AtHerCommand

by Marcia James

  Calvin seemed embarrassed. “There’s a stream of classified info making its way out of the country from the Xecutive Branch—actually through the masseuses. We investigated everyone.”

  “So you pretended to work at a top secret State Department job and what?” she asked. “Planted some false information?”

  “That’s about it.” He handed her back her badge and met her eyes. “We received confirmation the misinformation has been sold to hostile foreign governments. So we’re arresting Ilona and Vania tomorrow night.”

  Suzi leaned forward. “It couldn’t happen to two more deserving women but can you hold off raiding the place until we wrap up this investigation? The sting goes down tomorrow night off-site, but we don’t want anything to distract the perps.”

  Calvin considered her request. “I think I can work it so we pick up the masseuses at their homes instead of the club. How much time do you need?”

  “If all goes as planned,” Suzi knocked on the wooden table for luck, “we’ll have the club manager locked up by midnight.”

  “I’ll explain things to my boss. Is there anyone he can contact at Metro PD if he has questions?” Calvin asked.

  “Captain Bennett. He’s one of the few who know about the sting. There’s just too many D.C. government types who belong to the club. It’s hard to know who to trust.”

  “I understand.”

  They stared at each other, the silence stretching between them. Suzi wondered if things would have been different if they had met as themselves and not their undercover personas.

  “Well, it’s late.” He rose to leave. She got up and followed him into the foyer.

  “Uh, Calvin?”

  He turned to look at her. “Yes?”

  “Did you start seeing Ilona and Vania for massages because I didn’t rise to the bait?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that the only reason?” Suzi had to know.

  Calvin looked ready to give her the easy answer then stopped. He looked at the floor, took a deep breath then met her eyes. “No. I was uncomfortable being attracted to you.”

  “Being attracted is a bad thing?” she pressed.

  He rubbed his hands on his face, the gesture so bone-weary it made her want to cry. But she knew he’d reject sympathy.

  “I can’t do what you want. I haven’t been with a woman since my wife passed.” He looked away and she thought he wouldn’t continue. Then in a rough voice, he said, “Intellectually, I know Pam wouldn’t want me grieving for her but it’s as if my heart won’t listen. Pam’s parents are pressuring me to settle down and my friends want me to rejoin the land of the living.”

  “What do you want?” Suzi asked.

  Calvin brought his eyes back to hers and the depth of his loneliness broke her heart. “The impossible.” He turned, opened the front door and left her apartment.

  Suzi locked up after him. Wasn’t the impossible just another way to describe a miracle? Maybe, once their respective cases were wrapped up, she’d find out just how big a miracle it would take to break through Calvin’s wall of grief.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Damn, I hate missing all the fun,” Domino muttered as she stalked into the Xecutive Branch employee break room.

  Sure, she had an important role in tonight’s sting operation, but she wished she were at the printer’s building with the others instead of stuck at the club. With her on the inside and two other DEA agents watching the club’s parking areas, they should know when Salvi left for the meeting. And once the rat was headed to the trap, she’d warn Meyers.

  Domino collected several ice cubes from the fridge’s automatic dispenser and rolled them up in a paper towel. Then she crossed to the break room’s couch, lay down and placed the makeshift ice pack on her forehead. Thanks to her fabricated migraine, the club had rescheduled her next two appointments for the following evening. Now she could hang out in the lounge on the pretense of feeling lousy and wait for Salvi to head out.

  “Hi, pretty Bella,” Benny called out as he entered the break room. “Something wrong?”

  Dom smiled. “Just a headache. I took some aspirin so I’ll be good for my last client. What’s up with you?”

  The big man crossed to the coffee pot and filled a cup. “Really busy. Too many chiefs, not enough Indians.”

  She smiled as Benny giggled. “Short-handed tonight?”

  He nodded, adding four spoonfuls of sugar to the coffee. “Mr. Salvi borrowed Ramon and Chad for a special job.”

  Dom thought about the Cabazone snitch meeting. “Is the job here at the club?”

  “I don’t think so. Mr. Salvi said they were supposed to follow him.”

  Domino felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and her eyes went to the wall clock. Eight forty-three. “Well, have a nice evening, Benny,” she said, nudging him to leave.

  “Get better.” He carried his coffee from the room.

  She checked her phone and the text message read—JAG + 1. The agents watching the club were reporting that Salvi’s Jaguar had left the underground parking garage followed by another car. Leaving nothing to chance, Dom tossed her ice pack in the trash and headed to Salvi’s office. The door was locked and the lights off.

  Continuing down the hallway, Domino greeted the receptionist. “Hi! Have you seen Mr. Salvi? I need to talk to him about vacation time.”

  “You just missed him,” the girl said. “He left for a meeting and told me he wouldn’t be coming back tonight.”

  “Oh well, I’ll catch him tomorrow.”

  Dom walked toward the break room but detoured into the women’s locker room. This was the most isolated spot in the club and she needed to send Meyers a heads-up. Opening her locker, she rummaged in it. To any hidden surveillance eyes, it would appear she was searching for something in her locker.

  Slipping the phone out of her pocket with her free hand, Domino typed in the warning to her partner—JAG + 1 left XB. Copy? God, she hated relying on Meyers but she had no choice. The cops didn’t use the same encrypted text messaging system.

  Thirty seconds after she’d sent the transmission, she received a response. Roger.

  For the benefit of any cameras, Dom reached into a bag in her locker and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. She shook two out and swallowed them dry. Then she returned the bottle, closed the locker and headed for S&M Room Five. In case something went wrong with the sting, Domino had to maintain her cover and that included staying at the club tonight. Since she couldn’t risk canceling her ten o’clock session, she might as well pass the time readying the room. Thank God, it’d be her last customer for the evening.

  Don’t worry about the sting. The police were hidden inside the building and the DEA would cover the exterior. Nothing was going to happen to Dalton and Suzi. But as Domino opened the door to S&M Room Five, she couldn’t shake a feeling of dread.

  * * * * *

  Dalton checked his watch the third time in as many minutes. Five after nine. Was the night dragging or was he just chomping at the bit? He couldn’t wait to make Salvi pay for Jason’s murder.

  The printer’s building was cold, damp and empty except for the rats. The owners were cooperating with the police so the security system—necessary to keep out the junkies—had been disabled for the evening. The bare bulbs in the ceiling provided a harsh light but the heating system was inoperable. To add insult to injury, the place reeked like a sewer.

  The phone in his coat pocket vibrated. Stationed behind some packing crates with Captain Bennett, Dalton took the call. At this point in the operation, there was no need for silence.

  “Cutter here.”

  “I just got Petracelli’s message.” Dom’s obnoxious partner sounded hollow in his ear. “There’s been a change in plans.”

  “What?”

  “Dom heard Salvi talking to two of his men,” Meyers explained. “He’s sending them over here to intercept the Cabazone snitch after the meeting. Salvi’s headed to Suzi’s place in an hour to take care
of her when she returns home. Apparently he wants to kill her personally.”

  Dalton swore, drawing his captain’s attention.

  “I thought you could handle Salvi while we take care of his lackeys,” Meyers suggested.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’ll do,” Dalton said, his voice hard. “Tell your men I’ll be leaving through the back entrance and I’ll have several uniforms with me.”

  “Roger.” Meyers ended the call.

  “Care to explain that?” Bennett asked.

  Dalton filled him in and his boss assigned three street cops to accompany him. Taking unmarked cars, Dalton and his team drove to Suzi’s high-rise and set up surveillance at all entrances. Dalton, who’d snagged Suzi’s keys out of her car at the printer’s building, let himself into her apartment. The uniforms had orders to allow Salvi to pass unchallenged but to phone Dalton when he arrived. The club manager, the man who’d murdered Jason, was going down. All Dalton had to do was wait.

  * * * * *

  Suzi paced the concrete floor of the printer’s building trying to keep her circulation going. Damn, this place was cold. The two-story open area in which she stood had been gutted to make way for a glass-fronted lobby, but the developers had gone bankrupt. Now it was just a roosting place for pigeons. As she strode back and forth, she listened to the chatter of her fellow officers in her transmitter earpiece. It was reassuring to know she wasn’t alone.

  Thanks to communications between the cops and the DEA, Suzi knew two cars had arrived a half hour before and several men—probably Salvi’s thugs—were watching the printer’s building. Unbeknownst to the Xecutive Branch henchmen, the DEA had them surrounded. Both law enforcement and criminals were in place, awaiting the arrival of the agent who was portraying the snitch. She glanced at her watch. Nine forty-seven. Only a few minutes to go.

  Captain Bennett had informed her of Dalton’s departure to intercept Salvi at her apartment. Suzi wasn’t big on women’s intuition but something didn’t seem right. She felt vulnerable without Dalton at her back, even with her bulletproof vest.

  “Family’s arrived.” Captain’s Bennett’s voice sounded tinny in her earpiece.

  Suzi inclined her head in acknowledgment. Harold Simmons, the DEA agent undercover as the crime family traitor, had arrived. Simmons would be driving a sedan with New York license plates. The scenario and all the players had to look believable.

  She checked the weapon in her coat pocket. The plan was to act out a scene with the snitch for the benefit of Salvi’s men, whether or not they could actually hear the exchange. Once they crashed the meeting, police officers would take them into custody. And the DEA agents would block all escape routes. But Suzi wanted her own gun at the ready, just in case.

  “Family’s at the entrance,” Bennett said.

  Suzi faced the side door the agent would use and a dark-clothed man carrying a duffle bag walked into the building. She watched Simmons approach but didn’t offer her hand. Instead, she launched into the lines they’d practiced earlier.

  “Did you bring the records?” Suzi asked.

  “I said I would,” Simmons snapped, his New York accent real. “Bank statements, wire transfers, phone records, everything your cop heart could desire. Where’s my cash?”

  “Once I see what you’ve brought, you’ll get the money.”

  Simmons took a threatening step forward. “Listen, lady, if you think I’m gonna freeze my ass off in this place while you look through this bag, you’re nuts.”

  “Clubbers approaching,” Bennett said in her ear.

  She knew Simmons, who was also wired, had heard and understood. He gave her an almost imperceptible nod. The bad guys were walking into the trap.

  “And if you think I’m handing over the money without checking out the goods, you’re crazy,” she said, her voice rising with each word.

  “Clubbers at side door.” Bennett announced.

  “All right, dammit,” Simmons yelled back. “Check out the goods. But be quick.” He pushed the duffle bag toward her.

  “I’ll take that.” Salvi’s emotionless voice echoed in the cavernous space.

  Salvi? Suzi gasped, her eyes flying to the trio standing inside the side entrance. The club manager was flanked by two of his men and they were all holding semi-automatic weapons. Had Salvi sent someone else to her apartment?

  “Put your weapons on the floor! Now!” Bennett shouted as his officers emerged, guns aimed.

  Salvi’s reptilian eyes flashed with a hatred that made Suzi’s skin crawl. Then he and his men did as instructed. Captain Bennett read them their rights and three of the officers searched the men.

  Salvi’s eyes never left hers as Suzi watched from several yards away. It was as if he placed the blame for his arrest solely at her feet. He’d kill her in a second if he got the chance.

  Agent Simmons relaxed, pulling out a pack of Marlboros and lighting up. Suzi, however, couldn’t tear her eyes away. The two officers searching the thugs relieved them of several handguns and a knife. But Salvi seemed clean except for his original weapon. Chuck Wranger, the veteran cop doing the club manager’s pat-down, finished and reached for his handcuffs.

  Then in a blur of motion, Salvi produced a switchblade from his sleeve and pressed the tip to Chuck’s throat.

  “Move and you’re dead.” Salvi warned.

  The cop froze as the blade point pierced his skin and a rivulet of blood trailed south. With his free hand, the club manager pulled Chuck’s handgun free of its holster.

  Suzi had her weapon in her hand before the rest of the cops could react. But she didn’t have a clear shot at Salvi’s chest. He was taller than Chuck but taking him out with a shot to the head would be difficult.

  “Drop it!” Bennett ordered, as twenty guns were trained on the club manager.

  “I don’t think so,” Salvi said. “If you want this cop to live, you won’t stop me from leaving.”

  The club manager backed toward the door, using Chuck as a shield. Suzi swore under her breath. Bennett wouldn’t try anything, counting instead on the DEA team to take the man down. But Salvi wasn’t content with escape.

  “Before I go…” Salvi swung his gun toward Suzi.

  She knew with clear certainty he’d kill her. Suzi fired, hearing his gun explode simultaneously. Her bullet punched through Salvi’s right eye, as his slug slammed into her chest and knocked her off her feet. Her back hit the concrete, the air whooshed out of her lungs and her head cracked against the unforgiving floor. Suzi saw stars and then nothing.

  * * * * *

  “What? Is she all right?” Dalton yelled into his cell phone as his boss filled him in. His mind couldn’t wrap itself around the news that he’d almost lost another friend.

  “Suzi’s being checked out at GW Hospital,” Bennett explained. “They’ll keep her overnight, although she probably only has a concussion. Well, and one helluva bruise where the bullet hit her vest.”

  Seething, Dalton paced Suzi’s living room as he listened to his boss explain the debacle. Suzi was going to be fine, he kept telling himself. And she’d killed Salvi.

  “I hope you’re sending Chuck back to Cop 101 if he can’t even search a damn suspect,” Dalton snapped.

  “By the way,” Bennett said, “the two thugs with Salvi insist he didn’t send anyone over to Suzi’s place. But I’d still like the uniforms to watch her building until tomorrow.”

  “Sure, I’ll tell them,” Dalton said, still fuming. “Need me to help with the cleanup?”

  “No, there’s just a bunch of bureaucratic bullshit to be done tonight.” His boss sounded dead tired. “Tomorrow, you can sit in when we interview Salvi’s lackeys.”

  “Okay. Tomorrow.”

  Dalton ended the call and then contacted the officers watching the building. Once done, he locked the apartment and headed to his car. One thought kept chipping away at his relief over Suzi’s safety—he should have been there.

  Dammit, he should have been there. Da
lton climbed into the Jeep and started the engine. If he’d been there, he would have been the one searching Salvi. If he’d been there, Suzi never would have been hurt.

  Dalton pulled the SUV away from the curb and headed toward Dom’s house. His mind was filled with a jumble of conflicting thoughts and mixed emotions. Salvi was dead and that knowledge should have been satisfying. But now, he’d never be able to ask the club manager why he’d killed Jason. On top of that, a quick death had been too easy for the murdering bastard.

  Dammit, he should have been there. Dalton’s mind circled back to the reason he’d left the printer’s building. Domino’s message. Had she misunderstood the conversation she’d overheard between Salvi and his men? No. Her report had been clear—Salvi was going to kill Suzi at her apartment.

  Had Salvi set up Domino? But if he’d suspected her, he never would have walked into the trap. Dalton’s hands tightened on the wheel and he realized he was speeding. He eased off the gas, examining the problem from another angle.

  What would Dom have to gain by lying, by suggesting he wait for Salvi at Suzi’s apartment? What would’ve been in it for her? Then he remembered the promotion she was chasing.

  “I’ve worked hard for years for this promotion. I’ve never wanted anything more.”

  Dalton turned down the street behind Dom’s house as an ugly suspicion formed. Could this have been about the glory? About who gets the credit for the takedown—the cops or the DEA? Would Domino have lied about something this important to ensure her promotion?

  A cold anger built as Dalton parked the car and walked through Dom’s backyard. Using the house key she’d given him, he entered the mudroom and punched in her security code. Why was he surprised? Every woman he’d ever cared for had screwed him over. Why should Domino be any different?

  He stalked past Smokey without greeting the dog and headed for the bedroom. He was so furious his hands were shaking. He pulled his clothes off the closet hangers and threw them on the bed. Once he got all his stuff into the Jeep, he was out of there for good. It’d be a cold day in hell before Dalton Cutter ever trusted a woman again.