Oh, shit. He swallowed hard. The dreaded L word. The word he had never spoken to anyone. Sure he said it as a joke, but he’d never said it and meant it. How pathetic. He loved his aunt, he loved Mike and Roxann.
He even loved Gina. Probably more than he wanted to, but to verbalize it? No way. That would mean opening himself up to the eventual agony of losing her. Losing all of them. And who needed that?
He buckled Billy’s field kit shut and got to his feet. “That’s what they all say.”
Reaching for his outstretched hand, Gina stood and gripped his hand tighter. “Hearing me say it makes you want to jump out a window, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, yeah.”
She sighed, rubbed her free hand across her forehead. “There are all kinds of love. It doesn’t necessarily mean happily-ever-after love. Maybe it just means you’re someone special in my life, and I wanted to tell you.”
He nodded, looked at the stairs leading to freedom. “Okay. I got it.”
She stepped closer, touched his face and laughed. “You want to run screaming from this room. And I’ll let you. All I’ll say is I don’t count on anything anymore, and seeing you with blood all over you tonight reminded me of it. So, I do love you. I love you because you’re my friend, you’re good to my kids and you make me laugh. Don’t get me wrong, you’re a challenge, but it doesn’t make you unlovable. Live with it.”
“It’s easier for you.”
That got him the massive eye roll.
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know it. What I know is I’ve never said it to anyone. Not my aunt, certainly not my mother, so for me, it means changing something that I’ve hung on to my whole life. They’re not just words and I don’t know if I can handle the commitment that goes with them.”
Somebody get the shrink in here. What the hell was he talking about? All this introspection and the inadequacy it made him feel was making him psycho. He needed to get back to killing people. At least he was good at that.
Gina took a deep breath, squeezed his hand. “I don’t know what to say, except you sell yourself short, but that’s for you to figure out.” She marched toward the steps. “I’m going to bed. If you need a place to crash for a couple of hours, you can sleep in my bed, but you’ll need to relocate before everyone wakes up.”
A month ago, he would have ignored the invitation and slept on the couch. It would have been the beginning of his extraction. A woman telling him she loved him always forced him to implement an extraction plan. He couldn’t think about an extraction plan right now, though. His head hurt too fucking much.
When Gina opened the basement door, he heard Tiny’s voice from upstairs. They’re back. A little buzz whipped through him as he double-timed the stairs.
“How’d you do?” Vic asked when he reached the kitchen.
Duck stood behind Tiny at the breakfast bar while he busied himself on a laptop.
“Found the car three blocks away,” Duck said.
Vic pumped his fist. “Nice.”
Duck swung toward him. He wore a bandanna wrapped around his head, a la Monk style, and his beard needed a trim. “The piece of shit was the only one parked on the street. It’s registered to some woman in Florida. We didn’t find any ID. He must have left it somewhere in case he got caught.”
Vic scowled. “Crap.”
“I did find a dry-cleaning slip dated two months ago under the seat. The name on the slip is Benson and there’s a phone number. Tiny’s doing a reverse lookup.”
“What have we got?” Mike asked, coming down the stairs.
No Roxann in sight. She must have gone back to bed. Vic checked his watch. One-thirty. So much for getting sleep tonight.
“Got it.” Tiny spun the stool to face them. “23 Franklin. Oak Park. I love the internet. The phone number is a cell, so I couldn’t get it through the regular listings, but I did a people search and got a match.”
“How accurate is it?” Mike asked.
“It says it’s matched against public utilities, so it’s the best we’ll get tonight. I already left Janet a message.”
Vic ran his fingers over his chin. Let the familiar buzz stream through him. “Let’s check it out. Duck, stay here. Tiny and I will go.”
Mike’s eyes popped. “You’re going?”
Nobody moved and the air suddenly left the room. Shit. Gina was upstairs. After the invitation to crash in her bed, if he didn’t show up, she’d get whacky. But dammit, he wanted to do this. He needed to do this. The job offered him a sense of purpose.
He stepped back, leaned against the wall and glowered at Mike. “Tiny and Duck will go. I’ll stay here. Monk and I will sweep the house. Make sure this Benson asshole didn’t leave us any gift-wrapped explosives.”
“Cool,” Duck said, obviously pleased to be doing the sneak and peek.
“Thank you,” Mike said. “I won’t have to listen to Gina and Roxann harping at me. You need help searching?”
“Nah,” Vic said.
“Yell if you need me. Otherwise, I’m exhausted and going to bed.”
Mike made his way to the stairs.
“Oh, and you’re welcome,” Vic said, snickering. He turned to Duck and Tiny. “Call me when you’re done. If there’s a computer, grab it. As soon as Conlin gets wind this guy got pinched, they’re going to clean the place out. I called Lynx, but we can’t count on the feds to move that quick.”
“Roger that,” Tiny said before the two of them hauled ass out the door.
Easing into Gina’s bed was an unexpected and welcome pleasure, but he made sure to keep his back to her. No sense tempting himself by touching her and sparking the inevitable explosion. Besides, he’d kept her awake enough tonight and just wanted to be close to her these next few hours. With the kids around, sleeping in the same room with her didn’t happen much, but he didn’t have a problem with it. He knew the angst that came with men coming and going out of his own mother’s bedroom.
A yawn sneaked up on him. Damn, he needed shut-eye. The constant mental pandemonium was new to him. He could deal with the physical end of fatigue, but throw in the need to outmaneuver a crazy-assed terrorist, and it was a different ball game.
He inhaled through his nose and tried to quiet his mind by concentrating on Gina’s soft breathing. Gina rolled over, rubbed her hand over his bare back and let it settle on his hip. Her warm fingers made his body hum. She’d better watch where that hand landed or they wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight. And he needed the sleep. Fatigue left an inch of grit building up in his eyes.
Sleep. Please.
Part of him was still pissy about the sneak and peek. He didn’t want to miss the fun. And yes, he was definitely hacked off about dumping that asshole on the cops. Once the cops had left, Monk checked all the cars and, lo and behold, found C-4 on the Tahoe.
Rat fucking bastard. And he’d gifted him to the cops. Son of a bitch.
It took two hours to check the foundation of the house before they cleared it. Two hours of second-guessing whether he should wake everyone up and get them the hell out of there, but Monk swore either he or Roy would have seen the fucker roaming near the house.
Of course, his brain might blow to bits all over Mike’s fancy walls from all this thinking, but life sucked that way.
Sickness swirled in his belly. Guilt. He preferred anger. At least he could do something with it. He should have pumped a couple of bullets into that fucker.
An agonizing burn settled in his shoulders and he ground his fist into the pillow.
Gina scooted next to him, spooning that delectable little body against him and offering a nice distraction. Not too much was wrong with climbing into a warm bed with her.
Don’t go there.
He had to sleep. But sex would definitely help get him there.
“Stop thinking so loud,” she mumbled.
“What?”
“You’re grumbling.”
“Sorry. I�
�m thinking about thrashing you.”
She snorted. “You’re tired. So am I. Thrash me tomorrow.”
“If I have to, I guess. Go back to sleep.”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
Gina would never know how glad, because he wouldn’t tell her about that bomb. No way. He’d just have to step up security. No problem. Everything would be fine.
And his next job would be as a Rockette.
Chapter Twenty
Man Law: Always avoid emotional clutter.
“Got a sec?” Mike asked, jerking his head toward the side of the house and away from the partygoers.
Crap. What now? Maybe Mike had gotten wind of the C-4 they found on the Tahoe.
He couldn’t know about that. Monk wouldn’t squeal. Vic shook off the thought.
The rain, as predicted, had stopped and the sun burned through the abundant clouds. Everyone had cheerfully joined in to dry the chairs. Once the job was complete, guests scattered all over Mike’s sopping wet lawn.
“What’s up?” Vic asked when they’d reached a quiet spot. He tried to ignore the squishing water soaking his sandaled feet.
“Roxi called the police chief.”
His ears tingled at the hardened, tight look on Mike’s face. Worried. This would be bad.
“Let’s hear it.”
“Your guy has a warrant in Virginia for failure to appear. Joel Benson is an alias. His real name is Joel Baldridge. He fled on a rape and sodomy charge.”
Vic’s legs wobbled and he backed against the house before he crashed to the ground. A rape charge. This was the guy that shoved Gina against a wall. What would have happened if he hadn’t walked up? A vision of that fucker slamming himself into Gina had Vic bending over and sucking air into his failing lungs.
No air.
Mike bent over, touched his shoulder. “Just breathe, buddy. Concentrate on small breaths. You’ll be all right. You need a chair?”
A fucking chair? Was he a geriatric patient now? Oh, man, he had to get it together. He bolted up, nearly knocking Mike’s head off, and leaned against the house. He counted to three, thought about a good sail and let his heart rate settle. A minute later, his breathing leveled off.
“What the hell was that?” Mike asked.
To justify his reaction, Vic wanted to tell Mike the truth. That he showed up in time to haul a fugitive rapist off Gina. But he wouldn’t do that. This secret would stay with him.
“Maybe I’m getting sick. What else did the chief say?”
“They’ll probably ship his ass back to Virginia. I know you wanted a shot at him, but at least you got him off the street.”
“Hold on,” Vic said. “Tiny told me the Honda Benson was driving had Florida plates. Whose car is it?”
Mike nodded. “The P.D. impounded the car this morning. It’s Benson’s—Baldridge, whatever his name is. It’s his mother’s car.”
“Michael,” someone yelled from under the tent and they both turned. Mike’s father, Frank, waved him over. No telling what Frank had going on. Mike held up a hand.
“Gotta go. We’ll talk later.” He wandered to his father, leaving Vic alone with thoughts of killing a fugitive rapist.
His cell phone buzzed and he rolled his eyes. Could he get five seconds to put a thought together? He checked the ID. Janet. Finally.
He hit the connect button. “It’s almost four o’clock. Where’ve you been?”
“I’ve been getting the wheels moving on our terrorist,” she fired back. “I’m not James Bond. It takes time to go through all these files.”
Tiny had snagged Baldridge’s computer last night and Janet was in the process of hacking into it.
“Blah, blah, blah. What have you got?”
“One interesting thing so far. It appears that Benson—”
“His real name is Baldridge. The P.D. ran his prints. He’s a rapist from Virginia.”
“Baldridge,” Janet said, probably writing the name down. “Wow. I’ll check him out. Anyway, I found a copy of a file someone emailed him with his work schedule. He works at the same market as Gerard Conlin.”
That held Vic’s interest. “Really?”
“Maybe they’re friends and Conlin got him the job?”
Nah. That wasn’t sitting right. An absurd thought penetrated his brain. “Find out who owns the market.”
“Hang on,” Janet said and he heard her tapping her keyboard. “Nope. Nothing. I need to make a couple of calls. I’ll get back to you.”
“Don’t be surprised if it’s the shell company that owns Conlin’s house.”
“Speaking of which,” she said, “the same company owns Benson slash Baldridge’s house. It has to be Sirhan.”
“Yep. While you’re at it, see if you can get a list of everything under the shell company’s umbrella. I want to see what this guy is up to.”
And if his instincts were at their best, he’d bet the market was a laundering facility. Son of a bitch. A tingle ran through him. He had to get a hold of Lynx.
“I gotta run. Let me know as soon as you find anything.”
He disconnected and immediately called Lynx. Voicemail. He left him a message regarding the market. Every piece of this slow puzzle seemed to simultaneously thrill and suck more life out of him. Bizarre. He wanted this done and the pace was sapping his energy.
This job sat like a fucking bulldozer on his chest. Literally too close to home. A home he didn’t even realize he had until the initial threat against Lily. Who couldn’t seem to remember to keep her damned phone on. He’d just have to hound her about it until she understood how important it was that they be able to reach her. He let out a breath and everything inside him dropped to his heels.
He scanned the crowded yard, spotted Gina in a devastating red bikini surveying the food table and swinging her hips to the disco song plowing through the speakers.
Suddenly, every ounce of him needed to be near her. To touch her and assure himself she was safe. He started toward her, doing a quick assessment of the yard as he went along. Matt on the lawn talking to Roy’s wife. Tiny hovering over Lily and two other girls. Jake in the pool. All kids accounted for by the time he got to Gina.
He moved behind her, slid his arm around her waist and hugged her to him. Inhaling the warm scent of her settled his raw nerves.
She shifted back and grinned. “I like that greeting. Are you hungry?”
There’s a loaded question. He leaned in close. “There are a lot of people here.”
And everyone is outside. He half scolded himself for his triple-X thoughts.
She popped a blueberry in her mouth. “How very observant of you.”
“The kids are distracted.”
When he began running his thumb over her stomach, she narrowed her eyes. It took her a second, but she finally got it.
“You devil,” she whispered.
She checked the yard, making sure the kids were supervised.
“I’ll meet you upstairs in five minutes,” he said.
“This is so bad.” Gina laughed and dove on top of him when she came into the bedroom.
“Ow! Watch the stitches.”
“I’m so sorry.” She tugged up his T-shirt to inspect the wound and dropped a kiss there.
“Forget it. Door locked?” He pulled the shirt the rest of the way off.
“Yep. I feel like a sneaky teenager with my parents downstairs.”
Vic shook his head. Holy hell. He’d have to look Frank in the face when this was over. “You had to bring that up?”
She laughed and raked her hands through his newly shortened hair. “You are a major hottie with short hair. I’ve been lusting after you all afternoon.”
He had needed some quiet time this morning to clear his mind and, using the excuse of a much needed haircut, sneaked out to the town’s barber. On a whim, he’d gone back to a modified military cut and was still getting used to it himself, but Gina definitely liked it. She’d been
walking by him all day and casually sliding her fingers through it. Now he knew what he’d been missing when he’d seen women do that to men they’d been intimate with. The heated connection made his system fire.
“Lily said I look like Tiny.” He untied the bottom strap of her bikini top.
Gina laughed. “We have to hurry.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
For sure. They may have slept in the same bed for a while the night before, but that was all they’d done, and after five days of not having his hands on that body of hers, he was about to explode.
Not bothering to untie the top strap of her bathing suit, she whipped it over her head and slung it across the room. Without hesitation, she pulled the bottoms off, tossed them over her shoulder. No being-naked-in-broad-daylight phobia there. His kind of woman.
She waited for him to get a condom on, but scooted behind him and ran her hands over his arms. The sensation of her bare breasts against his back made him groan. The instant he had the condom on, he lay back on the bed and she straddled him. He’d discovered Gina liked to be on top and he wasn’t about to argue since he had a great view.
“I love being like this with you,” she said, sliding herself onto him.
Rolling his eyes back, he savored that initial feeling of being inside her. Heaven. Right here. He laid his hands on her thighs, moved them up and down, the heat of her skin warming his hands.
Her dark hair, still damp from her swim, was a riot of curls falling around her face, and he pushed it back. Grabbing his hands, she moved them over her body and gave him the sex-kitten smile. She loved being touched and made sure he always knew it. Gina took sexy to another universe. All these years he’d lived without this, and she was right there.
His muscles tensed and he wondered how this woman had the ability to shatter every ounce of his emotional control.
She rocked her hips and he hauled her down, held her face in his hands and kissed her. Smothered her really, and when he shifted his hips, she moaned. The moaning had tension coiling in him. Oh, baby.
“I can’t do it. I can’t hang on.” He stared into her eyes and concentrated on not flying apart.
Man Law Page 18
