Justice for Francesca (Six Paths to Justice #1)

18. Francesca’s Hard Truth

18

FRANCESCA’S HARD TRUTH

Francesca

H e sat up and snatched her wrists, brought them around her sides, and pinned them to the small of her back. “I’ll let your inaccurate estimation go since you jumped from an inch to a mile the first time.”

Laughter spilled out with each interchange between them.

“Take it back!”

“Okay, I take it back. Seven inches.”

“Fuck that noise. You know I meant the other way. Take it back, or else!”

“Or else, what? I’m wounded. You wouldn’t so much as tickle me with these stitches.”

“Take it back, or I’ll take my dick back.”

“How do you take a dick back?”

“You hurt his feelings.”

“Dicks don’t have feelings!”

“This one is certainly feeling something.”

He was holding her still, but she consciously didn’t struggle as she knew if she got too physical, he’d stop everything out of fear for her. It felt so good to be with him like this. There was no way she wanted this to end. To hear him laughing and teasing instead of watching him wallow in pain and misery was the best healing.

Tears were leaking out of her eyes. “Stop! Stop! Oh my god, I’m going to pee if you don’t stop! It hurts! I can’t breathe! Stop! Ow! Ow! Ow!”

“Shit! Did I reopen your stitches?” The look on his face was pure horror as he gently rolled her onto her back and straddled her to turn on the light at the bedside. His fingers immediately went to her side, his eyes surveying the bandage, lifting the edges to check the wound.

“I’m saying ‘Ow’ because it hurt to laugh.”

Satisfied she hadn’t popped a stitch, he frowned from up above her. “Hmph. That’ll teach you to denigrate my manhood.”

Now she was howling with laughter. “Denigrate your manhood? Who says that? The Marines taught the lowly Navy medic some fancy words?”

His eyes were filled with laughter now, which is what she wanted. Everyday Ethan was soft and warm. She hadn’t seen this playful side of him since their days at The Library.

“Ready to give in?”

“Never!” she shrieked with laughter.

“No? Never? Huh? Ready to submit to your lord and master?” Instead of letting up, he crawled further up her body. “Are you ready to apologize, huh? Ready to apologize to my dick for making him feel small?”

“Do you want me to look him in the eye as I apologize?”

His mouth dropped open at her lewd suggestion, and then he howled with laughter. “I cannot believe you just made that joke.”

She shrugged her shoulders, her laughter subsiding to giggles now that she was no longer gasping for air. Tripoli chose to use the time and position to his advantage. He slid down her body, now straddling her upper thighs, the playful look in his eyes turning to smoldering heat.

“Turn over, sweetheart,” he whispered.

Gently, he helped her turn onto her stomach. The new position allowed his cock to neatly tuck itself in between her ass cheeks. Her head in profile on the remaining pillow on the bed, she looked up and behind at him. Okay. Maybe he was more than eight inches, maybe not. Didn’t matter. He knew how to use it earlier in a rush, so she bet he’d really know how to use it when he wasn’t mindless with need.

His mouth was doing something heavenly down her back. His lips were involved, but also his tongue and his teeth. If he was leaving marks, he clearly had the presence of mind to leave them somewhere no one would see them.

“Ethan?”

“Yes, Francesca?”

“What are you intending to do with that?”

He hummed into her skin. “Intending to do with what?”

“That eight-inch rocket you’ve lined up with my lower back.” She giggled. “Better not go off before I’m ready for it to blast.”

He chuckled as he lightly thrust forward, then withdrew. “Not like you could do anything about it right now, is there? But… I think I can control him long enough.”

“Long enough for what?”

“Long enough for you to apologize to him.”

“Apologize? To your dick?”

“Mm-hmm.” He thrust and withdrew again. “He had all these plans to make you scream my name, and then you went and made him feel small. I don’t think he’s going to come through on his original intention unless you make him feel better about himself.”

She snorted. “Why is every man a twelve-year-old boy at heart?”

“No, our dicks are twelve-year-old boys at heart. Our age doesn’t matter. I think even if we’re married for twenty years, our dicks think every time they get to have sex that it’s going to be the last time, so when another opportunity arises—no pun intended—it can’t help but get excited.”

“This is not very Dom-like behavior.” She giggled as he continued to shift back and forth against her ass.

“Deflection, sweetheart. Apologize,” he rasped in her ear.

“If you want me to apologize, you’re going to have to turn me over,” she whispered.

He was quiet. A last kiss was planted at the curve of the small of her back. “As much as I want to continue this, we probably shouldn’t. You’re hurt?—”

“I’m fine, Ethan. It’s tender, yes. But I really would like to ‘apologize,’” she admitted.

She could hear the gears grinding in his head as he considered his next move. Hesitantly, he sat up, then again gently helped her to roll over, this time so she lay atop him. “You feel any pain at all?—”

“I’ll stop. I promise.”

She slid down to over his knees, her hands clutching his wrists down at his sides and her mouth hovering over his shaft.

“This is a bad idea. It’s not good for your?—”

A single finger reached up to lie across his lips. “Stop talking.”

Francesca licked a long stripe, starting at the base of his cock and finishing with a swirl of her tongue around the tip. She felt his body tense beneath her as he tried to prevent himself from pushing into her mouth. That just wouldn’t do at all. She wanted him out of his mind for her. Wanted him to forget everything for just a little while when they could no longer avoid thinking about murder and suspects and reality.

When her tongue slipped between her lips to dip into the slit at the head to gather the drops of liquid gathering there, his salty taste distracted her. That singular moment allowed him to break her grip and reach for her hair. He pulled the elastic free and wrapped it around his wrist, allowing her hair to cascade down her back and shoulders. He didn’t pull her to him or push her down to meet his hips. His fingers simply threaded through the long strands, enjoying the silky texture.

When Francesca slid his shaft into her mouth, she heard him suck in air at the warm heat she encased him in. With no sense of urgency this time around, she was able to note and record each moan, hiss, grunt, and groan as she bathed his cock in her saliva. Each slide down his burning skin caused her glands to swell and spurt to make the journey to the back of her throat smooth and deep.

She flattened her tongue along the underside of his shaft as she pulled him inside, then curled her tongue as she dragged it back to the tip. She watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, categorizing each reaction, strengthening or softening her responses based on his expressions. Over and over, she bathed his cock, her only intent to make him feel as much pleasure as possible so that she could banish the ugliness of Tilly’s death to the corners of his mind, even if just temporarily.

“Francesca.” Her name on his lips was both a plea and a warning.

Instead of moving her mouth off of his cock, she worked to move down farther on it. The head buried in her throat, she swallowed against him, the action triggering his orgasm. His fingers tightened at the back of her head slightly, wanting to clutch her even tighter but clearly concerned he would hurt her if he did. That level of distraction simply would not do. He needed to forget. He needed to let go. For once it was Tripoli who needed full-on forgetfulness and not her.

As the final pulses of his cock emptied into her throat, he gently urged her to back away so that she wasn’t choking on him. Francesca allowed it, but only so far. His cock remained mostly hard, despite his release, and she made sure to continue to tease him with fluttering strokes of her tongue along the sides and underneath, as well as swirling the tip of her tongue around the head and through the slit, making sure all remains of his release were gone.

“Apology accepted.” He sighed.

She laughed quietly, giving the tip a chaste kiss before crawling up alongside him, her hand to his chest, her head to his bicep as her pillow.

“Please give me a reason that I will understand as to why the hell we haven’t been doing this for the past two years,” he murmured, stroking her hair.

“I wasn’t ready for you then,” she admitted.

His other arm bent behind his head, and his fingertips traced a gentle line back and forth along the top of her shoulder. “You’re ready now?”

Nodding, she qualified her answer. “I’m not really sure what that means in the long term, Ethan. After today… I need to pull myself from the case. I wanted to see this through to the end, but it’s just too muddled now. Seeing Tilly today was the final straw for me. I’ve shoved so many things into drawers labeled ‘Never Open’ that I’ve actually run out of drawers to shove shit into. I need to empty some of those drawers and deal with the contents. It’s going to be ugly and messy and painful, and I have no idea which drawer to even start with. All I do know is that it will be impossible to be objective and clearheaded to investigate and do that at the same time.”

He dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “Pain is like debt. There are methods to reduce it, so you need to be ready to take a long, hard look at what you owe and make a plan. You’re finally at the time when you’re ready to do this, and yes, it can seem overwhelming, but as long as the plan is manageable and you don’t bankrupt yourself in the process, you’ll make progress and feel better. Freer.

“So, like money issues, the first thing to do is to look at everything you’ve got that’s hurting you and categorize it. You talk about putting problems in drawers, so it sounds like you’ve already done this. You’ve isolated each issue so that you can deal with it one item at a time. However, you also need to look at the scale of what you’re dealing with and determine what order to deal with things. Do you want to prioritize most to least important? Greatest to least impact? Quickest or most time-consuming? Easy to most difficult? Greatest to lowest pain? Oldest to most recent? You can also go in reverse of any of those patterns.”

“You mentioned that you have drawers that are basically overflowing. That if you don’t deal with them, they’re going to block being able to prioritize or even deal with everyday shit. It sounds like you already know what method you need to do, at least for what you’re ready for right now, so what are the drawers you must open and deal with?”

She was silent for a long time. Opening up to people was something she had never done before. It made you vulnerable, and once that door was open, you could never really shut it again. However, it was time now to open that door to him.

He prodded at her. “There’s no judgment here, baby. Just open ears. Let my white knight help by at least knowing what the problems are. I can’t promise I won’t try to solve some things for you. We’ve discussed this—that’s just part of who I am, and it isn’t going to change anytime soon. If I can help the people I love, I will. If I can make their lives easier, I want to do that. That means things like pushing you to take breaks, eat, get enough sleep. I promise to try and restrain myself as much as possible from bulldozing and taking over on the more personal issues, including your job, because I know you’re an independent woman who doesn’t need me to save her.”

She leaned up on her elbow. “You love me?”

He blushed slightly at her question. “Caught that, did you?” His expression was wistful. “Not really the way I wanted to tell you, but now it’s out there in the universe. Yes, Francesca, I love you.” The hand that had been brushing back and forth across her shoulder was now brushing her hair back behind her ears. “I think I have for a long time. I’ve debated nonstop these past two years if letting you go was the right decision. My intentions at the time were noble, but I constantly worried you wouldn’t come back to me. Still, based on what you said just a short while ago about being ready now, it sounds like I made the right choice after all.”

Fingers drawing random patterns on his chest, she was silent again.

He prompted her, “What drawers feel like they’re about to burst open?”

“The case.”

“Understandable. Now. Let’s assess why it’s about to burst open.”

“Obviously, I need to take care of withdrawing first thing in the morning.” She paused. “Then there’s Michael. It still doesn’t make sense to me why I was allowed to stay on the case. Even more so now that he’s been bumped to a prime suspect, what with being missing. My family history complicates things, and I haven’t talked to him other than the night at Mila’s house, so…” Her voice trailed off.

“You need to talk to him for sure now.”

Nodding, she lay back down in the shelter of his arm. “I guess because the whole situation is so out of character, given the boy I grew up with. Being Irish twins at eleven months apart, we were closer to each other than we were to the triplets, who are five years older than me. He condemned our family’s reputation as much as I did, which is why it was so surprising that he did what he did in the academy.”

“Is it possible he didn’t do it?”

“It’s always possible.”

“If that’s true, then why did you jump to the conclusion that he did? Did you ever ask him about it?”

And there it was. Guilt. She hadn’t asked. She, like everyone else, had jumped to believe that he’d done it. “No. It’s weird. I was invited in to speak to the new cadets as a rookie officer about what to expect that no one can prepare you for and to answer questions they had about the first year on the job, so I was there when the whole thing broke. The instructors made it incredibly public. At the time, I assumed it was in an attempt to make an impression on the other cadets as to what would happen if they shamed the Blue Line. But now… Now that you’re asking me, I wonder at the timing. It seems so convenient that it happened on that particular day. Not just because of the topic but because it was me speaking, and he was my brother. It was like… like it was to shame me as well.”

“Why do you think that?”

Francesca pushed to go back to that day in her mind. A day she tried so hard to forget. “I remember feelings more than anything. Anger at him for adding to the family’s reputation. Shame at being a McCabe. It felt like everyone was looking at me… like they were expecting me to suddenly step out and confess how I was also part of the family legacy. In reality, the cadets were focused on Michael. There were looks of shock as if they couldn’t believe it. There were even protests of his innocence.”

“You mentioned the cadets specifically were focused on Michael. Seems odd that you only mention their focus. Who else was there?”

“The police chief. The everyday instructors. The cops who were there to arrest him.”

“Where was their focus?”

She closed her eyes, focusing on what she remembered actually seeing. “The instructors appeared appalled. Like they couldn’t believe it.” Her face scrunched up. “The officers looked nervous? Like they didn’t want to be there. They were definitely uncomfortable.”

“Arresting one of their own probably is. How did the chief react?”

Pondering the memory some more, she realized something that hadn’t registered with her that day, at least consciously. “The chief was sweating and very red in the face. The room was ice-cold though. I remember because I never took my coat off that day, and it was my winter coat. The one I wore to crime scenes where I knew I was going to be outdoors for a while.

“And he was loud. Our chief was never a screamer. In fact, the quieter he got, the worse off people knew they were.” She opened her eyes to look at Tripoli. “Do you think it’s possible he was set up? If that’s true, based on how people were acting, especially the chief, then he must have been in on it.”

“Given what you’re telling me? It definitely sounds like a possibility. Who would want to do that though? Are officers judgmental about connections a person might have? Not very reassuring,” he murmured.

“Officers are people too. They hold the same prejudices that any other person might hold. You’d think they’d be less prone to do so, given who they’ve sworn to protect and what they’ve sworn to do, but people are irrational and inconsistent. There are the normal petty jealousies and grudges, just like any other job. By all accounts, Michael was top of his class and held all kinds of class records in shooting and test scores, and he was likely fast-tracking to a department of his choice the minute he graduated. I’m sure there were people who were resentful, but that’s hardly a reason to set someone up on a drug bust.”

“Did he use drugs?”

“No. Never. But then again, dealers rarely do. Can’t make money if you’re using the product, plus they know what it does to people.” She sighed. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Who would have it out for him then?”

Francesca bit her lip, a worried look in her eyes. “I can only think of four people. My father and brothers. They hated how clean we were. The pressure to be part of the McCabe machine had become verbally abusive by then. They were starting to make threats.”

“So it’s possible they set him up as a means to bring him over?”

A horrified expression passed over her face as another memory surfaced. “The look on Michael’s face. He was pleading with me not to believe it. Then he was angry. I always thought he was angry at me for not believing him or defending him.” She looked up at him, realization dawning. “He wasn’t mad at me. He was mad at them. Not just for accusing him but for how it would affect me in the process. Oh god, Ethan, what have I done? I was so ashamed. So wrapped up in how others would perceive me based on the accusation and his alleged actions, I never spoke to him.”

“You don’t know for sure that theory is accurate, but it sounds more like the Michael I know.”

“He must hate me.”

She sat up in bed, sheet and knees pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs and face resting on her thighs. Sobs shook her body. Almost immediately, arms reached around her and pulled her to where she was cradled in his lap, her head against his chest. His skin was warm, and the gentle beat of his heart beneath her ear was comforting as she cried. How long he held her, she wasn’t sure, but it felt like hours. When she was finally spent, his arms hugged her even tighter.

“Michael does not hate you. When he found out you were here, and he came to my office to let me know, his first concerns were for you and how you were going to react. When we spoke, he wanted me to fire him so that he wouldn’t be around to make things more difficult for you. I refused. He tried to quit. I refused that too. He loves you, Francesca. The day he was accused, no matter whether true or false, I’m betting he would have taken on your pain if he could have. It’s part of why I can’t truly believe that he had anything to do with the murders. It’s just not in his nature. He’s a protector, just like you, me, Cosmos, and Triumph. It’s part of why he’s so popular with the staff.”

“We need to find him. I don’t know him well enough to know where he’d go though.”

“I’ll ask Rye for you. She’d probably know. He was closest to her since they worked hand in hand at The Library for so long. Or maybe Damaris, our event coordinator. She might know. I don’t know how close they were personally, but they worked together daily for hours on end.”

Francesca glanced at the clock and sighed. “I have to go soon.”

“Doesn’t sound like you want to.”

“I don’t.” She brushed a hand up and down his arm, studying the anchor tattooed on his forearm. “Lately, that’s the drawer that’s been overflowing the most. I love helping people, and I’m good at what I do. Undercover work used to make me feel alive, combatting the dead feelings inside and the rule-following that felt so stifling, but I felt compelled to hold onto. The worries over my family. How others perceived me, called me an ice queen. Claimed I had no emotions, no ability to see anyone other than in black and white. Jaded. Cynical. Even undercover at The Library, I knew that the club members saw me that same way. I could never truly let go there, even though I knew it would help me blend in better.” She felt herself blush. “Well, with you I could. A little bit.

“Trouble is, I felt it was necessary to be that way to be a strong upholder of the law. I saw and felt only the taint I came into contact with repeatedly, always looking for the worst in the people I was around. It all started coming back with a vengeance on my last case. Once Tilly’s case is over, I think… I think I need to do something else for a while.”

“I know I’ll worry less about you if you aren’t undercover. What about being an analyst instead of a field agent?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. It doesn’t really bear thinking about until this is over though. Justice for Mila, Jessa, and Tilly has to come first. Then I can worry about what I want to do.”

Tripoli had forgotten to close the blackout curtains when they’d entered the bedroom, too intent on solidifying their connection, so now she watched as the sunlight began to change colors over the horizon and filter through the window.

“Francesca,” he whispered. One hand unwrapped from around her and traveled down, his fingers threading through hers and his thumb gently massaging the palm.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think… maybe… when the case is over, you might consider seeing where this goes with me? I have no right to ask you to stay here. I understand your job is important to you, and I know that means you’ll go back to Dallas. If you stay doing what you’re doing, it will mean you’ll still travel a lot, and I’ll worry, but I’ll support that choice. If you do end up transferring to another job, it might mean another city altogether, but I’m willing to give it a shot. I’d even be willing to follow you if you were comfortable with that step. No matter what, it won’t be easy. I’m overbearing, and I’ll want to fix everything for you, so you’ll probably want to kick my ass on the regular. But I love you, and we’re good together.”

She smiled, even though she knew he couldn’t see it from the angle of his head above her. “Well, I did say I liked you a mile, so I think that drawer is already wide open, don’t you?”

“You said you liked me a mile plus about eight inches,” he reminded her.

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

He leaned back against the headboard, pulling her with him so that she straddled his lap again. “Yes. Yes, you did.”