Virgin in Disguise Read online

  She allowed him to escort her to the door of his second-floor room. He reached into his pocket. “Damn.”

  “What?”

  “A little matter of the key.” He’d long since lost track of it. The last time he could remember seeing it was at the cabin. “Don’t suppose you have a lock pick in your bag?”

  “What kind of professional do you think I am?” She dug into her briefcase, then offered him a slim leather case she’d pulled from the interior pocket.

  He shook his head and stepped back to watch her handiwork. In a matter of seconds, she dealt with the lock and pushed the door open. He motioned her inside and followed.

  She stopped just inside the door. Not that she had very many options of where to go. The room contained a bed, a chest of drawers and a bedside stand. Nothing adorned the drab, industrial beige of the walls. No personal items lay out to hint at what kind of person lived in the room.

  “Be it ever so humble.” He closed the door.

  The click of the dead bolt lock startled Elf. As he watched her reaction, the room seemed to shrink, and the bed dominated the space. Awareness surged and it took a few seconds for him to get back in control of his body’s response. Later. More important things needed to take precedence right now.

  Things like coming up with new disguises yet again. And getting Elf to talk about the emotions she’d been hiding since they’d left the sound studio.

  He tossed his blazer on top of the dresser and walked to the far side of the bed. “You might as well make yourself comfortable. We’re going to be here for a while.”

  “How long a while?” She didn’t move from her place by the door.

  “As long as it takes to reinvent ourselves.” He dropped to a crouch beside the bed and reached between the mattress and box spring.

  His first day in the city, after moving into the rooming house, he’d stashed a few things he wouldn’t need unless an emergency arose.

  The whole day had been an emergency.

  He pulled out the small bundle and unwrapped it.

  Elf stepped closer. “You have a license for that?”

  “Of course.” He laid his Beretta pistol on the bed.

  “What other goodies do you have?”

  He went to the dresser, slid open the second from the bottom drawer and removed it. The envelope he’d taped there came loose with a single pull. His agency ID, Massachusetts driver’s license and emergency cash joined the gun on the bed.

  Elf sat on the edge of the mattress and picked up the ID. “I thought you didn’t have any way to prove you worked for The Diamond Group.”

  “Not on me, I didn’t. And, at the time, all I knew about you was that you served a mean knockout cocktail.” He dropped a pair of handcuffs on top of the pile.

  A blush crept up her neck and flowed over her cheeks.

  The bed sagged when he sat beside her. He slipped his hand over hers and held her in place when she tried to edge away. “We need to come up with that plan. But mostly, you need to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “Don’t play dumb, ’cause I’m not buying. You just got hit with one hell of a shock.”

  “You’re imagining things.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Fine, then. Why don’t you tell me what you think it is that I must be feeling so we can deal with it? Then maybe we can get down to the real issues.”

  She refused to look him in the eye. The muscle flexing along her jaw and the tension of her muscles under his touch broadcast her emotions loud and clear.

  After all they’d been through, she still wouldn’t trust him, still wouldn’t share her emotions.

  All right, then. He’d force her to see the evidence. “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “We have an audiotape that starts out with the voice of a man who IDs himself as Patrick Donovan. It’s been nearly twenty years since you’ve heard your father’s voice.”

  “Ghosts don’t frighten me.”

  “Quit trying to misdirect. We’re not talking about fear. Do you think that really was your father’s voice?”

  She closed her eyes and tilted her head. He could imagine she was replaying in her mind the voice they’d heard on tape. After a few seconds, she nodded.

  “Right. Then what we seem to have is the audio record of a case he worked on with someone other than his usual partner.”

  He paused, waiting for her to make a comment. She pulled away from him and stood.

  “He couldn’t work with his partner because that’s who he was investigating.”

  She paced around the bed, staying just out of his reach.

  “The tape and the photos build a pretty strong case against Marvin Dexter.”

  Her steps rang loud in the room. She kicked off the high-heeled pumps and continued walking, picking up speed with each pass.

  “It doesn’t take too much of a leap to conclude that Dexter must have realized he’d been found out. He took steps to prevent the outcome your father planned.”

  Elf ran her hands through her hair. He wanted to go to her, to pull her into his arms and comfort her. The bedspread bunched in his fists as he fought his impulses. Instead of holding her, he kept pummeling her with the evidence.

  “You heard the tape. It ended with the documentation of your father’s intention to confront the suspect.”

  “How could he do that?”

  “What, Elf?”

  “How could he go into that building, knowing what he knew?”

  “I think he also knew it was up to him to put an end to the arson.”

  “It’s not like he was the only person who knew.”

  “No, but he was the only person in a position to do anything. It was his duty.”

  “Duty.” Elf spit the word. “A whole lot of good that duty did for him. For my mother. It cost her everything.”

  She was on the edge, so close to facing the truth. He waited for the dam to burst, ready to catch her, if she would allow it.

  “How dare he do that to her?” Light shimmered off the tears in her eyes. “She loved him. She still loves him. When he didn’t come home from his shift, when they told her he’d been killed, she lost the one thing that brought joy to her.”

  “The one thing?”

  “Her life stopped when he died. She went through the motions, got through the funeral, all the legal processes, she did what she had to do.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “Then it was done. Everyone left and it was just her.”

  “What about you?” His throat ached at the pain in her voice.

  “I grew up.”

  “What did you lose, Angela?”

  She turned to him. Pain, anger and understanding chased across her face, draining her cheeks of any color.

  “You’ve told me about your mother.” His heart beat a heavy rhythm in his chest. “Now tell me about you. Tell me what you lost.”

  A tear broke free and traced a path to the corner of her mouth. He watched as she worked to form the words. When she spoke, he had to strain to hear.

  “I lost…my father.”

  “And…?” he nudged with a quiet voice.

  “My mother.” Another tear fell.

  “And?” he pushed again.

  “Everything. I lost everything, too.” Tears came in a constant stream now. “How could he have not known what his death would do to us?”

  “He was a cop. He faced death every day.”

  “But this was different.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Because he had to be noble. He had to try to save his partner, and got himself killed.”

  “You blame him for that, don’t you?”

  “Damn straight. He had responsibilities. He had a wife and child to provide for—” She stopped.

  “And you’re pissed off that he chose Dexter over you.”

  “Yes.” Her lips formed the silent admission.

  A flicker of relief slipped through his chest. Her mother’s collapse had prevented Elf from ever working all t
he way through her grief. Better twenty years late than never. “That’s normal, you know.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  He shrugged.

  “Well, it doesn’t.” She scrubbed the tears from her cheeks. “I’ll feel better when Marvin Dexter pays for what he did to my parents.”

  “And to you?”

  She jammed her feet back into her pumps. “Yes. And to me. I admit it.”

  He blocked her from the door. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Shrink session is over. Thanks, Doc, but I have things to do.”

  He wouldn’t let her go anywhere in her present frame of mind. “Revenge won’t solve anything.”

  “Not revenge. Justice.”

  “You’re going to see that Dexter gets justice?”

  “It’s about time that sonofabitch paid for his sins.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Try and stop me.” She feinted to the right. He caught her arm.

  The handcuff ratcheting closed sounded loud in the room. She looked down at her wrist. “You’re kidding.”

  “Never been more serious in my life.” He put the other cuff around his wrist, hoping her anger would be short term.

  “Get this off of me. You can’t do this. It’s unlawful detainment.”

  “That didn’t stop you.”

  She jerked her wrist.

  He pulled her close and wrapped his arm around her. “I’m sorry, Elf.”

  Angel stood stiff and silent in Cabrini’s embrace. He had no idea how sorry he was going to be.

  Did he really think he could stop her? She’d worked her entire career with one intention—bring her father’s murderer to justice. That she hadn’t expected it to be someone she knew didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was closing the case.

  Cabrini cradled her head in his free hand, pressing her to his chest. For a breath, she almost gave in and relaxed. That’s what he wanted. Maybe, on some level, she wanted to, too.

  For one weak moment, she considered what it would mean to relax into his embrace. The day had given her a taste of what it could be like to work with someone, to have a partner to share things with and to stand at her back.

  But that wasn’t in the cards for her. She worked alone. No one, no matter how well-intentioned, would stop her from doing her job.

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead. Longing, stronger than any she’d experienced, shot through her.

  Why did he have to be so different? Why couldn’t he have been like every man she’d ever dated? Then she could lose interest and go her way without wondering what it would be like.

  He wouldn’t be staying. As soon as he closed his case, he’d be gone. The thought should comfort her. There were no strings attached to their relationship.

  Except, the fact that she considered what they had a relationship proved he was different.

  She tried to pull away, but he held her close, running his hand up and down her spine, coaxing tense muscles to relax.

  How had she let him get so deep under her skin? She needed to get some distance. “How long do you plan on standing here?”

  His arms loosened and he drew her back to the bed. She wanted to resist.

  But not really. Not yet. The tiny voice came from deep inside. Let him hold you.

  How much harm could it do?

  Plenty.

  She couldn’t fight him. Not physically, anyway. She’d bide her time, lay the groundwork for her escape. When the opportunity presented itself, she’d take it.

  He pulled her down to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. “I won’t let you ruin your life.”

  “Ruin my life?” His words caught her by surprise.

  “If you go after Dexter, that’s what will happen.”

  “Your confidence in my abilities is almost…whelming.”

  He shifted on the mattress, turning to look at her. “I have no doubts about your abilities to take care of yourself. It’s your intentions that worry me.”

  “I thought we covered that.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “I intend to make Dex pay.”

  “How?”

  “The same way my father paid.”

  “With his life.” He crooked a finger under her chin.

  Sitting near him, having him touch her, amounted to torture. She didn’t want to look in his eyes, see the disapproval she heard in his voice.

  He forced her to meet his gaze. Worse. Pity.

  She jerked and looked away.

  “Consider the consequences of your actions, Elf. If you’re successful—”

  “The world will be a better place.”

  “You’ll be no different from Dexter. He stole your parents from you. If you kill him, you’ll steal yourself from your mother.”

  “What concern is that of yours? What makes you think you even have any say in the matter?”

  “I care about you, Elf.” He laced his fingers through hers. “I’d like to think that counts for something.”

  “You care. Gee, that’s nice.” Bitterness tinged her voice. “So you’re going to save me from myself. You come in here, help solve a twenty-year-old murder and then you leave. I suppose I should be grateful.”

  “No.”

  “When you go back to Boston, to your nice, big family and your nice, steady job, you can file this whole experience under CF, for Crazy Family. Or maybe it really stands for—”

  He stopped her with a kiss.

  It was a full-frontal, all-out kiss, not his usual, gradual, nibbling buildup that drove her crazy. Her breath caught in her throat.

  Thoughts of him leaving hurt too much. She wanted to lose herself in his kisses.

  Damn him. Damn his kisses.

  From the first time she tailed him, she knew he would be trouble. It never occurred to her just how bad it could get.

  She needed to save herself.

  His free hand cupped her cheek and he threaded his fingers into her hair as he tilted her head back. His breath feathered across her neck, raising goose bumps and setting off alarms.

  Two could play at this game. He thought he could distract her with some foreplay? She’d show him distraction.

  She allowed him to lead, playing along with his love-making. Neither whispered a word. No endearments. No promises that couldn’t be kept.

  He slipped his hand beneath her blouse and caressed a path to her breast. Shivers followed in the wake of his touch.

  She worked her hand beneath his shirt, mimicking his progress. Beneath her hand, his skin tightened, his nipple pebbled.

  He nipped at her lips, her neck, her collarbone, pulling her over him as he laid out on the mattress.

  Somewhere between his first kiss and her current position on top of him, her intentions shifted.

  This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was independent, a loner. Men held no interest for her.

  Men didn’t. But this man did.

  He cared for her. Such a weak emotion compared to everything she felt.

  For the first time, she wished she knew the secret to making a man fall in love. When he left, she wanted to be more than just a fond memory, an entertaining interlude in his life.

  She wanted him to look back and remember what they’d had, wonder what they could have been.

  Partners. Equals. In everything.

  Her fingers flexed and her nails grazed across his skin. His breath shuddered and an answering surge ran to her belly. She pushed away until she straddled him.

  His cuffed hand followed hers as she undid his buttons and pushed his shirt out of the way. He used his free hand to unbutton her blouse.

  He sat up, catching her around the waist as he pushed her skirt over her thighs. She worked at his belt. Their hands tangled, exciting each other and themselves, as they undid zippers and pushed fabric out of the way.

  All the while, he kissed her and she kissed back. Tasting hunger, fueling arousal, driving need.

  He pressed a foil packet in
to her hand. She ripped it open and rolled the sheath in place. Light glinted off the handcuffs still holding them together.

  “Remember?” His rough whisper raced over her skin. “The rest stop.”

  She closed her eyes and nodded, not trusting her voice. She remembered. Every thought, every longing, every dream.

  This was as close as she could hope for any of those half-formed wishes to become a reality.

  He would leave and she would live with the memories of what they’d almost had.

  Her hands covered his as he grasped her hips and guided her home. The soft jingle of the handcuffs reminded her of their presence.

  She smiled as she swallowed back her tears. Somehow, it seemed fitting to be handcuffed to the man she’d come to love as she told him goodbye.

  Chapter 16

  Frank woke to the sound of a handcuff closing. “What the devil…?”

  He couldn’t have slept for more than a few minutes, yet, somehow, Elf had managed to get out of her half of the cuffs and attach it to the bed frame.

  She stepped back, out of his reach. For one brief instant, she looked like she might apologize. Then her expression settled into a mask.

  He pushed into a sitting position. “What are you playing at?”

  “Nothing. It’s just…” She looked away, took a deep breath. “We have different opinions of how to proceed on this case. I’m not inclined to negotiate, so—”

  “A preemptive strike.” He tugged his shirt together and managed to fight one button through the corresponding hole before he gave up. “I don’t believe this.”

  She shrugged and turned away from him. The stiff line of her back contradicted her casual gesture.

  This was not the aftermath he’d expected. Of course, he hadn’t expected to make love when they got to his room, hadn’t intended to get carried away when he kissed her. Her response had caught him by surprise.

  A sick feeling settled in his gut.

  She unzipped the skirt he’d pushed out of the way as they’d made love and slid it over her hips. It fell to the floor, revealing her naked backside.

  His body reacted, even as his brain tried to deny the suspicions taking root. “You played me?”

  The possibility came close to choking him. Could he have been that wrong about her?