”
Her words were cut off with a gasp as he flipped her onto her back. She was at the edge of the bed, her legs dangling off the side, and he was abruptly standing between her knees.
“Look at me, Micki,” he ordered.
She had been looking at him. She had been watching the dark intensity of his eyes.
“No,” he said. “Look here.”
She lifted her head to see his large and thick erection standing proudly between her thighs. His hands were shaking as he ripped open another condom and slid it on.
“This is our third time today, Micki. Three times. I have never, ever been able to do that. Not with any blonde bombshell. Not even when I was a kid.” He dropped forward so that his arms framed her shoulders, and they were almost nose to nose. “I want you, Micki Becker.”
He thrust himself hard inside her. A single shove and she arched at the cascading shivers he created—delight that came as much from the intensity of his gaze as the power of his strokes down below.
“You, Micki Becker, with your bleeding heart.” He thrust again. “With your perfect breasts.” Another thrust. “And your stubborn, stubborn personality.”
She wrapped her legs around him and began to tighten, pulling him into her in time with his movements.
“God, I want you, Micki,” he growled. Then he slipped his hand between them and pushed his thick thumb against her. It was all she needed to fly. Her orgasm ripped through her, drenching every cell of her body in plea sure. He slammed against her once more, then shuddered helplessly inside her, his own explosion as powerful as hers.
And only then did she touch ecstasy. Not from the waves of delight that still rolled through her. Not from the wonderful feel of Joe inside her. But in the abrupt and startling revelation that she loved him.
It made no sense. What did she know about the man except that he was kind, he cared about the kids, and he tried to protect her? That he had brought her car back to her, that he’d loved it when she sparred with him, and that even though he didn’t like her teaching style he’d never undermined or berated her. He’d even stopped by her classroom on a regular basis to make sure she was okay. Not much of a foundation for love. But appare
ntly, her heart didn’t care. He was a great guy, and he wanted her. At least for the moment.
She was in love. And at that moment, the feeling was wonderful. She smiled as he collapsed beside her. She loved him. She would enjoy that—and pray she kept his interest—until the end of the school year. And then she would regretfully kiss him good-bye.
Yes, she abruptly decided, he was a great guy, and he was also right. She didn’t belong here. Which meant at the end of the school year, she’d go back home to Detroit and try again at a less challenging school.
They woke when a cell phone rang. It wasn’t Micki’s phone, but in the middle of the night, she wasn’t paying that much attention. It was on the nightstand by her head, and so she grabbed it and answered. “ ’Lo?”
“Mr. DeLuce?”
“Uh-nuh.” Then Micki frowned. She recognized that voice. “Lucy?”
“Miss Becker?”
Joe rolled over, his eyes barely open, but his voice strong. “Was that my phone?”
“Here,” Micki said as she passed it over. “It’s Lucy.”
“Lucy? Lucy!” He sat up as he tucked the phone next to his ear. “What is it?”
Micki turned to look at the alarm clock by her bed. It read 1:27. In the morning. What could Lucy want with Joe now? Suddenly the man rolled out of bed and started grabbing his clothes. He found a sock first and pulled it on.
“No, Lucy, you wait for me. It’s too—Lucy! I’m coming right now.”
Micki was moving as well, pulling on clothes and tossing Joe his at the same time.
“Tell me everything you know,” he ordered into the phone while pulling on his pants. “You’re sure? What about—No! Wait! Lucy!” He pulled the cell away from his ear and cursed.
“What’s going on? Is she okay?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Hell.” He pulled on his dress shirt. “I gotta go.”
“Not without me, you’re not.” She finished tying the bow on her gym shoes, then grabbed her purse. “I’m going.”
He shook his head. “It’s too—”
“Dangerous. Yeah, whatever. I’m going.”
He grimaced as he pulled on his other sock. She stood in front of him and tried to sound tougher than she felt. “Look, I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll stay down, stay in the car. I’m not stupid. But I’m strong enough to help you even without kung fu shoes. You know I am.”
“Micki—”
“I’m going.”
“Micki!”
“What?”
He tossed her his car keys. “You drive while I call for backup.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Where are we going?” Micki demanded as she backed Joe’s SUV out of her apartment complex parking lot. Joe didn’t answer. He had her cell phone to his ear—his was on his lap in case Lucy called back—and he was fiddling with another electronic device that she couldn’t quite see.
A second later, he plopped the thing on the dash and she heard a soothing electronic voice speak: “Turn left in five hundred feet.”
“A GPS! Cool!” That’s why he had insisted they take his car. Plus, his car certainly had more muscle than her little sunshine Beetle. “But where is it taking us?”
“Hello! Hello, Larry? It’s Joe. I got a situation . . .”
Ding, ding. “Turn left now. Then in two miles, take ramp right.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Micki murmured at the machine. “But where are we going?” She accelerated too fast down the street. “Don’t you have a police light or something?”
Joe rolled his eyes at her. “I’m a school cop, not SWAT.”
Guess that meant no.
Ding ding. “Take ramp right.”
Micki overplayed the wheel and they swerved, prompting curses out of both of them. But within moments they were on the freeway and zipping down the far left lane.
“Continue for three miles, then take ramp left.”
“Yeah, yeah. But where . . .” Micki remembered her brother’s GPS. This wasn’t the same make or model, but they ought to be similar. She leaned forward and started pushing buttons. It was quite a feat given that she was driving a zillion miles an hour, but thankfully, the freeway was fairly empty.
Finally, she found it. She brought up a list of turns until she arrived at her destination: an address she was sure she’d seen before. Then she swerved to avoid a teen on a cell who was going almost as fast as she was. She winced because of the bad example she was setting, but then had to focus on getting over for her exit.
Ding, ding. “Take ramp right now, then turn left.”
“I know, I know,” she muttered. She made it—barely—then snaked through a residential area that looked solidly middle class. “I know this place . . .” she murmured again.
Meanwhile, Joe snapped her cell shut and pulled out his gun, checking it. She didn’t know anything about guns except what she’d seen on TV, but just the knowledge that he had one—apparently in perfect working order—made her feel . . . well, she wasn’t sure how it made her feel. Good, she decided. Scared, but good.
“How’d Lucy know your phone number?” she asked.
He shoved the gun in the back of his pants, just like they did on TV. “I give it to all the kids. I’m there for them if they ever need a cop. Yeah, they laugh at me and the crank calls suck, but a few of them keep it. Just in case.”
She smiled. Of course he did. He was just that kind of guy.
“Drive for 0.8 miles, then arrive at destination.”
“That’s Mr. Gorzinsky’s minivan!” she cried, peering ahead through the darkness.
Joe cut in, “Pull over here. I’ll walk the rest.”
“That’s how I know the address,” Micki continued as she pulled over. “I had to drive him home one day when he got the flu. . . .”
A dark form dropped from the branches of a huge oak tree. One moment, Micki was busy parking, the next a black figure landed, thump, right beside the SUV. Micki bit back a scream, belatedly recognizing the tiny figure of Lucy in dark jeans and a black tee. Then Micki cut the engine and slammed open the car door. “Lucy, what the—”
“Shhhh!” That came from both Lucy in front and Joe from the other side.
Micki buttoned her lip, but it wasn’t easy. She had way too many questions. Fortunately, one of them was answered as she looked down at Lucy’s feet. Yup. The two red Chinese characters for love and kindness showed clearly in the darkness. They might even be glowing.
“You took too long!” Lucy hissed to Joe.
“We got here as soon as we could. There’s cops on the way—”
“No time! We gotta catch him red-handed!”
“Calm down—” Joe began.
“Who’s in there?” asked Micki, unable to keep her mouth shut.
“Damian and his crew. They’re loading up the truck now,” snapped Lucy as she peered around the hedge. Sure enough, there was a truck in the driveway. Mr. Gorzinsky’s minivan was on the street.
“Ladies,” Joe snapped back, “settle down! We can just get the truck. It’s okay.”
“You gotta get Mr. Gorzinsky!” Lucy shot back. “He’s the one done all of this!”
Micki felt her brain finally catch a clue. Damian and his crew were loading up drugs into a van. Drugs that were somehow hidden in Mr. Gorzinsky’s home. Wait, why would they be in Mr. G’s house? Unless . . . “Mr. Gorzinsky’s manufacturing the drugs?” she exclaimed in a half yelp.
“Shhhh!” hissed Joe, while Lucy gave her a “duh” look.
“But . . .” She bit her lip rather than speak, but . . . Mr. Gorzinsky?
“You don’t believe me!” Lucy snapped.
“I believe you,” Joe pressed. “I’ve been watching him for a while, trying to get enough evidence to shut down the whole operation. And if we just wait—”
Too late. Lucy sprinted off at a run. And with the magic shoes on her feet, there wasn’t much hope of catching her.
Micki tried anyway. With Joe’s limp, Micki was their only hope
of getting the girl, so with a half-muffled “Lucy!” she took off down the street after her. At which point, she heard Joe curse—something to the effect of “Girls!”—then his uneven footfalls pounded after her.
Lucy slipped in and out of shadows like a ninja. Even knowing exactly where the girl was, Micki had a hard time seeing her. She felt like a lumbering ox as she chased—on tippy toes in an attempt at silence around Damian’s van and into the backyard.
It was a normal enough backyard, complete with a privacy fence to block out the sight of rocks and weeds. Or, of course, it could shield neighbors from seeing teenage boys carrying shoebox-sized plastic bins up the stairway from the basement.
Micki shrank back against the house as one of Damian’s gang climbed up the outdoor stairs from the basement. He was bobbing and weaving his head in time with whatever was coming over his headphones. Micki watched him load two storage bins into the truck, then turn around and bob back down.
Okay, so Lucy was right. The boys were loading something suspicious into a van. From Mr. Gorzinsky. Fine. Micki could accept that. A chem teacher was poisoning the very kids he was teaching. But where was the girl?
“They’re almost done!” whispered Lucy from right behind Micki.
Micki almost screamed, but stifled it into a squeak. “Yeah,” she gasped when her heartbeat settled from terrified into panicked. She reached for the girl. “Let’s go. We can’t be seen—”
“No!” Lucy said, executing a perfect chop to Micki’s wrist. “We’ve got to get Mr. G with his drugs. It’s his fault about everything!”
“Trust in the police,” Micki urged. Her numb fingers couldn’t hold Lucy back, but maybe her words could.
Not a chance. “I’ll delay them as long as I can,” Lucy whispered. “They can’t catch me with these shoes!” Then the girl started skipping—yes, skipping—straight down the stairwell.
“Lu—” Micki gave up; the girl was gone. She turned, looking for Joe. She knew he was around here somewhere, but all she could see was shadows. She listened for the sound of car engines. Lots of cars. Squad cars with sirens all rushing here to save Lucy.
