by Radclyffe
“I hate them,” Tory whispered.
“I’m sorry for scaring you.”
Tory stood and rested her hands ever so lightly on Reese’s shoulders. “Lie down. Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything except what you had to do.” She eased the cotton briefs over hipbones that were far too prominent, taking care not to snag the material on the clear plastic that covered the sutures on Reese’s thigh. Another scar. Another battle. Too many. Too many.
“Baby,” Reese said quietly, catching Tory’s hand and urging Tory down beside her. “I’ll heal.”
Tory dropped the last piece of the uniform on the floor and lay down to claim the Marine as her own again. She curled on her side against Reese’s left shoulder and drew the sheet up over them both. It felt awkward, because she always slept on Reese’s right side. But that was where Reese was hurt. She knew Reese’s body would heal because Reese was strong and fit, and the wounds, her physician’s mind said, were painful but not dangerous. She worried, agonized over, the wounds she couldn’t see and would never see. And wondered how they would heal and what scars they would leave. “I love you.”
The sheets were so soft. Tory’s body was so warm. Reese caressed Tory’s shoulders and arm, then held her close. “I love you.”
Tory curled her arm around Reese’s middle. Her ribs arched starkly beneath her skin and her stomach hollowed down to the curve of her pelvis as if someone had carved parts of her away. “It’s good to have you home.”
She’d been disoriented from the blow from the rifle butt, and it had been hard to keep track of time. They were all frightened. But they were together, and when the guards were far enough away not to hear, they whispered encouragement to one another. Reese reminded them that they were alive, and they were Marines. Their fellow Marines would not abandon them. And in her private moments, she reminded herself that Tory was waiting. That Reggie had a lifetime of discovery ahead of her. And that she needed to go home, because she had promised she would.
“It’s good to be here. Better than anything else in the world.”
*
Carter rolled over in the grip of an uneasy sleep, and the pain in her back jolted her awake. “God damn it.”
After Kevin had dropped her off at her apartment in Cambridge, she’d swallowed three pain pills and crawled into bed. She squinted at the clock. Seven hours ago. Now it was the middle of the night and she wasn’t exactly awake, but was too sore to find a comfortable position and slide back into sleep. She could swallow another handful of pain pills and that might do the job, but she knew without checking that the blinking red light on her phone was a message, probably many messages, from Special Agent Allen. And she was going to have to face the Special Agent in Charge in the morning, and she’d need a clear head if she was going to save any piece of her ass or some part of her career.
When she’d first stumbled into the apartment and seen the blinking light, she’d had the crazy idea it was Rica. The way her heart had swelled so big, so fast, it actually hurt inside her chest. Hurt in a good way. And then just as quickly the pain settled in the pit of her stomach, because she’d realized that Rica did not know her home number. And even if she had, she would not be calling.
Carter curled on her side and closed her eyes, even knowing that sleep wouldn’t come. It was starting to be easier to ignore the pain in her body than the one that ached ceaselessly in her soul.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tory sat at the breakfast counter sipping coffee, as she did every morning. This morning, even the mundane felt extraordinary. She’d never tasted a better cup of coffee. The air was fresher, sweeter, than she could ever remember. Excitement hummed through her body. It took feeling truly alive to make her realize that she hadn’t been. The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying.
At exactly 7:30 a.m., she heard a car pull into the driveway. She smiled to herself, having expected it an hour earlier. Wondering how painful that hour of waiting had been, she went to the door and greeted her visitor. “Hi, sweetie.”
Bri quickly doffed her cap and turned it restlessly between her fingers. “I…uh… so, is she here?”
Tory held the door open and gestured Bri inside. “She’s sleeping.”
“Oh. Okay.” Bri bent down and picked up Reggie, who had crawled over to them. She bounced the baby once or twice and settled her against her hip. “So. How is… everything?”
“She’s doing fine,” Tory said. “Come on in and have coffee. She’ll be up soon.”
“Nah. I should probably get back out—”
“Hey,” Reese said as she slowly came down the stairs. Her thick black hair, shorter than she usually wore it, was slicked back and still damp from the shower. Her jeans and a short-sleeved pullover were loose. She grinned at Bri with sharp, clear blue eyes. “How you doing?”
Bri grinned back, rocking ever so slightly on her heels as if trying not to run forward. “Not bad.”
Reese’s attention fixed on Reggie. “Hey, sweetheart.”
Reggie started squirming and Tory quickly plucked her from Bri’s arms. “Let me take her.” Then she carried her to Reese. “I don’t know if you should hold her just yet.”
“It’ll be okay,” Reese said hoarsely. When Tory passed the baby to her, she held her against her left side and nuzzled her neck. Reggie giggled and Reese closed her eyes, shivering lightly.
After a minute, Tory gently took her back. “She’s too heavy for you to hold with your collarbone the way it is, darling.”
Wordlessly, Reese let her go. Then she glanced over at Bri, who looked embarrassed and uncertain. “Come on in.”
“Maybe I should come back.”
“No.” Reese edged a hip onto a stool on the living room side of the counter that separated the kitchen from the living area. “Have a seat. Tell me what’s been going on.”
When Bri cast a quick, doubtful look in Tory’s direction, Tory nodded encouragingly. Then Bri rushed the final few feet, skidding to a halt beside Reese, looking as if she wanted to hug her. Reese tossed her left arm around Bri’s shoulders and pulled her in for an embrace. She held her without saying anything for a long moment while Bri gently threaded her arms around Reese’s waist.
“Missed you,” Reese said.
“Oh yeah. Man, me too.”
Bri’s voice wavered and Reese clapped her on the back before loosening her hold. “So. Bring me up to date.”
Tory slid a cup of coffee across the counter to Bri, who picked it up automatically as she launched into an excited recounting of everything that had happened in the sheriff’s department since the day Reese left. While they talked, Tory grabbed the portable phone and carried Reggie out onto the deck. She checked that the gate was closed, went back inside to quickly retrieve her coffee, and once outside again, speed-dialed.
“She’s up,” Tory said when Kate answered the phone. She leaned against the railing and looked back into the house, watching Bri and Reese together. It was a sight she’d seen a thousand times, but it took losing that little piece of family to make her realize how much she needed it. They looked so much alike, even more so now that Reese was thinner. But there was no mistaking the stark contrast between Bri’s youthful buoyancy and Reese’s fatigue. It saddened her, to know that Reese had once been like Bri, fresh and eager and optimistic. She’d lived long enough and lost enough to know that there was no going back, but in loving Reese she’d found more than she’d ever lost. Now what she wanted most of all was to give Reese a place to recover her faith in the things that made her who she was. Honor, duty, principle. “What, Kate? I’m sorry. I…I can’t quite believe she’s home.”
“How does she seem?”
“She’s worn out. Quiet.” Tory had lain awake for a long time, listening to Reese’s breathing and trying to determine if she was sleeping. Usually she could tell, but something had changed in the cadence of Reese’s breathing while she’d been gone. It was as if even while asleep every now and then she would stop and liste
n. Tory wondered what she was listening for and was afraid she knew. There was no respite from danger, when death came in the silent seconds between heartbeats. And as much as Tory wished that she could, she knew she could not protect Reese from the threats that haunted her sleep.
“Is she badly hurt?”
Tory could tell from the tight, flat sound of Kate’s voice just how difficult it had been for her to ask that question. “She’s mostly banged up. I don’t know what’s worse, a nice clean bullet wound or all these damn minor injuries.”
Kate laughed shakily. “You’re starting to sound like a Marine’s wife.”
“Don’t even think it.” Tory bent down and removed a leaf from Reggie’s mouth. “Don’t eat that, sweetie.”
“Do you need me to come and get her?”
“I’ll call you later. I need to go into the clinic, but I don’t want to leave Reese just yet.”
“I know. Jean and I both want to see her, of course, but I think she needs you for a while first.”
Tory watched through the wide glass doors as Bri put her hat on, obviously getting ready to leave. Reese squeezed her arm and said something that made Bri nod seriously. Some order of business, Tory surmised. “I need her for a while, too.”
“When you think of it, tell her we’ll be by later.”
“Thanks, Kate. For understanding.”
“She’s home. That’s enough for us right now.”
“Yes.” Tory smiled as Reese swiveled on the stool and met her eyes. The heat that flooded through her came as a surprise. She hadn’t realized just how cold she’d been. “We’ll see you later.”
When Kate rang off, Tory collected Reggie and went back inside. “Hungry?”
“Some.”
“How about I fix you something to eat, then we all go back to bed.”
Smiling, Reese nodded. “Let me go lock the doors.”
*
“You ready?” Kevin said, eyeing Carter speculatively. “You still look like shit.”
“Thank you. That makes me feel so much better.” Carter knew just exactly how bad she looked. The stitches Dr. King had put in didn’t show much in her hair, but the bruise had seeped down along her jawline, discoloring the right side of her neck. The purple hues matched the circles under her eyes.
“Don’t smart-mouth Allen,” Kevin warned. “She’s royally pissed at you.”
Carter sighed, thinking not for the first time that she didn’t really care what bug Special Agent Allen had up her ass that morning. She had more important things on her mind. Like whether Enzo had contacted Rica. Or if Rica was still in Provincetown. Or if Rica thought of her at all. “I know how to handle suits like her.”
“Yeah. That’s obvious. You’ve been doing such a good job so far.”
“Listen, Kev,” Carter said seriously. “No matter how this goes, don’t put your ass on the line for me. Not this time. Because…” She shrugged. “It’s just not that important.”
Kevin studied her. “You mean that, don’t you.”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Okay. So let’s go see what the feds want from us.”
Allen was alone. Carter had expected either her immediate superior or a representative from internal affairs to be there, too. Instead, Allen stood by the window in the small, featureless room, her back partially turned to the door. As usual, she wore a dark navy pantsuit and a cream-colored silk blouse. Her blond hair was stylishly but simply cut. Her shoes were expensive but functional. She was pretty, but she worked hard to make sure it didn’t show. Carter looked at Kevin, who shrugged.
“Have a seat, Detective.” Special Agent Allen glanced once at Carter and ignored Kevin. As Carter pulled out a straight-backed chair in front of the rectangular metal table, Allen added smoothly, “Your presence is not required, Detective Shaughnessy.”
“Now wait a minute,” Kevin protested.
“That’s okay, Kevin.” Carter settled into the uncomfortable chair, smothering a wince as a tender spot on her hip connected with the unpadded seat. “Go get coffee or something. I’ll call you when we’re done.”
Kevin hesitated in the doorway, looking back and forth between the two women, his jaws working as if he were chewing glass. Then he muttered something that was just garbled enough to be unintelligible, which was probably wise, because Allen was regarding him as if he were an alien specimen in a zoo.
“Okay. Sure.”
When they were alone, Allen pulled out a chair opposite Carter and sat down. “I’ve been trying to reach you for over three days.”
“I was indisposed.”
“Yes. I can see that.” Allen slid a file folder in front of her, opened it, and extracted a single sheet of paper. “This is your last report. It was filed almost two months ago.”
“I’m not much for forms.”
Allen closed the folder and pushed it away. Then she leaned forward and laced her fingers together on the table top. “Rizzo is getting forgetful. Ever since we picked him up on Sunday he’s become more and more vague about all kinds of information he was very certain about before. He’s not our only informant, but a large part of the case we’re building against Alfonse Pareto hinges on his testimony.”
“He’s probably scared shitless,” Carter said. “He’s been part of that organization for forty years. He knows what happens when someone talks. It’s one thing to have secret meetings with you in a car under a bridge somewhere, feeding you little tidbits to keep himself out of jail and you satisfied. But climbing up into the witness box and ratting out one of the three most powerful organized crime heads east of the Mississippi? Come on.”
“You’re right. Men like him are often unreliable.” Allen shrugged. “Which is why your report is even more critical.”
“I don’t have a whole hell of a lot to report just now, Special Agent.”
“You’ve had several months to get a handle on Ricarda Pareto’s place in all of this. If you can turn her, then—”
“Rica?” Carter laughed. “If she were involved, which I’ve told you she isn’t, there’s no way she would betray her father.”
Allen sat back and said conversationally, “Not even for you? Not even for the woman she’s sleeping with?”
“We’re not sleeping together. And if we were, it wouldn’t matter. Rica isn’t part of it.”
“We have evidence to suggest otherwise.”
Carter shook her head. “What you have is rumor and wishful thinking.”
“Pareto is using the daughter’s gallery in SoHo as a front for money laundering. It’s relatively small scale for him, but significant enough for us to bring her in. They may be moving drugs through there as well.”
“Not Rica.” Carter’s hands fisted beneath the table, but she forced herself to sit calmly. “Whatever you’ve got, Rica isn’t the one behind it.”
“It’s her gallery. That puts her name on the warrant.”
Cold sweat broke out between Carter’s shoulder blades as sick worry churned in her stomach. If Rica were arrested, the press would have a field day. Her picture would be in every tabloid in the country. She’d never have a moment’s peace or privacy again. “You should be looking at Enzo. You said you had him in the surveillance photos going in there, sometimes when Rica wasn’t even there. It’s probably his sideline. Damn it, Allen, you know it isn’t her.”
“Then get her to give up some information. I want her father’s connection at the port. We’re not just talking drugs. We’re talking automobiles, electronics—maybe even girls.”
“If someone’s moving human traffic, it’s not Pareto. Maybe one of his lieutenants has gone independent. Pareto’s old-school. You know that.” Carter stood, too agitated to sit. She paced in the small room, thought of her barren apartment, and yearned for the feel of salt air on her skin and the beach at dawn. “You can’t get to Pareto through Rica, because I don’t think she knows anything. And even if she did, she’ll never turn.”
“A woman will do a lot of things
for love. Or what she thinks is love.”
At the unexpected sound of pain in Allen’s voice, Carter halted abruptly. She caught a glimpse of sadness and regret in Allen’s face before her features reformed into her normal professional facade. Briefly, she wondered if Allen had been the one to compromise herself for love, or if the nameless woman had betrayed her. Because it was clear there had been a woman. But knowing that, even feeling sympathy, did not make them allies. Allen was threatening the woman Carter loved. “If you name Rica in this, I’ll go on record against it. She’s innocent.”
“Your convictions aren’t going to mean very much. Especially since you nearly blew months of work by attacking Lorenzo Brassi.”
“I didn’t attack him. I pulled him off a woman he was trying to rape.”
“You don’t know his advances were unwelcome. We have photographic evidence—”
“Fuck your evidence. Rica was a victim.”
“Your judgment leaves something to be desired.”
Carter laughed. “Why don’t you just admit that you were wrong about her. Whatever information you had, whatever you think you saw in those surveillance photos, Rica is not involved with Enzo Brassi. She’s not part of her father’s organization. She’s not responsible for her father’s actions.”
“Well,” Allen said, shrugging as she stood. “I guess we’ll find out just how much she knows when we bring her in.”
“If you can even get a warrant with what little you’ve got, all you’re going to do is tip your hand to Pareto. He’ll know what you know, and then he’ll just cover his tracks. You’re jumping the gun.”
“If we can’t get anything from the daughter, we’ll at least be a step closer to Brassi, and Brassi sits at Pareto’s right hand. One way or the other, we’ll be closer than we are now.”
