He didn’t answer Hans’s question directly. “You signed off on her psych profile after her second interview,” he said.
“I did.”
“I don’t have access to that report.”
“No, you do not.”
“Is she prone to panic attacks?”
“Has she done anything that gives you reason to believe that she’s a danger to herself or others?”
“She hasn’t been in the position to.”
“I’m not giving you the report, but I would not have signed off on her admittance to the Bureau if I didn’t think she was emotionally capable of fulfilling her duties.”
“At what cost?”
“Excuse me?”
“She doesn’t know how to compartmentalize. She is prone to empathy with victims, over and above what is required.”
“According to who?”
“No one can survive internalizing victimization.”
“Are you telling me that Lucy considers herself a victim?”
“No, I’m saying she personalizes the crime scenes. I don’t do that. Do you?”
Again, Hans didn’t answer his question directly, and his obfuscation was frustrating.
“We all bring different backgrounds, different experiences, to our jobs. Lucy is not a victim, but she has a deep understanding of victimology, far deeper than most of us. Because of what she endured, she sees victims differently. It’s not something that can be taught. Like playing an instrument. Most people can learn to read music and play the piano where the tune is recognizable. But some people become the music. Not only can they play, but they have a natural talent.”
“You’re saying her obsession is a gift?”
“Obsession?”
“For a moment this morning, Lucy would have said or done anything to get this case. It’s like she feels personally responsible.”
“Empathy, Noah.” Hans looked out at the near-empty parking lot. “We need people like Lucy in the Bureau. Too many of us are jaded, are focused on the job and not the people. She sees everything through a lens that I can’t even see. It’s not easy for her, or for you, or for her future partner. None of this is going to be easy. Look what happened with Stein. You know why he wanted her off the case, right?”
“Because she didn’t get with his program?” Noah honestly didn’t know what Stein’s problem was, other than he didn’t like sharing authority.
“She sees through him. And he knows it.”
Noah shook his head. “I don’t see any good coming to Lucy with this curse.”
“Curse? Is it a curse if it saves lives?”
“For her? Maybe.”
“She has a strong family unit, her foundation. And, she has Sean Rogan. I know you don’t like him, but he’s exactly what she needs to keep her focused on her talents without succumbing to the pressure.”
“You give him too much credit.”
“You don’t give him enough.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
By the time Lucy got home, it was after eight and she had a miserable headache from suppressing tears during the Metro ride. Her body felt like it had cried for hours, but she hadn’t shed a tear.
Part of her problem, she knew, was the long day—brutal crime scene in the morning, followed by the afternoon at the morgue and an evening full of paperwork, coffee, and energy bars. It was no wonder she was emotionally off-kilter.
But the dressing-down by Matt Slater had been the bitter icing on the cake.
She unlocked the door and was surprised when the alarm didn’t beep, warning her she had sixty seconds to disarm it before it went off. The rich scent of spaghetti sauce filled the house. Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten anything of substance since her breakfast bagel.
Dillon and Kate must have canceled their dinner plans. She suspected her sister-in-law, who claimed to hate cats, was secretly attached to their temporary pet. Lucy had caught Kate giving the cat milk this morning.
Good thing, it saved her from eating another peanut butter and honey sandwich, her favorite when her brother wasn’t home to cook and she was too tired to stand. Food, sleep, that’s all she wanted. She hoped they didn’t want to talk.
“It’s me,” she called, putting her purse and keys on the small table and walking down the hall to the kitchen. “I was at a homicide half the day, then the morgue. I’m going to get some aspirin and shower before dinner if that’s okay.”
She stopped, stunned to see her boyfriend, private investigator Sean Rogan, standing at the stove stirring a steaming pot. He smiled at her, revealing his solitary dimple, his dark hair falling over one eye, making him look both innocent and devilish at the same time. God, he was nice to look at.
“You’re back!” She ran to greet him, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. She was grinning like an idiot, but she hadn’t ever been so happy to see anyone. Especially now. Especially after this evening.
He lifted her up off the floor and squeezed tightly, then put her down and kissed her. “Surprise,” he said.
She felt like a lovesick teenager. “I missed you.” She kissed him back, feeling light on her toes and ridiculously happy. “A lot.”
Her tension disappeared. Sean was just what she needed.
“I know,” he teased. Suddenly, she was off her feet again and in his arms.
“Sean!”
“You said something about a shower before dinner. And I know better ways to relieve a tension headache than aspirin.”
“My brother—”
“Dillon and Kate won’t be home for hours. It’s just you and me, Princess.” He maneuvered to turn off the stove without putting her down. “And apparently a cat.”
“Just temporary.”
“Tell me about it. Later.”
“I don’t think—” she began, not sure what she was objecting to because right now being in Sean’s arms was exactly what she needed after her difficult day.
He kissed her as he walked down the hall and up the stairs. “That’s right. Don’t think.”
At the landing, he continued to the end of the hall, then up half a flight of steps to her room. The attic above the garage had been converted long before the Kincaids moved in, giving her some privacy. Sean pushed open her door with his shoulder.
“You can put me down now.”
“I could.” But he didn’t. Instead he kissed her as he carried her to the bathroom. Only then did he put her down. He turned on the water in the shower, grinning impishly as he pulled off his shirt.
“What—” But she stopped mid-question and stared at the baseball-size bruise on his upper shoulder. “What happened?”
“I was stupid. Breaking into the warehouse the last time Duke modified the alarm, I didn’t expect him to put in a physical obstacle. A security guard.”
Sean’s brother Duke, one of the founders of Rogan-Caruso-Kincaid Protective Services, specialized in creating solid security systems. Sean specialized in cracking them. They made a great team, except Duke had yet to create a system Sean couldn’t hack.
“You broke all his codes?”
Sean shrugged, but Lucy could see he was pleased with himself. “He was being lazy. Or preoccupied. I suspect I complained one too many times that his incompetence was keeping me away from you far too long.”
“Preoccupied? About what?”
“Nora’s pregnant.”
“That’s great.” Lucy was happy for Sean’s brother and sister-in-law. Nora was over forty and didn’t think she’d have children. They’d been trying since their marriage three years ago. “That means you’ll be Uncle Sean pretty soon. The kid’s going to be spoiled.”
Suddenly, a flash of the unborn baby, dead in Nicole’s womb, crossed her vision. She shook her head, not wanting to think of death when there was life to celebrate. Hers, Sean’s, a future Rogan niece or nephew.
“Hey—Luce—what’s wrong?”
Steam from the shower began to fill the room. “Nothing—just
this case. I’ll tell you about it over dinner.”
“Put it out of your mind.” His kissed her as he unbuttoned her blouse. “Far, far out of your mind.”
She savored his kisses. With Sean, it was easy to put work aside for an hour or two of play. “What mind?” she whispered.
“Better.” His hands skimmed her legs as he slid her slacks down to the floor. He knelt in front of her, lifted one foot out of the tangle of clothing, and kissed her toes. Then he picked up her other foot and kissed it. As his hands moved back up her body, his lips followed, and her body turned liquid. She would have fallen if he didn’t support her.
He rose, nearly a full head taller than her, and kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her lips. He held her face while she unbuttoned his jeans. She pushed them down to the floor, along with his boxers, and they both stood naked in the steam-filled room, their hands roaming, touching, remembering where they’d left off last week, before Sean’s business trip.
Before she met Sean, she would never have been this brazen, would never have participated in sexual banter. He had been both determined and patient, giving her space to learn her own desires while pushing her to seek them. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him warmly, whispering, “I’m really, really glad you’re home.”
He didn’t smile, but walked her backward into the shower.
She jumped. “Too hot!” She turned the faucet much colder.
“You like hot showers.”
“Not when it’s a thousand degrees outside.”
“Enough talking.” He grinned as he pushed her under the stream of lukewarm water, his body pressed firmly against hers. Everything that had happened that day, all that she had seen and heard, rolled from her thoughts as the refreshing water cascaded over them, cleansing her, emptying her memories of all but how much she loved Sean.
The moment was pure bliss.
Sean had been thrilled with Lucy’s spontaneous joy when she saw him unexpected in the kitchen. The last two months, since they’d returned from their non-vacation in the Adirondacks, had been an exercise in managing schedules. Between her job with the FBI and his partnership in RCK, they were lucky to see each other more than one night a week. It didn’t help that he shared a house with her brother Patrick—his partner—and that she wouldn’t let him stay over if Dillon and Kate were home. He would have taken her to Sacramento with him, but he didn’t even want to ask her, considering she was just now building her career, a career that was extremely important to her.
But seeing her raw happiness tonight, and her obvious pleasure at being naked in the shower with him, any worry that she might not have missed him as much as he missed her disappeared with the grime of the day.
He grabbed the soap and lathered up her body, their slick skin sliding together erotically, making him even more horny. He wanted the shower over now. He licked Lucy’s neck and she laughed, then he bit her earlobe and she grabbed his shoulders.
He didn’t want to wait. He’d thought of her each night he slept alone in his old bedroom. Wondered what she was doing, if she was working too hard, if she was eating right. If she was having fun. Because Lucy didn’t know how to have fun, not unless he was with her. For Lucy, it was all work, all the time, and while Sean believed in working hard, he also believed in playing hard. He’d realized months ago that he was Lucy’s anchor, the one thing she needed to keep her focused on her own needs, her own desires, her own fun.
He reached down and grabbed her leg at the knee, pulling it up until it was around his waist. He held it and braced her against the wall.
“I want you right now, Princess,” he said. “Trust me.”
Her dark eyes locked onto his as he pushed himself into her, slowly at first. Her breath hitched and her eyes fluttered closed. He kissed her open mouth, and she responded in full, her arms locked around his neck, trusting him. That trust coupled with the sounds coming from her chest as he made love to her against the shower tile had him peaking far too soon to satisfy either of them. He hadn’t tried to control himself, didn’t want to. He would make love to her again, properly. In bed. Where he could take his time and show her how much he’d missed her.
“Let me wash your hair.”
She smiled languidly. “I can do it.”
“I want to.”
He found her shampoo and lathered a good amount into her thick, black hair. He spread the lather across her breasts, her stomach, between her legs. He could get used to this. He used her shampoo to soap himself, then had her stand under the shower head to rinse off. He watched her, the way she enjoyed the water cascading over her. Fully relaxed. Happy.
“Enough,” he said and turned off the water. He grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his waist, then another and started drying Lucy off. “Let’s go to bed.” He wanted her again, right now, but he would take his time.
She raised an eyebrow and feigned surprise as she let him pick her up. “What about dinner?”
“It’s not going anywhere.” He kissed her breasts, first one, then the other. Her eyes closed and her mouth parted. “And neither are you.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sean watched Lucy sleep.
They were on the couch in the family room. Lucy had put her head in his lap, telling him about the two homicides she was working, why the feds were involved in the first place, and why she was focusing on the black prostitute. Of course Sean had heard about the sex scandal with Crowley and the pretty blond secretary. No one who lived in DC and listened to the news for more than five minutes could have missed the affair. But Lucy seemed more concerned about the brutal murder of a hooker from the bad side of town. The killer was a sick bastard to leave a gutted rat for a calling card. And dangerous. But Lucy felt that Nicole Bellows wasn’t the last victim, and because Lucy was who Lucy was, she put the weight of the case on her shoulders.
Sean loved her for her commitment to her job, but also worried that sometimes she cared too much, and sacrificed too much of herself for others.
What he was more concerned about was the hidden room Lucy had uncovered yesterday. The dark circles under her eyes, visible now that she’d showered and all traces of makeup had been removed from her face, told him she hadn’t slept well last night.
He should have been here for her. She should have told him. But when he was going to ask why she hadn’t talked to him about the case when he called last night, she was already asleep.
He stared at her, his heart in his throat, wanting so much to take away the pain she harbored inside. He combed her hair with his fingers, lightly, not wanting to wake her. She needed sleep, and he was pleased she could relax with him. He felt her weight shift on his legs when she slipped deeper into sleep, trusting him.
He would never betray her trust.
Lucy was a classically beautiful woman, but the beauty was secondary in his intense attraction.
Going back to his hometown of Sacramento for a week had been difficult on many levels. Not just working for his brother and being treated like the irresponsible black sheep of the family, something he’d been striving to shake for years, but seeing old friends—and old girlfriends. Word got around fast that he was back, and the calls came in. He went to one party and left early—it wasn’t his thing anymore.
Sean had always been attracted to girls who knew they were beautiful and enjoyed the attention their good looks and hot bodies elicited. He also liked smart girls, because talking to an airhead got old real quick. But the girls he’d dated before Lucy were short-term girlfriends—smart and beautiful, but also shallow, conceited, and demanding. Still, for years, he had preferred the no-strings-attached lifestyle.
And then came Lucy.
More important than looks and brains was Lucy’s lack of selfishness. She had so much hope and compassion, even after the shit life had handed her, and every day dedicated herself to helping others. To seeking justice.
Sean was the first to admit that he was selfish. He liked having toys, he liked being smar
ter than other people, and he wanted Lucy all to himself. Sharing her with her career and her family grated on him occasionally, because he wanted to come first.
But he couldn’t imagine his life without Lucy in it. Six months they’d been together, and he didn’t miss his carefree past. Going home had proven it, if he needed proof.
He’d hated being away from her for so long—eight days this time—especially since she would be leaving for Quantico soon, and he’d only get to see her one night a week for nearly six months.
Stupid rule, he thought. He wondered how difficult the security would be to crack. Did they have security cameras on campus? Or just on the perimeter? He’d have to get Lucy to take him on a tour one day. He’d figure it out. No way was he going six days a week without seeing her.
He kissed her forehead and she smiled in her sleep. Maybe she wasn’t sleeping. He leaned down and kissed her lips. She kissed him back.
The doorbell rang.
She sighed and opened her eyes. They had a sleepy, content look. “Dillon never forgets his keys,” she said. “What time is it?” She rose and stretched.
“Ten thirty.”
She walked down the hall to the front door and peered through the peephole. Sean watched from behind.
“It’s Noah,” she said.
What the hell was Mr. Law & Order doing here so late at night? Sean didn’t know he’d be home today until he got on the plane. He’d surprised Lucy. Had Noah tried to weasel in on Lucy while Sean had been gone?
Lucy opened the door. “Come on in.”
Sean stared at the Fed. “Noah.”
“Sean. I didn’t know you were back.”
“Surprise.”
They’d agreed to a truce after their adventures in upstate New York—Sean had a grudging respect for the guy. But he still couldn’t shake the jealousy whenever Noah was around Lucy. Lucy had done nothing to make Sean think she was at all interested in Noah—they were just colleagues. And friends. But Sean couldn’t explain why he felt the way he did—except that a lot of people Lucy cared about had been critical of her decision to get involved with him. That normally wouldn’t bother him, but with Lucy it did. It annoyed him.
Silenced Page 11
