Naked Truth

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  After about a half hour of watching the rats fight over a discarded fast-food hamburger, Drake hauled himself up and started the long walk back to the housing projects. The GPS tracker in his shoe would alert the police van that he was on the move. Voices carried on the water this late at night, and he didn’t want to give himself away. He took a swig from the bottle he carried inside a plain, brown wrapper. It was Gatorade, but he wished it were something stronger. Something like the Stoli Cristall that he’d shared with Pam.

  A grin spread across his face before he remembered to hide it. He wondered what she was doing right now. Probably sleeping. He amused himself wondering if she’d wear a nightshirt to bed or nothing at all. She was great. Too bad he’d had to meet her when all this stuff was going down. His godfather, the gang violence, the vor v zakone making their presence known in the form of her brother.

  Drake shook his head. He still couldn’t remember Pam from high school days, but he did remember Darren. He had been a geek, book smart like his sister probably was. How did a kid like that become a wheelman for some wannabe wise guys looking to get rich and famous off a badly planned bank robbery?

  He plunked himself down in a doorway of one of the dockside restaurants. It took only a moment before he was noticed.

  “Get out of here. You’re scaring the customers.” A man came out of the door and made shooing sounds.

  “Sorry,” Drake grumbled. “You got anything to eat?”

  The man looked over his shoulder. “Yeah, but you got to take it and not come back.”

  “Bless you, sir,” he said. Drake doffed his golfer’s hat as the man pressed a bag of rolls and butter in his hands. The restaurant had looked empty when he peeked in, but the bar looked rowdy. He didn’t see anything suspicious, so he continued on. He dropped the bag of food near a man who was sleeping by the locked gates of the boater’s yard.

  The next place he stopped was an area he was familiar with from working Vice. He only hoped not to be recognized in turn. Checking his reflection in the mirror, he was pleased with the result. Hunching over like he was hid his bulk and made him look less threatening. Drake enhanced his stubble with some dirt. He hadn’t taken Pam’s advice and worn contacts. It would make his eyes itch, and he didn’t want the distraction.

  He slumped down in a parking lot, close enough to hear two hookers talking about getting out and starting fresh somewhere warm. Looking around for their pimp, he didn’t see anyone and wondered if these were Gregor’s girls. He lumbered past them and figured he’d nailed the disguise when the girls looked down in disgust at him and kept on with their conversation.

  The radio crackled in his ear, and he flicked a glance, but it didn’t seem like the girls had heard it. He moved a little faster to get to the next alley, just in case.

  “You’re not going to believe the call Houston just took.”

  Fear leaped in him as he could only think of one reason why Mark would break the tacit radio silence. “Is Pam all right?” he muttered low into his chest. He was alone in the alley, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

  “Funny you should ask. I just got off the phone with her. She’s fine. Gregor and Piotr, on the other hand, are on their way into the station.”

  “What happened?” he gritted out.

  “They were caught on the hospital’s security cameras taking a sledgehammer to her car windows and a switchblade to her tires.”

  “Hospital?” he growled. He’d specifically told her to go to a hotel. Not in her office, where anyone looking for her would just have to ask for directions to Dr. Krupin’s office. She should be eating fifteen-dollar peanuts and watching HBO right now.

  “But that’s not the reason I tagged you,” Mark said. “Houston got a call from your newest snitch.”

  “Pam’s patient, Chick?”

  “Yeah, apparently the Rips want him to light a bum on fire in order to be a full member of the gang.”

  Drake felt a wave of relief that they’d finally gotten the gang doing this, followed by a flare of gut-wrenching panic. “Where were they heading?”

  “Berger Park.”

  “When?”

  “Midnight.”

  “That doesn’t give me much time.”

  “Then why are you wasting it talking to me? I’m sending a few cars nearby. I’m putting two more undercovers in the park. I don’t want to risk not getting these little bastards.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Drake said. “They’re not going to burn another person. Not on my watch.”

  “No stupid risks, Drake.”

  “Crenshaw, meet me in the men’s room at the Towne Diner with a bag of my clothes. I’ll do a quick change so no one fingers me as a cop, and then you can drive me to the park while I change back in the van. Hopefully, we’re not too late.”

  “Roger that,” Crenshaw said.

  Drake’s pickup and relocation went like clockwork. He was dropped off a few blocks from the park and staggered in through the south entrance. There were three other officers in the park in various shades of homeless attire by each of the entrances. Drake thought they’d either go for the female cop acting like a drug addict, or him, acting like a drunk. The other two weren’t pretending to be impaired.

  It all depended on where the gang entered and what their agenda was. There weren’t any targets. Any other vagrants would have been shuffled off by foot patrol as soon as the call came down. Of course, there was always a chance they could have missed someone. Also a possibility that the Rips had seen all the activity and decided on another park, another day. However, Mark didn’t call back. If Chick kept his cool and didn’t bail, they’d be here in about ten minutes.

  Adrenaline coursed through him. All sleepiness was banished by the giddy feeling of making a bust. Drake sprawled on a park bench, letting his hand with the Gatorade bottle dangle. He closed his eyes and tried to meditate like Pam had walked him through during that Reiki session. It hadn’t cured his bum leg, but it made the rest of him feel pretty good. He’d have to stop razzing her about it. Especially if they were going to be spending a lot more time together.

  “Look here, Chicky. Here’s someone who can help you.”

  Drake froze. He hadn’t heard them approach.

  “We’re moving in.” He heard Crenshaw’s voice in his ear.

  Drake smelled the gasoline and came off the park bench faster than he should have. It spooked the gang members. There were five of them, including Chick. They were in the red and black of the Rips—taken from the name Jack the Ripper. Drake deliberately stumbled and saw them relax a bit.

  “Whaddaya want?” he slurred. “Can’t a man get some peace and quiet? I’m tryin’ to sleep.”

  “We’re with the neighborhood watch,” the largest man on the left said. He was the one carrying the gas can. He thrust it into Chick’s hands.

  Chick took it but looked down at the can.

  “What are ya watchin’ for?” Drake asked, trying not to wince as one of the other gang members lit a cigarette. The gasoline fumes could ignite. Only an idiot would smoke around a gas can. He took a step back, but the gang scented blood—or in this case, smoke—and lunged in.

  “Soak him,” the big guy said from behind Drake, grabbing his arms.

  Drake rammed his head back, striking the man’s nose as hard as he could. The man let go, clutching his face. Drake followed up with an uppercut and a right cross that put the gang member to the pavement.

  “Police! Freeze!” Crenshaw shouted, and the park became alive with cops.

  Chick dropped the can. The one with the cigarette ran, but not before letting the cigarette drop to the ground.

  Drake stomped on the cigarette and hauled Chick away while the others rounded up the fleeing gang members.

  “Don’t hit me, man,” Chick said, cringing. “I wasn’t going to do it.”

  “Get the hell out of here. And if I catch you near any Rips or Trix, I’m going to beat the crap out of you.”

&nbs
p; “Yes, sir,” Chick said and took off running.

  Chapter Twelve

  After a long day of seeing patients, Pam took a trip to IKEA. Once the police had given the all-clear signal, the cleaning crew had pretty much fumigated and scrubbed down every inch of her apartment. The locks had been changed while she wandered around the warehouse, stuffed full of Swedish meatballs and feeling carefree. It was over.

  She pushed a pallet load of furniture, new drapes, and sheets through the checkout counter and into the truck she’d rented while her car was in the shop for repairs. Thanks to Darren’s warning, she’d managed to save her GPS and her CD collection. Driving back to her apartment, she sang along to the music on the radio until her Bluetooth chirped that she had a call.

  “Hello,” she said, turning off the radio.

  “How are you?”

  Drake’s voice filled her with warmth and more good cheer. “I’m good. A little tired, but I’m looking forward to a peaceful evening in my freshly cleaned apartment.”

  “Want some company?”

  “That depends,” she said. “Are you good with your hands?”

  “Baby, you know it.”

  She laughed, feeling the buzz of desire at his growly voice. “I’m just coming back from IKEA. I need help putting some bookshelves together.”

  “I knew it. You only want me for my hammer.”

  “What can I say? It’s hard to find a man who knows what to do with his tool.”

  “I can go on all day like this,” he said.

  “I was hoping you can go on all night.”

  There was a long pause, and Pam wondered if she had gone too far.

  “What time do you want me?” Drake’s voice was low and urgent. “I’m getting in the car now. I was going to make you feed me, but to heck with that.”

  Relief flooded through her. This wasn’t one-sided. It was just complicated. “I was planning on making some lasagna and a nice salad.”

  “Green stuff, huh? You’re not the type to put tofu in lasagna, are you?”

  “My vegetarian lasagna is world-class, but I know better than to serve it on a first date.”

  “Technically, this would be a second date.”

  “No. Wakes don’t count as dates. Neither does accidentally meeting in a café.” Pam turned into the parking lot of her complex.

  “Well, normally, I don’t put out on the first date.”

  “Neither do I,” she said, smiling so hard that her face was starting to hurt.

  “I’ve heard that the third date is the sweet spot. So can’t it be the café was date one, the conference room was date two, and this would be date three?”

  “Normally, I’d cry foul because date two was a dreadful day all around.”

  “Normally, I’d be surprised that there would be a third date in those circumstances,” he said.

  “But this isn’t normal between us.” She turned off the engine, content to sit in the car and chat.

  “I noticed,” he said. “I suppose you’re going to throw the traumatic-bonding flag on this play?”

  “I have no idea what you just said,” Pam told him. “Speak English, with fewer sports metaphors.”

  “It’s been a hell of a week.”

  “I’ve noticed.” Pam traced a pattern on her steering wheel.

  “We have some great chemistry.”

  “I noticed that too. I was hoping to explore that tonight.”

  “So you don’t think the chemistry is because of the experience we’ve had?”

  “Oh my Freud, you sound like a headshrinker. Look, party at my place. Pants are optional,” she said.

  “I’m in,” he said and hung up.

  Pam was still chuckling as she struggled to put everything on the hand truck without dropping something on her foot or losing anything important. A few of her neighbors opened the door for her and helped her get the stuff into the elevator without any further problems. Mr. Jackson, the apartment manager, handed her a set of new keys.

  She had a moment of unease when she put the new key in the new lock. Vadim Fomin was still out there. Darren had said he’d take care of him. But what did that mean? Her fingers shook as she turned the lock. It was stiff, but it worked on the first try. The apartment looked sterile and smelled faintly of bleach. Locking the door behind her, she went from room to room. It felt barren, but the fortune she’d paid for the cleaning crew had been well worth it. Her clothes had been freshly laundered and folded, and every square inch sparkled. Unfortunately, her bank account was now as empty as her refrigerator. But she had groceries being delivered within the hour, and well, that was what credit cards were for.

  Refusing to dwell on her finances, Pam took a quick shower and then went to see what she could possibly put on to tempt the detective with. She wasn’t the sexy-lingerie type, mostly because she hadn’t had anyone to wear it for since grad school, so she opted for her best bra-and-panty set. She slipped on a silk dress and then frowned at the idea of putting on panty hose. When the doorbell rang, she assumed it was the delivery service. So she padded barefoot to the door and opened the locks without looking through the peephole.

  “I came from work, so I still have my pants on,” Drake said as a way of introduction.

  “Oh, you startled me. I thought you were my groceries.” She took the bottle of wine from him and raised her cheek for a kiss, but he frowned and closed the door.

  “You should always check before unlocking the door,” he said, locking it.

  “I know, I know,” she sighed and walked into the kitchen.

  “I mean it. Just because the danger is over doesn’t mean you can get sloppy in your habits.”

  She turned around and put her hand over his mouth. “I know. It was a mistake. Let it go.”

  “Sorry,” he muttered around her hand.

  He took her hand away and pressed a gentle kiss in the center of her palm. Pam’s breath hitched. Drake grinned, and he kissed down to her wrist and forearm. Then he tugged her into his arms. When his lips touched hers, Pam rose on her tiptoes to deepen the kiss. Off-balance, she leaned into him, curving her leg around his. She could kiss him all day. Wrapping her arms around him, she was prepared to do just that—especially when he cupped her ass and brought her flush against his hardness. Even though he was so much bigger than she was, they fit together perfectly. His mouth was hot and wet against hers, and they were wearing way too much clothing. Fumbling at the buttons on his shirt, she cursed her clumsiness. Drake tugged up her skirt, and traced his fingers across the edge of her panties.

  When he found them soaked, he tore his mouth from hers. “I’m going to fuck you on the counter.”

  “Okay.” Fine with her. She clutched his shoulders because her knees were a little wobbly.

  He backed her up toward the counter and lifted her on top of it. After flipping her skirt up, he dug his fingers into the delicate material of her underwear and ripped them open.

  “Drake,” she gasped as he unbuckled his pants. Pulling out his cock, he stroked it a few times. Pam leaned back on her hands, spreading her legs wide. “Please.”

  He took out a foil packet from his back pocket.

  “I hope you brought the economy box and not the three-pack,” Pam said and helped him slip the sheath on.

  “You just might be the perfect woman,” He sighed as she guided his cock into her, just the head at first. He circled her entrance, soaking the tip. “Are you ready for me?”

  “Yes.” She hooked her legs around his waist.

  Drake thrust in hard.

  “Oh.” Pam hadn’t been expecting the heavy girth of him to fill her up.

  But he gave her time to get used to him, moving slow until he was deep inside her.

  “Fuck,” he spat out as he pulled almost completely out of her and then advanced to the hilt again. His eyes were closed in concentration, and he held her hips as he guided himself in and out in a lazy rhythm.

  “Me,” Pam finished, stroking his face.
<
br />   He kissed her palm.

  “I am fucking you, and it feels fantastic.” He tilted her head back so he could ravish her throat. “Although,” he said, between kisses, “I would have waited until later except you rocked my world.”

  “Mmmm.” She sighed, enjoying his length and thickness easing into her. She broke the elastic band on his ponytail so his blond curls fell to his shoulders.

  “I’m going to get it cut,” he said, returning to her tempting mouth.

  Her fingers tangled in his hair as she kissed him back. He was warm and strong. His hands kneading her muscles made her pliant against him. Sweet, long kisses had her tightening her legs to pull him closer to her so she could revel in his heat and hard body.

  “I don’t want slow,” she said in a sultry voice she didn’t recognize.

  Picking up the pace, Drake was no longer being gentle. “Your wish. My command.” He plunged into her, pounding now, driving in and out. Pam clamped around him and met him stroke for stroke.

  Drake was wild. Their teeth clacked together when they kissed, but she refused to let him go. She was screaming into his mouth. His grunts were barely human. Pam’s thighs shook, and she pulled his hair when the intense orgasm slammed through her. He was seconds behind, and her pussy quivered again at his release.

  Still kissing her, Drake rocked into her as they came down from the high together.

  “Doorbell,” he muttered.

  “What?” she asked and pulled his hair until his mouth covered hers again.

  But then she heard it. Someone was at the door.

  “Food’s here,” she said weakly, trying to find breath to speak.

  “I’ll get it,” he said, backing away with reluctance. He tucked himself in and fixed his pants. “I wanted to do that at the wake. But Marishka would have killed me for defiling her kitchen.”

  “Not to mention the lightning bolt Nikolai would have sent your way.” Pam smiled.

  The doorbell rang again.

  “I’m not even remotely done with you tonight,” Drake said.