Читать книгу Undone by Moonlight - Wendy Etherington - Страница 12

CALLA SLAMMED THE skillet in the sink and began to scrub, though she knew it was ridiculous to dream that Devin’s mess could be so easily cleaned up. “This is outrageous. Meyer’s taking the word of some two-bit, scummy purse snatcher over one of his own detectives?”

“Probably not,” Devin said, still pacing, even though he had to be dizzy by now. “But the incident has to be investigated. You gotta admit the whole thing is strange. The suspect—who Meyer referred to as a witness, by the way—says I started chasing him for no reason, then whaled on him once I caught him in the alley. And nobody found a purse on him. He had his own wallet in his back pocket, and that was it.”

“Obviously whoever hit both of you took it.”

“That much has occurred to me in the last few minutes. But unless this mysterious attacker shows up and confesses, the lieutenant has an investigation to run. I’m a suspect and out of the department until he does.”

“Heaven forbid he should stand by you.”

“He has to stay impartial. Dirty cops are serious business. I’m sure Internal Affairs will be knocking on my door very soon.”

Calla plopped the rest of the plates in the dishwasher and slammed the door. “Maybe the thief had a partner, and he didn’t want to split the booty, so he clobbered his buddy and took off.”

“The booty?”

She let out a huff as she marched toward him, wondering if it was possible his head injury had made him even more difficult than normal. “Loot, plunder, goods, ill-gotten gains. Pick your term. I’ve got a thesaurus on the bookshelf that’ll help you find dozens more if you like.”

“Seems like a lot of effort for one purse.”

Calla flopped on the sofa. “You’re sure it wasn’t there when you woke up?”

“I don’t think so, but I was pretty groggy.”

“And yet you managed to call for help.”

“An obvious flaw in the logic of this guy’s story. I’m the one who called the ambulance. Why would I do that if I’d gone to all the trouble to kick the crap out of him?”

“None of this makes sense. We need to find you a lawyer.” She picked up her phone from the coffee table in front of her. “I’ll call Victoria. Her dad’s bound to know somebody.”

“We?” Devin stopped pacing and shook his head, which he obviously regretted, because he winced, pressing his fingertips to his temples. “I appreciate you helping me out last night, but I’ll handle things from here.”

“Unlike the NYPD, I am standing by you. You need help.”

“I can take care of myself.” He must have realized she’d debunked that statement pretty soundly over the past twelve hours, since he added, “Usually. I don’t need your gang.”

She scowled. “We’re not a gang.”

“So you keep saying. Look, I should go.”

As he headed toward the hallway, she stepped in front of him. “Don’t. Let me help you. It’s the least my friends and I can do after all the times you’ve rescued us.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t need rescuing.”

The man was pricklier than a desert cactus. “Stay.”

“No.”

“I’d threaten to hold your pain meds hostage, but you’d probably dip into the whiskey bottle again.”

“I think I’ll lay off the whiskey for a while.”

“Wise idea. You can’t go home, somebody tried to kill you.”

“A bump on the head isn’t a near-death experience.”

“But whoever hit you and the guy you chased is out there. What if he comes looking for you?”

Devin laid his hand on his side, where he usually carried his pistol. By the expression on his face, she could tell he wasn’t happy by its absence.

“Us regular folks can’t carry a gun in the city,” she reminded him.

“They took my badge, too.”

There was a world of frustration in those five simple words. Though he wasn’t big on sharing, she knew he defined himself by his job. The possibility of losing it was no doubt terrifying.

Counting on rejection, but past caring, she grasped his hand. “I’m sorry. I’ll help you get it back.”

He looked, not at her, but their joined hands. “I appreciate the offer, but I have to handle this alone.”

“Why?”

His gaze moved to hers. “It’s my problem.”

“There’s no weakness in accepting help from a friend,” she said gently, sensing he was on the verge of bolting.

“And we’re friends.”

“Aren’t we?”

His bright green eyes stood out starkly from his tanned skin. People of Irish and Italian decent really should mate more often if this was the result. Her friends thought he was gorgeous, but dark and rough. She saw him as wounded and lonely. He spoke to her on an elemental level, and deeper feelings were undeniably lurking.

Feelings he seemed determined to ignore or deny.

“I thought so,” she said finally to his question about friendship.

“Are we more than friends?”

Her heart gave a swift kick to her ribs. “Pardon me?”

“We didn’t …” He trailed off and clearly struggled to continue. She wondered if he was even aware he was stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. “I mean, I didn’t … do anything with you last night, did I?”

There’d been some clumsy passes, of course, but they, unfortunately, meant nothing. Was that what he was talking about? In his case, thing could mean something as monumental as having a conversation for more than two minutes. “Do what kind of thing?”

“I woke up naked.”

Her face turned pink. “I thought you’d be more comfortable out of your clothes.” He did more for a black T-shirt and jeans than anybody she knew, but the view beneath the cotton was exponentially better. Not that she’d looked. For long. She cleared her throat. “I was expecting some kind of undergarment, actually. Do you always …?”

“No. I need to do laundry.”

“Ah. And the scar on your hip?”

“I got stabbed.”

He gave the explanation with the same casual tone that most people used for “I think I’ll have fries with my burger,” intriguing and mystifying her more than ever.

And he was still caressing her hand. She inched toward him. Yes, he was injured, confused, weak and needy—even if he didn’t want to admit he was. It would be wrong, very wrong, to take advantage of him in his current state.

And yet her libido was also needy and it was whispering seductively about the possibility of this being her one and only opportunity with him. She’d been crushing on him for six months. Other than the head wound plus alcohol fiasco of the night before, he seemed determined not to make the first move. Any move, actually.

Yet, somewhere, somewhere way deep down, she sensed he needed her with the same intensity.

Texans were nothing if not determined and resilient. She certainly knew how to take control. And she had a much better weapon than a firearm.

Before her conscience could talk sense into her, or he could think quickly enough to shove her away, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.

Desperate as the move was, it was worth the reward.

He crushed her against him, bracing his hand at the back of her head to hold her in place as he drove his tongue past her lips. Her senses ignited, and he fanned the flames, consuming her like a man starved for air.

Finally was all she could think. Finally he’d let go of the tight rein he held on his control.

She embraced his heat, his aggression and need. Everything about him enticed her to learn more, to be drawn further into the inferno. Why was he so determined to be alone? What had made him so cynical and stony? Why did she want so badly to find out if anything soft lingered beneath?

As the thought occurred, his touch turned gentle. His hand, braced at the small of her back, slid around her waist, glided down her hip. If he tugged the ties of her robe, she’d be standing before him in nothing but panties and a camisole, but he seemed more interested in her mouth.

Dreams she’d had alone in her bed, in the dead of night rushed back. How often had she woken in a sweat, so sure he’d been with her between the sheets, positive she smelled his cologne on her skin, only to find herself alone and aching instead?

Fantasies never lived up to their impossible promises, yet she continued to hope and wonder. Now she finally had him.

I dream of you day and night.

Had he felt the same? Had he longed for her, too? Would this disastrous frame-up bring them together in a way their past connections hadn’t been able to?

He pushed her away roughly and suddenly, and she glimpsed the fire in his eyes seconds before he spun with a muttered “sorry” before he stalked down the hall, slamming the door behind him.

Breathing hard, Calla stood rigid where he’d left her. Most of her questions were still frustratingly unanswered. She knew he wanted her, but he refused to give into that need. She intended to find out why.

Because friendship was far from the only thing she wanted.

“OKAY, GIRLS,” CALLA said to her best buds via her laptop’s video link. “I’ve got a serious problem here.”

“Let me guess,” Victoria began, then sipped from a coffee mug while the window at her back exhibited a collection of Manhattan high-rises. “Antonio’s in a bad mood.”

Shelby, the Swiss Alps at her back, frowned, her normally golden-hazel eyes dark with concern. “Is he okay, Calla? Why didn’t he come to the wedding?”

“It’s a big, damn mess.”

Calla told her friends the abbreviated version of assault, frame-up and suspension. “We’ve got to help him.”

“Certainly we will,” Shelby said immediately.

“Does he want us to help him?” Victoria asked. “Antonio doesn’t seem like the needy type.”

“He needs us,” Calla insisted, though she knew Victoria was right. “He’s concussed and suspended.”

“And angry, I’ll bet,” Victoria added.

Calla bit her lip. “Actually, he raced out of here, slamming the door behind him, about five minutes ago.” She paused, taking care not to look her friends’ directly in the eye. “Course that might have been because I kissed him.”

“Well, that would—” Shelby leaned forward. “You kissed him?”

“It’s about damn time” was Victoria’s dry comment.

“How did it happen?” Shelby asked.

“He was feeling guilty because he couldn’t remember if we’d slept together or not, and he was holding my hand, which, in retrospect, I don’t think he realized he was doing, and all these feelings welled up inside me—”

Victoria held up her hand. “Hold it. He couldn’t remember if you’d had sex?”

“He was pretty out of it last night,” Calla said.

“Apparently,” Victoria remarked.

“So, anyway,” Calla went on, “I laid one on him, and he seemed really into it, then he suddenly darted out the door.”

Victoria shook her head. “I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again—that guy has issues.”

“You’re not being helpful, V,” Shelby said before she directed her gaze to Calla. “He’s not thinking straight. That’s why he pushed you away. If you want to help him, you’ll have to be persistent. Think of him as an exclusive interview you absolutely have to get.”

Victoria gestured with her mug. “Gotta agree with you there.”

Calla made an effort not to pout, but it was tough. “He’s been doing a pretty good job of avoiding me the last six months.”

“But he does want you,” Shelby said, clearly frustrated. “Anybody can see it. Your timing was just wrong. The first move has got to be perfect.”

“He made plenty of moves last night,” Calla said. “But since he was toasted, I don’t think those count.”

“Sure they do,” Shelby insisted. “His inhibitions were down, so he went with his unvarnished instincts. Be persistent. And when I get home, we’ll triple-team him.” She paused. “No way will this trumped-up assault charge last.”

Calla knew she’d made the right move by calling her friends, even if she had interrupted Shelby’s honeymoon. “I could use the backup. In the meantime, he’s going to need a good attorney. V, can you call your dad for a recommendation?”

Victoria nodded. “I’ll ask, and I’m sure he knows somebody, but he’ll be expensive.”

Calla winced. “I don’t think Devin will have the budget for a highflier.”

“What about that guy you took to V’s Christmas party last year?” Shelby asked.

Victoria scowled. “The one who kept drooling on her rhinestone shoes?”

“That’s him,” Shelby said, undeterred. “Didn’t he leave the public defender’s office to open his own practice?”

“Howard?” Calla asked. “I don’t know. He asked me to marry him on our second date. It took a long time to let him down gently.”

“Speaking of proposals …” Shelby grinned. “How are things with you and Jared, Victoria?”

“Fine,” Victoria said. “No proposals. We agreed.”

Over Labor Day weekend, Victoria had fallen in love with a Montana adventurer. Though wild about her new man, she was also wildly independent and seemed to be struggling with the concept of coupledom.

Victoria shrugged, though her eyes were bright with lust. “In between him dragging me off to Turks and Caicos, we’re—”

“He drags you off to Turks and Caicos?” Shelby interrupted in disbelief.

“Not exactly.” Victoria’s face actually turned pink. “But we go. In between we’re trying to merge our apartments in the city. No easy task, as it turns out. He wants to buy the place next door, so we can knock out a wall, and he can build a man-cave where he can watch football and drink beer. But I remind him that I should have a chick-den where I can do hair and invite over gay guys to give me grooming tips.”

“Who wins?” Calla asked.

“Nobody,” Victoria said. “We argue, have sex then forget what we were arguing about.”

“Sounds like a good thing,” Calla muttered. “Shelby, does Trevor have a man-cave?”

“He has an office. With a minifridge stocked full of sparking water and champagne. I don’t think cavemen ever envisioned the English aristocracy. His decorator’s excellent, though. Course she makes in a month what I do in a year, but our place is beautiful, and she had a commercial-grade Sub-Zero fridge installed in the kitchen, so she’s good in my book.”

“Is her brother, sister, mother, father, cousin or next-door neighbor a lawyer?” Calla asked, wondering how they’d wandered into this tangent.

“Sorry.” Shelby cleared her throat. “Back to Detective Antonio … does this suspension have anything to do with his trouble years ago?”

“I don’t know,” Calla admitted.

“You’re going to have to ask him about it,” Victoria reminded her.

Calla waved her hand. “Yeah, yeah. I will.” And wouldn’t that be fun? But if she was going to help, she had to have all the facts, no matter how painful.

“It seems to me we need to find out how strong the case is against him,” Shelby said, echoing Calla’s concern.

“And who’s this witness accusing him of assault?” Victoria asked. “Antonio might be moody, but he wouldn’t beat up some random stranger. Why would he need to? He probably intimidates most criminals with a single cold stare.”

“The department isn’t saying diddly,” Calla said, knowing they had to find a way around that. Legal advice was imperative. Course he hadn’t actually been charged with anything … yet. If she hadn’t seen the lost and furious expression on Devin’s face, she’d wonder if she was overreacting. “Devin seems to think his boss believes in him, but he has to follow procedure. IAB’s going to get involved.” She paused to gather her emotions before she added, “They took his badge. I mean physically forced him to hand it over. Talk about humiliating.”

Shelby’s eyes darkened. “Oh, Calla.”

Calla swallowed the lump in her throat. “It’s not just what he does, it’s who he is.”

“He’s still a cop,” Victoria pointed out, pragmatic as always. “He has friends, right? You know, really stoic and tolerant ones. We obviously need somebody on the inside.”

The contrast of Victoria’s sarcasm brought back Calla’s optimism. They had much more on their side than entrapment and lies. “He has friends.” Though that was also wrapped up in hope, since she’d never met any of them. “I’ll get him working on that angle right away. As soon as I find him,” she muttered.

Victoria sighed in disgust. “Don’t find him. He’ll come to you.”

Calla ground her teeth. “Sure he will.”

“Bet,” Victoria said, her eyes gleaming. “I got twenty on the Calla-dazzled detective.”

“Calla-dazzled?” Shelby asked. “Is that a word?”

“It is now,” Victoria asserted.

“Darling, we have dinner reservations,” Calla heard Trevor, Shelby’s new husband, say in his elegant English accent.

“I’m coming,” Shelby called. “Say hi to Calla and Victoria.”

Trevor’s handsome face appeared in the video frame. “Good evening, ladies.”

Calla had to suppress a sigh at his wavy black hair and vivid dark blue eyes. She really was desperate if she was lusting after her best friend’s husband.

When he moved out of view, Calla got a glimpse of him walking away, dressed in a tailored charcoal suit. With this whole assault and suspension mess, she’d also missed out on seeing Devin in a suit at the wedding.

Infuriated again, Calla vowed to personally see that lying, purse-snatching jerk paid for that crime alone.

“How’s the snow?” Calla whispered to Shelby as Trevor left the room.

“How’s the sex?” Victoria asked at the same time.

“Great and great,” Shelby returned. “And I need to get back to both. Trevor’s patient as a saint, of course, but an emergency video chat with my girlfriends is enough to drive any groom to frustration.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” Calla said. “Both of you.”

“Tell Devin I’ll make him some of my special cookies when I get back,” Shelby said. “My next catering gig isn’t for a while.”

“And if he decides to blow off the NYPD and these bogus charges,” Victoria added, “I’m sure Jared would be glad to take him off to Borneo or somewhere equally unextraditable.”

Calla’s throat tightened. “You guys are the best. Coffee’s on me next week.”

Victoria’s lips winged up. “Wedding pictures and a plan to clear a friend on an assault charge. Only the three of us could have a coffee date like that.”

After they signed off, Calla slumped on the sofa. Her and her buddies’ latest adventures had included sending a fraudulent investor to prison and solving the theft of a cursed multimillion-dollar diamond-and-sapphire necklace.

How hard could it be to convince the NYPD of the innocence of their determined, clever, though admittedly irascible, friend? Possibly without said friend’s help?

She closed her laptop and leaned her head back. Who was she kidding? For months she’d lived in a fantasy world concerning Devin. The text, the craziness of last night and the impulsive kiss were all she had as any kind of evidence that he might want her, too.

And all of those events could be attributed to some sort of altered state.

He always comes to the rescue when you call him.

Super. If only she were the one suspended and accused of assault.

Maybe he was right. Maybe she should back out and let him deal with his problems on his own.

He’d never desert you.

Frustrated with the whole mess, and especially her interfering conscience, she rose. She needed a strong cup of tea and a big piece of leftover wedding cake.

On the way to the kitchen, she glanced at the plastic pharmacy bottle sitting on the counter. His pain meds.

Victoria was right. He’d be back.

Unless he found a liquor store open on Sundays.