The Wolf, page 35
Taking his time, his hands followed the path of his stare, stroking down her throat, lingering over her collarbones. Her breasts lifted as she arched, but he teased her, letting his fingertips cross over her ribs and curve up to her sternum.
He made a circle around one of her nipples, and as she gasped, he pinched her gently. Then he full-on caressed her, relishing the softness, the tautness, the silk—until he couldn’t help himself. He lowered his mouth to her and tasted her, one tight tip and then the other.
When his hand went lower, she opened her legs.
She was so undone for him, so vulnerable and powerful at the same time. She was ancient and she was new, a mystery and an answer, a secret and a truth. The contradictions made him desperate and that made him aggressive—but he relished calling on his self-control. He enjoyed the torture of keeping himself in check.
Slipping his hand between her thighs, he found her slick heat, and as he stroked her, penetrated her, he watched her writhe in the candlelight. With an erotic moan, she brought her hands to her face, bit down on a couple of her fingers, and then she put her arms over her head, twisting, turning.
She slapped her legs together at where he was pleasuring her as she came, holding him in place, locking her knees tight.
The rhythmic releases compressed his fingers, and he imagined his cock was inside of her.
Like she read his mind, she popped open her eyes. “I want you in me. Now.”
* * *
Rio was feeling like liquid heat underneath Luke’s hot stare and very talented hands. But it wasn’t enough. Fortunately, as he retracted his touch and immediately started stripping, it appeared that the foreplay hadn’t been sufficient for him, either.
In the candlelight, he was magnificent fully naked, his very male body hard and thick with muscle, hard and thick… where it counted the most.
When he came back down to the bolts of fabric, she held out her arms and opened her legs wide. She was done with the anticipation part of things. She needed him—
“I can’t wait,” he growled.
“Good.”
As he settled into the cradle of her sex, his tremendous weight made her feel pinned—and she wanted that. She wanted to be under him and pressed into the softness below her. She wanted him buried deep—
Rio cried out as his blunt head probed at her. Then she got what she wanted. With a decisive thrust, he entered her and stretched her wide, the sex better than the best she had ever had—and they hadn’t even started moving yet.
That little slow-up was promptly addressed.
Luke retracted his hips. Thrust again. Retracted. Thrust. The rhythm got faster and faster, and rougher, too—until he was pounding into her. Against the onslaught of him, it was all she could do to just hold on to his massive shoulders, her teeth clapping together, her core both numb and hypersensitive—no, wait, that was her whole body.
Her nails dug into his skin, and at one point, she nearly bit him in the biceps.
The orgasm tore through her, the pleasure so great it registered as pain, too—and then he was locking against her body. Then locking again. And again.
It didn’t stop.
Maybe later she would marvel at the stamina. At the moment, she was too blissed out and off the planet to do anything but absorb everything he pumped into her…
… until he finally went still.
As he collapsed on top of her, breathing hard, she stroked his back with slow hands. Even though the full weight of him was on her, she felt as though she were floating.
“I better let you breathe,” he said in a hoarse voice.
When he went to roll aside, she pulled at him. “No. Not yet.”
“I’m too heavy.”
How could she explain that she needed him to hold her down? She felt as though her pinnings were gone, her tethers cut, her balloon off and floating over the landscape of her life. She had no family, it was true, but her job, her mission, her… obsession… had been a grounding sure as all those Thanksgivings and Christmases, birthdays and weddings, that other people enjoyed. Okay, fine, her sense of home involved crime and danger and dead bodies, and required a constant, nagging self-preservation instinct, but it was still what was familiar to her.
What got her out of bed in the morning.
What gave her purpose.
Now, she didn’t know who to trust—and not in a “the streets” kind of way. As in inside the Caldwell Police Department itself.
When Luke shifted off eventually, he took her with him, the pair of them entwined together with him still inside of her. Reaching behind himself, he pulled some of the bolts of fabric over them.
“Please don’t go after Mozart,” she said as she stroked his face.
His eyes held hers in the candlelight—and she felt as though he could see through her. “Why, because you are?”
Yes, she thought, that was what she had decided to do. It was the only way to guarantee her safety inside the department. Someone in there had compromised her to the man, and if she could apprehend him herself, and turn him in? Then she’d be okay.
It was the only way to survive.
And besides, Mozart didn’t know for sure whether she was dead or alive, so that gave her an advantage.
“Rio? Where’d you go in your head?”
Refocusing, she shrugged.
“There are other dealers in town.” She tried to keep the sadness out of her voice. And failed. “I really wish you were not… I wish I could help you get away, that’s all.”
“You need to get out of this life, Rio. It’s killing you from the inside, like a disease. You already lost your brother and your parents to drugs, don’t lose yourself.”
“It’s too late for that,” she said grimly.
Riding a sudden surge of emotion, she wanted to grab on to him, and start talking a bunch of crazy shit about not just him going underground but her as well—except she knew better than that. Fairy tales didn’t exist in the real world, and certainly not between cops and drug dealers.
They were silent for what felt like a lifetime. Then he spoke up.
“You need to leave here first,” he said. “So I can make sure no one is following you.”
“This can’t be the end,” she whispered to herself. Although technically this was their second goodbye, wasn’t it.
“It has to be. And you know it. We are not good for each other.”
The man was right, of course. “I’m so tired, Luke. I’ve been running for so long.”
“I feel the same way.” He brushed her lower lip with his thumb. “And I’m sorry if I was rough with you when I mounted you.”
“You’re perfect.” She stroked his chest, over his heart. “Besides… it has to last a lifetime, doesn’t it.”
For a moment, as he looked into her eyes, she felt like his resolve was wavering. But then he nodded curtly and pulled the bolts of mismatched fabric off of himself. The way he was careful to tuck her in made her tear up.
She hated being taken care of. Looked after.
Except for by him.
His pants had been tossed all willy-nilly aside, and as he bent over to pick them up off the concrete floor, she got a helluv’an ass shot. And then he was stepping into them and pulling them up his thick thighs—
Something fell out of the combats’ back pocket—a bundle of papers, the square they had been forced into unfolding now they were out of the confines they had been in.
Inside the folds… she saw something she recognized.
Rio reached out and pulled the wad toward her. As she flattened the pages, she gave the sketches of the facility she’d drawn a quick once-over.
Not like she needed to review them in depth.
“I know you’re a cop, Rio.” When she looked up sharply, he put his palm out. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anybody—even if they torture me, your secret is safe. But just do us both a solid and don’t try to lie to me now. You engineered staying longer than you had to under the pretext of helping Kane, you clearly took notes on the layout, and you’re all but begging me to get out of the business. If you were a drug dealer, you’d be talking about the deal—and you never have. Not even once.”
Looking down as he did up his fly, his hair fell forward and hid his expression. And then he pulled on his sweatshirt and a jacket that hadn’t registered. To get his boots on, he sat on the floor next to the makeshift bed, and she watched as if from a vast distance as his strong hands did the laces up.
Then he was still.
When he stared over at her, his expression was full of sorrow. “I know you used me. I’m never going to really be sure how much of what you did with me was real, and how much was about seducing me for your own purposes. And the truth is… I don’t want the truth. I’d rather just leave things right here and be able to pretend that you cared about me. Even if it was just a little.”
Rio threw out her hand, but he shifted away from her touch.
“I’m just going to choose to believe in my fantasy,” he said. “They’re never real, right? But they feel great, don’t they, especially when there’s nothing to compete with them when it comes to hope and validation. And hey, for me, I have one further than most people. Mine is not just a conjecture, conjured by the mind, but an actual memory. A tangible experience.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Luke, it wasn’t like that for me—”
“It was. But you always were too good for me, and I’ve known this all along. And not just because I’m a drug dealer and you’re—”
Sitting up to cut him off, she held a stripe of blue velvet to her chest. “I never lied to you.”
“Except for about who you really are.” He looked down at his hands. “But like I said, it’s okay. You have very, very good reasons for keeping that shit to yourself. I don’t blame you, and I’m just lucky I got to be with you, no matter the reason or the pretext.”
“Please let me explain.”
“There’s no way you can without more lies, and I’ve made peace with the ones that are already between us.” Luke turned to the stairs. “I’ll give you some privacy to let you get dressed. See you up there.”
He walked away, moving in that beautiful way he did, and as he disappeared up the rickety stairs, tears started to fall from her eyes.
But if she was honest with herself… how else had she thought things would end?
“Oh… God,” she said into the candlelight. “It’s really over.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
When Rio emerged into the kitchen, she opened the door slowly. Luke was over at the chipped counters and the ruined sink, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes on his boots.
He looked up and smiled a little. “You ready to trade?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Keys.” He held out a collection of silver slips on a metal ring. “To the vehicles? It’s better for you not to be in something that came from my place.”
He tacked on the extra explanation because clearly her brain wasn’t processing anything and he knew it.
“Oh, right.” She walked over to him, fishing around in her pockets. “Here.”
Their hands barely touched as they exchanged what they had, and she looked out over his shoulder at the old car in the dull moonlight.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she said, unsure what part she was referring to.
“I’m going to ask you to do something for me.”
“Anything.” Within reason.
“Close your eyes, and forgive me.”
“For what—”
All of a sudden, there was a piercing headache in the front of her brain, and her thoughts got muddled. At first, she had no idea what was happening—but then she remembered the way she had felt as the guard had somehow commanded her body in that workroom.
I only took as much as I absolutely had to, she heard Luke say in her mind.
A wonky feeling of disassociation took its time receding, and then she rubbed the eye that stung. “I’ve got a headache.”
“Goodbye, Rio.”
She wanted to hug him, but she could feel her emotions already starting to choke her. And then there were the fuzzy thoughts in her head, nothing organizing into anything that made sense.
“Goodbye, Luke,” she mumbled.
“Ladies first.”
With her heart in her throat, she turned away. Opened the squeaky door. Stepped out into the not-really-much-colder night because the house was unheated.
She looked back as she closed things up. Luke was still leaning against the counter, staring at his boots, a lone figure in an abandoned, ruined kitchen, with the weight of the world on his very strong shoulders.
Her fingertips lingered on the dusty glass. And then she turned away to the car.
As she got inside the Monte Carlo, she was aware of the mental spaciness persisting, but at least the pain in her head was easing, and she knew what to do with the car key, and where the pedals were, and how to put the engine in gear.
She remained absolutely clear, however, on the fact that her heart was breaking.
Turning the POS around, she headed off down the lane, moving the car around potholes in the dirt and a fallen trunk.
Images from being with Luke flashed in front of her eyes: Coming awake in the clinic and finding him beside her. Kissing him. That shower in the private quarters. She remembered the other two men, his friends, and the patient as well. Plus her executing that… well, Executioner.
There was also her squeezing into the dumbwaiter. And hiding under the locked-up blocks of drugs in that room.
And yet… something was wrong. She couldn’t seem to recall where she had been. It was like a dreamscape, where nothing exactly fit together, even though all the pieces were intact. Also, the harder she concentrated, the more indistinct everything became, and the more her head hurt.
Where was she going, she wondered—
The animal ran out in front of the car so fast that she couldn’t swerve to avoid it, and the thing was so big that when she hit the poor thing, the whole car bucked and got thrown to one side.
“Dammit!” She punched the brakes and squeezed the steering wheel hard.
Shoving the gearshift into park, she opened the door and leaned out, but she couldn’t see anything. With a shaking hand, she released the seat belt and put one foot on the ground, and as she stood up, she decided that everything that could go wrong was going to—
It was a dog.
A big dog. Maybe a wolf… at least going by the size of the rear paw that was extending out from the front wheel.
No growling. No moving. No wheezing.
She’d obviously killed it.
Sagging in her own skin, she wanted to break down. It felt like every-thing was working against her, and though she knew her own life was in danger, and she’d just lost the man she loved—the idea she’d hurt an innocent animal was utterly unbearable.
And then there was the reality that she had to move it out from under the car if she was going to continue driving.
“You got to do this,” she muttered.
And wasn’t that the theme song of her largely dark and depressing reality at large.
Pulling herself together, she palmed up her gun, and stepped around the door—
Rio froze.
Then she slowly brought her free hand to her mouth and just barely caught the scream from breaking out of her throat.
There was a human foot on the ground in front of the wheel. Not a paw.
So she was either losing her mind… or her eyesight.
Stumbling around to the front of the car, she saw something that her eyes simply refused to process. There was… some kind of change happening to the dog… the wolf… it was changing.
The wolf was changing.
Right before her.
Its white-and-gray fur seemed to be retracting back into the skin underneath, and a series of cracking noises, like bones or joints were breaking, sounded out as limbs reshaped and pushed the feet and the hands forward. And then there was the face. The muzzle sucked back to become a chin, mouth and nose, while the head expanded, a rounded skull taking the place of the canine square top.
Rio took a step back. And another.
She knew she should care that she was spotlit in the headlights, but her brain was taken up by—
She hit something solid.
And as she gasped, she smelled that cologne Luke always wore.
Jumping off of him, she wheeled around—and played a horrific game of connect the dots as her eyes fluttered: Blink. She saw the dog that burst through the door into that apartment and attacked the man who was going to kill her. Blink. Luke was there in ill-fitting clothes, freeing her from the stakes in the floor. Blink. She remembered Apex being brought to his knees in the weak sunlight of that hallway. Blink. She was back dragging Luke to the back door’s stairwell, pulling him out of the sunshine as his skin burned. Blink. Nocturnal. Blink. “Mates,” not “married.” Blink. The fuzzy thoughts she’d suddenly had after Luke had stared deeply into her eyes before she’d left the farmhouse. Blink…
I only took as much as I absolutely had to.
Rio pointed the gun at Luke, horror and disbelief overcoming her.
“What the hell are you,” she demanded. “What the hell are you!”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
One great thing about unmarked cars, particularly the older ones, was that you could kill all the lights. No head- or tail- or running. Nothin’.
In the modern era, where everybody and his uncle was playing nanny to the child you hadn’t been for years, it was nice to have the option to just say, Hey, I don’t need to attract any goddamn attention right now so I’m going dark. Thanks.
As José sat behind the wheel and stared across at the parking lot behind the station house, he was watching Stan’s office up on the third floor. He knew he had the right set of windows because homicide’s lineup was always lit, and the ten glowing glass panes in a row grounded him. Plus, hey, the building wasn’t that big anyway.
Stan was moving around in his digs. And he went into the bathroom—José knew this because the little slot of a window that didn’t match any of the others in the facade went bright.
