Forbidden Fantasies Bundle Page 20

  She wanted to call him back, turn back the clock to this morning when they’d woken up sticky with sundae sauce, ready to make love. In the hours after that, her whole life had been turned upside down. The scary tattooed people had paraded out her door wearing plastic vests padded with drugs. She’d had a gun pointed at her head. She’d risked her life catching a drug dealer.

  Bedroom Eyes would never be the same. It even smelled weird—of sweat and metal and chemicals and fear. She wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and cry for hours.

  Worse, she wanted Rick to hold her, explain it all away, make everything right. That, she knew, was impossible.

  It would never be right again.

  15

  GET BACK TO SAMANTHA and fix it. The thought was a drumbeat in Rick’s head all the way to the station, during the interview with Sylvestri—even while he cooked up a way to get the man to confess—he wanted to get to her, straighten it out, somehow erase the betrayed look in her eyes.

  He’d managed a couple of calls to her home and her cell, but got no answer.

  It might be too late. Love was fragile, he knew to his soul. You had to protect it with everything in you. He hadn’t done that. In a way, it had been impossible, because from the beginning he hadn’t been able to be honest with her. Their whole time together had been built on a lie.

  He had to make sure she got out of this okay, no matter what. He knew she’d called the attorney because the cop who interviewed her had said Tucker was there.

  Despite his worry, Rick had managed some decent police work. Sylvestri had screamed immediately for his attorney, but it had been Rick’s idea to send in Bianca and she’d shamed the man into confessing.

  Darien had intended on retiring. This was to be his last job. He might be a lying sack of shit, but he loved his wife, though Rick was in no mood to be touched by a tender moment.

  He was too busy dealing with what an ass he’d been. Yeah, he’d gotten the word on the yarn-shop delivery and drawn the right conclusion, gotten back to Bedroom Eyes before anyone had gotten hurt, but that didn’t change all he’d done wrong.

  Getting involved with Samantha had cost him his edge, risked the case and hurt her—hell, had almost gotten her killed.

  Why didn’t you tell me? Because he couldn’t. The memory of her face when she’d asked him if he’d suspected her burned through him like acid.

  His questions about the ledger she’d found had sounded like accusations, he knew, when he’d just been verifying the chain of evidence, keeping her in the clear. He ached to talk to her.

  Except what could he say that could possibly make this right? For her or the job?

  His squad mates wanted to take him out for beer at Jade’s after the shift. That felt wrong. He should be cut from the case, kicked off the force maybe, not be tossing back brews, accepting high fives.

  In the john, he splashed water on his face to clear his head, then glanced into his guilty eyes. The eyes Samantha said looked like Oak Creek moss. Damn. He wanted to punch through the glass and smash his reflection to bits.

  Back in the squad room, Mark looked up at him. “What’s the deal? You look like you lost your dog. You solved the case, bro.”

  He shrugged away his partner’s back slap, leveled his gaze and ground out the truth, “I wasn’t at the stakeout last night.”

  “You weren’t? Then how did you…?” Trudeau stared at him.

  “Samantha got the call at her place. Early this morning. I was there.”

  He watched Mark put the pieces together, react, then work his game face back into shape. “You did your job. The case got solved.”

  Rick held his silence.

  “Hell,” Mark said, leaning in, speaking low, “if you hadn’t slept with her, we’d still be doing surveillance.”

  He shook his head. “It was wrong. For the job. And for Samantha. I took advantage.”

  “Sawyer’s smart. She knows you were doing your job.”

  “By sleeping with her?” He looked around to be sure he hadn’t been overheard.

  Mark took in his expression, read between the lines. “Talk to the woman. Straighten it out with her.”

  “What the hell am I going to say? I’m sorry? An apology can’t fix what I’ve done.” He realized he’d clenched both fists and was trembling with frustration.

  “Take a couple hours off the clock. Go see her. Meet us at Jade’s after.”

  “Yeah.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ll do that. I’ll go talk to her.” He had to make sure she was all right, offer his help where she needed it. He might not be able to make it right, but he could make it better.

  SAMANTHA LOOKED through the peephole at Rick. She’d only been home from her police interview for a couple of hours and she was still pretty shaky. Her impulse was to run to him and let him comfort her.

  But the man on her porch was now a stranger to her. Always had been, really. She’d played a dangerous game, turning him into her fantasy lover, then losing herself to the dream of what she’d thought they shared.

  She took a calming breath and opened the door to a man she didn’t know at all.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I survived,” she said simply, backing up to let him in.

  He stepped inside, and raised and lowered his arms, as though he wanted to hug her, but didn’t dare.

  He was right not to try. She turned on her heel and led him into the living room, where she sat in the chair, leaving him the couch, far enough away that she wouldn’t be able to catch every flicker of emotion in his eyes. She’d misinterpreted those eyes and those emotions all along.

  Rick sat on the closest corner and leaned toward her, elbows on his knees, eating up all the space she’d intended to keep between them. “I’m sorry, Samantha.” He looked so anguished that her heart ached for him. That was ridiculous. She was the one who’d been suspected, lied to, tricked, put in danger.

  A wave of outrage rose in her and she was glad. “Sorry that you thought I was doing pornography and dealing drugs and laundering money and God knows what else?”

  “I was doing my job, Samantha.”

  “Your job? You mean as my assistant? Doing whatever I needed?” Those words had meant so much to her at the time.

  “You have every right to be angry,” he said. “Did the questioning go okay?”

  “I somehow escaped getting charged with any crime, if that’s what you mean.” She paused and softened her tone. “You were right about the attorney. He’s good. He got me through it. And the girls, too.”

  “If I could have been there to help, I would have been.”

  “But you had another job to do, didn’t you?” Her words were bitter, but she couldn’t help it. “Mirror, Mirror is ruined, you know. They took my computer, all my photo files, and Mona and Blythe’s appointment books. They can seize the building, but I guess you know that. Racketeering laws or something.”

  “I’ll see if there’s any flexibility, Samantha. I’ll help however I can.”

  “Forget it. I’ll handle my own problems from now on.” She paused, guilt and regret swamping her. “I just feel sick that I dragged my friends into this mess.” They’d been brave and supportive despite the disaster she’d brought down on their heads.

  “You didn’t know Darien was scum,” he said, clearly trying to ease her guilt. “How could you?”

  “I should have known that lease was too good to be true.” She’d made mistakes, too. Rick had told her she was too trusting. She’d trusted Darien and she’d trusted Rick. “If there’s a trial, I’ll testify. It’s the least I can do.”

  “There won’t be a trial. I got Bianca to talk to Darien and he folded.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah. He didn’t want her to be ashamed of him. If it’s any consolation, Darien seems to really love his wife. You should have seen them. He apologized for letting her down. The man was almost in tears.” He spoke haltingly, the ghost of a smile on his face. “It
was like you said your pictures do—remind a couple of why they love each other.”

  She just stared at him. “Stop pretending you believe in what I do, Rick. All that ‘I see what you mean, that makes sense,’ bullshit you dished out when I told you why I do boudoir work was so I’d tell you I was dealing smut, right?”

  “No. It wasn’t like that—”

  “Just stop.” She held up her hand, angry and hurt and confused. She didn’t want to redefine Rick. She’d fallen in love with how he was.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you what was going on. You have to understand—”

  “Oh, I understand. You couldn’t tell me because I might be part of it. Get your free bag of drugs with every portrait!” She felt tears slide down her cheeks. Angrily, she wiped them away. No more crying. She was done with that.

  “I was wrong to do what I did. Up at the creek and—”

  She couldn’t stand hearing him talk about their time together like that was the mistake, instead of the real one—Rick’s lies and pretense. Along with her small-town naiveté.

  “Stop taking credit for everything, Rick,” she said with a sigh. “I was the one who pushed the issue. You made up a girlfriend and when I ignored that, you gave me that crap about wanting to settle down with one special person. I should have listened.”

  “It wasn’t crap.” Determination flashed in his eyes. “I do want that.” I want you.

  Looking into his eyes made her lose her footing, slip into water that was too deep for her again. She couldn’t be trusted to know the truth about Rick anymore.

  “You tried to say no. That’s my point.” She sighed again, shaky and disgusted with herself as much as him. She’d ignored his signals and stupidly fallen in love with a fantasy. She was a fool. “Was it all a lie? Everything you told me about yourself? Who you are? Who you were? What you’ve done?”

  “I went into the academy, not the army, after Brian died,” he said softly. “Everything else was true.” He settled his gaze on her face, holding her tight. “Look, I know I’ve blown your trust, Samantha, but I’ll do whatever I can to fix this. I’ll find out if there’s any way you can keep the center. If not, I’ll help you find a new location. If you need money, I can take out a loan—”

  “Stop it.” She raised a hand. “I don’t want your money, Rick. Whatever you can do to help me help my friends would be good. I have to make it up to them somehow. But I’ll deal with my own mistakes.” Including falling in love with an undercover cop investigating her.

  “I want to fix this for you.”

  “Forget it, Rick. We both got carried away. There is one thing you can do. Stop thinking of what happened between us as all bad. It was a fantasy, a dream, and we both enjoyed it. At least I did.”

  “I did, too, Samantha. More than I can say.” She saw what that admission cost him in the tension in his jaw, the agony in his eyes.

  “But it’s over and we’re back to real life,” she continued. “I’ve got a studio to rebuild and you’ve got police work to do.” She tried to sound matter-of-fact, but the words hurt so much she knew it showed.

  “Is that what you want? To forget what happened?”

  Something in his eyes made her heart throb, but she ignored it. “What else can we do? I don’t even know you, Rick.”

  “Yeah,” he said and the green fire in his eyes went out like a blown fuse. “I don’t know myself anymore. I was always a good cop, everything by the book. Until now. I was wrong and I’ll pay the price for that.”

  His grim tone startled her. “What price? Are you in trouble? Because of…because we slept together?”

  “I should be. I have to tell my lieutenant, leave it in his hands.”

  “What will happen? Will they fire you?”

  “Hard to say. But I can’t live like this. I let the job down. And myself. And you.”

  “Don’t give up your career because I talked you into something you didn’t want to do in the first place.”

  “I’ll be okay with whatever happens,” he said and his face softened with so much tenderness tears sprang again to her eyes. He cupped her cheek. “I screwed up big, I know. You probably have a hard time believing anything I say, but I only want the best for you, Sammi.”

  She let the tears spill over her lids and race down her face.

  “You don’t want advice, I know,” he continued, “but don’t fight so damned hard to change. Mona’s right about that. You know who you are and what you want.”

  He stared deep, searing her, so that even after he looked away, stood to go, the burned-in spots remained, like the afterimage from a camera’s flash.

  Was he right? Did she know what she wanted? And had she just let him walk out her door? She was too confused to figure it out. Her whole world had tumbled around her ears, and lay smashed and broken at her feet, unrecognizable.

  One idea rose in her mind. Rick was going to confess their relationship to his lieutenant, who might fire him.

  That was unacceptable. No way could Rick lose his job because of her. He was as devoted to police work as he’d seemed to be to her. That hadn’t been fake, she knew for certain.

  She grabbed the phone book and flipped to the blue-edged government pages, blinking her eyes clear so she could find the police listings. She’d call every station in town to find Rick’s boss and she’d talk and talk and talk until she straightened this all out. They’d both lost a lot over what had happened. She wasn’t about to let him lose his career.

  I DON’T EVEN KNOW YOU, RICK. All the way to the station, Samantha’s words rang in his head, pulsed through his bloodstream, beat a tattoo in his chest.

  He had to talk to the lieutenant, come clean and take his lumps. It was the only way he could live with himself. He owed it to Samantha, to the job, to himself. He prayed Darien’s confession made the case strong enough that his bad behavior wouldn’t damage it.

  In the squad room, he found people standing around Mark’s desk. “Check out the jugs on this one,” Rocky Marston said, holding out a paper Rick recognized as a photo proof.

  All of Samantha’s work was evidence in the case now. It would be weeks, maybe months, before her negatives and computer files would be returned to her.

  Over the past weeks, he’d blocked out the inevitability of this outcome, pretended it would all work out. Samantha had been right. They’d been living a fantasy, a dream, and now he was facing the brutal reality of the mess he’d made of it all.

  “Hey, it’s the man of the hour,” Rocky said, noticing him. “You took some of these, you lucky prick?” He waved the proof he held in Rick’s direction.

  “I want naked women,” Mark said, “These are all scenery and coyotes.”

  “I love coyotes. Let me see,” Jessie said. She yanked the sheet from Mark and studied it.

  With a jolt, Rick realized that was the Sedona shoot they were talking about. “Can I have those?” He reached, but Jessie said, “Whoa! This is you, West, and, here, with a woman…Isn’t that Sawyer?” She looked up at him, startled.

  “Where?” Marston moved to look over her shoulder.

  “It didn’t affect the case,” Mark said, trying to help, but making Rick sound as guilty as hell. The room fell silent as his fellow officers put two and two together. Soon the whole precinct would know he’d slept with a suspect.

  “I’m going to talk to the lieutenant,” Rick said firmly. “Right now.”

  “It’s nobody’s business.” Mark gathered the proofs from his silent squad mates, shoved them into the envelope and reached for the one Jessie held. She handed it to him, keeping her eyes on Rick.

  “I’m accountable for what I did.” Rick swallowed over his dry throat, determined to face the people he’d let down. This was the whirlwind he’d reaped by failing to be the cop he’d always believed himself to be.

  “If you tell Lieutenant Stone, he’ll have to act,” Mark said. “He’ll take your badge. What’s the point of that?”

  “I violated regu
lation,” he said grimly. “I’ll take the consequences.”

  “Let it go, Rick,” Jessie said. “It doesn’t change anything. We’re behind you.” Looking right at him, she took back the Sedona proof sheet, held it up and deliberately tore it in half. Mark and Rocky each took a half and ripped it in two, handing the torn pieces to the officers on either side, who did likewise, then solemnly carried the scraps to the wastepaper basket.

  “I’ll take care of the negatives, too,” Mark said.

  They nodded all around him, moving closer, surrounding him with their stubborn support.

  “I can’t let you destroy evidence for me,” Rick said.

  “Don’t do this,” Mark said, grabbing his shoulder.

  “I have to.” He turned for the lieutenant’s office, feeling their eyes on him, their silent attention at his back, as he moved forward to take whatever came.

  Lieutenant Stone waved Rick into the office and Rick stood at attention while he finished up a phone call. “What’s on your mind, Detective?” he said, putting the phone back in place.

  “I need to explain my behavior on the Sylvestri case, sir.” He felt rooted in place, determined to do the right thing, but sick with guilt all the same. “I broke regulation, sir. I got involved with—”

  The lieutenant held up a hand. “I believe you want your rep in the room if you’re going to talk about broken regs.”

  “That’s not necessary, sir.”

  “You may have a point. I just hung up from a woman who gave me an interesting hypothetical.”

  “A what?” He stared at the lieutenant. What the hell was he talking about?

  “She asked me what might happen to a cop who got involved with a witness. Hypothetically. He was off duty, of course, but she wondered if this cop might be in trouble.”

  Samantha had called the station. Trying to help, which was nice of her, but it didn’t change anything. “Sir, listen, I—”

  “I’m not finished, Detective. She also explained that this hypothetical cop is a good man, a credit to the force, and he went above and beyond the call of duty—hell, she went on and on about all he did that was right and good and honorable.”