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Undercovers 3: Illicit Behavior
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UNDERCOVERS 3:
ILLICIT BEHAVIOR
by Ruth D. Kerce
copyright © 2005, all rights reserved
Published by ChangelingPress.com
Artwork by Sahara Kelly
REVIEWS (3)
VIDEO
AWARDS (0)
Prologue
Donna Browning quietly closed the car door and walked toward the curb. “Stay calm. Stay calm,” she whispered to herself, hoping if she heard the words out loud her worries would lessen. But her body still trembled, and her knees threatened to give way. Her heart beat an irregular rhythm, and she patted her chest. “I’m okay.”
With a wary eye, she scanned the dark street. Deserted, except for a cloud of bugs buzzing around a street lamp. Good. Her luck was holding, temporarily. She rushed up to the house.
Once on the porch, her semblance of outward calm disintegrated, and she began to sniffle. With her heart now slamming against her ribs, she pounded on the front door. “Callie, Callie!” She glanced over her shoulder, continually feeling watched. After this stop, she needed to get out of town fast. Before they found her. Before they killed her.
The porch light flipped on and the door swung open. Her sister stood in the entry in a barely-there cover-up, looking tousled as if just involved in some night-long sex-a-thon. Lucky Callie. She’d change places with her sister in a second. Her husband, though he played the aggravating brother-in-law oftentimes, gave sexy new meaning. And he loved with his whole heart.
“Donna?” Callie’s eyes widened. “What’s wrong?” She glanced toward the street at the car. “It’s the middle of the night. Did you get a flat or something?”
“No. I’m leaving town, Callie.” She almost dissolved into tears, but held herself together. “I couldn’t go without seeing you first and saying goodbye.” She reached out and hugged her sister.
“Wait.” Callie pulled back. “What nonsense are you saying? You can’t leave. You’re under investigation for involvement in drug trafficking. The charge is ridiculous. But if you disappear, you’ll look guilty, and they’ll throw you in jail until you’re old and gray.”
“Only if they catch me. I’m a target now, Callie,” she answered, barely taking a breath. She looked over her shoulder again. “If I don’t run, I’m dead. We both know that. Keith, the fucking bastard, told his connection --”
“Shh… Calm down, before you hyperventilate. Let’s talk to Alan.” Callie tugged on her arm. “Come inside.”
She stepped back, out of her sister’s reach, and moved slowly down the walkway. In her current predicament, she couldn’t afford to trust Callie’s husband. “I can’t. Alan’s a cop. If he knows I plan to skip town, he’ll have to arrest me. I need to go. Now. I love you, Callie. Please don’t worry about me.” By telling her sister, she relieved at least some of her guilt about fleeing. And in case she never saw Callie again, she’d know in her heart she’d said goodbye. “I’ll call you when I can, so you know I’m okay.”
A big black car screeched to a halt in front of the house. Donna heard two shots before she even had a chance to fully turn around. She’d only seen the car out of the corner of her eye. Pain seared through her. Her sister screamed.
Then she felt herself falling…
“No!” Donna bolted upright in the bed, sweating profusely. A dream -- the dream. And unfortunately her reality.
She glanced at her surroundings. Parkway General. The hospital. Yes, that’s where she was. Her back ached, and she groaned. She looked at the clock. Almost time.
Chapter One
A strange eeriness loomed around them, and a feeling of impending death hung in the air. Darkness settled as thunder rumbled in the distance. The approaching storm provided a perfect cover for the planned execution.
Moonless and starless, the night now cloaked their presence.
He and the orderly stood back from the highway in a field, away from any artificial lights or curious eyes. They stared up at the multi-level hospital building across the road -- sixth floor, corner unit.
“Are you sure she’s still in there?” Damn woman. He needed to take care of her, once and for all, make certain she revealed nothing more to the police. Unsure of how much she actually knew about their operation, the boss wanted her silenced, fast, to prevent any possible testimony against them in the future.
He agreed. Allowing her to live jeopardized the whole organization. They’d already tried, and failed, to take her out multiple times. The bitch refused to die. Some guardian angel watched over that one. He glanced toward the heavens. Good thing he controlled devils -- human devils, who did his bidding.
“An officer is still posted in front of her door. She’s there. But they’re going to move her tonight… late. The paperwork came through mid-morning. I spoke to one of the nurses on duty about her release.” The orderly shifted back and forth as if his pants contained a nest of fire ants.
He felt like punching the guy to make him stand still. Though irritating, the man had proven useful to his needs. Flash enough money and a person eventually talked. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a wad of cash.
“Disappear. I don’t want to see you around here anymore. Find a job in another city.” The words rang hollow to his ears, because he knew the truth. He intended to see the orderly dead, to cover all his tracks, but he didn’t want to tip his hand and reveal those plans. He doubted any angel protected this one.
“Yeah, yeah, Sanders.”
His empty hand shot out, and he grabbed the orderly around the neck. “Never speak my name.”
Slowly, he loosened his fingers and let his arm drop. The man wouldn’t die by his hands. He didn’t do that sort of dirty work anymore. He’d send a colleague to take care of the job later tonight, while the orderly slept. He knew where the man lived.
The orderly gagged and coughed. “Sorry, man. I forgot.”
“Consider yourself reminded.” The organization had made the right decision. They couldn’t chance him keeping his mouth shut. The next time the fool drank himself stupid or screwed some whore, his lips would likely flap.
Last week, after a squealer ran to the cops and ratted out one of their operatives, the boss ordered no more leaks. He glanced at the orderly, who looked again at the offered money like a starving man. Saliva practically dripped from his greasy lips. Yep, he needed to plug this leak permanently.
The orderly grabbed the money and stuffed the stash down his pants. “What are you going to do to her? Can I watch?”
What an idiot! “Don’t ask me stupid questions.” All he intended to do was grab the woman and take her to the boss. He’d received specific orders on how to handle her. Whoever stood in his way, well, they might not get so lucky.
Instead of making her death appear random as they’d already tried, she and the other woman, the one held prisoner in their main warehouse, were to be disposed of together. Their simultaneous deaths would send a chilling message to the cops currently seeking them.
* * *
“Spread ’em wide, Ms. Atkin,” he ordered, his voice a deep, demanding rumble.
A small smile tugged at her lips. She spread her legs as he ordered, but other plans flickered through her devious mind. Time to switch up this situation and put herself in control. “I’ll give the orders tonight, Detective Hooper.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, Detective.” Renee’s gaze raked his naked body in admiration. Fit, muscular. A few scars, but the healed wounds made him even sexier in her eyes. She pushed his arms above his head and trapped his hands with hers. His strength far greater than hers, he could easily pull away, if he chose. But she doubted he’d want to.
She sank on top of him and moved her body up and down his long, hard cock. Yes. They fit together as if designed by fate. No man had ever given her more physical pleasure or emotional support than Sam.
“Oh, yeah.” He moaned.
His intense green eyes drew her in. Normally, he kept a bit of a five o’clock shadow on his face for his undercover work, which made him look dangerously sexy and totally irresistible, but tonight he’d opted for a full shave. Still awesomely handsome in her eyes.
They had a meeting early tomorrow morning with the task force handling the Browning/Grady case. He’d look spiffy with the close shave and suit he’d laid out.
Her lips covered his in a heated kiss. Their tongues touched, and she trembled at the contact. Her feelings ran deeper and more intense than he knew. I love you, baby. Emotions teetering on overload, she worked hard to contain a sniffle.
Since he’d moved in with her, they made love all the time. Even though together as a couple for months, and friends for years, they couldn’t get enough of each other. She hoped that meant he felt as addicted to her as she felt to him. She needed him now more than ever.
But a measure of doubt niggled at her, because of what she held back. Secrets. They so often destroyed a relationship. And the secret she harbored terrified but exhilarated her at the same time. She needed to tell him. Soon.
His tongue swirled around hers. He pumped his hips, staying deep inside her, trying to get even deeper.
Oh, how she loved kissing him, making love with him. Right now, they lay joined together on the bathroom floor. She’d jumped him as soon as he stepped out of the shower, all clean and fresh smelling. She broke their kiss and licked at his lips.
“You serve your mistress well, my slave.” Her tongue grazed her bottom lip, while she thought about licking him all over. Mmm. Usually, he took the dominant role in their lovemaking. But from time to time, she demanded that position. Making a man like Sam submit gave her a sense of extreme power.
“Faster, Renee,” he ordered, pushing his hips up hard.
“Who?” She cocked an eyebrow at him. His fingers twitched, and she knew he’d have slapped her butt, if his hands were free. But tonight she directed the sex, not him. Doing the opposite of what he told her, she slowed her movements, drawing out both their pleasure, determined to give him a climax he’d never forget.
“Mistress. You’re killing me.”
She smiled and lowered herself, completely engulfing his cock.
He groaned low in his throat. “Quit playing and fuck me hard, woman. Or I’ll flip you over and show you how a master truly treats a sex slave.”
“Always making promises.” Sam never entirely fell into the submissive role with her. Given his strong personality, and the fact that she had seniority at work, she understood his desire for control during sex. To dominate. She raised her hips almost completely off him, then sank back down. She squeezed her internal muscles around his cock. His eyes dilated. “You like?”
“Yes. Oh, yes. I need to come.” His fingers gripped hers hard. “Please, mistress,” he ground out in a whisper, loud enough for her to hear.
Her heart clenched. She couldn’t believe he actually said the words without her prompting him again. He never played the game so completely. His acquiescence caused her need to peak. She moved faster, riding him with wild abandon. “Come, slave!”
“Yeah!” His hips pumped against her. “Oh, that’s it! Harder.”
She heard an odd pop. Or maybe she felt it. Sam stilled beneath her. She stopped moving. Her eyes met his.
“Uh, oh.” He cringed, and his face turned pale.
“What happened?” She released his hands and slowly rose off him. “Are you all right?”
“I think I’ve got a problem, Renee.”
* * *
Detective Joe Rodriguez strode up the winding pathway to Alan Grady’s house. He and Alan had attended the police academy together, training side by side. When Alan married Callinda Browning, he’d attended the ceremony. Bygone days.
Those times of idealistic dreams and wanting to save the world dissolved long ago. The changes in both their lives since their wide-eyed innocence and youth amazed him. Though only in his thirties and far from an old man, he still felt like he’d seen too much and not done enough.
Saving the city proved more of a challenge than expected. Taking on the world… well, maybe in his next lifetime.
He needed a transfer from Narcotics to a different division, somewhere peaceful to revive his belief in the goodness of people. Did a place like that even exist? In the department? He shook his head, knowing he actually needed an extended vacation from the force altogether.
The prospect of a permanent change sounded really good to him.
He glanced around the grounds. The grass lay dead, the shrubbery dry and half bare. Flowers once grew in abundance here. Not anymore. And even though he knew it wasn’t the case, the place appeared deserted.
He walked up to the front door and knocked. No answer. He checked the blinds, all drawn, so he couldn’t see inside. No noise came from the other side of the door. “Grady?” Trying the knob, he found the house unlocked. “Hmm.”
With a cautious, silent push, the door swung open.
“Alan?” Keeping one hand on the small pistol attached to his belt, he stepped inside.
No lights shone in the entryway. No light filtered out from any of the rooms.
He walked into the dining area and stopped short. Pizza boxes, beer cans, newspapers, and dirty clothes littered the floor. Someone sat at the table in the dark, holding what looked and definitely smelled like a bottle of booze. He barely made out the shape of the bottle from the rays of the street lamp filtering in through the open front door. His nose identified the contents immediately -- scotch. Joe flipped on the overhead light.
Alan raised his hand, shielding his eyes. “Fuck!”
Alan’s hair was wild, his eyes red, and his clothes were disheveled. Joe barely recognized him. From the stubble on his face, the man probably hadn’t shaved in days. Joe rubbed his nose, not wanting to think about how long might have passed since his friend showered. “Alan.” Joe couldn’t imagine the pain he was in. Three long months. Even to him, the time seemed more like years, since the tragedy that had destroyed his friend’s life.
“What do you want, Joe?” the man growled at him, lowering his hand and taking a swig from the bottle. He glanced at the gun. “If you’re planning to shoot, you better remove that weapon from the holster first, or you’ll take off your dick.”
Joe dropped his hand from the gun. “You need help, Alan.” The last time anyone saw Grady at the police station was late last month. If he didn’t snap out of his funk soon, Joe hated to think what might happen to the man.
“I need my wife.”
Three months ago, she’d disappeared. Kidnapped. Or so the police assumed, even though nobody ever demanded a ransom. Their investigation pointed to involvement by the mob.
The search for Callie continued, but each day that passed without a new lead didn’t bode well for her fate.
Without her, Alan quickly deteriorated into a shell of his former self. He no longer seemed to care about anything or anybody. Joe hated seeing the physical and emotional disintegration of his colleague and friend.
“Captain Pentel sent me out to check on you.”
“Fine. You checked.” Alan took another swig from the bottle.
“Have you been to the hospital to see Donna yet?” Callie’s sister -- and too much on his mind, that woman. Officially, killed at the scene where Callie had been kidnapped. Unofficially, still among the living and under protective custody.
The incident had occurred here, at the house. The sight of a woman everyone first believed to be Callie, face down in a pool of blood, was etched in his memory forever. Donna barely survived the gunshot wounds to her back and shoulder, and only recently felt well enough for the attending physician to agree to release her from Parkway General. To protect her life, they’d allowed the public and media to believe she died that night. Nobody but a few key personnel knew any different.
“I don’t want anything to do with that bitch. If not for her, my wife would still be here.”
“Probably.” An unfortunate truth. Donna’s boyfriend at the time had double-crossed the mob in a drug deal. Donna got dragged into the mess. Callie tried to save her sister from the situation, but everything went horribly wrong.
And Alan knew nothing about it at the time.
Months before the drug incident, Callie and Alan had separated. By the time Alan found out about Callie’s involvement, she was in too deep. Though she and Donna both had both been under investigation, Alan got back together with Callie, and they were finally on the road to permanently reconciling when the tragedy occurred. Too bad really. Their relationship had stood a good chance of getting back on track, in his opinion, if the charges against her were dropped. And he had no doubt that’s how the case would have worked out.
But before that could happen, the mob attempted to kill Donna, and they took Callie. Or, at least, the police suspected the mob was responsible. Now, Donna’s boyfriend was nowhere to be found. And Donna hadn’t been overly forthcoming with details, whether on purpose or because she truly knew nothing more, he wasn’t certain.
“I’ve been put on special assignment to protect her, Alan. We’ll need her if…” Shutting his mouth, he shook his head. “Sorry, Grady.” He didn’t want to cause Alan more pain by forcing him to think of the worst.
Alan pushed to his feet. He staggered and reached toward the wall for support. “If the bastards involved are brought in,” he finished. “Or did you mean, if my wife’s body is found bloated and floating in the river, and for some reason I can’t identify her?” He wiped the back of his hand across watery eyes.
“Alan --”
“Get the hell out of my house, Joe. Unless you brought me definite news on Callinda, I’m not interested in anything you have to say.” He shuffled down the hallway, stumbled into the bathroom, and slammed the door.
* * *
Renee covered her face with her hands. No. How could this happen? She must have heard wrong. Nausea hit her hard, but she fought the feeling, needing to stay strong for Sam.
“She broke my dick?” Sam asked the doctor, his eyes wide. One of his hands clenched into a tight fist.
“The term penile fracture is a bit misleading, Detective Hooper. The injury is actually a tear that occurs during, well… extra aggressive sex. A simple surgical procedure, which we can do tonight, will fix you right up.”
“Surgery?” Renee croaked, raising her head. Oh, jeez. Sure, they got a little rough sexually tonight, but not any rougher than usual, or at least she hadn’t thought so. No more “mistress and slave” play for her. Ever!
“Is surgery really necessary, Doc?” Sam rubbed his thigh. He shifted under the covers in the hospital bed and looked about ready to bolt.
The pained expression on his face made Renee feel like crawling into a hole. The prospect of someone cutting into his cock had to be terrifying to him. The thought was terrifying to her. Though a tough guy at work, she knew Sam hated hospitals and even avoided getting his mandatory shots whenever possible.
“Without the surgery, you’ll end up with a crooked penis,” the doctor informed him.
“Do the surgery,” both Sam and Renee said in unison.
The doctor chuckled. “Very good. I’ll have a nurse come in and prepare you, and you’ll need to sign some papers -- the standard releases. Don’t worry, Detective. You’ll be fine.”
Sam nodded, but still looked uncertain. “Um, how long exactly until I’ll be good to go again, Doc? Sexually?”
“Well… it --” The doctor glanced at Renee. His eyes narrowed. “Are you all right, Detective? You’re awfully flushed.”
“Fine, fine.” She waved him off. Too much stress. She needed to relax, breathe deeply. Somehow, she even managed a shaky smile. They should focus on her love right now, not her.
The doctor studied her a moment longer, then turned back to speak with Sam. “Recovery varies. When you can attain and maintain an erection, then you’re all right. A few weeks. I’ll get everything set up for you.”
“Thanks.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” After he left, Renee walked over and sat next to Sam. “I’m so sorry. I’ll never ride you again.” She felt sick thinking about his pain and what happened to him. She’d relived the moment over and over in her head, trying to figure out exactly what went wrong. Not some novice at sex, she truly didn’t understand how she’d hurt Sam. Talk about a freak accident.
“Now, don’t go crazy on me, Renee. You were great tonight, up until… well -- Anyway, what are the odds of something this weird happening again?”
She simply stared at him, not knowing what to say. His question caused her to wonder. She needed to speak with the doctor and find out. She studied Sam’s face. His sedate, even understanding, response to this situation struck her as odd and made her more than a bit nervous. “Why are you so calm about this? Why aren’t you yelling or something?”
“Yelling? Is that what you expect from me?” His brow furrowed. “Is my temper that bad?”
“Sometimes.” Sam was all bark and no bite, unless threatened. He acted tough with criminals, but was always gentle with her. When the tension heightened though, he yelled to let off steam. And this situation definitely fell into the stress and tension category. Tonight, he seemed too quiet.
“Hmm, sorry.” He shrugged. “I think they gave me something when I first got here. I’m feeling loopy. I do know though, this whole event has made me reflect on our last few months together, Renee.”
Oh, no. Her heart pounded. Maybe he wanted out of the relationship. Her hand covered her stomach as her gut churned. She understood why he might. How could he ever sleep with her again without reliving this entire incident -- the pain and the fear of permanent damage, or worse, something similar happening again?
If he did want out, she refused to break down in front of him. She’d save any hysterics for her long nights alone.
“I’m really glad you’re in my life, Renee. You keep me stable and sane. I love you, sweetheart.” His voice broke slightly.
The breath whooshed out of her, and her tension immediately dissolved. “Oh, Sam. I love you, too.” She sniffled. He was definitely under the influence of something. Sam wasn’t the type to put tender feelings into words often. Being injured must be making him more vulnerable than usual. She knew she blabbed like a silly-willy -- her grandma’s word -- when emotionally out of sorts.
“I’ll yell after I know I’m okay. Will that make you feel better?”
She nodded. “Yes. Much better.”
His eyes crinkled with silent humor, then narrowed as he focused on her face. “The doctor’s right. You don’t look well.” He reached up to stroke her cheek.
She tried to smile, but failed. Instead, she took his hand in hers and laced their fingers. “I’m fine. You just worry about yourself. Does it hurt much?”
“It’s more embarrassing, I think, than anything. You’ll contact the department for me and let them know I need some time off?”
“Of course. I’ll see if I can get some time, too. I want to take care of you.”
“That’s not necessary. I’m a big boy.” He glanced down at his lap and frowned. “Well, I used to be.” He looked back up and shrugged.
“You still are, Sam. Believe me.” She winked at him and squeezed his hand, hoping to lighten the situation. He needed as much support as she could give.
He unlaced their hands and wagged his finger at her. “Don’t start. I should spank your pretty, little ass for all this. My hand still works, you know.”
She leaned down and whispered seductively in his ear, “I look forward to it, after you’re feeling better.”
Sam groaned. “Don’t make me think of sex, Renee.”
“You started it, you tease. I don’t see how you can talk or even joke about anything sexual. You don’t need to sound macho with me, you know.” She recognized a cover act when she heard one.
“I’m just trying to be a brave buckaroo here.” He smiled slightly.
She pushed his soft, brown hair off his forehead and kissed his brow. “You are brave, Sam. Always.” She could hardly believe just how much she loved this man. If anything serious ever happened to him, she’d fall apart. He held her heart.
Sam cleared his throat. “Okay, enough mushy stuff.” His eyes hardened. “The department’s short-handed. They need all available cops. You need to find another lead on Callie Grady, before the department decides to shelve the case. I can manage. You’ll be home on off-hours to keep me in line. I’ll do your computer research for you on the laptop, while you do whatever footwork is necessary.”
“You’re sure? I have some time off coming. They’ll probably give me the days, under the circumstances.” She really wanted to stay home for him.
“No, I’m sure. You staying on duty will work out better all the way around.”
“Well, all right.” Whatever made him feel more comfortable, she’d do.
“And honey?”
“Yes?” Sam looked very hesitant and a little worried at the same time. She touched his hand. “What is it?” she asked softly, her concern rising.
“Can we tell everyone I broke a rib or something?”
“Sam…”
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