by Liliana Hart
And all the while, she’d been holding on to the balcony for dear life while Zeke fucked her from behind, the triangles of her bikini top pulled to the sides so her breasts were plumped and exposed. He hadn’t even bothered to remove her bathing suit bottom. He’d just pushed it aside and buried himself deep.
She’d been mesmerized by all the people below. They were so close, and she’d been standing three stories above them, biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out and calling attention to herself. If they’d only looked up they’d have seen what he was doing to her, and it was that fear of getting caught that had pushed her to new limits. It had been one of the biggest rushes—the biggest turn-ons she’d ever experienced. And Zeke had held his hand over her mouth as she’d screamed through one of the most powerful orgasms she’d ever had.
Heat flushed her face as she saw the echoes of memory in his own eyes. “Come on in,” she finally said, her voice husky.
She unlocked the door and went inside, leaving it open behind her. She heard the door close and the click of the deadbolt as he turned it.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said.
“Well, you haven’t answered any of mine.” She shrugged and tossed her keys in the little bowl on the table and sat her backpack on the floor. The music box was a fleeting thought. There was no point trying to do anything with it while Zeke was there.
“Cooper and I spent the afternoon catching up over cinnamon rolls and coffee.”
“I didn’t realize you and Cooper knew each other that well. I just met him when I moved here.”
Zeke’s grin was easy to interpret. “You could say Coop and I spent some very memorable summers here when we were in college. The people in this town are still as curious as they were back then. They all remembered me. And then they started talking about you. Don’t you want to know what they had to say?”
“Not really.”
“I don’t believe you. You’re nosy as hell. I bet you know everything about each and every one of the people who work in these shops.”
“Of course I do,” she said over her shoulder. “Because I listen. You should try it some time.”
“I’ve heard everything you’ve said since I laid eyes on you again a few hours ago.”
“Yet here you are in my apartment, not answering my questions.”
He grinned unrepentantly. “Listening and obeying are two different things. I’ll show you the difference as soon as I get your clothes off.”
She arched a brow. “Cocky bastard.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know where this is going, Mia. If we hadn’t been interrupted today I’d have already felt that sweet pussy around me and had you screaming. And then I’d have done it again. And probably again, just for good measure.”
“I find it hard to believe that you needed sex so bad you had to come all this way to get it.”
“I need sex with you that bad. I’ve given you your space. It’s time to stop running.”
“I’ve been right here for seven years. Where have you been?” She took off her hip holster and hung it on the wall next to her bedroom door. “Oh, right. The job was more important than we were. I remember now.”
“We were a team, Mia. We’d still be a team if you hadn’t left. We could’ve had both.”
“You’re the only one that wanted both. I just wanted you. I guess I’m just different from you, Zeke. The body and mind can only withstand so much torture, and I watched enough friends die to last a lifetime. There comes a time when you have to evaluate your priorities and decide what’s really important. What we had—what we could’ve had—was never important enough to you. I’m going to take a shower. You can stay or leave. It’s your choice.”
Mia went into her bedroom and peeled out of the jeans and tank she’d worked in all day. She’d loved being a cop. But watching her best friend executed in front of her eyes had been the last straw. It was part of the job—putting your life on the line every day—but knowing it could happen and seeing it happen were two very different things.
She’d carved out a good life for herself. It had been a risk taking her entire pension and putting it into Pawn to Queen. But she’d made it work, and she’d been turning a nice profit for several years. Her life as a cop was in the past. She’d left everything behind to start a new life where the nightmares weren’t constantly screaming in her head. Zeke was part of that past, and she had no desire to make it her future. The lie wasn’t sitting as easily as it once had.
What she needed was a shower, some hot and sweaty sex, and a good night’s sleep. She just needed a little more time to prepare mentally. Zeke had been the love of her life. And she’d worked very hard over the last seven years to cauterize that wound in her heart. He wouldn’t stay. He couldn’t. Too many lives and operations depended on him. So all she had to do was enjoy the ride and keep her heart out of it.
“To hell with it,” she said, shaking her head. She never used to be so indecisive.
Her bedroom was white. White walls, white furniture, white rug, and white bedspread. But she’d added color with bold paintings on the walls—pieces she’d loved enough that she’d decided not to sell in the shop. Gem-hued pillows sat on the bed, varied in size and shape, and the throw across the chair in the corner was emerald green. She liked pretty things. Had learned to appreciate them, as well as having the personal satisfaction of being able to choose each piece because she’d worked hard.
She grabbed a pair of thin, gray drawstring pants from the drawer and a loose black long-sleeve T-shirt, and then went into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. Not that a lock would keep him out, but she wasn’t going to make it easy for him.
She found herself lingering beneath the hot spray, the scent of lemons from the soap she used permeating the air. And it wasn’t long before she realized she wasn’t stalling and giving herself the extra time to think. She’d already made up her mind. She was waiting for him to join her—to slip in behind her—his hands slicking over her skin and cupping her breasts and his cock pressing against her back.
Her senses were heightened, her clit throbbing and her pulse pounding. She was tempted to slide her fingers down between the folds of her sex just to take the edge off. She listened for the click of the lock on the door, but he never came. By the time she turned the water off, the anticipation had turned into disappointment and her body thrummed with sexual frustration.
Mia toweled off quickly and put on her clothes. She knew what he was doing. She expected him to come corner her in the shower—to move things to the next level and assert his dominance—and so he did the opposite and stayed back on purpose. Just to drive her crazy. Their life had been one constant chess game of the mind after the other. It was exhilarating and exhausting all at the same time. It wasn’t often a person found that kind of challenge in someone they loved.
When she came out of the bedroom she was even more surprised to find him stretched out on her sofa, his eyes closed and his breathing even.
“I’m not asleep,” he said.
“Whatever you say. Are you going to tell me why you’re really here?”
“Fucking you isn’t a good enough reason?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
“It’s a byproduct. You wouldn’t have come all this way just for that. It’s a waste of work hours and manpower. You want something else too.”
“If I tell you will you feed me dinner?” he asked.
“No.”
“It’s been a while since we’ve had a date,” he said, ignoring her refusal.
“I don’t think we ever dated. I’m pretty sure we fell into bed and then went from there.”
“An oversight on both our parts. We should have a date.”
“Seven years too late. But I can put a frozen pizza in the oven. Mrs. Baker downstairs gives me things to put in the freezer because she’s afraid I’ll starve.”
“If she made it, I’ll eat it,” he said.
Mia kept her hands busy by puttin
g the pizza in the oven and grabbing two bottles of beer from the fridge. She tossed him one and he snatched it out of the air with a quick flick of his wrist.
He unscrewed the bottle top and took a long pull, and then surprised her by saying, “They love you, by the way,” and then he shrugged. “I know you’re curious.”
“No, I’m not. You just want to tell me what they had to say because cops gossip as much as the women downstairs.”
“What I want is for you to stop arguing with me, you hardheaded woman. Christ knows why I find that such a turn-on.”
“You always were a perverse creature.”
“You’d know better than anyone. Do you have a beer to go with the pizza?”
They’d been so much more than lovers. They’d been partners. And when you combined both of those things, there were no words to describe that kind of bond. The saying of being someone’s other half was true. You had to know every part of their personality—their quirks and habits—their sorrows and joy. Partners were often closer than spouses ever could be. And then when you added the sex on top of that level of personal intimacy, it was as if you didn’t belong to yourself anymore.
They’d had that, once upon a time. And then she’d severed the connection like she would a limb from the body. To protect herself. He’d refused to meet her halfway. She hadn’t been able to face undercover work again. Not after what had happened. And he hadn’t been able to leave it behind. The job had always come first.
“Mrs. Baker said that she likes that you slip her cat treats when you think no one is looking. And there was another lady in there, she looked a little bit like a female Milton Berle—”
“That’s Ginny Goodwin,” Mia said, knowing exactly who he was talking about from the description.
“Well, she said that sometimes you secretly pick up the check for people over at the diner. Especially the older folks that live on social security.”
“So what?” she said, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden.
“Don’t get defensive. You’ve made your mark here. The way you work too hard and need to take better care of yourself. Their words, not mine,” he said, holding up his hands when she started to snarl. “The way you pitch in on city cleanup days or sneak into the back pew at church on Sunday mornings.”
“You’ve got a problem with church now?”
“I don’t have a problem with anything. Other than you being a big phony. Mean as a snake, my ass,” he said with a grin. “You’ve made a home here. Become part of the community. They don’t see you as an outsider. You’re one of them. And one of the older ladies said she was thinking about getting some tattoos like yours and some colored streaks in her hair. She said you looked hot and she could use a little hot in her life.”
Mia snorted out a laugh. The timer dinged on the oven and she pulled out Mrs. Baker’s pizza. It smelled so good she had the fleeting thought that it might be best to eat it all herself.
“It’ll go straight to your hips,” Zeke said.
“Stay out of my head.”
“Didn’t have to go in there for that one. I could read the intent on your face.”
He got plates and found the pizza cutter in the drawer next to the stove. She narrowed her eyes and wondered if he’d come in and looked around while she’d been hiding at work, or if her patterns of where she kept things were so regimented that he knew right where to look.
They sat at the little bar in the kitchen and ate pizza and drank beer, and Mia decided to wait him out. Zeke had never liked silence between them. He’d start talking eventually.
“I know what you’re doing,” he said.
She stared at him blankly and took another bite of pizza.
He finally sighed and said, “I’m retiring from undercover work.”
None of the scenarios Mia had played through her mind had been that one, and she choked on her beer. She pounded at her chest and coughed a couple of times and then stared at him in complete and utter shock.
“Your mouth is hanging open,” he said.
“I think I passed out for a second. I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I should’ve done it years ago,” he said and shrugged, ignoring her question. “I’m forty years old and it’s a younger man’s game. But I think sometimes it just takes men longer to realize when they’ve hit their limits. Our egos are fragile, I’m told.”
“Are you sick or something?” she asked, only half joking. She got up and went to grab another beer. The news was a shock. And she was surprised by the violent rearing of her temper. She wanted to throw something. To ask what was so important now that he was able to put the work behind him. But she didn’t. She took a long sip of beer and waited him out.
“I’m not sick. It’s just time. I was offered the chief’s job over in Carson. Normal hours and weekends off sounds better and better the older I get. It’d be nice to see what it’s like to have a normal life.”
“Wow—Carson.” She still couldn’t wrap her brain around it. It was like he was speaking another language and she wasn’t able to process any of his words. It was a good job. Carson was the closest large city and he’d be running a full department of hundreds, not a twenty- or thirty-man task force.
“You’re angry,” he said, surprised.
“Nope,” she denied. “Just trying to process.”
“I thought you’d be happy. I thought it’s what you wanted.”
She debated on whether or not to throw the bottle at his head, but decided it’d be a perfectly good waste of beer. “It’s what I wanted. Past tense. You are un-fucking-believable. What kind of ego does a man have to have to think that a woman would be waiting on him for seven years while he sowed his oats and finished up his career? And then what, Zeke? Did you think I’d run into your arms and everything would be okay?”
His cheeks flushed as his own temper rose and satisfaction crept comfortably through her.
“What makes you think that I’m not completely happy in my life as it is right now?” she asked. “Or that you’d assume I’m not involved with someone who does know the meaning of the word compromise.”
“That’s fucking bullshit, Mia,” he said, scraping back his chair as he stood. “You gave me an ultimatum. And when I didn’t cave like a whipped puppy you walked away like a spoiled brat.”
“The only thing I ever asked of you was for you to love me enough. To put us first before the job for once. It was about priorities. You think I wanted to see you executed like I saw The Vaqueros do to Rachel?”
The Vaqueros were an outlaw motorcycle gang that spread from Montana and North Dakota up into parts of Canada. They ran drugs and guns and they were very good at what they did. They were one of the most violent gangs in the country.
“To stare into your eyes and see the knowledge that you were going to die just before they pulled the trigger?” she yelled. “You know as well as I do that if we hadn’t busted them and caught the dirty cop giving away our identities and locations that you would be dead. Because they already had you in their sights.”
“But we did catch them and we did bring them down. At least that cell. And you gave away your own identity by taking a bullet for me. Which still pisses me off.”
“Because I blew my cover or because I loved you enough to try and protect you?”
“Because you almost fucking died, Mia.”
“Everything that happened in that warehouse that day was a sign telling us it was time to get out. Your cover was blown, my cover was blown, and we lost three good cops. But what the hell do you do?” She was yelling and she didn’t care. “You made sure yours was the first face I saw when I woke up. I was finally able to fight my way through the pain meds, and it felt like cinder blocks were sitting on top of my chest. Every breath felt like knives were stabbing me.
“And the first thing out of your mouth is that you’ve created a new identity and regrouped the task force to go after another Vaquero cell in a different territory. You were pissed you were going
to have to lay low for a while and reestablish a new cover.
“Not once did you ever mention our relationship or that you loved me or even the fact that you were glad I was alive. All you could talk about was getting back to the job. And all I wanted was to get as far away from undercover work as I could.”
She held the beer bottle to her cheek. The cool glass felt good against her heated skin. “Rachel was dead, and I felt like I should’ve been. Do you know how much therapy and how many years of nightmares I went through before I stopped seeing her die in my head? I needed out. That was the last straw. I couldn’t function and I couldn’t be a good cop. What I needed was you.”
“Six weeks, Mia. Six weeks was how long it took for you to open your eyes and look at me. I was there every goddamned day and night with you. I lived and breathed you. For six weeks I’d had time to process and reassess and make decisions. I’d already said the things you wanted to hear. I begged and pleaded with you to wake up. Said prayers I hadn’t remembered I’d known that you’d survive. I told you every chance I got that I loved you. But you didn’t hear because your stubborn ass jumped in front of a bullet.”
“And I would do it again. That bullet would’ve killed you. I needed you,” she said again.
“And I needed to get back out there and wreak vengeance on the ones we didn’t get for putting you in that hospital bed. What I needed was for you to understand.”
She sighed, defeated. “There’s no point in this, Zeke. The past is the past, and maybe we were just never meant to be. It was incredible while it lasted. But you and I both know cops don’t make good life partners.”
Mia tossed her beer bottle in the trash and moved to clear the dishes.
“I think that’s bullshit. We know plenty of cops that have been able to make it work. But maybe we were both too selfish to realize what we had and how hard we had to fight for it. Maybe you’re standing there now, scared to death, because you realize you didn’t move on like you wanted to. Because you still love me.”
Chapter Four
“You’re out of your mind,” she said, the words rushing out.
