by Kaylea Cross
And an emotional basket case. It was a shame.
Armando let her arch back and look up at him. He smoothed a hand over her cheek and chuckled. “You little spitfire. You can’t keep doing this. You’re biting the hand that feeds you. You need to learn who to trust.”
“I want to do it my way. I don’t want everyone’s handouts,” she whined. Her mascara had run down her cheeks and her bright red lipstick had smudged to the side of her mouth.
“You will, in time.”
“But it’s not what I want,” she complained.
“Then make yourself want it, Mia, because there’s no fucking way I’m gonna let you throw your life away. Start acting like a grownup, okay?”
Mia nodded. Riverton wondered if she’d been on something. She looked like she hadn’t slept in a couple of days.
Armando turned, still holding his sister with her hands tied behind her back. His muscled arm was wrapped around her tiny waist as he swung her around to face her mother. “Why don’t you start picking on people your own size, hmmm?” Armando said to the top of her head.
“Sorry, Mama,” Mia whispered.
Before the little woman could come over to her daughter, Armando interrupted. “No. Not mama. I meant Mayfield, here.” He winked at the big detective, who flinched and then chuckled. Armando’s flashing eyes and handsome features were identical to his mother’s. But hard and chiseled from pure steel. Riverton also saw that the trained killer was smart, and kind.
Armando took Mia to another part of the house, tenderly cutting loose her ties first. He nodded to Riverton before they disappeared from view.
“Thanks. Appreciate it,” Mayfield said as he removed his arm from the little woman’s shoulder and looked for a place to put his hands. He had pursed his lips and was frowning, looking down at his feet. Then he cleared his throat.
“I am Felicia Guzman, and you are welcome in my home,” the petite Latina said, her voice wavering slightly.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Riverton responded. “I’m so sorry, and can see you have your hands full.”
“Indeed,” she answered. “She has always been a headstrong child. Her brother, too, but he—” She looked up at Mayfield as if to ask permission about a reveal she was compelled to make.
“I know about him, Ma’am.” Riverton looked into Mayfield’s weary eyes. “That’s partly why I’m here.”
Mayfield frowned. Felicia burst into the conversation, “Something is wrong? More trouble? Is Armando in trouble?”
“No, ma’am. Look, can I steal Detective Mayfield from you for a few minutes, please?”
“Sure. Sure. You want some coffee? I can make some?”
“No, thanks.
“Water would be great, Felicia,” Mayfield said. He brushed his fingers underneath her chin and the little woman’s eyes sparkled. “I need to talk to Detective Riverton alone for just a few minutes.” He looked back to Riverton. “And I don’t think I’m going to like what I’m going to be told.”
Riverton and Mayfield sat on a pink flowered couch littered with a bright hand-knitted afghan and an assortment of pillows Mayfield tossed into a nearby chair before he completely occupied half of the space. Riverton just had enough room not to physically touch him when he sat down. He retrieved the photograph of the dead cat from his breast pocket, along with his notebook.
“You seen this tattoo before?” he asked Mayfield.
“Geez,” the giant said as his stiff fingers held the piece of paper between them. He held the photograph up closer to his eyes and examined it. “I’ve seen these tats on Kyle’s group, mostly.”
“Kyle’s group?”
“Kyle is Armando’s Team leader. They’ve been friends since BUD/S. I think their whole class got ‘em, and then new members get them when they join up.”
“You know who did it?”
“Sure. Daisy I think her name is, over at—can’t remember the place, but Armando would tell you.”
“Tell you what?”
Neither of the two men had noticed Armando had joined them. Riverton had chills up his spine because this was the second time Armando had moved to within striking distance of Riverton without his knowledge.
“The tattoo parlor where Daisy works.” Mayfield turned his attention back to the photograph and then looked up at Riverton. “Can I show him?”
“Sure.”
Armando whistled. “Fucking monster. You after a cat killer?” His eyes flashed as a little smile made a brief appearance.
Felicia Guzman brought two tall glasses of ice water and handed it to the detectives. “You want something, Armando?”
The SEAL grabbed his mother and gave her a bear hug. “No, thank you, mama. I’m going to go show Mia the house. She’s getting a few things together.” He was still holding the photograph in his left hand, but down at his side and away from Felicia Guzman’s view.
“Good.” The little woman retreated to the kitchen, and Riverton noticed Mayfield was focused on every step she took.
Riverton took several long gulps of the cold water and set his drink down. He accepted the photograph Armando returned to him.
“I have Daisy’s number on my phone.” Armando displayed it so Riverton could copy it down. “Seabreeze and Fourth, no Fifth.”
Riverton was thankful for the information. “So, you think she did this one, too?”
“Probably, Armando said. But look here, see how dirty the fingers are? And see that scar?”
Riverton looked at the photograph, ignoring the cat. It was hard to tell, due to its size, but yes, the fingers did look stained, or in shadow. He didn’t see a scar. He cursed to himself for not noticing this detail.
“What scar?” Mayfield asked.
Armando leaned over and pointed to a spot on the wrist. Barely visible was a thin cross made from two lines bisecting each other.
“That a cross?” he asked.
“Not really,” Mayfield said as he examined it over Riverton’s shoulder. “That’s the mark of a suicide attempt. At some point in time this fella was intent on taking his own life.”
“Which means he isn’t one of us.” Armando said it as a fact.
“Why would you say that?” Riverton asked him.
“Don’t you know, man?” Armando took a step back and held his massive arms out to the side. “We’re God’s gift to women. SEALs are way too conceited to off themselves and deprive the world, especially the lovelies, of the pleasure of their company.”
Everyone chuckled.
Armando continued. “You know how it goes, gentlemen. Big egos, big—”
“Okay, that’s enough. I get your point.” Riverton frowned but was still laughing on the inside. “How about a former SEAL?” he asked.
“More than likely a wannabe. Someone who thought of himself as one, but never made it.”
“A copycat SEAL.”
“Oh, they’re out there. You usually find them when they’re trying to pick up girls in the bars. Actors. You call someone a Hollywood and that means he’s a faker.”
“Could he have been someone who washed out?”
“Could be,” Armando said, nodding his head, thinking about it. “We weed them out. Hell, even some really great guys who would have been awesome wash out. This guy is a mental.”
Riverton looked back down at the picture.
Mission accomplished. He discovered he was actually relieved to know SO Calvin Cooper was no longer a suspect. That eliminated one suspect just as he’d learned from Libby about Dr. Gerhardt. He didn’t want to run up to San Jose, but if it was warranted, he would. The guy sounded like a creep, all right. Could he have had some kind of preoccupation with the Special Forces? Was that even sane?
Shit, no. But neither was hitting on your students. Riverton’s stomach churned with revulsion. He hated to see innocent people get hurt.
But good news about Cooper. It always pleased him when his hunch matched up with the facts. He also liked it when he gained a couple more allies. H
aving a small force of SEALs to help him catch this bad guy wasn’t a bad thing at all.
It rather made his day.
Chapter Thirty-five
Cooper picked up Libby’s bag in one arm, and wheeled out her mother’s suitcase with his free hand. That didn’t leave his hands free to touch Libby’s ass as she sashayed down the hallway and then bent over to give Bay a pat on the head, encouraging the dog to go down the stairs.
He was beginning to lose track of how many times they’d fucked today, orally or otherwise. Like every true addiction he’d run across, the more he got inside her, the more he wanted her. He was going to have to talk to Timmons. Maybe he should sit out the next rotation until this fever died down.
Right. Like that will happen. That’s when he knew he was screwed either way. But both ways were a heck of a lot better than his life had been just a little over a week ago. He’d have to tell Timmons it was all his fault, and then wondered if perhaps the man knew.
‘Yeah, Cooper. Go over to Little Miss Hot Pants’ house and tell her you’d like to connect with her family.’ More like connect with his rod up her little jellyroll. He chuckled, thinking about a new piece of equipment, a duty pack so he could walk around all day and have her strapped to his chest.
She turned and eyed him. “What are you thinking?”
“You’ve been bad. Very bad. I’m thinking of all the ways I’m going to get back at you as soon as we get in the water.” He winked and wished he had a free hand to adjust the monster coming to life in his pants.
Her laughter wafted up through the foyer and slapped his heart mercilessly. That little laugh was so devilish. Made him do all kinds of things. Think about even more.
The bags were left at the front door.
“You don’t want to put them in the truck?” she asked with a pout.
Hell, he was looking forward to having an argument about it, just to see her get mad. Those lips of hers, the way she curled them up and questioned him. How dare she question him, a trained special operator, and trained killer? Oh, she was gonna get it all right.
And they both were going to love every minute of it.
“Libby, some day, I’m going to teach you some manners,” he whispered as he stepped to press her body all down the front of his. He laced his fingers in her hair at the back of her head and pulled her towards him. She smiled and giggled again before he claimed her mouth. “Did I tell you to laugh?” he said as he kissed her neck. She was squirming like a schoolgirl. Like he was the big bad wolf.
She managed to wiggle away. “All of a sudden you don’t like my laugh?” she asked. Her lower lip quivered and Coop sighed inside.
She’d pouted! Thank God she’d pouted. He closed the gap between them and buried his tongue in her mouth so she couldn’t say anything further. He felt her melt as she gave in to her heat and allowed herself to be overtaken with desire. “I love your little laugh. But I love those little squeals you give me when you’re coming,” he whispered to her neck.
“Okay, but I thought we were going to go for a swim.”
“I’m swimming now.”
“Coop. We have a problem.” She pulled away and straightened her clothes.
He sighed and waited, because anything she would say next he was going to enjoy. He placed his hands on his hips and cocked one knee forward. Bay sat at attention, right next to him as they both stared at Libby. His cock waited eagerly as well.
“The problem is, I don’t have a swimsuit here.”
“Oh, that is a very serious problem. You know what? I don’t either.”
“You can use your shorts. I’d have to use—”
“Think nothing of it,” he said as he scooped her up in his arms and ran past the stairwell, through the kitchen and, unlocking the slider, out to the backyard. He flipped off his shoes as he carried her barefoot to the water’s edge. Bay followed on his heels. Cooper held her over the turquoise water. “Say it.”
“Say what?”
“You know, the magic word.”
“What magic word?”
“The one you’re supposed to say, or I’ll throw you in, clothes and all.”
She threw her head back, still holding on to his neck, and laughed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You haven’t taught me any magic word.”
“Oh, yes I did. What could you say that would definitely get things in motion? What did you tell me earlier this afternoon?”
She looked like a child at Christmas with her bright eyes and the smirk on her lips. He pretended to lose his grip, but caught her. His heart was beating so hard in anticipation. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold her.
“I want more,” she breathed.
For just a second, Cooper faltered. It was the right word all right, but the beaming face of the woman in his arms was saying way more than just she wanted a romp in the pool.
Yes, Miss Libby. I want more, too.
He began to set her down next to the pool, letting her slide deliciously the length of his torso. He recalled saying those words one day in the early morning in Nebraska as a boy, when the sun was barely visible on the horizon. He’d watched the golden ball creep up and he knew his life was more than getting up before dark and milking the cows, or riding back and forth on the tractor that tilled the rich dark brown earth in perfect rows. It was something about what he would become. And it wasn’t about doing all these things, being all these things as a boy, as a teen, as a man, as a SEAL. It was all about doing it with someone. Having someone at his side. Was that someone Libby?
Coop, you know the answer to that. It sounded like his mother talking to him. He tucked the memory away in his chest and came back to the present.
Bay found a spot under a bush, lying down on the carpet of green lawn. Cooper scanned the yard. They weren’t visible to any neighbors unless someone had a hot air balloon, or a camera mounted in the tall trees at the edges of the yard. Then it struck him that he should rig something like that up for surveillance, and he made a mental note of it.
Libby was standing there barely pressed against him, with her arms still crossed behind his neck, staring into his face. She said it again. She knew he’d gone somewhere else.
“I want more.”
“Me too,” he said. He saw an instant of regret there, as if she’d wanted him to repeat the words.
In time, baby. Trust me.
He bent and kissed her. She coaxed him with her tongue and they tasted each other. Her eyes looked glazed over slightly as she leaned back to say something, then thought better of it.
In time, Libby. Give me time.
He really needed the swim now. The sun was heating his back and he could feel beads of sweat form above his lip and on his chest.
She pulled his shirt off and kissed his nipples one by one. She laid her head against his left side and listened.
Can you hear the words I can’t say yet, Libby? Do you feel what it is I feel for you?
She looked back up to him with her chin on his sternum. “Well, sailor, you want to swim nekkid?”
“Oh, most definitely,” he said as his voice cracked.
He noticed the sprinklers had shut off. “Will the gardener be coming today?”
“No, tomorrow is his day. Not today.” She tapped her temple as if to say she had figured everything out.
They shimmied out of their clothes. He took her hand and they waded into the shallow end of the pool, walking down the semicircle steps in the corner. She sat on one step, the pool waist high, splashing water on her front, her shoulders, and finally her face. Cooper ducked down underwater and shivered at the refreshing coolness.
He came up in front of her and between her legs. He spread her knees to the sides as he fingered her labial lips in long strokes under water. She leaned back and braced her upper torso on her arms, her breasts ripe and round, glistening in the afternoon sun.
He kneeled in front of her, his erection prominent and demanding succor, and drew her over to rest on hi
s cock and pushed her down on him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and drew him in deep. He held her bottom in his hands as he walked around the pool until he was headed toward the deep end. With one arm reaching out and along the surface, sculling, he kicked to keep them afloat as she rode him. She braced herself on his chest and shoulders to raise her body up and then down on him. She kissed him, and then leaned back and he felt the backward pull of her arch.
It was several stolen minutes in the sunlight in the beautiful pool surrounded by birds and sounds of life all around. The humming of the world doing its job.
He leaned back and she straddled him like thin raft as they floated as one.
“I love how you move through the water, like you were meant to spend your life there,” she said.
Here. Inside you.
“The view,” he said as he took his sculling arm and brushed his thumb over her nipples, took another stroke and did the same again, “is awesome.”
He brought her over to the steps again and sat her delicately down on the top step, raising her legs up and over his shoulders. He leveraged his knees and leaned forward to push into her as he kissed the breasts that had been squeezed between their bodies. He had access to her deep as he started slow and then worked up to a faster rhythm. Her face transformed as she bit her lower lip, wrinkled up her nose and moaned. Then she opened her eyes wide and showed him how she wanted all of him, accepted him fully, not holding back. When her eyes rolled back and she began to spasm, he let his orgasm fly.
“Enough?” he whispered to her ear.
“Never,” she sighed back in return. “But enough for now.”
Chapter Thirty-six
Riverton didn’t like tattoo parlors, because he didn’t like seeing people violating their paroles. Even with the increased popularity of tattooing, inking their skin was still something the underworld crowd habitually did with their spare change. Some were excising demons, and others were decorating or memorializing their bodies. It was impossible to tell, just from the size, color and subject matter of the tattoos what statement they were aiming for.
