Lace Underground: The Complete Trilogy

by Oliver, Tess

  The sliding glass door opens. The small house fills with the scent of the ocean.

  "And that's why there is nothing better than shoving barbecue potato chips into a bologna sandwich," Silvana states confidently. "Well, partner, are we hitting the road to catch bad guys or what?"

  It seems perfectly logical that Silvana and I might be deep in a conversation about stuffing chips into sandwiches so Maddox doesn't seem to think twice about it.

  His green eyes land on me as he pushes his phone into his pocket. That gaze of his still causes my knees to liquefy. Windswept is an exceptionally good look on the man, but then he's pretty magnificent in a downpour too. "Are you going to be all right alone? Clark's coming by to check on you in a few hours."

  "I'll be fine. I'm going to take a shower, eat something—with reasonable food value—" I add. "Then I'll probably nap again. But one question. Does this place have internet?"

  "Yeah, there's a big outdated computer in the bedroom. But I think Nate hooked it up with wifi and everything. I'll get his password."

  "And my laptop?" I ask with a polite grin. "If you happen to be in the neighborhood of my apartment and then happen to be heading this way, if you could bring it, that might keep me from going stir crazy."

  Maddox nods. "Yep, I'll bring it with me when I come back here tonight."

  "Oh, are you coming back tonight?" I ask.

  He looks hurt. I have no idea how I managed that with a simple question. He's definitely touchier than usual.

  "I'm not leaving you out here alone, Ten. That asshole could be anywhere. I'll sleep on the couch," he adds, even though sleeping arrangements were not mentioned.

  "I don't want to put you out." Again, his face shows that I've said entirely the wrong thing. "I mean, yes, come. That will be nice. I've spent a lot of time alone in the past few months. I'm glad you're coming to stay."

  He's not buying my sugary mess. "Right. Well, let's go, Silvana. A package delivery warehouse has discovered a large carton of cocaine shipping into the country. We need to get over there." He turns to me. "Eat something other than cupcakes. Clark will knock once and then three short times. And lock the deadbolt."

  I quickly hug Silvana. "Thanks for all the yummies and thanks for the talk. I needed it."

  7

  Angie

  I sit and sip the hot tea I found in the kitchen cupboard. Silvana filled the pantry and fridge with a lot of goodies but even with my appetite returned, I find eating to be a chore. I can't tell if it's because of my aversion to food for the past few months or my low spirits that keep me from pulling out the snacks. I'm certain it's the latter. A grayness has settled in my head, and I can't seem to wash it away.

  A knock on the door is followed by three short knocks. Even in my grim mood, the idea that Captain Clark has a secret knock, like a kid might use on the club tree house door, makes me smile. The semi-raggedy bouquet of daisies in his hand widens my grin more.

  "Captain Clark, you shouldn't have." I reach for the flowers and waste a few seconds with my nose in the bouquet, only to realize daisies aren't the least bit fragrant.

  "Thought they might brighten up the place some." Clark is awkward and shy when he's not sitting behind his paper cluttered captain's desk.

  "Thank you. They absolutely brighten the place up. Just what I needed." I regret the last comment instantly when his face wrinkles with concern.

  "Oh? Are you feeling down?" He follows me into the kitchen where I find a tall glass for the flowers. "The doctor told us to pay particular attention to mood swings, especially if you fall into a heavy depression."

  I fill the glass with water. "Then you've got nothing to worry about. I'm a little sad, but I wouldn't qualify the way I'm feeling as heavy depression."

  He points his thick finger and adds in a fatherly brow lift. "You will call me the second you're feeling really depressed. Promise?"

  I nod sharply. "You are on my speed dial, Cap'n. But you don't need to stay by your phone. Maddox says he's coming back here to stay during the night."

  Clark averts his fatherly gaze to hide a reaction. "Yes, well, or I could send a car to patrol the area."

  I reach over and touch his hand. "It'll be fine. To tell you the truth, I'm kind of glad not to be staying here alone."

  "See, you are worried about Freestone. I knew you were just putting on a stony face about it. I've got a team working on finding the guy."

  "No, it's not Freestone." I pause to choose my words so as not to cause him more concern. I airily described my mood as a little sad but I knew it was more than that. "I just don't want to be alone." It's the best I can come up with, but it seems to satisfy him.

  I pull a can of cola, his favorite, out of the fridge and fill a glass with ice. He takes the drink and we walk out to the couch.

  "So, you're working on finding the elusive Kane Freestone?" His name still has meaning when it comes off my lips. Kane wasn't a man you got to know without him leaving a big impression.

  Clark seems to regret mentioning it. He sips his coke to avoid a direct answer and tries to just wave it off. "Hmm, this hits the spot. The traffic was miserable on the way out here."

  "You didn't need to come."

  "Nonsense. After all, I'm responsible for you."

  "Yes, it seems I've got a lot of guardians right now," I mutter over my cup of tea.

  His cheeks wobble as he finishes the coke in three gulps.

  "I'll get you another coke."

  "No, this is fine. By the way, your mom has called three times in the past week. I've let her know just what we discussed before you went on assignment. You're still on an undercover job but you've been checking in with me daily. At least I feel better now knowing I'm not actually lying to the woman anymore. At least not big lies."

  I shake my head. "Only my mom would think it's perfectly logical for someone undercover to be making daily phone calls to the precinct. Thank you for making sure she doesn't worry. When I'm feeling physically and mentally strong enough to talk to her, I'll give her a ring."

  The flutter in his eyelids always means he has something to say that he thinks I won't like. "Angie, I know you're still trying to recuperate from—well, anyhow—I don't want to rush you, but just as soon as you're up to it, we're going to need you to come in and tell us everything that happened down there in that place." His use of the phrase that place is meant to spare me any pain, but it actually makes it sound even more dissolute and tawdry. If that is possible. "Anything you can tell us will help us flush this asshole out of whatever other hole he's crawled into."

  "I understand. Soon. I'm sure I'll be ready soon." There's no conviction in my tone. There is especially none in my heart. The notion of describing my days with Kane is horrifying in every way. Aside from the obvious, sharing utterly embarrassing details about my role in Lace Underground, up until now I'd only allowed myself to casually broach the subject of Kane Freestone in my head. My feelings for him swung in so many wild, extreme directions, from obsession to hate, from admiration to revulsion and back again, it feels too daunting a task to ever talk about him out loud. So far, after a hurricane of advice from everyone, Silvana's suggestion of understanding my main demon seems the most logical and sound. I'm not sure how easy it will be to uncover the many layers of Kane Freestone, but understanding him might just help me face everything that happened.

  "Are you eating enough?" Clark's husky voice pulls me from my thoughts. "You still look way too skinny."

  "I'm eating. Silvana filled the refrigerator with all kinds of goodies. He's such a great guy."

  Clark tilts his head side to side. "I don't know about great but he's definitely underrated. Pairing him up with Maddox has helped his self-esteem." Again, the hesitant eyelid flutter. "I've got Silvana working part-time on researching Freestone. He's much more effective behind a computer doing cyber detective work than out in the field." Clark pulls out a stick of his favorite spearmint gum and unwraps it. "Freestone didn't leave many trails behind,
that's for damn sure. The club members have their lips sealed as tightly as their wallets. I can only assume fear of retribution is the cause for their silence." He shoves the stick of gum into his mouth. It's a habit he started after quitting smoking. As annoying as it is watching him gnaw down on a tough piece of gum, it's a big step up from talking to him through a cloud of tobacco smoke.

  "I think you're wrong about the retribution theory. I think they are just saving their reputations. It's hard to face the board of directors or your investors when your name has been splashed all over the tabloids."

  Clark gets control of the leathery gum and chews it into a manageable wad as he mulls over my theory. "You could be right. Either way, the people who worked for Freestone have all scattered to the wind, leaving behind no real breadcrumbs. We've been staking out every rehab center and hospital looking for the lost women. But no one has shown up anywhere."

  "The antidote," I mutter to myself. "Fuck."

  "What's that?" Clark asks. "An antidote?"

  "I can't say for sure. Those last few days—" I shook my head. "Everything is a terrible blur. All I can tell you is that Freestone was masterful at covering his tracks. And as for the people who worked for him, they all admired him. I'm sure he made certain they were taken care of. If not out of generosity, then out of self-preservation. I'm sure he sent them off with whatever they needed to fade nicely and comfortably into society."

  "I guess when you're a genius you think of everything. Which reminds me—" Another pause. "I told Maddox he needs to keep out of anything to do with this case. He's way too close to it. I know he wants nothing more than to be tossed into an empty room with the guy, just the two of them and their fists. That's why he's been instructed to stay clear of it. And, of course, that goes for you too."

  "Me? But you just told me I'm going to have to be debriefed on my assignment as soon as I'm better."

  "Yes that, but after you're approved to go back to work. Then you can get back to clearing the streets of drug pushers and meth cooks."

  There's enough lightness in my head with everything he just said, I decide to get up and grab a banana. "Would you like something to eat?"

  "Nope, I'm good. Had one of Mario's spaghetti and garlic bread plates for lunch."

  "Hmm, that sounds good. Haven't had Mario's in ages." I sit back down with my now boring banana. "Just to get back to something you said a second ago. What do you mean by approved to go back to work? Do you mean when this whole detox thing is off the table?"

  "Yes that, of course." He rubs his hand on the faded fabric of the couch as if he's suddenly interested in upholstery.

  "Captain?" I prod.

  His round shoulders lift and fall. "Certainly you know that you'll have to go through therapy after the debriefing. Dr. Hoffman is highly respected. She works with a lot of law enforcement professionals, people who have gone through something traumatic and life changing."

  I stop peeling the banana and toss it on the coffee table.

  "Aren't you going to eat that?"

  "Not feeling it right now," I say. "Guess my mouth is still watering for Mario's garlic bread."

  "I'll bring you some next time I come out here."

  "It's not really the garlic bread, Captain. It's the topic. I don't want to go through therapy. The debriefing will be plenty. Getting back to work will the best form of therapy."

  His phone buzzes and he glances at it. An eye roll follows. "I swear they can't even change a roll of toilet paper down at that precinct if I'm not there." He drops his phone into his coat pocket. "There isn't any point in arguing or laying out a defense on this, Angie. It's department policy. Besides, I don't think most of this has hit you yet. You've been dealing with the physical pain, but the real stuff, the bad stuff, that comes later."

  "Gosh, at least you didn't come here to push me into that heavy depression." I add my sarcastic wink in case he didn't hear it in my tone.

  He stands up and it's enough to shift the small couch a bit. "Don't worry about any of it right now. Just work on getting better. And eat that damn banana. Even if I did send you back on the streets, you couldn't take down an angry butterfly right now."

  I follow him to the door. "First of all, I wouldn't hurt a butterfly, angry or not, and you'd be surprised what these stick figure limbs can do when given the opportunity."

  His booming laugh rolls around the room. He leans forward and kisses my forehead. "It's good to have you back, kiddo. Just wasn't the same around the precinct without our little spitfire. Don't forget the deadbolt when I walk out of here."

  "Jeez, are you and Maddox comparing notes?"

  "Huh?" he asks.

  "Nothing. Drive carefully and thank you again for the flowers." I take his hand before he leaves. "And for caring."

  8

  Maddox

  I head to the outside table with my burger. Silvana is sitting, staring at his phone, his food basically untouched.

  I climb over the stone bench. "Must be something interesting. You are usually halfway through your burger before I get to the table."

  He grins from ear to ear as he turns his phone toward me. A sweet brunette with blue eyes is smiling back at me. "Her name is Shelia."

  "She's cute. Love the dimples." I pick up my burger and take a bite.

  "Yeah, those dimples are something." He puts his phone on the table. "Now, this is just between you and me, right?"

  I chew and nod. "Yup."

  "My cousin convinced me to join one of those dating match sites. Sheila is a vet tech. Works with cats and dogs."

  "Yep, I know what a vet tech does." I swallow and grab the drink. "Is she fun?"

  He takes a deep breath. "Hope so. We officially meet on Thursday for some pie over at Rikki's Pie House. Thought we'd keep is simple and non-committal for our first face to face."

  "Pie is non-committal all right. Now, if you're stopping for brownies, then that changes the whole relationship dynamic."

  He shakes his head. "Ah shut up, ya ass. We can't all just fart into the wind and have a dozen women knocking down the door to find out where the sweet fragrance originated."

  "Trust me, that method for wooing women is highly overrated."

  He covers his mouth to not spit out his burger bite with a laugh. He drinks it down with a long sip of soda. "We've talked a bunch of times on Skype." He pulls the lettuce out of his burger before picking it up again. "I confess, I've been tossing the detective thing around some. It works too. Just nervous about meeting her for the first time."

  I plow a fry into a puddle of ketchup. "You'll be fine. Just be yourself."

  "Says Detective Adonis flippantly."

  "I'm no Adonis. Just ask Ten."

  Silvana puts his burger down. "See, I'm just talking about the first date and I'm too nervous to eat."

  I point across the table. "So ya going to eat those onion rings?"

  He pushes the box toward me.

  "Do you still remember the first time you met Ten?" he asks. Silvana is probably the only person I've ever talked to about my feelings for Ten. Even with him, I've kept them mostly guarded. Hell, I keep them guarded from myself too.

  I nod as I chew an onion ring. "Like it was yesterday." I can't stop the chuckle that forms every time I think of that day. "I got to work and there was a buzz going around the office about a new transfer coming in from across town. You know how everyone gets like a clucky bunch of hens when there's news to toss around. I was more interested in why the fuck no one had filled the coffee pot in the break room, but I heard snippets about some young punk with a smart mouth, a Detective Tennyson, who was being transferred because the higher ups thought Clark could handle the punk better than anyone else."

  Silvana sips his drink and listens with interest like a kid listening to a bedtime story.

  "So, I'm refilling the damn coffee pot and Clark bellows from his office"—I drop my voice and make it gruff—"Maddox, get in here now."

  "Seconds later, I'm sitting in his o
ffice and he's telling me that I'm getting the new transfer as a partner. About nearly fell out of my chair when he told me he was expecting her any minute. I repeated her? This Tennyson punk is a her? Right then, the door swings open and shut and this spunky girl walks in. A black baseball hat is pulled down low over her head, making her red hair look extra red. And she's on the phone. She is meeting her new captain and partner for the first time and she's on the fucking phone."

  Silvana laughs. "Sounds just like Ten. Maybe it was an important call?" he suggests.

  "That's where it gets really good. I still remember everything she was saying into the phone." I pick up my own phone as a prop and do an imitation of Ten that would earn me a hard knuckle on the shoulder. "She has this serious look on her face and she says—'now repeat that back to me please'. In the meantime, Clark's face is as red and round as a clown's nose. He says, 'Detective Tennyson, when you step into my office—' She lifts up her finger to tell him one second. He just about swallowed his own tongue. So she continues with her call." I raise my voice to imitate her again. "She says, 'onions? When the hell did I say onions? See, this is why I had you repeat the order back to me. Yeah, and there better not be onions on that breakfast burrito'. I'm just sitting there in that old chair across from Clark's desk watching the whole thing and working hard not to laugh. Clark sputters and spits her name again and tells her to hang up."