In Too Deep: A Romantic Suspense Novel

by Landish, Lauren

  Turning around, she pushed my legs together, my cock pointing straight up. Facing away from me, Sophie put her hands on my knees and slid back, my cock pushing inside her with both of us groaning with the wonderful sensation. Riding me in this cowgirl position, Sophie slid back and forth, her inner muscles squeezing me even more wonderfully than her thighs had.

  One of the many reasons that Sophie was perfect for me was the way I was able to fit inside her. One of the first times we made love, she had remarked at how large I was as she had wrapped her breasts around my cock and gave me a boob job. She didn't know, but she was closer to the truth than she had ever known. Most women were timid of my size, or were drunken size queens who just wanted me to pound them mercilessly.

  Sophie was neither. Her beautiful body accepted me as it was, and wrapped itself lovingly around me, regardless of what we did. And yes, we had done almost everything. This time, she rode me slowly, letting her body build up slowly from the orgasm she had been through already.

  For long, wonderful minutes, I felt the slow penetration and withdrawal. I watched, fascinated as her hips flexed and pushed. It gave me a mental cue to the wonderful waves of pleasure that would wash through me, and building my anticipation. Sophie's hips moved faster, her own body's urges taking over.

  "Mark...." she sighed, starting to lift her hips as well as ride back and forth. My cock slid in and out in longer, mind numbing strokes, both of us giving ourselves to the feeling. Sophie took her hands off my knees and sat up, using her thighs to push herself up and down, taking me inside her in longer movements than ever.

  I put my hands on her hips, helping Sophie as she pulled her knees underneath her as she leaned back, letting me thrust with my hips as well. Holding her up with my arms, we rode each other, my thrusts meeting her knees. Sweat beaded my forehead and I couldn't hold out much longer, but I didn't need to. I felt Sophie flutter around me, and I knew she was oh-so-close to another orgasm.

  "Forever," I said again into her ear, the emotional stimulation combining with the physical feelings tearing through our bodies. With a final thrust I felt Sophie start to come, and I gave in, giving one more thrust of my own before my own climax tore through me, and I gave myself to my wife, my soul mate.

  Chapter 51

  Sophie

  A hundred years ago, the city's central train terminal had been a marvel of early twentieth century architecture. With high vaulted ceilings, sweeping arches, lots and lots of marble, and a style that seemed to be a blend of Neo-Gothic and Art Deco, for a long time it had been almost as much a tourist attraction as it had been travel hub. Millions of people every day swarmed the platforms, and quite a few classic movies had been filmed in the main hall.

  After World War II however, with the rise of air travel and the increased use of cars, the now thirty year old station lost some of its luster. It wasn't noticeable at first, and in fact for nearly twenty years afterward the station serviced more passengers than ever, mainly due to the ever increasing population of the city. But more and more people were using cars or planes to get to the city.

  By the seventies, the decline was obvious, and an overly stressed city budget just didn't want to invest the amount of money necessary on upkeep of the now 'classic' building. Murals on the walls weren't cleaned with the same care, and the marble stairs started to gather a certain hollowed out look from the millions of feet that tread upon them every day.

  Around the turn of the century, there was an attempt at renovating the station, so some of the biggest eyesores were fixed, but some of the magic had been lost, forever. It was this station that Mark and I stepped into, our bags slung over our shoulders and my still unfamiliar feeling wedding band pressing into my left ring finger from where he and I were holding hands. "You know, that's the first time I've ever ridden the train cross-country," I said as we walked through the main hall. "It was a lot of fun."

  Mark grinned. "Considering that we used the ka-tan-ka-tun of the wheels to such good effect, I agree."

  I blushed lightly and slapped his chest, earning a wistful look from a housewife who could obviously see how much we were in love. Mark was right, however. We had used the rhythm of the wheels and the bed in the sleeper car to very good effect.

  "Actually, I was thinking of your little karaoke session in the dining car last night."

  It was Mark's turn to blush. The night before, after dinner had been cleared away, an informal karaoke session had broken out on the train. I could understand. For a lot of the passengers, it was still early in the evening, and Amtrak doesn't put televisions or Internet on those sleeper cars. For the passengers who hadn't paid for a sleeper car, it was even worse, as they could only look forward to an evening in a seat not much more comfortable than the type you get on an airliner. The dining car, at least, offered some space to try and stretch your arms and legs, and talk to other people.

  I don't know who had started the session, but it built up quite a little crowd, maybe about a dozen or more. The dining car actually did have a sound system with instrumental music, so the bartender helped out by letting us select tracks from the three CDs.

  The highlight for me, however, was when during a lull, Mark got up from our little chairs and sat down on the bar stool. The group quieted down, curious as Mark waved the bartender off.

  "It's been a while since I did a lot of singing, but I'll try my best," he said, before clearing his throat. With his new identity, he was letting more of his soft natural Southern into his speech patterns again, and smiled. "A long, long time ago, I can still remember, how that music used to make me smile...."

  I don't really know if Mark made any mistakes in the lyrics of the old Don McLean song, but I do know that his resonant voice filled the car with music, as another patron, a older black man who looked like he had grown up in the Motown do-wop era, backed him up with a pretty good imitation of the music using just his voice and tapping his table. By the final round of the chorus, most of us were singing along, and the whole group applauded at the end.

  "I just felt like singing," Mark deflected, his blush deepening as I grinned at him. Mark was very, very cute when he was embarrassed. "Come on, we need to catch a bus."

  To give at least a veneer of appearance to our re-entering the city, Mark and I were officially staying at one of the buildings that Mark owned in the city. The small efficiency apartment was smaller than even the one I'd had when I was a medical student, but it worked for the few days we needed. "So do you think Tabby will be surprised with our present?"

  "Of course. I'm still giddy about it myself. By the way, once we get this all settled, we're finding you a doctor for your first check-up. You may be trained, and I know you're healthy, but I'm not taking any chances."

  Smiling, I came over to the bed where Mark was sitting and took his face in my hands, kissing him on the nose, then on the lips, then on the nose again. "You, my dear husband, are going to be the best father in the whole damn world."

  We held each other for a few minutes, just enjoying the closeness, not needing anything else. Finally, I let go. "Come on, let's call Tabby, and set up our job interview."

  The next day, both of us felt weird dressed in off the rack "business clothes" that we had just bought that morning, walking up towards Mount Zion from the closest bus stop. We were glad to see that the press media were no longer camped out front. While my appearance was different enough that most people wouldn't mistake me for Sophie Warbird, Mark's build and face couldn't be disguised, even with two days' growth of stubble on it. We'd considered some more drastic options for changing his appearance, but first we had some things to do.

  Knocking on the front door, I could see in Mark's eyes the trepidation, which helped me. Regardless of whether it was a real job interview or not, there was something about the whole thing that felt real. Maybe you never get past that feeling, I don't know for sure.

  When Tabby opened the door, it was hard for the three of us to carry on with the charade just in case
someone was watching. "Please, come in," she said, holding the door open for us as we walked in. As soon as the door was closed however, all pretenses were dropped and she grabbed both of us in a hug. "God I missed you both! How was your trip?"

  I showed Tabby my wedding band, upon which she grabbed both my hands and started hopping up and down like an overly excited preschooler. "Oh, I'm so happy!" she almost yelled, pulling me in for another hug. "I only wish I could have been there. I mean, I assumed when you said the two of you were going to be stopping by Las Vegas before coming back, but still, this is awesome. Really awesome."

  "I know, but we have pictures and video of the whole thing if you want to watch," I said, prying her arms from around my neck. "I promise. Also, we brought you a gift."

  "Ooooh. You didn't happen to bring me some decks of cards from the Mirage or something, did you?"

  "No, but we thought you might like this," Mark said, handing over the small gift box.

  "What is it? A pen?" Tabby asked, taking the case. I could understand her confusion, the case had originally belonged to a Mont Blanc pen set in fact, and we had those pens set aside as well if she wanted them.

  "Open it and find out," I said, trying hard to not grin like a fool. Tabby opened the the small case, her eyes puzzled for a second before she realized what the little device inside said. "Oh my God. Really?"

  "Read the note underneath," I said, letting the smile come out. "It's for you."

  Tabby took the test, which had a big pink plus sign on the side of it, out and looked at the folded note underneath. Hi Tabby! I'm looking forward to meeting you! Will you be my Auntie?

  "Oh hell yeah," Tabby said, before closing the case. Tear glittered in her eyes. "Okay, well, I guess I can hire the two of you then. Come on, we have some video magic to do and you've got some other things I know you need to do."

  The video magic was actually pretty simple. Mark, using a quick temporary color dye to shift his hair back to what Marcus Smiley had, along with a shower and shave, filmed a quick ten minute video in front of a green screen in which he announced the forming of MJT Consolidated Holdings which would be a subsidiary of the overall Smiley operations. Since Marcus wouldn't be able to oversee the day to day operations, he was vesting full corporate powers with Tabitha Williams, naming her as President and CEO of MJT, while he and Sophie Warbird would have advisory roles with the company.

  A bit of video magic later, and it looked like Marcus was making the speech from inside a tropical hotel room. That, combined with the paperwork we had already filed, would totally pave the way for Tabby to take over.

  "Now just a few more things to do," Mark said, taking off his Marcus Smiley suit coat. It, along with most of his Marcus Smiley clothes, were going to be donated through MJT to a shelter for disadvantaged people who needed a hand in outfitting themselves for job interviews. Tabby herself would be making the delivery that day, and the press conference announcing her hiring would be the next day. If things went according to plan, Marcus Smiley and MJT would be very small news.

  Chapter 52

  Mark

  While I'd done it before, breaking into a Federal building always made my palms sweat. In addition to the fact that most of them operated twenty four hours a day, the pure fact was that the FBI, the NSA, and quite a few other members of the alphabet soup that is Federal law enforcement had their fingers in the pie. With none of them really trusting the others, everyone in the Federal building had sphincters that were water tight, which meant that there was always the chance that some security measure I hadn't expected could trip me up.

  Oh, and let's not add the fact that quite a few people in there carried guns and weren't afraid to use them. So as I worked my way down the air conditioning vent, I kept my eyes open. Thankfully, the Federal Prosecutor's office wasn't quite as locked up as, say, the ATF offices on the fourth floor.

  Creeping along, I used the small smartphone strapped to my forearm both as a flashlight and a guide. Bennie Fernandez didn't have his own office, but instead shared one with two other Federal prosecutors. Looking through the grate, I saw that nobody was there, which I had hoped for. It was midnight, after all, and none of them were on any high powered cases at the moment. If Bennie was half as smart as I thought, that would change.

  I eased the vent cover out, dropping to the ground softly. I'd taken no chances, if there were any video surveillance, they wouldn't see me. I'd gone the whole face mask route. Taking the envelope with a letter and dual flash cards out of my vest pocket, I taped it to the monitor of his computer, his name written on it in block letters in black magic marker. My delivery complete, I made my way out the same way I came in, emerging on the roof just as my phone buzzed, telling me it was one in the morning. Time to make a phone call.

  Sure, it isn't exactly polite to call someone's house at one in the morning, especially someone like Bennie Fernandez with a wife and young baby at home. But this time I think it was worth it.

  "Hello?" a sleepy man's voice said once the call was picked up. "You know what time it is?"

  "I've been told you're an honest prosecutor," I said. I was using a scrambler to disguise my voice, although I was still pitching it in such a way that it would be different from my normal voice. Okay, so a computer could match certain things, but you'd be surprised how many people are fooled when you just try to talk like James Earl Jones as Darth Vader. "Is that true?"

  "Who is this?" Fernandez replied, his voice sharpening immediately.

  "Relax, Mr. Fernandez, I'm a friend," I replied. "I ask because I just left a little present for you taped to the monitor of your computer in your office. Nice desk, by the way, but I'd get rid of the Patriots coffee cup. At least in this town." I added the little tidbit to convince him I'd been there. The cup wasn't actually on his desk, but on a small bookshelf next to his desk, right next to a copy of the Abridged Federal Rules of Evidence. "There's two data cards and a note. Go ahead and have them verified if you want, but keep one for yourself."

  "Why?"

  Instead of answering, I asked another question. "I asked you earlier if you were honest. I have another one. Do you have any guts, Mr. Fernandez. Any cojones?"

  Bennie Fernandez may have been a well educated Federal prosecutor, but he was still Latin at heart, and calling a Latin man's balls into question is going to get a reaction, regardless of who it is. "Give me a chance, and you'll find out."

  "Good. Because if you do have guts, then you're going to make a career. I'm going to give you a name. Owen Lynch. Have a good evening, Mr. Fernandez."

  I hung up, then put the phone on the roof before bringing my boot heel down on the phone, shattering it before I pulled the battery. I'd throw the whole thing into the ocean later, but I had another delivery to make before the night was up.

  * * *

  Louis the Frog, despite being the second most powerful man in Sal Giodano's crime syndicate, lived like a poor man. I had never understood why, although I could understand why he lived alone. He was the closest thing I'd seen outside of fiction to a true sociopath. It wasn't that he didn't have a code that he lived by, just that his rules were almost the antithesis of what every other person lived by.

  He was loyal to only one man, Sal himself. Other than that, dealing with Louis was kind of like fucking around with a jar of nitroglycerin or maybe nerve gas. One wrong move, and you just might end up dead. He'd killed plenty of people, far more than I had, and had no rules at all as to who he killed. Man, woman, child, innocent or guilty, he didn't give a damn.

  The scariest part about Louis though was that he was smart, smarter than a lot of people gave him credit for. They were so intimidated by his propensity for violence that they overlooked just how smart he was. While Sophie often called me a genius for what I'd been able to pick up through just the Internet and my own thinking in terms of business, I think Louis may have been even smarter than me. He just wasn't interested in legitimate business, but instead in making Sal Giordano the most powerful m
an in the city. Why, I never did figure out.

  Louis and I had, for the most part, a respectful relationship prior to the time he'd visited my old Mark Snow apartment. Part of it was that I gave Louis the right amount of respect, which mainly meant I never lowered my guard around him. For his part, Louis recognized that I knew he was dangerous, and I was a touch faster and perhaps more skilled than he was.

  So I guess that Louis living in a cheap hotel room made perfect sense, in his own way. The hotel, one of those down on your luck places that catered to illegal aliens that would cram a family of eight into a two person room, desperate to make a new future for themselves in a new country. I had to respect them, considering the guts it took. Or just down on your luck losers who usually checked out via gunshot or hanging rather than by credit card,. The hotel took payment in cash only, paid a week in advance.

  Louis had what I guess you could call the penthouse, if a flop house like that could have anything that could be considered a penthouse. The top floor, due to the manager's apartment being next door, had fewer rooms which were just a little bit larger than the normal spots. Still, the bed was sagging, and the walls rattled with the scratching and clawing of rodents as I stepped through the window. I was quite sure that below me, in the rooms below, there were more than a few mothers who were engaged in their nightly battles with the rats and the cockroaches to keep them from feasting on their babies.

  To be honest, I was tempted to burn the whole damn place down after pulling the fire alarm. The only thing stopping me was I knew that for many of the other residents of the hotel, the only other option was living on the streets, or in the netherworld of the homeless that congregated in the storm drains and sewers. I'd been down there on missions for Sal, and I never wanted to go there again. It was the sort of place you carried a gun for protection from the wildlife, or at the minimum a machete.