by R. T. Wolfe
Her car. It was a black smoldering pile of metal. The cars nearby didn't fare much better.
Leaning in toward Eddy, she said, "So, let's get in and watch some television. See who we can tag for the attempted murder of a police officer." She sent him in to start clipping the security camera feed while she finished up with the fire chief.
"I'm going to run out to the elementary school before they leave over there," McKinney said to her.
* * *
Nickie and Eddy sat watching the feed in the department's surveillance room that was made for one. A few small monitors, a few thousand wires. She was definitely going to bump her damned knees.
They watched as plenty of people walked past the front of her car, some with caps or cop hats that concealed their faces. Nickie saw friends, colleagues, some strangers. Why did she always feel the need to back that boat into parking spots?
"What are the chances the same person took the time to set a bomb in a security camera monitored police parking garage and then drove all the way to Bloom Elementary to do the same to Mrs. Reed's car?" Eddy sat back watching the feed, hogging all the space, with his legs propped on the corner of a table that held the monitors.
"It's possible." She leaned forward with her forearms on her thighs, her palms facing upward. With the absence of the adrenaline, they were throbbing now. She was regretting her decision to decline the ibuprofen. "There. Go back."
Eddy dropped his feet to the floor with a thud and worked the remote. "Well, I'll be fucking damned."
"Mark it, file it. We'll report to the captain as soon as he's available. A little too convenient, wouldn't you say?" she asked as she stood and adjusted the long strap of her briefcase over her shoulder. "I'm going to stop at the school before I check on a lead."
"It's dark and you have no car. Let me get a copy of this and I'll go with you."
She couldn't deny the logic or the need of a ride. "Deal."
* * *
Duncan stood, fists clenched, with his brother, his cousins and Nickie's partner all talking to the head of the group of four firemen who were sent to cover the explosion. Although a few other cars were scattered in the long teacher parking lot, hers was the only one damaged. His head buzzed and tried to pull him into the helicopter over the desert in the Middle East, but he wouldn't let it. A jagged, black circle encompassed what was left of the entire charred vehicle.
It was beginning to get cold enough for them to see their breath. Duncan wondered if Nickie would make it to the school. Nathan had already taken Brie home when she pulled up in an unmarked with Lynx.
He watched as she tried to maneuver the car door. Since Lynx wasn't lifting a finger to help her, Duncan headed over. Before he reached the car, she had given up and winced as she opened it using her hand.
"Nickie." Duncan nodded once.
Turning her eyes to his, she looked like she was reading him. "How is she?" she asked.
He'd spent the past two hours keeping himself removed, distracted with facts and gathering as much detail as he could. Dirty footprints led to the back of Brie's car. A single soiled circle the size of a quarter was left next to every other print.
Her question of concern opened a flood of damned feelings that would do nothing but cloud his judgment.
"You were right." He ran his thumb along her cheek and watched as she blinked longer than necessary. "She's not hurt. Angry and irritated, but not hurt. Brie never did know how to be scared."
Taking her hands, he turned them over for inspection. Spots of blood had absorbed in the dressings. They looked like the splotches of ink used in age-old personality tests. They would lock him up if they knew what he saw in them at that moment. "Come."
Taking her wrists, he pulled her over to his car. Reaching in his glove box, he pulled out a bottle of aspirin. He looked around for something to drink.
"Oh good." She waved her bandaged hands. She must have known what he was looking for. "No need." She took the open bottle from him and, one at a time, stuck four aspirins in the back of her mouth, swallowing each.
"That was disgusting."
Nickie bobbed her head back and forth. "Disgusting, but necessary. I needed that. What've we got?"
Before he could answer, she spotted MollyAnne's last fireman love interest. Walking up to Eric White, Nickie tapped him on the shoulder with the back of her hand. He'd barely turned when she spoke loudly. "Isn't it an amazing coincidence you're in the group that was called out here? At a crime scene against the very same woman that you're woman tried to kill? Twice?"
Her cheeks rounded in a grin as Eric's flexed.
"Have some respect for the dead... detective." He said her title with extra contempt.
Duncan stepped close to them as Nickie stood straighter and put her face inches from White's. "I'm not feeling much respect right now. Right now, I'm feeling like someone tried to kill both me and Brie Reed tonight."
He'd worked to keep the reality of the situation buried in a safe corner. Somewhere so that he could unleash it at a more appropriate time. Hearing Nickie say it aloud didn't help.
His aunt wasn't injured. Just as Nickie had said. Startled enough at the explosion to drop her new smart phone. Angry as a rhino from the loss of her pickup truck, but not hurt.
He'd been looking forward to seeing Brie. She'd chosen a long, straight platinum-blond wig that day. She thought it was humorous; he thought it looked too much like Melbourne's hair.
Then this.
Nickie stepped over the yellow tape and stood next to Lynx. He noticed how she walked awkwardly. A warm salt-water soak would do her hands and knees some good.
Lynx spoke quietly. Still, Duncan wondered if he meant for him to hear. "Will you make it to the bust tomorrow, or will pretty boy keep you in for some scrapes and bruises?" he asked.
"I'll be there." She took out her flashlight. "And you're an idiot."
"I'm not scared of him."
Nickie stopped at that, turned slowly and faced Lynx. "I don't know what you're getting at, Eddy, but we have work to do. Here." She handed him a set of plastic gloves. "And you should be."
He took them from her. "Should be, what?"
"Scared of him, dumbass. I've seen him fight."
Chapter 23
Duncan paced in his kitchen. He'd beat the hell out of his heavy bag, swam a 1650 and still wasn't settled. As he paced in front of the open door to his basement, he punched it shut, peeling the skin from the ends of his healed knuckles. He wasn't accustomed to the dark and he was completely blinded at the moment. Melbourne was dead. He watched them bury her. Brusco moved back to Liberty using his real identity. What the fucking fuck?
Nothing made sense. The two women in his life he loved were—
Loved. Standing still, he analyzed his slip in thought. Was he falling in love with Nickie Savage? Is that what this was? Thinking about her day and night, sensing her, wanting her. The more he learned, the more there was to know and the more he wanted to know.
Back to pacing. She wouldn't take a damned key, refused to leave a single thing at his house. No piece of extra clothing. Not even a toothbrush. What woman does that?
For the first time in his life, he didn't hear the approaching car over the buzzing in his head, didn't notice the car lights as he paced, didn't hear the footsteps on his front steps. The knock made him spin.
He made his way to the door in four long strides. Without looking through the side lights, he flew open the door and took her by the shoulders. She tasted like a complicated train wreck and all he wanted was more. Without questioning, she twisted with him, tumbling through the door. He kicked it shut with his foot as she dropped her briefcase and overnight bag.
His hands moved over her body like they had minds of their own. Relief washed over him and sent waves of fire through his body. Their mouths didn't part as he lifted her, cautiously wrapping her gorgeous legs around him. She hung on as he carried her up the stairs, removing her holster and slinging it over the banister. He
held her perfect backside in his hands as her lips responded to his demands.
Staggering up the stairs, he felt her fumble with the buttons on his shirt. As they reached the second flight, he swore at himself for not installing an elevator. His buttons were taking too long. Looking down, he noticed she couldn't maneuver them with the bandages.
"Don't use your hands. Let me," he said as he slid her down and pulled off his shirt.
Gasping and pressing into him, she purred, "That's like telling me to play my cello with my hands behind my back."
Nickie was surprised at the way he squinted his eyes like she'd given him a dare.
He slid his rough, glorious hands inside her shirt and over her. Her head fell backward and she realized she was against a wall. It helped to keep her upright because her legs wanted to buckle under his touch.
She felt the clasp of her pants give, then his warm hands. Her eyes flew open at the abrupt assault on her senses. What she saw was dark intensity inches from her face, staring at her as he moved his hands, as he circled flesh under her shirt. His eyes were hypnotic. She couldn't look away. Just as she was about to cross over, he stopped circling and pulled.
Staring at eyes the color of night, she cried out in release and in feeling and need. As she came down, he pressed his body against hers to keep her from falling. For purchase, she sunk her teeth into his shoulder.
Her breaths were deep now, he could do that to her. Deep and wanting. She felt her blouse slide over her head, saw it tossed to the side. He studied her as he let her slacks drop. He was always studying her. It made her feel sexy and exposed. Carefully, he pulled the torn knees away from her skin before lifting her feet, one at a time.
Reaching for his belt, she tried to take over, but he took her wrists. "Don't use your hands," he repeated. She let her head fall back against the wall. So damned frustrating.
Duncan placed one hand against the wall next to her cheek, elbow locked. Glancing down, he allowed himself a moment to enjoy the view. Powder blue lace, both top and bottom. He wondered if she did that on purpose. His lids dropped to half closed as he slid his foot between her legs. Careful not to brush her knees, he tapped her feet apart, one than the other.
He swam in the way her eyes turned opaque when he touched her. Swam in the way she was stranded without the ability to touch him back. Cat and mouse. Her skin was warm and already damp with sweat. He ran his hands over her flat stomach, down her thighs and felt her tremble. Slipping below the baby blue, he closed his eyes at the feel of her ready for him. His pants weren't meant to hold him in this state.
As she began to tremble, he felt her hands come over his shoulders. He scooped her up behind her legs and laid her on the carpet. She squirmed in her aroused state. It was almost more than he could stand, but he wanted more. He took her wrists and lifted her arms over her head. "These don't move or I stop."
A tiny frustrated whimper escaped her lips and made him grin. He removed the rest of her clothes, scattering the baby blue with the rest of their things. He lifted her bandaged knees out of the way one at a time.
"Amazing."
Tucking his knees against her, he felt warmth and muscle. Her head turned and her back arched. He ran a hand up her stomach and over her healthy swell before circling her with his thumbs.
"Duncan."
"One more time for me." He moved against her until she shook.
Her arms shook as she moaned.
"Now, dammit," she growled.
Nickie hadn't had a chance to come all the way down when he pressed into her. His body strong, heavy. Holding her down as they moved together. Overwhelmed with the physical and the emotional, she let herself completely go. It was something she never allowed. His hands were possessive, everywhere. His lean, lanky body wanted her, needed her. "Duncan."
And at that, she felt it, both of them. To hell with his rules, she let her hands come down and her fingers dig into his sides. She held on and went over with him, moving, shaking. Then, everything went quiet. Nearly blown up, torn knees and palms, she smiled as there was nothing but them and the pace of their breathing.
* * *
Nickie woke at the edge of Duncan's enormous bed. If she was going to agree to spend the night, she was going to sleep where it was safer, smarter. Except, she could feel his hand as it rested on her lower back. It confused her. Why didn't that wake her? Everything woke her.
They'd lain on the carpet at the bottom of his stairs for who knew how long before Duncan had carried her to his hot tub. They'd drank wine and had conversation in the bubbling water as if it weren't the middle of the night after a night of chaos.
She'd told him of the three-minute lapse in the surveillance video feed at the station parking lot. He told her of Brie's recovery. And now she woke in his house. In his room. In his bed. With his hand on her back. Comfortably. The smile that lifted the corners of her mouth was determined.
His breaths were shallow. They sounded like him.
Reality set in. Drug bust.
Slowly, she maneuvered out from under his hand.
"Are you getting up? It's—" He lifted to read the clock over her head. "—4 a.m."
Looking around for her clothes, she realized they were down the stairs. "I need to get to work."
"You've barely slept. Skip the workout and come back to bed with me," he mumbled.
"I already skipped the workout and still need to get to work." What was she going to do about clothes?
He sat and unashamedly looked over her naked body. "You have the drug bust this morning."
"Are you hacking every department's files now?" she asked, yanking the top sheet from him and wrapping it around her. It was her turn to ogle.
"I overheard at the station."
"Yes. We've got them this time," she said as she made her way to the bathroom. "They move around about every three months. Sweet-talk young women into renting a house or apartment. Then, they dump them after a few months and get a new girl and a new place. It's effective, but we're better," she said through the door.
"It would be easier if you kept some things here." He didn't wait for her to answer, but she supposed it wasn't a question.
* * *
"What are you doing here so early?" Andy stood in his front doorway with Duncan's nephew in his arms.
"You'd be up this early even if you didn't have the kid. Is he sleeping at night?" Duncan reached out and took Andy Jr. He was awake. Cute as hell.
Rose came from the kitchen, waffle pants and slippers on. "Good morning, neighbor. What are you doing here so early?"
"Do you have coffee?"
"We have a Keurig. Same difference. Come on back."
"We've got work to do," Duncan said low.
Andy grabbed his coat and followed him back. "I've got appointments."
"Reschedule."
"I don't have the flexible schedule you do, brother."
"What time?"
Andy sighed. "Ten?"
Moving his arms with the baby, Duncan responded, "I'll fit it into my schedule."
* * *
Despite Andy's dis, Duncan had more to do in those three hours than could fit in three hours. He wasn't sure how he had concentrated while his woman was in a bulletproof vest going in behind SWAT. She did go in behind them, didn't she?
He couldn't get back to sleep after she'd left, of course. He would have to catch up on rest that evening. The swim had helped.
A few finishing touches on the final painting for the show that weekend. His agent was angry Duncan hadn't finished it weeks ago, but he wasn't about to rush this piece.
A trip to Safe Packaging, a virtual meeting with his real estate manager and a pick up at the local formal dress boutique.
Andy didn't show up until 10:30 a.m. He looked cranky, but Duncan decided he had good cause since Internet Café and Coffee was an hour from Northridge.
Duncan ordered him his coffee while he booted his machines.
Patiently, Duncan waited. He realized
Andy hadn't asked why they were there. He was a good man. They made an efficient team, and at that moment Duncan realized how much he missed out on when he wasn't in town.
Although, Andy's help didn't come without a heavy sigh. "All right, brother, what's up?"
Duncan set his machine side by side with Andy's.
"Damn. Did you get another upgrade? Now, I have pressure."
Duncan carried on. "I have a hunch. Nickie doesn't do hunches, so I haven't shared this with her yet. I want to widen our net and cast it into the personal emails and texts of employees at the Northridge Police Department."
Brows lifted high, Andy turned to look him straight on. "You suspect someone at the police department has something to do with the explosions?"
"Something to do with all of it."
He told him about the surveillance video feed. It was the icing on the cake to his suspicions. He could be wrong. It had happened before. Once or twice.
* * *
"But I still have the dress from when we cased the casino." Nickie wasn't sure how to react. Her knee jerk told her to refuse, but this was Duncan's thing. Who was she to mess it up?
He'd offered to pay for a hairstylist, but that was crossing her line of time commitment. She knew how to do her hair just fine. She still felt guilty.
His hands were warm as they brushed the few dripping curls from her neck. "That dress was meant to blend in, this one to stand out."
"The casino dress was meant to blend in?" She looked over at the full-length dress hanging under plastic from her closet door. It looked completely out of place in her townhouse. And she didn't want to stand out.
It was time to put on her big girl panties and do this. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the plastic. The dress was a deep blood red and covered in lines of sequins that followed the curves of the woman that would wear it.
Her.
She had no jewelry to go with this. Her jewelry was loopy, long and dangly. She did that on purpose, dammit.
"You're fidgeting. This is a new side of you."
His lips touched her neck. They calmed one side of her and aroused another. Turning her to face him, he looked over the jeans she purposely wore snugly and the button-down blouse that accented her eyes. He had a way of making her feel wanted in ways much more than the physical. Except right then, she was having a hard time getting past the physical part.
