by Radclyffe
Rica had changed the sheets, but she imagined that she could still smell her. And with that single fragile memory, all the rest came flooding back. The wanting, the yearning, the incredible freedom of being known. The rightness.
I’m a cop, Rica.
Furious with herself for being taken in by the understanding in Carter’s eyes, Rica threw the crisp, clean sheets aside and grabbed the bedside phone to call her father. She hesitated, her finger poised to speed dial, and considered what she would say. Papa, I’ve discovered an impostor who is trying to hurt you. That was Carter’s aim, wasn’t it? Her father needed to know, didn’t he?
She knew that her father, whose friends and allies could just as easily become enemies in the menacing world of shifting allegiances, was well protected. This time it’s different, Papa. She’s not one of us, she’s a cop. Surely the threat Carter posed was greater than that of the men who tried to wrest control from her father every day. Not one of us. When had she joined her father’s camp? Perhaps she hadn’t, but she couldn’t stand by and let him be hurt.
She stared at the phone. If she told him about Carter, what would he do? She wasn’t certain, because she had never wanted to know what orders her father issued to protect himself and his empire. Ignorance was innocence, or so she had let herself believe. More lies of her own making. Lies she had built her life upon. Would her father kill the woman who had held her in her arms? She shivered. She didn’t know.
One thing she did know. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she exposed Carter and Carter suffered for it. Right or wrong, enemy or friend, she could still smell Carter on her sheets. She had wanted her last night, last week, last month, and she wanted her now.
But what of the danger to her father? God, her head hurt. Carter had said there was no one else inside to find. Did that mean there was no danger, either? Why should she believe her? There was no reason to, but she did. She did believe her. But he was her father.
“Papa?”
“It’s late, cara. Are you all right?”
“Yes, I know. I’m fine.” Rica closed her eyes, although the room was dark. “I’m sorry.”
“You left without saying goodbye yesterday.”
“Something came up. An emergency here at the gallery.”
“Taken care of now?”
“Yes. Yes, I think so.” Rica steeled herself, knowing the phones could be monitored, choosing her words carefully. “I couldn’t sleep. Bad dreams. Can I tell you a story? That always makes me feels better.”
“Yes. Tell me what you…dreamed.”
“It was about friends who weren’t, one in particular. Someone we…I…trusted, who betrayed us. Hurt you.”
“Ah, broken loyalties. Infidelity of the worst kind.” Her father’s voice was soft, pensive. “This friend—he was secretly working with the enemy?”
“She.” Rica’s heart ached. “In my dream, it was a woman. I don’t know how, exactly, but I’m afraid—”
“I had a similar dream,” Alfonse said, “of a man I loved like a brother. He turned against me because he was weak and afraid. Don’t worry, cara. Dreams can’t hurt us.” He laughed softly. “When you were small, I would leave the light on so that you wouldn’t be afraid of the shadows in the corners. There will always be shadows, but you don’t have to worry about them. Go to sleep, cara, and forget about the dream.”
“You’re all right?”
“I’ll keep the light on for a while, but I’ll sleep well.”
“I love you, Papa,” Rica said softly, because it was the truth.
“I love you, cara. Come home soon when we aren’t giving a party. We’ll talk.”
“I’ll try. Good night, Papa.”
“Good night, Ricarda mia.”
Rica hung up, her head pounding mercilessly. As she lay awake, wondering who the man was her father had spoken of, she heard a car slow and stop somewhere nearby. She thought nothing of it until the crunch of shoes on shells penetrated her awareness. Listening more intently, she tried to discern if it was just a neighbor returning home. When the uneasy sensation of something not quite right became too much to tolerate, she crept to the window and looked down into the driveway. There was nothing but darkness.
She went back to bed and eventually fell into a restless half sleep, only to dream of running through endless dark streets from some formless horror that grew closer with each step.
*
“You should try to get some sleep,” KT said as she slid the screen door closed behind her and crossed the deck to where Tory stood at the railing. The slice of moon hanging over the water was nearly obscured by cloud, but she didn’t need moonlight to see Tory’s face. She’d lain down beside her countless nights, and every curve and plane of Tory’s being was carved into her soul. She rested her hand lightly on Tory’s lower back. “Reese will be pissed as hell if she comes home and you’re worn down to the bone.”
Tory stared at the harbor, but she wasn’t seeing the ebony surface, broken here and there by teasing slivers of starlight. “Do you think she’ll come home?”
“Yes,” KT said immediately. The terrible pain in Tory’s voice brought back memories of another time when the hurt had been of her doing, but she swiftly pushed those thoughts aside. The wounds she had caused Tory were in the past, and if she were to hope for absolution it would come not from apologies, but from whatever comfort and friendship she could offer her now. “She’s not dead, Vic. If she were, they’d have found her body by now, and we’d know.”
Tory shuddered but KT went on. She was no stranger to delivering hard messages, and she trusted Tory’s strength. “That means she’s a prisoner, because she’s too damn smart to just be lost and wandering around somewhere.”
“She could be hurt, lying out there in the desert.” Tory’s voice was an agonized whisper. “I can’t stand the thought of her being hurt and alone. I can’t.”
“They’ve got all kinds of aerial and ground surveillance equipment. Christ, they can put a missile down a chimney in the middle of a city. They don’t lose people.” KT slid her arm around Tory’s shoulders and squeezed. “Her father told you what happened, and I believe him. She’s been captured.”
“She’s a woman, KT,” Tory said in a strangled voice.
“She’s a fucking Marine. And even if those military types didn’t pride themselves on never leaving their people behind, her father’s a goddamn general. You can bet they’re tearing up the desert looking for her.”
“But it’s been so long. Anything could have happened—”
KT turned Tory to face her just as the moon escaped its cover. She framed Tory’s face as their eyes met. “Don’t. Don’t torture yourself thinking of things you can’t change. She’ll get through it, no matter what. So will you.”
“I’ve never felt this helpless.” Tory closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to KT’s palm. “So weak.”
“Oh, bullshit. Any one of us would be crazy out of our minds if it was our lover. Jesus, Reese would be ripping her way through the Pentagon by now.”
Tory laughed shakily. “She would.”
“It’s going to be okay. They’ll find her or she’ll get out. She’ll come home.” If it was a lie, KT knew it didn’t matter. In this moment, what mattered was hope. If the time came when there was none, they’d deal with that, too.
“I know you’re right. It’s just so hard not to be able to do anything.” Tory reached up and covered KT’s hand where it rested on her cheek. “You should go home. Don’t you have to go back to Boston tomorrow?”
“I traded a few days. I’ll be here for a bit.”
“Did Pia leave?”
“About an hour ago. She’s got early clients she couldn’t cancel.”
“She’s good for you,” Tory said.
“Yeah. She is.”
“She knows you’re not really so tough, doesn’t she?”
KT laughed. “Yeah.”
“In case you don’t know,” Tory said, “I�
��m glad you’re here.”
KT tilted her head until her forehead touched Tory’s. “Me too, Vic.”
“Good. Now that we have that settled, go home.”
Tory sounded stronger, and KT felt a little of her own worry lift. “Make a deal with you.”
“Oh no, I know what your deals are like.”
“I’ve changed.”
“Not that much.”
“I’ll go home if you go to bed.” KT touched a finger to Tory’s chin. “Please.”
“All right,” Tory said with a sigh. “You win this time. But don’t get used to it.”
“Not a chance.” KT kissed Tory’s forehead. “Thanks.”
Arm in arm, they walked into the house.
*
“Come back to bed, baby,” Caroline said softly. Neither she nor Bri had wanted to go home, so they’d bunked in the first-floor guest room at Tory’s.
“In a second,” Bri said, standing naked in the shadows by the window looking out. The low murmur of voices outside on the deck had drawn her from bed, and now she watched KT and Tory disappear into the other part of the house. After a second, she slid back into bed, propped some pillows behind her back, and pulled Caroline into her arms.
“If we split up, would you still love me?” Bri asked, combing her fingers slowly through Caroline’s hair.
Caroline drew her leg up over Bri’s and rubbed her palm over Bri’s abdomen. “No, because you’d be dead.”
Bri laughed. “How do you know I’d be the one who left?”
“Because I know.” Caroline shifted on top of Bri and kissed her. “Besides the fact that you’re the sexiest girl I’ve ever seen, so why would I leave you for sex that wasn’t as good, I love you.”
Even before she’d come back to bed, Bri had wanted to make love. She’d hungered to feel Caroline, to know that she was there and wouldn’t leave her, that the person she counted on most in life wouldn’t disappear. She’d had an ache deep inside all night, a burning urgency to touch and be touched, to feel Caroline arch beneath her hands and come with a cry against her mouth. She was wet and hard, wanting her.
I love you, Carre had said.
Bri had never quite been able to believe her luck, never quite gotten over worrying that Caroline would find someone else—someone stronger, someone braver, someone better.
I love you.
Suddenly the enormity of how much she needed that love washed over her, and out of nowhere came the tears. Bri buried her face in the soft warm curve of Caroline’s neck and cried.
“Oh, hey. Baby.” Caroline wrapped her arms around Bri and held her as tightly as she could. She didn’t tell her not to cry, because it was such a rare event for Bri that she knew it must be necessary. Instead she murmured, over and over, “I love you. I love you so much. Don’t worry, Reese will come home. It’s all right, baby. Everything is going to be all right.”
“Fuck,” Bri gasped, finally pulling away. “Oh man, Carre, I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Caroline stroked the tears from Bri’s face. “For not being tough all the time? For letting me take care of you?” She punched Bri lightly on the arm. “I’m a lot stronger than you think.”
“I know.” Bri heaved a deep breath and felt her insides settle. She brushed Caroline’s hair back from her face, then traced her thumb over Caroline’s mouth. “I know just how strong you are. Sometimes, I wonder why you’re even with m—”
“Baby. Shut up.” Caroline sealed her mouth to Bri’s, plunging her tongue between her lips while she snaked a hand between them and into Bri’s crotch. She gave a deep murmur of approval when she found her hot and wet and open. She didn’t wait but slid through the heat and inside her.
Bri jerked and moaned and writhed while Caroline drove into her and drove out her fears and her uncertainties. When she came, stifling her cries against Caroline’s breast, Caroline whispered, “I love you.”
While all around her was chaos, Bri clung to Caroline and let their love be her strength.
*
Carter came awake to a world of pain. Something warm and thick ran down her forehead, into her eyes. Blood. She recognized it from the smell. When she tried to raise her arm to wipe it away, she couldn’t. She blinked and her vision swam.
“Fuck.”
She turned her head and vomited.
Bits and pieces of the beating came back to her. She was still on the stairs. It was dark. Still night. How much time had passed? Her ears were ringing. She tried hard to listen for sounds in the alley. She thought she was alone. Had they gone? She was dead if they came back now.
She struggled to isolate her pain. Shoulder. Hand. Stomach. Back. She took a breath. Hurt. Not too bad though. She shifted her legs. Knees were okay. Sweat broke out on her face, ran down her back. Cold, sick sweat.
She wasn’t certain she could feel her hands and feet. Hard to tell through the agony that screamed along her nerve endings every time she moved. Had to get up. Inside. Call Kevin.
Rica. Jesus, Rica. Sickness flooded her. If they’d touched her. Kill them.
“Time to get up,” she gasped.
She got one hand braced against the stairs but when she tried to push upright, the world did a slow circle in front of her eyes. She vomited again, slumped over, and passed out.
*
Just before dawn, Rica gave up her restless battle with sleep and dragged herself from bed. She showered, hoping to wash the weariness from her mind as well as her body. She felt more awake afterward, but no less sad.
What she needed was coffee and work. Dwelling on mistakes was not her nature. She had done her duty, although it seemed her father already knew something of what was happening. Still, now she could forget about Carter and all the rest of it.
Feeling resolved if not particularly better, she dressed casually in jeans and a blouse for a day of office work and went downstairs. When she opened the kitchen door, an envelope that had been pushed into the space between the door and the jamb fluttered to the deck.
With trembling hands, she opened it and extracted a Polaroid photograph.
“Oh my God,” she moaned.
She dropped the photo in horror and raced from the house.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rica’s lifelong vigilance against doing anything that might attract the attention of the police prevented her from speeding down Bradford, despite her frenzy to get to Carter’s apartment. The image in the Polaroid print kept flashing through her mind. The harsh light had captured Carter’s unconscious body with brutal clarity. With her eyes closed and uneven trails of blood streaming down her face, Carter looked smaller, broken. She might have been dead.
No. No, of course she isn’t. That’s impossible. They wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.
She had no idea who had ordered the retaliation. It might have been Enzo, furious at having been physically rebuffed by Rica and bested by a woman whom Rica favored over him. That seemed most likely, but she couldn’t help wondering if it had been her father’s order that had resulted in the devastation. She couldn’t allow herself to believe that. She couldn’t believe that one person she loved could do that to another she lov—
No. That’s not what I feel for her. It isn’t. It can’t be.
Feeling physically ill with apprehension at what she might find, Rica careened into the alley next to Carter’s building. Carter’s Explorer was there. She slammed to a stop behind it, jumped out, and started for the stairs. Then she saw her.
“Oh my God, Carter,” she cried, rushing forward. When she reached her, she wasn’t sure if she should touch her. Carter lay as she had in the photograph, her legs on the ground and her upper body twisted sideways on the stairs. There was blood on her face and her clothes and on the stairs. For one terrible moment, Rica feared she really was dead. Moaning, she whispered Carter’s name again and tentatively touched her cheek. Her skin was warm, and Rica felt a flood of relief.
“Carter?”
Carter twitched.
> “Oh thank God.” Rica fell to her knees beside her and stroked her face. “Carter. Carter, darling. Can you hear me?”
Carter’s eyelids fluttered and she groaned.
Rica looked over her shoulder toward the street, wondering if anyone could see them now that the sun had risen. She wanted to go for help, but it was so hard to break the habits of a lifetime. She hesitated to involve the authorities when she wasn’t certain what had happened. She was relieved to see that they were still alone.
“Rica,” Carter whispered.
Rica felt almost dizzy as a tiny bit of her fear subsided. “Oh, Carter. What happe—”
“Go…away.” Carter tried to turn onto her back, but the motion sent a shaft of pain through her. She groaned again and lay still, breathing heavily. “Not safe here.”
“Don’t be silly,” Rica said sharply, fear and fury warring within her. She wanted to kill whoever had done this. She’d never felt such hatred in her life. “You need help. I’m going to call for EMTs.”
“No. Don’t.” With supreme effort, Carter rolled over onto her back and fought to bring Rica’s face into focus. “Help me upstairs.”
“You need a doctor.”
“I’ll be okay.” She could breathe, she could see, and most of her parts were working. She could even finally think a little. Carter was pretty sure nothing was irreparably damaged, but she didn’t know if her late-night visitors were still lurking around. She didn’t want Rica endangered. “Go. Please.”
“No. I need to find a phone.” Rica was frightened by how pale Carter looked and how much blood had pooled beneath her face on the stairs.
“My cell. Belt,” Carter whispered. “Need to…call my…partner.”
Rica checked Carter’s belt, but there was nothing there. “It’s gone. Maybe it fell off when they…” Pressing her lips tightly together, Rica peered into the alley and underneath the stairs. She saw Carter’s phone and retrieved it.
