AtHerCommand

by Marcia James

  Each gift seemed designed to show her how much he knew about her. Dalton was trying to erase the ugly memory of his reducing their relationship to casual sex. But Domino refused to be charmed.

  During her two days off, she’d also considered her future with the DEA. Thanks to online access to agency personnel listings, she’d applied to several positions far from the Washington, D.C. area. She wasn’t running away. But if her career plans were just smart business moves, why did she dread telling her boss about her job search?

  Nine a.m. Thursday morning, Domino walked into her tiny office at the Virginia DEA building. She’d really miss the cubbyhole. It was cluttered, colorless and all hers. Dom sighed. She would also miss most of her coworkers. As if conjured from a bad dream, Meyers stepped into her office.

  “If you’re here to report me to Lowery, save your breath,” the agent said. “I’ve already told him what happened.”

  Dom studied the red-haired man, who—despite his black eye, taped nose and bruised mouth—seemed defiant. She wished she’d been a fly on the wall when her boss had learned of Meyers’ actions.

  “I’m here to see Lowery but it has nothing to do with you.” Dom picked up her report and walked past Meyers to her office door. Then she turned back to the agent. “If you were in my shoes, you’d probably do whatever you could to get me fired. But all I feel for you is pity. It must be terrible to live your whole life filled with hatred and spite.”

  Without waiting for a response, she walked down the hallway to her boss’s office. As usual, Lowery’s door was open and he greeted her warmly. But as she took a seat in his visitor’s chair, she could see from his searching glance she hadn’t successfully camouflaged her shadowed eyes.

  He leaned toward her, his concern clear. “How are you?”

  Domino thought about lying but she’d always respected her boss. “Not great but I’ll survive.” She handed him the folder. “Here’s my report.”

  “I want you to know Meyers is being disciplined.” Lowery’s jaw set. “I would never have partnered you two if I’d known about his feelings.”

  She made a dismissing gesture. “It’s water under the bridge. I understand some of Salvi’s employees are cooperating.”

  “We have several leads which may verify the Cabazone family connection. But after what I learned today, I’d say there’s no question the Xecutive Branch had ties with organized crime.”

  “What happened?”

  “There was a car-bombing in New York last night. One victim,” Lowery paused, “Victor Xavier.”

  “Damn.” It didn’t pay to know too much about a crime family’s business. “Well, that’s one less person we can interrogate.”

  Lowery nodded. “The Cabazone drug pipeline through D.C. is shut off for now but we’ll watch for new distribution.”

  They sat silent for several seconds and Dom suspected her boss—like her—was thinking of the never-ending battle they fought against drugs. Then with a sigh, she decided it was time to tell him her plans. “While I was off, I had some time to think.”

  Lowery listened, his friendly eyes patient, and Dom had to swallow a lump in her throat. She would miss this man most of all when she transferred to another DEA office.

  “I’ve been waiting for the assistant director position to open here,” she said. “But I searched the personnel listings and there’s a similar opening in the San Francisco office.”

  “You want to transfer to the West Coast?”

  “I’m at a point in my life when I need a change,” Dom explained. “A new start.”

  Lowery stood and walked to the window, one of the few perks of his directorship. When he turned back to her, his expression was serious. “I’d like you to take a couple weeks’ leave to think about this. It’s an important decision. Then if you still want to move, I’ll give you a glowing recommendation.”

  Despite her resolve to keep things professional, Dom felt her eyes fill with tears. She blinked them away and nodded at the man who’d been her mentor. “Okay, I’ll take the time off. But I don’t think I’ll change my mind.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Dalton spent the next week trying to win back Domino. Every morning he arrived at her house by dawn and placed his latest gift by her front door. He chose things that reminded him of the good times they’d shared—a bottle of her favorite Chianti, a heated foot-massager since he wasn’t there to rub her tired feet, even a chew toy for Smokey. Dalton grimaced. On top of aching for Domino, he also missed the mutt.

  Today’s offering was an audiotape he’d recorded of twenty S&M-tinged songs like the ones they’d joked about in bed. Would she remember the times they’d laughed together and had spoken of their lives and their dreams? Maybe if she did, she’d be ready to hear what was in his heart.

  Thanks to his side trip to Dom’s house, he was running late when he parked at the cop shop and walked into the bullpen. The morning hubbub was in full swing with detectives swigging coffee and working the phones. Dalton thought about Jason as he headed for his desk. His late partner was probably laughing his ass off in heaven to see Dalton twisted in knots over a woman.

  “Morning, sidekick.” Suzi, his new partner, walked up carrying two Starbucks coffee cups. She handed one to Dalton.

  “This will be duly noted in your next performance appraisal.” He tasted the hot brew.

  Smiling, Suzi flipped him off and made him laugh. Then she dropped into the chair by his desk. The only reminder of her brush with death ten days before was a bare spot on the back of her head where the doctors had stitched her up. Dalton avoided looking at the bald patch since it reminded him how close he’d come to losing another friend.

  “So, what’d you leave her this morning?” Suzi asked.

  “A cassette of songs. Sort of a joke between us,” he explained when she looked unimpressed.

  Suzi sipped her coffee. “She hasn’t tried to contact you?”

  To each present, he’d attached the note—Call me, Dalton. So far, she hadn’t complied with the request. He felt the now familiar stirrings of panic. “No.” He clenched his jaw. “If I don’t hear from her by next week, I’m going to ring her doorbell until she talks to me. I’m not giving up.”

  “Good.” Suzi nodded her approval. “By the way, have you ever told her you love her?”

  “Who said I—” Dalton broke off his instinctive denial at the look in Suzi’s eyes. “No, I haven’t. Now she won’t talk to me and I’m not leaving that information on her fucking voice mail.”

  “Okay, okay.” She held up her hand in a placating manner. “I guess we should hit our caseload, partner.” Suzi reached for a file on his desk, a new assignment concerning a report of construction graft within the D.C. government. “And when we head over to interview the mayor’s cabinet, I get to drive.”

  “In your dreams, Cho.”

  * * * * *

  Thursday, March thirteenth. Domino looked at the boxes she was packing—out-of-season clothes, books and CDs—in anticipation of a transfer to the DEA’s San Fran office. She’d told herself the West Coast assistant directorship position was a good career decision but it still felt like running away.

  Her eyes strayed to the top of her dresser. A pink envelope containing a gift certificate to her favorite restaurant laid there, the latest of Dalton’s presents. She’d mentioned the French bistro to him in passing once but they’d never had the opportunity to go together. The thought he’d put into this and his other gifts made the ice she’d packed around her lovesick heart melt a little. Did he truly know her and care about her as more than a convenient sex partner?

  Smokey wormed his way around the open cartons and packing materials, dragging the chew toy Dalton had left for him earlier that week. Domino brushed her hand across the dog’s tufted head, knowing he was suffering from Dalton-withdrawal symptoms too. When Dom left for San Francisco, Smokey would stay behind with another Virginia DEA agent. Would her canine partner miss her as much as he missed Dalton?
Tears stung her eyes.

  A ringing penetrated her sadness and Domino dug through a mound of bubble wrap to locate her phone. “Hello?” she answered, almost hoping it was Dalton.

  “Hi. This is Suzi.”

  Domino told herself she was happy the caller wasn’t her persistent ex-lover. “What’s up at Cop Central?”

  “Same old, same old,” Suzi answered. “But I’d love an old-fashioned girls’ night out. Wanna meet me for pizza?”

  Dom looked down on her frayed jeans and stretched-out sweatshirt. “What if you come to my house and we order Chicago-style pizza from Donatello’s? Now that the case is closed, you can actually park in my driveway and come through my front door.”

  Suzi chuckled. “That would be a new experience. Okay, I’ll be there ASAP and I’ll bring dessert.”

  “Great. How about a kitchen sink pizza?” Dom asked.

  “I like everything but pineapple.”

  Domino bid her goodbye and ended the call. Feeling better than she had all day, she dialed Donatello’s number from memory. She ordered a loaded large pizza and abandoned her packing to prepare for dinner. Trailed by Smokey, Dom walked to her kitchen and set the table with paper plates and a pile of napkins. Pizza was a hands-on meal.

  She opened the refrigerator to double-check her supply of cold beer. Suzi would probably want Coors with her pizza. But Domino was drawn to the bottle of Chianti Dalton had placed outside her door that week. His note was still attached by a ribbon to the bottle neck. She slipped off the note and started to throw it in the trash. Then she changed her mind and put the note with the others in a kitchen drawer.

  All the notes were the same—Call me, Dalton. Maybe if he’d written Love, Dalton…but she doubted she would’ve called him even then. Her self-preservation instinct was too well-developed. Domino frowned. Getting a corkscrew, she opened the bottle and poured herself a glass.

  The rich, earthy scent of the wine reminded her of the time she’d cooked lasagna for Dalton, and—entwined lover-style—they’d drunk the full-bodied Chianti from each other’s glass. He’d licked a few escaping drops from her lips then she’d tasted the wine on his tongue. The garlic bread had burned before they’d come up for air and remembered the meal.

  Domino leaned against the counter and closed her eyes, her lips curving in a wistful smile. She wouldn’t be creating any more memories with Dalton so she allowed other sensual flashbacks to flow over her, triggering a physical longing for the man.

  The doorbell interrupted her daydreaming. Dom checked her watch, surprised at the time and hurried to the foyer. Smokey beat her there and was dancing about in excitement. She checked the peephole before opening the door to Suzi. The smiling detective was carrying a box from Rinaldi’s bakery and juggled it to the side so she could give Domino a one-armed hug.

  “It’s great to see you.” Dom was surprised at how much she meant it. Here was another special person she’d miss.

  “Ditto.” Suzi walked into the kitchen and set the box on the table.

  “Beer or wine?” Playing hostess, Dom went to the fridge.

  “Beer.” Suzi peeled off her coat and gloves and placed them on one of the kitchen chairs.

  Domino opened a beer bottle and handed it to Suzi. The detective settled onto a chair and, making herself at home, opened the bag of beer nuts on the table. Smokey whined and she pulled him onto her lap.

  “Missed you too, ferret-face,” Suzi said, feeding him a beer nut and getting a lick on her nose.

  Domino laughed. “When it comes to Smokey, you’re as bad as Dalton—” She turned away, her heart squeezing, and poured more wine.

  “Speaking of Dalton,” Suzi said, “he told me you loved Rinaldi’s cannolis. So I stopped there on the way.”

  Domino had known the topic of Dalton would arise during the evening but she hadn’t thought she’d introduce it herself. Damn. Maybe subconsciously she wanted to discuss him with a girlfriend.

  Resolute, she faced Suzi, carried her wine glass to the table and sat down. “How much do you know about my breakup with Dalton?”

  Suzi’s expression was somber. “I know he acted like an ass and any self-respecting woman would’ve dumped him after what he said.”

  Dom reddened, embarrassed by the memory of his words.

  Meeting her gaze, Suzi continued. “But I also know he’s a great guy, someone I trust with my life and someone who cares for you a lot. It doesn’t excuse what he did but Dalton’s been screwed by every woman he’s given a damn about in his life.”

  “He told me about his mother abandoning him,” Dom said, “and his fiancée sleeping with her boss.”

  Suzi nodded. “I’ve known him for five years and I’ve never seen him as gone on a woman as he is on you.”

  The words were balm to her damaged spirit but Dom couldn’t risk that level of pain again. “What we had was chemistry, cranked up by the whole Mistress Bella thing.” She slid her fingers along the stem of her wine glass. “We don’t have enough in common to last a year.”

  “You don’t really believe chemistry was all you had?”

  Domino frowned, not sure if she was trying to convince Suzi or herself. “I swore long ago I wouldn’t settle. I want a man who’s committed long-term, who wants the same things I do.”

  “You’re not answering my question,” Suzi pointed out.

  Domino plowed on. “It’s all moot anyway. I’ve applied for a job in the San Francisco DEA office.”

  Suzi looked stunned. Domino was spared a further discussion of her love life by the doorbell. Saved by the pizza. She rose, took her wallet out of her purse on the counter and headed for the foyer. Calling back over her shoulder, Dom said, “The pizza’s on me if you’ll tell me about the sexy massage client you mentioned at the club.”

  * * * * *

  Midnight. Dalton sat on Jason’s sofa, drinking a beer. He’d probably need carpal tunnel surgery on his right hand soon thanks to the repetitive bottle lifting he’d been doing lately. Either that or a trip to the Betty Ford Center. He sighed.

  Soulful jazz surrounded him as the CD he’d chosen played for the third time. Was selecting continuous replay on the CD deck a sign of depression? Did he really care?

  Chi cat-walked his way across the entertainment center and rubbed his head against the amplifier buttons. The music abruptly switched from the jazz CD to a country-western radio station. Dalton groaned but didn’t get up. The Colin Raye lost-love song, one of Jason’s favorites, seemed appropriate.

  “I can still feel you as close as skin…” Dalton let his head fall back against the sofa as the singer’s plaintive voice rose and fell. “There’s a place you touched with your love…” The sad lyrics about a woman who’d slipped away created a painful echo in his heart.

  “Now I’ve seen it all.” Suzi walked into the room and shooed Chi away so she could turn down the volume. “Dalton Cutter crying in his beer to a country song.”

  “I should’ve never given you a house key,” Dalton muttered.

  Suzi took off her winter coat and settled into the chair across from the sofa. “If you’re going to get pissy, I won’t tell you about my dinner with Domino.”

  Dalton snapped to attention. “You saw Dom tonight?”

  “Just had a pizza at her house.”

  Eager for news of her, Dalton shot questions at Suzi. “How is she? Does she look okay? Did she talk about me?”

  “It’s sorta a good news, bad news thing.” Her hesitation made Dalton want to shake her.

  “Damn it, Cho, just spit it out.”

  She wearily pushed her bangs off her forehead. “It’s pretty obvious Dom still has feelings for you and I don’t mean hate.”

  “So there’s hope?” Dalton’s gut churned.

  “Yes, but there’s a problem.”

  “A problem,” he bit out. “You mean something beyond her not talking to me and refusing to see me?”

  Suzi met his gaze, and the sympathy he saw ratcheted up his anxiety. �
�She’s requested a transfer…to San Francisco.”

  “San Francisco?” He stood and paced, unable to wrap his mind around the news. She was leaving town, leaving him for good, and it cut deep. “Hell, why not Alaska or Hawaii? If she’s so set on putting distance between us, why doesn’t she join the CIA and go to Siberia?”

  “You just need to step-up your plan,” Suzi said. “Get her to talk to you sooner.”

  Dalton stopped walking. “How much time do I have?”

  “She should know by next week if she got the job.”

  Next week. He couldn’t think past the mind-numbing panic. Dalton turned to his new partner for help. “Any suggestions?”

  “Yes, but I refuse to strain my neck explaining them.” She pointed to the sofa. “Plant your ass and don’t interrupt.”

  He sat down, and she continued. “Your gifts are working but you don’t have the luxury of time. From what you’ve said, you’ve never actually told Dom your feelings.” Squirming, Dalton opened his mouth to defend himself but clammed up when Suzi pinned him with a look. “You’ve got to tell her you love her.”

  “She won’t see me.” He wanted to throw something, put his fist through the wall.

  “I know.” Suzi was using the soothing cop voice she saved for potential suicides. Appropriate since Dalton was teetering on a ledge. “So write her a letter.”

  He groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’m no good at pretty words.”

  Suzi snorted. “Duh. But you don’t have to write a sonnet. Just tell her how she makes you feel and how much you miss her. It’ll mean more if it’s in your own words.”

  Dalton considered the suggestion. What choice did he have? He couldn’t let Dom leave thinking he didn’t love her. “Okay. I’ll write a letter and leave it with the gift tomorrow morning. But I want a backup plan in case she still doesn’t call me.”

  “Like what?”

  He had to see her again, alone, and he knew exactly where that meeting should take place. He outlined the idea for Suzi. “Tomorrow I’ll drop off the letter and give her until midnight to contact me. If I don’t hear from her on Friday, then the next day, you can call her and find some excuse to get her to the Xecutive Branch Saturday night.”