Two #4
I stood up in front of him, head tipped back because, as close as I was standing to him, I had no choice. It was amazing how big he was and how small and fragile I felt every time we stood together. The man was a mountain of hard muscle, and I was not.
“Love?”
“I need you to talk to me.”
“I promise, right after you get out of the shower.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but his hands encircled my hips, and he tugged me close. He bent his forehead to mine and closed his eyes.
“Sam?”
“I’m so lucky you love me, that the kids love me, that the stupid cat loves me. My life is perfect, and I won’t do anything to jeopardize that.”
“I know.”
“I swear to God and you, I didn’t love Kevin Dwyer. Not for a second. That’s why it ended. I’ve only ever loved you.”
We were standing together, quietly breathing, and I felt the calm wash over me.
“Lemme look at whatever is in the envelope that White dropped off, and then I can explain everything, okay?”
I nodded, and he kissed my nose before I eased out of his grip and darted naked through the living room to the stairs.
“Hey!”
I turned at the landing. “What?”
“You look good, running around bare-assed.”
“That’s charming. Thank you,” I teased him before I ran up to the second floor.
I could hear him laughing.
I came down half an hour later in jeans and a lightweight black sweater.
Sam had changed, and his hair was wet, so he’d obviously used either the kids’ bathroom or our guest one while I was using ours.
He was back in the same jeans, but the T-shirt was gone, thankfully, replaced by a long-sleeved one.
As always, I admired the lines of the man, and he was not so deep in thought that he didn’t look up and smile at me when I neared him.
“You’ll be happy to know, I have on clean underwear.”
I chuckled. “Thank you for letting me know.”
“Here, come sit.”
I planted myself on the coffee table in front of him, and he passed me a file folder that I didn’t open.
“First Rico.”
He shook his head. “That’s nothing. This is the story.”
“Sam.” I was insistent.
He rolled his eyes and leaned back on the couch—knees spread, fingers laced behind his head—and looked at me.
“You promised.”
“Fine. What do you want to know?”
“Just start at the beginning.”
He took a breath. “Okay, so we got word on an escaped fugitive, and we went to apprehend him.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It was simple.”
“Obviously not.”
He leaned forward, his eyes on mine. “All we had to do was go in and bring the guy out.”
“But?”
“But …” He paused, taking my hand in his. “Our intel turned out to be crap, and there were more guys in the house than we’d expected.”
“And?” It was like pulling teeth.
“And they grabbed Rico and had me at a disadvantage.”
I could barely breathe. “What happened?”
His smile was wide; the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes got so deep. “What would you like to know, J? Because, obviously, I’m fine.”
“How are you fine?”
“Just am.”
“No, I mean, what did you have to do to remain fine?”
“I killed the men who were going to kill Rico and me. It’s just how it went down.”
I lunged at him and heard the deep exhale before I kissed him, opened for him, and whimpered in the back of my throat.
His tongue slipped over mine, coaxing, stroking, the tangling slow and sensual.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he took me into his lap, into his arms, and I was pressed to his muscular chest and held tight.
Sam was so dominant that whenever I submitted, he had to show me that he was there, powerful and strong, ready to take care of me in any way I needed. He was hardwired that way.
When we parted, he eased only far enough away so that he could look deeply into my eyes.
“I will always come home to you—do you understand?”
I nodded in response.
“You’re mine, my kids are mine, and nothing and no one will keep me from any of you. Ever.”
“Make sure.”
“I will.”
I shivered hard. “I can’t lose you.”
“No,” he whispered.
I untangled myself, moved back onto the coffee table, and picked the folder up again so I wouldn’t sit on it. “So, both you and Rico got out of that situation okay?”
“Yes.” He smiled at me, putting his hand on my knee.
“You should tell me this stuff.”
“I’ll try, but it’s hard. When I get done with a day like that, all I want to do is come home, take a shower, and crawl into bed with you.”
“Naked.” I smiled at him.
“Oh, hell yeah, naked’s the most important part.”
“Okay.” I took a breath. “I freaked because you hadn’t told me.”
“You freaked because you were scared. You can’t be scared if you know how the story ends. You can’t.”
I’d thought he knew me. “You could have died.”
“But I didn’t.”
“But you could have,” I insisted. “Sam, you could have.”
He shook his head. “This is why I don’t tell you when I almost get shot.”
“If I have to find out any more secrets today … oh, no, wait. There’s one more, isn’t there?”
He groaned.
I pointed at the folder. “Go ahead.”
“I’d rather tell you about the Petersons,” he admitted and hooked a hand around the back of my neck so he could haul me close to kiss me again.
But I really needed to talk to him, so I squirmed free, shoving him back.
“What’re you doing?”
“This is serious.”
His eyes met mine, and I held his gaze.
After a minute, he sighed deeply and fell back against the couch.
“Sam?”
“I know. I know this is serious.”
“And?”
“And so I promise to just talk to you and not paw you like some hormonal teenager.” He smiled at me. “I won’t grab you and kiss you stupid.”
“Sam—”
“No, I know. Normally, I like to mix me talking to you about work with blow jobs and my hand down the front of your jeans or while kissing you until my balls ache. I promise we’ll skip that today.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t sound so happy about it.”
“No, it’s not that. I just—this is important, right?”
“It is,” he agreed.
“Good. Now, about the folder.”
“All right,” he said, leaning forward. “Do you remember last year, a couple of my guys went to Vegas to pick up a witness?”
“Yeah. There was trouble with that though, wasn’t there?”
“That’s correct. They were compromised at the first safe house before they could get on a plane.”
“That’s right.” I put my hand on his knee as I thought for a second, liking the closeness, as always. “What was that witness’s name … um, something Turner?”
“Very good.” He grinned at me. “Yeah, Andrew Turner.”
“What about him?”
“This is him,” he said and opened the folder so I could see all the glossy eight-by-ten black-and-white photos of a handsome middle-aged man with dark hair and eyes. “This is Turner.”
I committed the face to memory.
“So, they had the marshals there looking, plus Vegas PD, but he was in the wind.”
“I remember. You were upset because they blamed your guys.”
“But that never made any sense because Kowalski and Ryan lost him, yes, but they were already at the safe house, and there’s no way that just happens.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, people just don’t find safe houses; it’s not possible. Someone had to have tipped off the guys who took the witness, and the only people who knew the location were the Vegas marshals and my guys.”
“So, it was for sure an inside job.”
“Absolutely.”
“And who thought this—that it was an inside job? Just you and your team?”
“Oh, no, everybody thought so at the time. My boss, my boss’s boss … they could never prove it, but there’s no other explanation. Either all the marshals in Vegas were dirty or just one, but somebody sold us out.”
“But nobody knows who.”
“Right. Without the witness testifying about how he was removed, we have no case against anyone.”
“But something new has happened.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “When Turner first went missing, I sent his picture out to every informant I had across the country. People I put into the system, old contacts from when I was with Chicago PD, and just friends, ya know?”
“Sure.”
“Well, so, two days ago, I got a hit.”
“Somebody saw Mr. Turner?”
“Yeah, a guy I know in Phoenix recognized Turner from the picture I had sent out and shot me a text on my phone that’s not registered to Marshal Kage or Sam Kage.”
“Why is that important?”
“Because no one in the department monitors that phone.”
“You have three phones?”
“Yes, J.” He smiled at me.
“Man, how easy would it be for you to have an affair, huh?”
He squinted at me. “Really? That’s where your brain goes?”
“Sorry.” I smiled sheepishly. “But so, when I send texts to you … with pictures … they could look at that?”
“In theory, yes. But if anyone gets shocked over our private texts … fuck ’em.”
“Oh God,” I groaned.
“Are you blushing?”
“Sam!”
“You are,” he said, chuckling. “That’s adorable.”
“Don’t—get away from me!” I yelled, swatting his hands away. “Answer the question!”
He cleared his throat. “Okay, so I got a text message and a picture of Turner that my contact took.”
“Oh shit.”
“Oh shit is right.”
“And so what does that mean?”
“That means,” he said, leaning forward, hands on my knees, “that I have to go to Phoenix and find my missing witness.”
“Okay.”
“Because if the witness that was taken from my team is actually alive and well and living there,” he went on, “I need to find him and bring him in so we can have a talk and clear things up.”
“Like figuring out who took him and why.”
“Yeah, the why is important,” Sam assured me. “I mean, I’ve checked the Turner case a million times to try and figure out why anyone would go to all that trouble to tamper with the marshals office for such a small-time bust.”
“So, you’re thinking … what?”
“I’m thinking that Andrew Turner knows something about somebody that has shit to do with the case he was actually involved in. I think there’s another story.”
“So, he’s blackmailing somebody scary?” I asked.