by Peggy Jaeger
“I want to be inside you.” Rick lifted his head and dragged his gaze all over her face. His eyes were half open and blazing with hunger, his lips wet and swollen. Abby trailed a finger across the etched, hard line of his jaw and scratched at the midnight stubble. The bristly texture was as captivating as the man himself.
“Why aren’t you, then?”
A lightning flash of movement and he shot her pajama bottoms over his shoulder and had her naked and panting beneath him.
He slid home in one smooth motion that made them both stop moving and just…feel.
His hips started a slow, rhythmic roll. “Abby.”
She pulled his head down and kissed him with everything in her. She wanted to tell him so many things, wanted him to know what was in her heart. How she’d come to love him even knowing he couldn’t feel the same for her.
Simple words that, when said, would change everything between them.
Abby didn’t want what they had to change, so, instead, she showed him what she wanted.
And from the way he made love to her, Rick understood.
****
“Your cat’s clawing my ass,” Rick growled.
Abby giggled and lifted her head. Sure enough, Moonlight was sitting on Rick’s lower back, kneading away.
“Wiggle your hips. She’ll move.”
Rick’s lips grazed her neck. “I’m afraid if I do she’s gonna break skin. I’ve already been stabbed once in the past twenty-four hours. I’m not going for twice.”
Memories came flooding back to her. The nightclub. The knife. The blood.
With a shudder, Abby burrowed beneath him. She reached up and trailed her fingers along the bandage gauze on his upper arm.
“What’s the matter?” Rick eased up and looked down at her.
She shook her head while she fingered the gauze. “I’m so sorry.”
He kissed her nose, nuzzled it, then laid his forehead down on hers. “Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault, and in all honesty, I’d rather be the one wearing a bandage than you.”
“Still. You could have been seriously hurt.”
“Could have is the deciding part of that sentence, so stop. I wasn’t. I have enough scars on my body from combat injuries. This one will blend in with the others.”
She knew he was trying to comfort her, to help her forget what she’d been through. She loved him even more for it.
With her lips pulled into a pout, she said, “I’m sure that’s true since I heard what you said about your scars to Ellie.”
A heartbeat passed. “Oh?”
“How chicks love them and how they’re great conversation starters.”
He shook his head, then squinched up his face. “Yeah, I don’t remember saying that. You must have mis-heard since you were, you know, so out of it.”
If he thought her cat had claws, he hadn’t felt anything yet. Abby dug her nails into his shoulder. When he winced, a petty sense of satisfaction shot through her. “I heard you clear as a bell.”
She knew capitulation wasn’t necessarily his forte, but when he pushed up and stared down at her face, a thin line of worry shooting across his forehead, she knew he regretted what she’d heard.
She gave him a lopsided smile and said, “I hate admitting this, but it’s kinda true.” She traced a tiny scar on his chin. “Scars usually bring out the nosy in most women and then the maternal, let-me-kiss-it-and-make-it-better in us.” Giving life to her words, she pressed her lips to the scarified skin.
He wrestled in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Abby. When I think what could have happened if I hadn’t been there…”
She cupped his cheek. Now it was her turn to comfort. “Shh. You were. That’s all that matters.”
A subtle cell phone pinging flitted into the room.
“That’s mine.” Rick rose, the movement shoving Moonlight down onto the bed. She meowed loudly in protest, her green eyes squinted beneath her fur, as Rick padded, naked, into the next room.
Abby followed Rick’s departure too. Instead of meowing, she purred at the sight of all that long and thick muscle walking away from her.
In the bathroom, she donned a robe, then started to brush her teeth. Rick came in as she was turning on the shower to warm the water.
“That was Donovan.” He stood behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and stared at their reflection in the mirror. While she continued brushing, he plopped his chin on top of her head.
“He needs us to come in today to give our statements about last night. I told him we’d be down in about two hours.”
Abby spit, then said, “I still need to call Verna and have her reschedule my clients.”
“Already done.”
She glared at his reflection. “What? When?”
Rick spun her around and kissed her furrowed forehead. “I texted her last night before I got into bed. Told her the basics of what happened and that you weren’t coming in on your doctor’s orders, but you’d call her sometime today. I just saw a text she sent a little while ago asking me to tell you not to worry. She has your schedule under control and to rest and relax because you probably need it.”
Abby stared up at him. “I don’t know whether to be mad and punch you for assuming that kind of control or thank you because I forgot to do it.”
“Violence is never the answer to any question,” he said solemnly. Then he gave her what Gemma referred to as a shit-eating grin.
Why did he have to be so damn charming? And naked? Why did he have to be naked when she needed to muster all her energy to be mad at him?
“So.” He unwound the belt from her robe. “I figured we could save time and help the environment if we got ready together.”
Her left eyebrow quirked.
“You know? By taking a shower? Together?” He slid his hands along the insides of the robe and slid it from her shoulders.
“How do you figure that’ll help the environment?”
With a quick kiss to her cheek, he stuck his hand under the spray and then lifted her into the tub. “By conserving water, of course.”
Right before he claimed her mouth, she murmured, “Of course.”
****
“Thanks for coming in,” Donovan told them as he escorted them to a conference room.
“Long night?” Rick asked.
The detective scrubbed his hands down his face and stifled a yawn. With a nod toward a set of chairs, he said, “I’ve had longer, but this one was tough. Productive, but tough. Kid’s a piece of work. Blames the world for his problems. Resents authority. You name the negative character trait, this kid’s got it.”
“Did he tell you anything?” Abby asked.
“A boatload. Let’s get your statements first, and then I can get you up to speed.”
He guided them through a series of questions about the past evening’s events, then had them write their statements longhand. Rick noticed Abby’s penmanship, like everything else about her, was perfectly formed.
When they were done, Donovan took them and with a promise to be right back, left them alone.
Rick touched her arm. “How you holding up?”
“I’m a little tired, but I’m fine.” Her lips lifted in a grin he wanted to kiss and then keep on doing do. “You can report to Dr. Evil I have no side effects from the head knock.”
“I’m telling her you called her that.” He linked his fingers with hers and brought her hand to his lips. He’d done it for him because the need to touch her was so powerful, but when he watched her eyes go soft and misty, her grin grow a little lopsided as she stared at him, he knew the simple expression of his need touched a chord inside her.
“Okay, guys.” Donovan came back into the room. “Those are being typed up and you can review and sign them before you leave.”
“So tell us what Peter Edwards said.”
Donovan sat. “First I’ve got to tell you we’ve got Christopher Edwards in custody too.”
“You found him?” Abby aske
d.
“Kid gave up his old man. They’ve been living in a flophouse over on the lower east side. Edwards hasn’t left the place in over a week because—and you’re gonna love this—his foot is broken. He’s been holed up, nursing it. Couldn’t take a chance on going to an emergency room to have it treated. Great job, Counselor, on putting him out of commission.”
Rick squeezed her hand. “I’m beginning to rethink everything bad I’ve said about your shoe fetish.”
She shook her head and motioned for Donovan to continue.
“Kid has a chip on his shoulder as big as the Grand Canyon. Blames everything and everyone for his father’s incarceration, his mother’s death, and his own lousy life.”
“That’s kind of understandable,” Abby said. “He’s ripped from his parents, given to other people he doesn’t know. It must have been a confusing, fearful time.”
“Yeah, well, lots of kids go into foster care and don’t turn into killers,” Donovan said. “I did a background check on him. Lots of trouble in the system. He was in seven foster homes before he reached seventeen. The last one for only four months before he aged out.”
“What kind of trouble?” Abby asked.
“Petty stuff. Things went missing, he sassed back. He ran away twice, claimed the foster dad had a mean streak when he disciplined the kids.”
“Was any kind of investigation performed?”
“Minimal. Kid was transferred to another home, then another. The older he got, the more recalcitrant he became. That’s a quote from one of the social workers assigned to him in. He did lousy in school, graduated with a D average, and his standardized test scores weren’t anything to write home about. Kid was a ticking tomb bomb.
“He’s eighteen now, so we Mirandized him. He refused a lawyer. After several hours of him telling us to go fuck ourselves, my partner and I laid it on the line for him. He was up for murder and two counts of potential, and I tacked on a laundry list of other charges like stalking, weapons possession, etc. My partner explained we had him dead to rights on your assault last night and the video feed of his attack of Marty Fields.” He shot a look at Rick. “I even told him we knew he offed your client, Castle. Kid folded like a chair after that.”
“How so?”
“Told us it was all his father’s idea. He’d been sitting in prison these past eleven years, planning what the kid called his big ‘fuck you.’ The kid wrote to his father while he was in foster care and when he aged out started going up to visit him once a month to”—he made air quotes—“reconnect. The old man filled his head with this plan to get back at the people who’d sent him away. He’s been pretty brainwashed by his father’s hate. When he was released, they put this plan into motion.”
“So he did kill Castle?” Rick asked.
“Not him. Edwards senior. He had the kid follow her for a week to get to know her routine. Then the old man ambushed her when she got out of court. Apparently, he knocked her cold, then poured the whiskey all over her and the car to make it seem like she was driving drunk, rigged the car, and then sent it on its way. The kid wasn’t too clear on what dear old dad had done to it so it would crash. In all honesty, I don’t think the kid’s the sharpest tool in the box, but who knows?” He shrugged. Then he stared over at Abby. “You, by the way, were attack number two.”
Her color dropped for a split second, but just as quickly, her cheeks blossomed back to their normal pink tinge.
“The kid had been surveilling you a few days, reported your schedule back to Pops, and then he took over.”
“I never had a clue I was being watched.”
“Kid blends in to the background like the other eight million people walking around in hoodies. Your little foot and heel stomp put the old man out of commission, and this is where the kid took over the revenge plan.”
He went on to tell them about the attacks on Fields and Aaronson.
“He’s been following you, by the way, since right after he attacked the judge. Last night, he figured he could get to you because you were in a such a public venue, thought your bodyguard here wouldn’t be able to stop him.”
“I never saw him,” Rick said.
“Like I said, he blends in. When we arrested senior, he screamed loud and clear it was all the son’s idea. Says foster care broke the kid’s mind. He didn’t kill anyone because he’s been laid up with a broken foot. When I asked him how he got hurt, he gave me some bullshit story about falling off a curb. Claims the kid is batshit crazy.” He shook his head, his lips pulling down at the corners. “Asshole. The kid’s five nine and weighs maybe a buck forty, drenched. The old man, on the other hand, took advantage of the prison’s gym while he was a guest of the state, because he’s bulked up and is hard as a tank, so that feared-for-his-life defense isn’t gonna wash.”
“He’s actually blaming his son for everything?” Abby asked.
“All of it. From the planning to the execution. Claims he’s a victim of his son’s violent tendencies. And dear old dad screamed lawyer before we’d even cuffed him.”
“What are you thinking?” Rick asked her.
When she licked her lips, he got the distinct impression he wasn’t going to like what she was about to say.
She turned her attention to Donovan. “You said he did poorly in school?”
“Yup.”
“Were there any psychological tests done?”
“I couldn’t find any. Why?”
She flicked her gaze to Rick and then back to the detective. “No documentation he’d ever been in fights or any other kind of violent acts before his father got out?”
“None. Just mouthy. Like I said, the kid doesn’t seem too bright. False bravado aside, he was scared to his toes when we were questioning him.”
Abby nodded.
Rick asked his question again.
“Peter is going to get railroaded in court by any lawyer representing his father. Even a lousy public defender will be able to paint a horrible picture of him and lay the blame for all of this on a vengeful teenager. The boy—”
“He’s eighteen, Abby. That’s a legal adult,” Rick said, understanding where her mind was going.
And not liking the direction at all.
“Chronologically, yes. But being legally an adult doesn’t automatically make you one. This boy has been shuttled around for the past eleven years, surrounded by people who didn’t have his best interests at heart. His father is a convicted criminal with a history of violence and drug use. I’m certain he knows his way around the judicial system and realizes perfectly well how deflecting the blame from himself to Peter could work for him. Peter doesn’t have his father’s savvy. He needs a lawyer. A good one.”
“Not you.” The word exploded from him.
Abby frowned at him. “Of course not me. I can’t represent him for a number of reasons, least of all being I’m not a criminal defense lawyer. I also happen to be one of his victims, so that’s about the hugest conflict of interest I’ve ever seen. It still doesn’t negate the fact he needs good legal counsel.”
“I can’t believe you’re saying this.” Rick shot up from the chair. “This kid attacked you. Planned to kill you. And you want to ensure he gets a good lawyer? Why? So he can get off and maybe come back and finish what he started?”
“Stop yelling at me.” Abby rose from her own chair and stood in front of him, hands on her hips. “Of course I don’t want him to get off for what he did. He should be tried and punished. Fairly. But I don’t want him railroaded because his father is a slime and knows how to manipulate the system. Peter shouldn’t take the fall for this. The boy is as much a victim as Judge Aaronson, Marty, or me.”
“How can you believe that? How can you even think it? That kid, Abby, killed someone you loved like a father. Intentionally. Then he went on to try and kill the judge and you. Again, intentionally. No one held a gun to his head. No one put the knife in his hands. No one hypnotized him or coerced him into it.”
“That’s w
here you and I differ,” she said, calmly. “I can fully see his father directing him to do what he did. A child’s first allegiance, first love, is to a parent. I can see clearly how Edwards would use it to his advantage. How he would twist his anger at being locked up into a rage and would use any outlet to unleash it. His son wrote to him while he was in prison, so Edwards knew the boy loved and missed him. He used that love and now he’s pinning everything on the one person who probably does love him. It’s sick, Rick, and unfair. Unfortunately, it’s also not uncommon. Like you’ve asked me to, please remember what I do for a living. I see parents, every day, who use their children as pawns to gain the upper hand in a court battle.”
He took a moment to consider what she was saying.
“Not every kid whose parents abandon them or who leave when they’re imprisoned is fortunate enough to be taken in by a loving family. We both know that, personally, Rick. But we were lucky. Peter Edwards wasn’t.”
“But as Donovan said, not every kid who goes into foster care turns out to be a killer.”
“No. But when the one person who claims to love you, the one person you should be able to trust above all else, uses you for their own agenda, it’s not exactly unexpected.”
“From where I’m sitting, it sounds like you’re building the kid’s defense, Counselor,” Donovan said, a note of anger in his tone.
“I’m not. Please believe me. I’m simply looking at all sides of this situation, which is, again, what I do every day. That boy—and don’t tell me not to call him one,” she said when he started to open his mouth, “because he’s not a man in any sense of the word—was doomed the moment his father was arrested. The system failed him, and that’s wrong on so many levels, I can’t even think of them all right now.”
Rick stared down at her, silent. Her desire to help those who needed it had impressed him since he’d first heard she was studying the law. But her compassion and sympathy for Peter Edwards astounded him. He knew if he were in her place he’d be feeling nothing but vengeful toward the boy. She was able to put that aside and see what had caused the kid to act as he had. It made her a much better person than he could ever hope to be.
And he knew in that moment he was absolutely in love with her.
