Authors: Trudy Doyle
HOLLY HOUSE INN—RIVERBORO
THURSDAY 31 OCTOBER
6:22 A.M.
When Gina opened the door, her heart leapt as it always did
when she saw him. But Doug wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at the knife
in her hand. He grabbed her wrist.
“If I were coming for you, doll,” he said, the blade
dangling between them, “do you really think this would stop me?”
He was inches from her, her robe half-opened, exposing the
marks of the day before.
So this is the way he’s playing it
, she
thought. She dropped the knife, glaring at him. “Are you coming for me, Doug?”
The hand at her wrist tightened. He pulled her to him, his
body taut with tension. “What do you want from me?”
Gina wrenched herself loose, clasping the front of her robe.
“I thought I wanted your help. Now I’m not so sure.”
His gaze, deep blue in the thin light, wavered. “Yeah you
are or you wouldn’t have opened the door. So start talking, doll. I’m all
ears.”
She always marveled how he could shift from hot to cold with
such breathtaking efficiency, but this time it only irritated her. “Why sure.
The hell with preliminaries. Let’s get right down to cases.”
His mouth crooked. “You thinking maybe we should we go to
Serious Joe first? I could buy you a latte, maybe some scones? We could
reminisce over old times.”
Gina laughed harshly. “Maybe we should. Then maybe after you
could get on with your life.”
Doug’s face went scarlet, his lips stretching into a thin,
tremulous line, and for a scant second Gina thought he would hit her. “Oh come
on, sweetheart, you could do a hell of a lot better than that.”
Didn’t she know it. Because hadn’t she been angsting over
this moment for days? Weeks? Maybe even for the last two years? Ever since that
night in his hospital room. How it nearly killed both of them when she walked
out the door. But thinking of that wouldn’t help her now.
She met his gaze. “Look, outside of the obvious, I know you
don’t give a damn about me, but I had this crazy idea I could still trust you
no matter what’s happened between us. Because underneath I always figured you
for a good cop who still gave a damn about finding the bad guys. But I guess I
was wrong.”
When his eyes narrowed Gina knew he was weighing the pros
and cons, assessing whether she was worth the risk. After a few moments he slid
his hands into his pockets. “Then go ahead. Start from the top. I’m listening.”
She relaxed, if only marginally. Because for the next few
minutes she fully intended to believe she was only the congressional aide and
Doug was nothing more than a local cop. And if she played it straight, if she
hit all the right notes, she might believe it long enough to walk out of the
room unscathed. Then she looked at him.
Who was she kidding.
“Excuse me a minute,” she said, escaping to the bedroom.
Gina closed the door and threw off her robe and nightgown.
Half-naked was no way to play it with Doug. Yet as she slid on underwear, jeans
and a sweater, she knew she could be encased in concrete and if Doug wanted at
her, he’d find a way to get in. In fact, it was exactly what she was counting
on. She shivered, feeling his heat from the other room. She ran to scrub her
teeth and face and drag a brush through her hair, catching herself in the
bathroom mirror. Her sweater just covered his marks at the swell of her
breasts, her hair the one he’d left on her neck. She closed her eyes, her heart
rate kicking up at the thought of him.
Can’t do that now
, she told
herself.
I have to keep a clear head, if only for Jack’s sake.
She dug
into her purse, pulling out a wad of papers and, grabbing her BlackBerry,
returned to the living room.
He stood at the mantel of the little fireplace, scrolling
through his phone. Good God, Gina thought, he was so
big
. Maybe not
inordinately, six foot two or three perhaps. But next to her, who just came to
his shoulders in bare feet, his heady mix of height and musculature, his voice
a growl of raw, roughened silk, recalling the timbre of it in her ear and how
it made her pulse race, and now with him so… She shivered again. Jesus, he
could crush her with one hand. He looked over, shooting her a quick
up-and-down.
“So you work for Jack Falco,” he said impassively.
Inwardly, she sighed. She knew him well enough to know the
fact of it chafed at him, but she was also aware he’d hardly own up to it.
“Yes. I met him in D.C. when I was lobbying for his bill.”
“The DNA Identification Clearance Act.”
That surprised her. “You know it?” she asked, sliding to the
sofa.
“Halchak told me.”
“Ah.” She watched him cross to the chair and sit down. So it
was a good move approaching his captain first. At this stage he’d certainly
want confirmation on anything she’d tell him. “I’d been heading the prison
reform group Stop the Loop.”
“The anti-recidivism project.”
“Yes.” Again, she was surprised. But how silly. There was a
huge federal prison in Camden. “I guess I must have impressed him, because when
the bill passed he asked me to come work for him.”
“As his chief of staff.”
He
had
done his homework. “Quite a coup, because he
was planning on running for governor. Part of my agreement was if he won, he’d
carry the position into his administration.” She reached for a piece of paper
in her lap. “Then last summer, some sicko sent him this.”
Doug took the paper, a reprint of an email from
yourbigfan201.
There’s still a Death Penalty in NJ for SOME people.
He looked up. “What’s the trace?”
“An internet cafe in Philadelphia from a Yahoo! account.”
“Were there more?”
“No, so we pretty much ignored it. He’d gotten the random
crazy stuff before. But when I began getting some press as his chief, they
started coming to me.” She reached for another slip. “There was this one.”
DNA
= do not arrest.
“Again from the same Yahoo! account, from a guest computer
at a conference center in Cherry Hill.” She dropped some more to the sofa space
between them, grateful for the few feet of demilitarized zone. As Doug shuffled
through them, she added, “They’re all the same, all referring to the Clearance
Act, all sent to the Congressional District office’s email from public,
untraceable computers.”
Doug picked up the last one.
Liberty for NONE and Justice
for ALL.
He tossed it back to the sofa. “Well, it’s obvious enough. Someone
was pissed because the Act helped someone get sprung. You had to expect it.” He
sat back in the chair, splaying his legs slightly.
She crossed her own. “Sure. But I never expected it to get
so personal.”
“What was that Tip O’Neill said?” He thought a moment. “All
politics is local. That’s how this guy felt. Falco wrote that bill to screw
him
,
not to free people incarcerated falsely. For
him
it got personal, and
you were the ones that sprung them. But that’s not why I’m here. What I want to
know is,” he leaned into her, “how it got so personal toward you.”
Those eyes were back, steely and crystalline. Gina picked up
the BlackBerry, went to email and, finding the first message, handed it to
Doug. “These were sent to my email account.”
He glanced at the screen.
Sometimes People get in the
way.
His eyes flared.
Gina’s heart skipped. That one infinitesimal gesture said it
all. He
did
still care. He
had
to. Because if he didn’t it would
surely be over for her.
“How did he get your address?” he asked quietly.
“I have it on my card. It’d be easy enough.”
His jaw tightened. “Show me more.”
She took the BlackBerry from him, scrolled some more and
handed it back. “Then there was this.”
Sometimes the Bullet misses the
target and people get hurt.
She got up and, leaning over his shoulder,
scrolled to the next. “Then this.”
Sometimes the Worst things happen even
with your friends all around you.
Doug’s hands reddened, his fingers tightening. “He’s
referring to the rally. When is it?”
“Sunday. In front of the county courthouse here in
Riverboro. It’s his hometown, so he wants to go back to his roots.” Her eyes
softened with admiration. “The outgoing governor is coming to formally throw
his support to Jack, as well as both senators and a couple more representatives
from neighboring districts. There’s also going to be a coalition of victims’
rights advocates and their supporters.”
“Which will surely bring out this wacko.”
“Which is why I need you.” She slid the BlackBerry from him
again, scrolling once more. “Especially because of this. Because before he was
vague. This time, he gets a little more direct.”
Such a shame to break those
lovely, long legs, slit that pretty little throat, put a bullet into that
filthy brain.
He thrust it back at her. “You’re not going.”
She nearly laughed. “What do you mean? Of course I am. I
have to.”
“Are you joking?” He stood up, looming over her, the chair
between them. “With this kind of threat, you’re nothing but a target.”
“So I’ll keep moving. But I’ll be there.”
He swiveled around the chair. “Do you have some kind of
death wish?”
Every instinct in her was on fire. “Are you telling me you
care?”
A vein in his temple twitched. “Not a bit, doll. I’m talking
purely professional.”
“Then professionally speaking, you know I have to go. So
take this job, keep an eye on the crazies and allow me to do mine.”
“An outside rally? You’re just asking for it.”
She lowered her gaze and back. “I’ll be fine. I’ll have
Superman watching out for me.”
“Maybe you won’t.”
“Won’t I?” She tilted into him, playing her trump. “Ah
c’mon, Doug. You can’t help yourself.”
It was as though a bomb went off in his head. His eyes
flared and he seized her mouth with his, his hand sliding under her ass to lift
her to the back of the chair.
“You’re right, goddamn it. I can’t keep my hands off you.”
He kissed a line down her throat to the swell of her breasts. “You’re like a
goddamned sickness in me.”
She hooked her finger into the knot of his tie and, undoing
it, tossed it to the floor, flicking a few shirt buttons open to kiss the pulse
point thumping wildly at his neck. “Oh I’ve missed you,” she whispered, his
hands kneading her back, her tongue trailing to his ear. She flicked it and he
flinched against her, his fiery-hot hand snaking under her sweater to her
breasts, her nipples hardening instantly. She kissed her way back to his mouth
and fell into it, his tongue lacing with hers so intensely it made her head
spin.
“A terminal sickness,” he whispered, sliding his lips to her
neck. He bared her shoulder, his mouth trailing kisses down the slope.
She tossed her head back, lolling in the bliss. How she had
missed the scent, the feel, the sight of him. She slid her hands past his neck
and into his jacket, his own hands lifting just long enough to let it slide to
the floor. But it was hardly enough. She wanted the saltiness of his skin on
her lips, his musky taste in her mouth. She raised her head and caught him
looking at her, a hunger in his eyes, a rising urgency in his breath. She
kissed him quickly then slid from the top of the chair.
“Where you going, doll?” he asked thickly, but he’d know
soon enough. She nuzzled his shoulder, his arms still around her as she slowly
undid his shirt, easing him around until he was braced against the back of the
chair.
She spread his shirt until it too fell with his holster to
the floor, nearly gasping at the taut, muscular expanse of his chest. Then she
saw it, near his right breast, precariously close to his heart. It was fading,
far from the angry, gaping wound when she’d last seen it, knowing it was her
fault it was there. She could feel his eyes on her as she brushed her fingers
over it, felt his hand fall to her hip when she rose up and lightly kissed it.
She laid her head against his chest, feeling his heart
pounding reassuringly, thinking back to the night when that same sound was
nearly a wish. She took in his scent, his breathing as it rose and fell. God,
how she wanted him, feeling his abs tighten as her hand wandered down the hard
ridges to his belt. She looked up at him. He was still watching her. How could
she ever tell him what she had to? Maybe if he still loved her it wouldn’t be
so bad. Maybe if she kept trying, he’d remember how much he did. She unbuckled
his belt and, easing down his zipper, fell to her knees.
His fingers speared into her hair as she lowered his cock to
her mouth. He still smelled of soap, and she wondered if he had come straight
from his shower expecting this, and that thrilled her. Her tongue reached out
and she flicked him, his fingers tightening. When she circled his head with her
tongue, she could feel his nails digging into her scalp. With her other hand
she cupped his balls, rolling them between her fingers.
She flicked again, once, twice, sliding her hand over his
hard, firm ass. He groaned. She flicked some more, circled once, twice, three
times, gently kneading his balls, his cock throbbing in time with her clit.
Little electric stabs sparked her groin as she mouthed the head of his cock,
pulling, tugging. His ass tightened under her hand, her panties soaking through
to her jeans. Then she rose up on her knees and, widening her mouth, took him
as far as she could down her throat.
“Gina!” he cried, grabbing handfuls of her hair as she
sucked him, her tongue flicking wildly on each return. His balls were as hard
as granite in her hand, his cock a pulsing firebrand in her mouth, so hot and
wet she thought it would singe her lips. But still she sucked, faster and
harder and with a rising, half-crazed need, wanting him inside her so badly her
joints ached. She grabbed his hips, digging her fingers into his already
fevered skin. If she could swallow him whole she would.