Point of No Return (8 page)

NR Walker

When I was with him, in his arms, kissing him, feeling his hands touch every inch of me, I felt as though I'd found home.

He had me naked on his bed, after he'd made me come, and he was inspecting my leg and thigh where he kickboxed me earlier. He gently rubbed the reddened skin, trailing soft kisses in his wake, and it amazed me how he could be so lethal, yet so gentle.

When he was certain my leg was okay, he made me come again. This time he was inside me, every inch of him, pushing magic buttons to spark fireworks behind my eyes. I came so hard I swore it jellified my bones.

When I could finally open my eyes, he had cleaned us up and had wrapped himself completely around me.

I kissed his bare shoulder and smiled into his skin. I wriggled into him just a little bit more, and his arms tightened around me. I breathed in the smell of him, the smell of us, and fell back into sleep with a smile.

* * * *

I woke up to the bright California sun streaming through the window slats and a rather rude slap to my ass cheek.

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I groaned and grumbled some obscenity at him, but Kira just laughed. "Up you get, sleepyhead. It's seven o'clock."

I groaned again, just for good measure, but threw back the cover and dragged myself to the bathroom.

When I made it to the kitchen in a pair of his boxers, he was sitting at the bench, eating his breakfast. He looked at what I was wearing, then back up to my face.

"Help yourself to my clothes."

"I did."

He chuckled at me as I struggled to make myself coffee. "You should try a breakfast like mine."

I looked at what he was eating—granola, diced

fruit, and yogurt—and my stomach turned. I groaned.

"Mm-mm. Just coffee," my voice croaked.

He laughed at me again. He always found my

morning grumpiness amusing. But every morning without fail, he started the coffee machine for me before I got up.

I took a sip and could feel it breathing life into me on a cellular level.

"You drink too much caffeine," he told me.

"You eat too healthy."

He laughed, smiling beautifully.

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Then I remembered what I told Mitch the other

night. I hadn't seen Kira since then. Oh, hell… "Hey, babe?"

He looked up at me, startled at the term of

endearment. "Yes…
babe
?"

I couldn't help but smile, but I put my coffee down and looked at him. "Um, Mitch knows I'm seeing someone called Kira."

His smile died, and he put his spoon down. "Oh," he said, then cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with the whole idea. "And…?"

"He thinks I'm secretly dating Keira Knightley."

Kira snorted. "I should be offended! I'm so much prettier than she is."

I smiled at him, but then I told him seriously, "I had to tell him. They know I'm seeing someone, and he's been really good about me not giving details. But then when it was just us, he asked me for a name." I took Kira's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I wasn't going to tell him, but he asked. I can't lie to him. He's my partner. I mean, I go to his house for barbeques and stuff, I know all about his girlfriend, Anna. He tells me everything." Kira was looking at our joined hands, but he wasn't saying anything. "Babe, I swear, that's all he knows. Just the name."

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Kira turned our hands over and gently squeezed my fingers. "Do you want to tell him about us?"

I blinked at his words, at what he was implying.

"Come out, you mean?"

Kira nodded. "Like you said, he's your partner. You shouldn't have secrets."

"I've never lied to him," I said quietly, defiantly.

"Hey." Kira quickly stood up and stepped in front of me. He lifted my chin, so I looked at him. "I know that. I didn't mean you were lying to him. I just meant that if you want to tell him, then I'll support you."

I smiled, though it was weak at best. "I know what you meant," I told him. "Thank you. But I'm not sure. It can't be undone. Once I tell him, I can't take it back."

Kira nodded. "I know."

He did know. He knew
exactly
what I meant.

"But you know him," Kira said seriously, looking me right in the eyes. "You trust him."

"With my life."

Kira nodded once. "How do you honestly think he'll react?"

I shrugged, hesitantly. "I'm not sure. He could be okay with it." I looked into Kira's dark, honest eyes. "But what if he's not? He's like a brother to me. I can't risk losing that."

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Kira pecked my lips and then pulled me against him. He sighed deeply. "I can't decide for you. But if you want to tell him, when the time is right, we'll deal with it then."

I smiled into his neck, amazed at the man in my arms. "Thank you."

We stood like that for a little while, in his kitchen, with our arms around each other. Then he asked, "Will I see you tonight?"

I pulled back and kissed his lips. "I gotta work. But I have a kickboxing lesson tomorrow night. Know of any cute instructors who are available?"

He smiled. "I'll have to check the roster… there might be someone cute…" he teased.

I grabbed his chin between my thumb and

forefinger. "I only want you."

He grinned spectacularly. "You
better
only want me."

I could feel myself blush when I told him, "Just you."

"Mmm," he sighed. "You haven't blushed for me in a while. I thought I was losing my touch."

I chuckled and of course, blushed again. He leaned in and kissed me soundly. "Matt?"

"Yeah?"

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"Just you, too."

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Chapter 9

I saw Kira at my Friday night kickboxing lesson, but since he had to work Saturday morning, we had a late dinner at his place on Saturday night. I worked most of the next few days, and even though I saw him intermittently, and spoke to him on the phone, we didn't exactly have any quality time together.

I went back to work again on Monday morning

early, combing the Tomic files for anything we might have overlooked, and worked right through until Tuesday morning.

"You look like hell," Mitch greeted me cheerfully, as only he could. But he brought me coffee, so he was forgiven. "Did you pull an all-nighter?"

I nodded, and my stiff neck protested, making me groan.

He looked to the files open on my desk. "Find anything new?"

"Nah," I admitted. "But there's—"

"There's something missing," he cut me off, finishing my sentence for me.

I sighed tiredly. "You know what?" I asked, looking up at him. "The more I look, the more convinced I am."

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He fell into his chair and huffed out a sigh. He stared at me for a long moment then shook his head. "Give me your notes," he said, rolling his eyes.

I grinned at my partner and slid over my notepad.

Kurt and Tony both laughed at us from their desks, and Mitch looked at them, completely resigned. "If you can't beat him…"

Ignoring their jibes at me, I explained to Mitch what I'd done. "I've cross referenced times and locations from intel's reports against ours, and there don't seem to be any discrepancies."

Mitch looked at me curiously. "Then where's the problem?"

This was where I always lost them. "It's in his behavior."

Mitch blinked. "His behavior?"

I nodded and talked quickly, so there was less time for doubt to settle in. "His actions don't add up. It's not consistent. We know he's territorial and violent. We know Homicide has him pegged for numerous disappearances but can't prove anything. We know he's capable of killing someone without rhyme or reason."

Mitch, Kurt, and Tony all stared at me.

So I continued, "But then he'll show lenience when he shouldn't. We know he has a high IQ, but at the same

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time, he's fucking stupid. We know he's meticulous and anal about everything to the point of OCD, but then he'll do something out of sequence. It doesn't make sense."

"So," Kurt said slowly. "You think he has a split personality?"

I exhaled loudly. "I'm not sure," I admitted.

"Maybe he's smarter than we gave him credit for,"

Tony said objectively. "Maybe he acted that way to make us
think
he didn't act alone? So we'd spend half our time looking for someone who doesn't exist."

I had to admit, it was a fair point. I sighed again.

"Maybe…"

But Mitch hadn't said a word. The three of us

looked at him. He was flipping through my notes, and when he realized we were watching him, he stared at me, tapping his pen like he did when he was thinking.

"I think you're right."

I grinned at him, and Kurt and Tony groaned in unison.

Mitch shook his head. "I fucking hate it when I think you're right."

I laughed, but he was quick to his feet. "Come on,"

he snapped at me. "You're the one telling Berkman."

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I grabbed my notepad and the files, and we headed to Berkman's office. This should be easy. The boss loved me.

The older man looked up from his computer. "You look like shit, Elliott," he barked at me. "When was the last time you slept?"

About thirty-six hours before, but I didn't say that.

Instead I told him, "I've been going through the Tomic files."

He didn't blink. He didn't move. I don't even know if he breathed.

So I told him something hadn't sat well with me this entire case. I'd pushed to look for a second operative, but without the proof, there just wasn't the time or the resources to take it further.

Berkman looked at us both. "What's changed?"

It was Mitch who answers. "My partner here has had a bee in his bonnet since day one about this, and he's gonna drive me fucking nuts until he checks this out."

Mitch looked at me, then back to our boss and said, "Sir, he's never been wrong before."

"You agree with him?" Berkman asked him. Mitch nodded, and Berkman sighed. "What is it you're asking for?"

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"We want a psych evaluation on Tomic before he goes to trial," I told him. "A full profile."

"Looking for?"

"To see if he's capable of such a diverse behavior pattern," Mitch said. "Either the man's Jekyll and Hyde, or he didn't work alone."

"You're running out of time," Berkman said, like we didn't already know.

We both nodded, and our boss pressed his lips into a thin line. "You," he looked at me. "Give the files to him,"

he nodded to Mitch, and I promptly handed the files over.

Then he looked at Mitch. "You, get the paperwork in order.

I'll organize the profile. I want your reports watertight." He looked between us both like he was watching a tennis match. "Water. Tight. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir," we answered in unison and turned to leave.

"And Elliott?" he called out.

We both stopped and turned to face him, but only I answered. "Yes, Sir?"

"Go home," he barked at me. "Have a sleep and a shower. You're wearing the clothes you came in here wearing yesterday, you stink, and you're no use to anyone on no sleep."

I smiled at him.

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His lips curled in an almost smile. "And… good job."

"Thank you, Sir."

He had his phone in his hand before we left his office. Mitch looked sideways at me before hitting me with the files I'd just handed to him. "Thanks a fucking lot," he griped. "I fucking hate it when you're right." He held up the files, shaking them at me. "I won't be going home anytime today."

I laughed at him and collected my keys from my desk on my way out. "Say hello to Anna for me."

He mocked my voice. "Say hello to Keira for me."

I got to the elevator, turned and gave him a salute.

"I will."

He flipped me the bird.

I smiled at him, but I had to admit, that was a fucking great idea. I was ridiculously tired. I'd been up for thirty-six hours straight, but I wanted to see him. I wanted to be with him, close to him.

I knew exactly what I was going to do.

I'd go to his place instead of mine. The fact he was at work and wouldn't even be there didn't bother me. I'd sleep in his bed that smelled of him.

The fact I didn't have a key was just a minor

technicality.

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* * * *

I looked up and down the hallway. It was empty, but it was habit for me to check. I took out my keys and found the one I was looking for, though it wasn't really a key at all. It was a long, flat, metal pin, the kind of gadget that'd open most locks on most doors. I slid the tool into the lock and jimmied it around, turning the handle until I heard a familiar click.

I slipped inside his apartment, pulling my shoes off and leaving them inside the door. His apartment was clean and quiet. The walls were bright with the sunlight streaming in, nothing out of place. It was so very… him.

God, he even made his bed.

I didn't bother getting undressed. I just fell onto the soft mattress, settling into his side of the bed. It smelled of him—his shampoo, his soap, his sweat. I breathed in deeply and smiled.