There was a pause after that which could've held a four-course dinner.
"Wow," she said. "Sounds like a lot of women's fantasies."
I laughed, and drew my knees up until I was curled up in a little ball on the stool. "I've done a lot of strangers. Being with someone forever means that you know his face as well as your own. It means that you can meet his eyes across a crowded room and know exactly what he's thinking."
Sara sighed. "I'm sure you're right, but if you ask me, that's only one part of loving someone. Why get stuck on that? If he's worth it, then you'll find your own way of loving each other."
"How?"
"Sex?"
"Got that covered."
"Lucky bitch." She laughed. "Why don't you ask him?"
"Just tell him what's bothering me and ask him how we can fix it?"
"Why not?"
Why not, indeed. "Okay," I said.
"Well, now that you've gotten me all horny, I'm gonna go see if I can find a stranger of my own."
"Wait, when are you going to come to visit me again?"
"I'm not partying with you anymore. I have three words for you: tequila, twins, tattoos. Never again."
"Are you talking about that night at the fair?"
"Of course. You think I do that all the time?"
"What tattoos?" I asked, dropping the mat board I was holding and coming to attention on my stool.
"The clown tattoos."
"What are you talking about?"
"They had clowns on their dicks, or near their dicks. Those suckers were long."
"Are you sure?" I said, dropping my legs and straightening on the stool.
"Yeah, you didn't notice?"
"No, it was dark. I was drunk."
"That's right. You weren't with me when I checked them out in their booth thing."
"What kind of booth was it, do you remember?"
"Why?"
"It's important, just tell me."
"I think it was one of those dart-throwing things, or maybe a ring toss. I wasn't paying much attention. The clown face was painted on the outside of it, too."
"Sara, I've gotta go. I'll call you later."
"Don't forget that I get to be maid of honor. Your sister will understand. Love you, pet," she finished, and hung up before I'd stopped sputtering.
I called Marshall at work, but he wasn't there, so I changed into jeans, a tank top, and my lime-green flip-flops, grabbed one of the photos of the body, and headed down to the station to see if I could find him. I brought my digital camera and a framed picture of me for his desk. And no, I wasn't naked. It was a shot from his partner's wedding. I hesitated to do it, but some little imp inside me wanted to aggravate him, just a little. A girl couldn't change her spots all at once.
I went into the garage, not too distracted to notice that he'd moved my car into it at some point last night. I wondered if he'd always take care of me, or whether he was sucking up until he'd convinced me to take him on.
I thought that maybe he was just the kind of guy who took care of things, his woman included. Besides, he was already getting lots of enthusiastic sex, and I was pretty sure that most men only sucked up to women when they wanted to get laid.
It was about noon, so the trip down the 5 wasn't too bad. I was starving and the fairgrounds weren't going anywhere, so I picked up carne asada burritos for me and whoever was on duty when I got there.
The guard at the gate waved me inside when I showed him my pass, and I parked next to two cruisers near the front of the building. I walked into the office, which was your basic institutional building. Formica desks, folding chairs, and dirty white walls.
A resounding cheer went up, as it always did when I walked in the door. Most of the women even liked me; I'd gone out for drinks with them a couple times. I starting pulling out the extra burritos I'd brought, handing them out on a first-come, first-serve basis. The taco shop had included chips and salsa as well, so I set that out and watched the vultures feed.
I wandered over to Marshall's desk, carrying my burrito. I set the package with the framed picture of me on his desk and then wandered back over to the crowd. "Anybody seen Scott or Stevens?" I asked around a mouthful of heavenly seasoned meat and onions. I wandered back over and perched on someone's desk. Someone I knew, I hoped.
"They left an hour ago," a young blond cop said next to me, bending to take a bite of my burrito. I figured it must be Alex Barnes, a cute young thing who had asked me out a couple times. "What do you want with those old guys when you can have me?"
"You're just too easy, Boston, a girl likes a challenge."
He put a hand to his heart in mock agony, and I laughed.
That's the picture that greeted Marshall and Stevens as they came into the room. Me sitting on the desk surrounded by cops munching burritos. I suppose it could've looked worse.
"Don't y'all have work to do?" the deep voice that I loved commented from the doorway. I looked up, eager to tell him what I'd found out.
I hopped down, handing the last half of my burrito to Barnes, and hurried over to him. "Hey," I said cheerfully, and started to move in for a hug. Something in the stiffness of his body stopped me, so I turned to Stevens and hugged him instead.
"Did you need something?" my lover asked, interrupting, and I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Actually, I found out where I've seen that tattoo."
They snapped to attention like hound dogs. "Where?" Marshall asked, taking my elbow and leading me toward his desk.
I shook him off. He didn't get to touch me right now.
"At the fair two years ago."
"Two years?" they said in unison. "That's gonna be—"
"It was on a carnie. Actually two carnies. But I think the design was painted on the outside of their booth as well."
"And carnies, while not always predictable, generally follow established travel patterns…" Stevens began.
"And since they usually go out of their way to avoid government agencies…" I continued.
"What do you mean you saw this tattoo on two carnies?" Marshall asked, and while I suspected part of him wanted to know for the sake of the case, another part of him was remembering the location of the tattoo.
"Sara hooked up with them. They were twins," I said defiantly, and noticed that Stevens shifted his weight uneasily beside me.
"Twins."
"Yep."
"So they might have other family there," he ventured.
"I think so," I said thoughtfully. My memories of that night were vague at best, but I thought I remembered them saying to Sara that their sisters would be out for the evening.
"But why dump the body near the lagoon?" Stevens asked. "They would've done better to chop it into little pieces and bury it or feed it to one of the animals. They have animals, don't they?"
Did I ever call him sweet? "I don't think they have lions or anything," I said. "It's not the circus."
"We won't know unless we find out more. We'd better check it out," Marshall said to Stevens, ignoring me completely.
"What about me?" I asked archly. The man was so in for it.
"What about you? The twin is our most likely suspect at the moment. What we really need is a sketch of the man's face, and you can't give us that."
I don't know if he said it deliberately to hurt me, but it worked like a charm anyway. I think my mouth might have fallen open, but it didn't take me long to recover. "Well, you can forget about what I can give you," I said coldly, and stalked off.
As an exit line, it lacked something, but he followed me anyway, catching me just before I reached the sliding-glass door to the parking lot.
"I want to talk to you," he growled at me through clenched teeth.
"Too bad."
"Damn it, Deborah, I didn't mean that."
"I don't care."
"Yes, you do," he said, shaking me. "Come on," he ordered, pulling me roughly back down the hall and into some kind of utility closet.
He shut the
door and we were enclosed in the musty, ammonia-scented darkness. The only light came from the crack under the door. I held myself stiffly away from him, trembling, but there wasn't so much room in the little closet that I wasn't completely aware of his every breath.
"You'd better watch out, someone might get the wrong idea and think you're screwing me or something." Sarcasm has always been my defense against tears.
"Stop it. I'm sorry, okay?" His hands cupped my face. I turned it away from him. "Honey, I didn't mean to make you cry." I felt him lean forward and his lips touched my forehead, my hot cheeks.
"I always cry when I'm mad. It doesn't mean anything." I felt him smile against my skin.
"I was jealous. I saw you laughing and flirting like you always do. Looking gorgeous, and for a second I was back where I was weeks ago, wanting you and hating you at the same time."
"Are you ashamed of being with me?"
"No." He sounded appalled. "Is that what you thought?"
"It's kind of hard not to."
"No," he said, kissing me. "Not ever."
"Uh-huh."
"You want me to prove it?" he demanded. "I'll go right now. I'll walk in there and tell all of them that I love you. I love Deborah Valley."
I put a hand over his mouth. "Shut up." I was crying again, on the verge of hiccupping sobs, and once that happens I'm completely out of control. So I took my hand away and kissed him instead, and that felt so nice and he tasted so good that I put my arms around his neck and sank into him.
He kissed me back at first, but when my lower belly rubbed against his erection, he tried to pull away. "Honey," he said, catching my arms, "we can't here." I ignored him. "Baby, I have to work. Stevens—"
"Stevens will understand," I said wickedly, and nipped him on the chin.
"But…" he started to say, and I slid my hand down the front of his slacks and gripped him.
"I want you," I said, low in my throat, massaging him with my hand. "And if you try and stop me again, I'll make sure everyone in this station thinks you fucked me in here anyway, so what have you got to lose?"
He shoved me back against the wall and put his hand on the crotch of my jeans. "When you put it that way…"
I could feel myself getting wet as he rubbed me, and for a few seconds we just groped each other over our clothes. Then I undid the clasp on his pants and slid the zipper down. His erection had already worked free of his boxers, and I gave him one good long stroke to show him how much he pleased me. His hand paused in its endeavors.
"God, I love you."
I gasped and pulled my hand away.
He just laughed and shoved down his pants and boxers. Then he rubbed up against me. "Don't worry. You don't have to say anything."
He put his hands on my shoulders and pressed downward. I went willingly, even eagerly, sliding my hands down on his chest as I went to my knees, curving them around to grip his tight buttocks as I leaned forward.
I sucked his balls first, rolling them in my mouth, and his hands tightened on my hair. Next I probed the tip of my tongue into the little triangle of skin on the underside of his rod, right above his ball sack. I took it gently between my teeth and nibbled, making him hiss.
"Take it in your mouth," he said hoarsely, and I moved to do as he asked, sliding my tongue along his undercarriage, and sucking briefly on the tip before sliding my lips down and taking him deep. I pulled on him once, opening the back of my throat, and waited, teasing. His hips moved forward, begging wordlessly, and I began sucking in earnest, pressing my tongue hard against him. His grip on my neck changed, moving my mouth up and down on his shaft.
I relaxed, breathing through my nose and sliding the wet, hot sheath of my mouth over him again and again. I could feel him getting close; several pearly drops escaped his control. I cupped his balls in my hand and lifted my mouth off him, rubbing one linger along the slick length of him, swirling it gently around the tip.
"Don't stop."
"Spread your legs a little."
He did as I asked, spreading them as far as he could with his pants around his ankles. I licked his pulsing staff as a reward, running the edge of my teeth over the sensitive tip before taking him full in my mouth again. I sucked once, hard, and slid my wet finger over the ridge of flesh behind his balls. I held it there, pressing, while he gasped and panted, then I rose higher on my knees and blew him in earnest, working him, feeling him strain on the knife edge of pleasure.
He came with a loud grunt of surprised pleasure, jerking into me. I swallowed quickly, drinking the evidence of his fulfillment, prolonging his pleasure. When the silky pulses ended, I licked him clean, kissing his softened penis farewell. I grabbed the waistband of his pants and boxers and pulled up as I stood, tucking him away gently and zipping his fly. He kissed me, sending his tongue deep, telling me without words what he intended to do to me.
"Your turn," he said, and slid his hands over my breasts.
I stopped him. "No."
"No?"
I put one hand against his chest to hold him still. I unbuttoned the top button of my jeans and slid two fingers under my panties and between my legs. He couldn't see me very well in the dark, so when I drew my fingers out, wet from my body, and touched them to his lips, he drew in a deep breath.
"Taste me," I ordered, and put my lips to his so that I could feel his tongue sampling the sap from my body. I whispered against his lips, "I want to go home wet from wanting you. I want to think about you all afternoon, coming home and taking me no matter where I am. I want you to think about me waiting for you, so hot that when you get to me, you'll do anything to have me."
"Good sweet Jesus," he groaned. I stepped away from him, buttoning my jeans.
"Come on, Detective, Stevens is waiting." I laughed and opened the door a crack, slipping through when I saw the hall was clear. I walked toward the entrance, taking my sunglasses from where I'd hung them in the neck of my shirt and sliding them on.
I heard him close the door to the closet and knew he was watching me walk away. I lifted a hand over my shoulder and waved, deliberately swaying my hips.
I didn't glance back until after I stepped through the glass doors, and saw him leaning back against the wall like a man who'd just gotten punched in the gut. But the smile on his face, oh, that smile. In that moment I knew I was a lucky woman. That smile would surprise me every time, and I would never fail to appreciate the beauty of it.
Chapter Ten
Thirteen hours later I opened my eyes to an infomercial for some miracle cream. I was lying on my bed, decked out in a black satin nightie and smelling like a harem dancer. I'd gone shopping for the nightgown after I'd left that afternoon and had spent the rest of the time getting ready. I must've fallen asleep.
I looked around. There was no sign of Marshall.
Pulling on my robe, I padded into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. I drank deeply, spilled some down my front. I grimaced, brushing the droplets from the black satin.
I wandered into the living room to check my machine. Zero messages. I dug my cell phone out of my bag. Same thing. The man was gonna get an earful when I saw him again.
There was no way I could go back to sleep. Nine hours was more than enough.
I tried to work, but I kept getting distracted by thoughts that something terrible had happened and Marshall was lying in an alley bleeding to death. When I ruined the third print of my four Italian ladies frolicking naked in the ocean, I knew I had to do something.
I called Marshall's cell phone and got a message. I called the station and got some newbie I didn't know who refused to tell me anything. I finally said to hell with politeness and called Darla. She answered on the first ring.
"Hello?"
"Darla, it's Debbie. Sorry to call so early."
"That's okay. I wasn't asleep."
"Do you know where Stevens and Scott are?"
"They didn't call you?" she asked, surprise in her voice.
"No, they didn't," I mu
ttered ominously.
"Oh," she said very carefully.
"Yes, oh. Are they all right?"
"They're fine," she rushed to assure me. "They got a call. Someone found a body down by the Oceanside pier about five o'clock. It turned out to be the mayor's youngest daughter."
"Shit."
"Yeah, I don't think we'll see them until sometime tomorrow."
"He still should've called me."
"I know."
"Men suck."
She laughed and said she'd call me if she heard anything more. I said okay and hung up.
I tried making some more prints of my ladies, but couldn't really concentrate. I knew that the tattoo investigation was probably tabled because of the mayor's daughter's death, but I thought checking the Internet was worth a try.
I wanted to scan one of the photos and send it to some friends of mine who did nothing but play on the Internet and surf all day, but knew I'd need Marshall's permission to release that bit of information. I ran a Google search for images with similar descriptors and read what I could about the Del Mar fair vendor application process and history before a pounding headache forced me to give up. I changed into my bikini and wetsuit and went out in the hazy dawn light to catch some waves.
I only stayed in for about an hour, and even then I mostly just sat on my board and drifted in the deeper water. My heart just wasn't in it. Peace eluded me today. So I dragged myself back home.
I looked up when I got to the corner of my house, and there he was, my handsome stranger, still wearing the clothes he'd had on the day before and sitting on the steps to my house with his head bent and his keys dangling from his hands. He seemed exhausted.
I sighed and went to him, leaning the surfboard against the wrought-iron railing. His head jerked up like someone who'd caught himself nodding off. His eyes met mine. I concentrated on the dark brown depths of them and let the rest of his features sort of fade out.
"Are you sorry?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Okay, then," I said wearily, and tried to move past him to unlock the door. He caught my legs and hugged me to him. I sank my hands into his hair and held him in return.
"I'm getting you all wet," I said after a second or two.
BIG GONES - OUT OF UNIFORM Page 24
