Wicked Sin

by Ainsley Booth

  “None taken.”

  “This isn’t about Newcomb. That part went just fine. Luckily, I’m not really needed to convict him, because if it hinged on my testimony, we’d be lucky to nail his ass.”

  “Did Nora say that to you?” I will go back up there and tear her a new one.

  “No.” Taylor swallows hard, fighting back tears. “No, she was fine. Extra nice, maybe, considering that she knows we’re sleeping together. But the questioning turned to Gerome Lively, and that’s where it went off the rails.”

  My mind flashes to Sarah. To Ferdinand and what Nora might know, and how she might know whatever that is.

  But I don’t need to guess. Taylor’s unloading isn’t done.

  She stares out the front of the window. “I told her that he raped me when I was thirteen.”

  Fuck. No.

  I mean, she’d basically told me in Washington. And I should have seen this coming. I know that survivors minimize their experiences to keep the disclosure safe. Measured.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. The words sound hollow and not nearly enough. “That’s awful.”

  We’re sitting in a parked car on a busy street in downtown Los Angeles. In theory, life is swirling around us. All I see is Taylor, holding her head high even as she cracks open on the inside.

  She’s so fucking brave. Especially if she’s already told Nora this, and been warned there won’t be anything that can be done about it.

  It’s not the first time I’ve seen a witness dig deep into their fear and find astonishing strength. It’s not even the first time I’ve seen someone I love do it. My mother sending me off to boot camp when she’d lost her husband on the same base. My sisters at varying times being rock-star moms.

  But this is the first time a woman I am in love with has had to bare her soul, share her most secret pain, and have no fucking idea if it will pay off.

  “I thought maybe it might be connected,” she whispered. “Or even if it isn’t connected, it still seems like the right time to say something. But it’s too late. She said it would be up to the US Attorneys in Miami, the same office that gave him a deal last time. They won’t want anything to do with me.” She looks at me, pain radiating from her eyes. “I kept that to myself all these years. Because I thought it was keeping me safe. I thought all the secrets I kept close to the chest were like armor. Instead they were just weighing me down, slowly drowning me.”

  “You were right to share.”

  “But nobody will believe me.”

  “I believe you. I told you that before. That hasn’t changed. Did Nora believe you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. That’s two of us. Have some faith. Not in the legal system, necessarily, but in humanity.”

  “That’s a big ask, Detective.”

  I give her a crooked, weak smile. “I’m full of those, Princess.” I squeeze her hand. “Can I take you back to my place and make you dinner?”

  She looks off into the distance. “Dinner sounds nice. But could we do it at my place? I think I want to go home. I couldn’t last night, but I need to sooner or later. Do you want to come over? Stay a while, then tuck me into bed?”

  And then leave her alone for the night?

  But I can’t push myself onto her. And she’s right. She needs to get back to her life.

  If I give her space, she’ll let me be a part of it, too. “Whatever you need.”

  Putting the car in gear, I head to her end of the city.

  We stop for groceries, then I escort her up to her apartment, both of us painfully vigilant. That will pass in time, but it’s hard right now.

  I kiss her senseless in the kitchen as we put away the food we bought, and then hold her on the couch for a long time. Kiss her again after dinner, many times over.

  But we don’t have sex. We talk. We sit in silence. We talk more. For the first time since our chemistry spilled over into explicitly needing each other, another need has taken top priority. A sweet, dependable shoulder to lean on.

  I want to be that, too.

  She starts yawning early, which is my cue to leave. Once she’s tucked into bed, I take my leave. “I’ll call you once I get home.”

  “Good. I want to hear you say good night one more time.”

  “You like that?”

  “Love it.”

  I brush my lips against hers. “Good night, Princess. Tomorrow, do you want to go the beach? Go dancing? I still have a few days left in my vacation.”

  “Yes.” She yawns as she tries to say something else, then she scrunches up her nose. “Okay, I’m tired.”

  “You are. Go to sleep.”

  “Call me when you get home! I’m not going to sleep until you call.”

  I grin the whole way to the car. It was a long day, and a rough day. Brutal for her in so many ways. But that bit right at the end had been pure sweetness, and it carries me all the way home.

  It takes me fifteen minutes to get up into the canyon.

  I have my phone out as soon as I’m in the garage. Time to say goodnight to my girl.

  36

  Taylor

  I’m smiling like a dope as I answer the phone. “You made it safe and sound?”

  “Yep.” Luke’s voice is low and warm in my ear. “Now close your eyes. It’s dreamland for you.”

  “Night,” I murmur. Love you.

  He doesn’t answer.

  “Luke?” I blink my eyes open and realize the call has disconnected. Maybe he hung up after I said night. Did I fall asleep as I imagined saying love you?

  Wait, did I actually say it?

  Mortified, I sit upright in bed. Oh, shit.

  My fingers shake as I dial him back. He doesn’t answer.

  Fuck.

  But that doesn’t make any sense. This is Luke. Luke. Mr. Talk Shit Out. Mr. Feelings Are Fine.

  There’s no way he’s ghosting me because I said something too emo, and I’m not even sure I said it. The more I think about it, the surer I am that I didn’t.

  I dial him again, and this time the phone goes straight to voicemail.

  Something is wrong. Something is wrong, and I don’t have a car, because a mad man blew it up, and Luke’s house is a solid twenty minutes away anyway.

  He once told me to call 911 if anything happened. If I had a worry for any reason.

  I’m sure, sickeningly so, that something terrible has just happened. My fingers shake as I dial.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  Oh God, oh God, oh God. If Luke’s phone has just died, I’m going to be very sorry about this. “I was talking to a cop just now, and his phone went dead. Now I can’t reach him. His name is Luke Vasquez and his address is…” I fumble over it, forgetting the street number. My words are spilling out too quickly, not making much sense, but I’m sure in my head that there’s a problem and I can’t fix it by myself. “He just arrived home. He called me from his garage, and then we got disconnected. And I know that sounds crazy, but he arrested a Secret Service agent for stalking me, and there’s a solid chance that someone isn’t happy with him. Can you check if Perry Newcomb is still in jail?”

  I hear myself.

  I hear that I sound crazy.

  “Ma’am, please stay on the phone. We’re dispatching a police unit to that address right now.”

  Fuck this shit. Stay on the phone. I jump out of bed, my legs just as shaky as my fingers, and I run into the living room. I need my purse, I need a hoodie, and I need to get to Luke’s house. “I have to go,” I say out loud. To myself, to the dispatcher.

  “Ma’am—”

  I hang up and go into the Uber app. Is it wrong to ask a complete stranger to drive you to a crime scene?

  Well it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done something morally ambiguous.

  But my fucking credit card doesn’t work, so I call Cole, crying.

  “I’ll get you a ride,” he says. “We’ll meet you there.”

  “I’m not waiting for your guys, Cole.”<
br />
  “I have Uber, too. It’s okay. Go downstairs. Someone will be there soon. Do not go into the house even if police have arrived. You don’t want to see it, Taylor.”

  It. A crime scene.

  Luke maybe killed because of me.

  I’m sobbing by the time I get to the lobby. My Uber is waiting for me, a nice-looking guy named Muhamet who offers me tissues and turns down his radio. “You are not Cole?”

  “It’s complicated,” I whisper through tears.

  It’s probably better if he thinks I’m running away from a break up or something rather than toward a—

  My phone rings again. I don’t recognize the number, so I don’t answer it.

  Then Cole calls back. “I’m in the car,” I say.

  “So are we.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Me and one of the guys.” One of his goons. “Your sisters are at the hotel. You could go there. I can deal with whatever’s on the scene.”

  “No.” I swallow around razor blades in my throat. I need to go to Luke. “I’ll see you there.”

  I hang up the phone.

  Then I turn it off. Back on again. Another unknown number call. Maybe that’s the police telling me not to be an idiot, that Luke is fine. I wait until the strange number goes away, then I try his phone again. Still no answer.

  When we arrive in the canyon, there’s a cop car blocking the street before we get to Luke’s place. Muhamet gives me a look of concern. “This is as close as I can get, miss.”

  Miss.

  I give him a weak smile. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. Thanks. I’ll give you five stars for sure.”

  He watches as I get out, then doesn’t drive away. He rolls down the window, listening, as I approach the officer blocking the street.

  Nice guy.

  Nobody needs to worry about me, though.

  “Hi,” I say quietly. “I know something is happening at Luke Vasquez’s house. I called it in to 911. I’m his—” I don’t know what he is. Am I his girlfriend? I’m his dirty sex partner, but I don’t think this is the time or place to identify as such. “He was on the phone with me.”

  The uniformed cop doesn’t give a fuck. “This street is closed, ma’am.”

  “I get that. To, like, everyone else. But I need to get to his house. I need to see him.”

  There’s a growl of an engine behind me, and I turn to look.

  Two oversized black SUVs arrive. It could be the FBI. But it’s not—it’s my brother-in-law. I don’t miss the fact that Muhamet is now staring at the scene we’re making. I wave at him, my heart pounding. “We’re good here. Promise.”

  “Your Uber ride?” Cole asks, like this is all no big deal.

  “Can you bribe this guy or something?” I jerk my thumb at the cop behind me, who protests. I don’t care. I’m about to run up the street screaming Luke’s name.

  “Don’t need to.” Cole looks past me at the cop. “Sarah McBride is up there. Get her on the radio. She’ll authorize us to come closer.” Then he looks at me again. “You should answer your phone. She tried to call you. Luke’s stuck in his house with someone, but the situation is under control. Get in.”

  He’s alive. My heart leaps into my throat and I scramble for the back door. By the time I’ve got it closed behind me, we’re moving again, given the all-clear.

  When we turn the corner onto Luke’s street, it’s a mess of cop cars, marked and unmarked. Lights all over the place, uniformed officers going door to door. And pretty close to his front door are two ambulances.

  Waiting.

  I start to cry.

  “Hold it together, Taylor.”

  Really not possible. I don’t respond to Cole.

  “My understanding is that this is basically a hostage situation.”

  My mind races. “Who is in there with him? Is it Newcomb?”

  “They have no intel on that yet. But no, Newcomb is still in lockup.”

  “How do you know it’s a hostage situation then?”

  “He appeared at the door long enough to tell the cops to go away. He said it in a way that told McBride he was in danger. They have codes.”

  Codes. Secret languages. God bless his kinky cop soul. He has to survive this so I can ask him which came first. I jump out of the car and run toward the front line, ignoring Cole shouting at me to stop. Screw that.

  “Sarah!” I yell.

  She appears from behind the ambulance and steps out into my path, her hands up. “Hey hey hey. Slow down. It’s going to be okay. Luke is smart. He’s going to be able to talk his way out of there, because there is no winning for whoever is inside. He’ll get them to see that in time. We just need to give him that space.”

  I start sobbing again, which is why I’m a civilian and she’s a cop. “I thought maybe his phone just died, but I knew that wasn’t the case. Oh my God.”

  “I know.” She wraps her arms around me, and holy fuck, I’ve been hugged more times in the last week than I have in my entire life, and it’s really fine.

  Luke broke me.

  In a good way.

  And now he’s locked in his house with a crazy person. “Who is it?” I whisper. “Tell me. You know, right? He told you in code?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t know. We’re negotiating with him via notes right now. I want you to stay out of sight, though. He can’t know you’re here. You get that? It will fuck him up. He thinks you’re at home, asleep. We did not tell him you called 911. We’ll do that once he’s safe. He’ll be fucking proud of you. You did the right thing.”

  My heart wrenches hard.

  She leads me back to Cole, who fires a bunch of questions I don’t really follow. Then he takes me firmly by the arm and leads me back to his vehicle.

  The next two hours drag by. At quarter to midnight, there’s a flurry of activity, and I go to leap out of the SUV, but the goon stops me.

  “I’ll go find out,” Cole says, his brows slashing across his forehead in a stern, don’t-fuck-with-me expression. “Stay.”

  I can’t believe my sister likes this man.

  I throw myself back against the seat and pout until he returns three and a half minutes later. I timed him.

  He jerks his thumb at the goon. “Take a walk for a few,” he says before climbing into the back seat with me.

  “What is it?” I ask as he rocks his jaw back and forth. Clearly something went wrong. “Cole…”

  “You’re not going to fucking believe it.”

  “Try me,” I say faintly.

  “It’s your crackpot mother.”

  “What?”

  “Inside with Luke. It’s your fucking mother. Amelia has come unhinged, clearly, and thought she could kill Luke without anyone finding out. Now she’s trapped in the house with him.”

  “My—” I’m speechless. Absolutely, what-the-fuck-do-you-mean-my-mother speechless.

  “I know.”

  “She’s dangerous,” I whisper. “And connected. Cole, we need to make this stop, now. She has the power to summon mercenaries here.”

  “She must not anymore. She wouldn’t be doing this if she could have sent mercenaries to do it, Taylor. Think about it for a second. I don’t know what kind of changes have gone down in PRISM, but maybe she’s been booted from the council because of your father’s criminal indictments.”

  “But if she— I mean, why would—” My mouth goes dry. “To hurt me. To shut me up.”

  We’d considered it a possibility with the car bomb. I should have known that if my mother wanted to hurt me, it wouldn’t be a near miss like that.

  Amelia Dashford Reid doesn’t miss.

  But now she’s in a hostage situation with the LAPD, and maybe she doesn’t know how to end this in a Dashford kind of way.

  She’s gone off the deep end.

  Maybe she was always there. But this is bonkers mad. What was she thinking? What is she thinking?

  My brain spinnin
g, I grab Cole’s arm. “You need to tell them to tell her that someone has called this whole thing off. Not my grandfather. Someone else…” A Rolodex of powerful people spins through my mind. The President would be too obviously a false promise. She wouldn’t believe that. “The Attorney General has intervened. Tell them to tell her that. They are friends, but not really. And she has dirt on him.”

  She has dirt on everyone.

  Including me, but I’ve shared all of that with Luke now. Which makes him a liability to her.

  Cole nods. “Smart. Stay here.”

  He lets himself out of the car. I watch him stride quickly toward the front line, and then when I’m sure he’s out of hearing range, I quietly open my door and slip out the other side.

  It is smart. They’ll think it’s a good idea.

  And it might even work.

  But I’m not going to leave it up to chance. Slowly, I creep up the outside of the line of cars. Nobody is watching me, so I get pretty close before I need to break across the lawn.

  Then I wait.

  There’s a fierce discussion going on between Cole, Sarah, and a big, burly guy I assume is the incident commander.

  I see my opportunity, and I race for the front door. Behind me there are shouts for me to stop, but that’s never going to happen.

  I’ll trade my life for his in a heartbeat.

  37

  Luke

  There’s shouting outside, and Amelia flinches.

  I’m not sure she’s ever fired a gun before, but she’s pretty comfortable pointing one at my chest. “Ignore them,” I say quietly. I give her a smile, too.

  I’ve smiled a lot in the last few hours. Nothing like getting to know your girlfriend’s mom at gunpoint.

  It turns out Amelia’s had a hard week, too. Her husband was arrested, she was in tough negotiations to not get arrested herself, and the extra governmental powers that be who should have come to her rescue did not. Instead they fired her. She’s slightly grumpy about that and has decided to take it out on me.

  I don’t actually have any sympathy for her. Mommy dearest is crazypants, and has zero idea of appropriate boundaries. Like, for example, don’t point a loaded weapon at a police officer. As Taylor would say, that’s freaking rude.