AtHerCommand (25 page)

Each gift seemed designed to show her how much he knew about
her. Dalton was trying to erase the ugly memory of his reducing their
relationship to casual sex. But Domino refused to be charmed.

During her two days off, she’d also considered her future
with the DEA. Thanks to online access to agency personnel listings, she’d
applied to several positions far from the Washington, D.C. area. She
wasn’t
running away. But if her career plans were just smart business moves, why did
she dread telling her boss about her job search?

Nine a.m. Thursday morning, Domino walked into her tiny
office at the Virginia DEA building. She’d really miss the cubbyhole. It was
cluttered, colorless and all hers. Dom sighed. She would also miss
most
of her coworkers. As if conjured from a bad dream, Meyers stepped into her
office.

“If you’re here to report me to Lowery, save your breath,”
the agent said. “I’ve already told him what happened.”

Dom studied the red-haired man, who—despite his black eye,
taped nose and bruised mouth—seemed defiant. She wished she’d been a fly on the
wall when her boss had learned of Meyers’ actions.

“I’m here to see Lowery but it has nothing to do with you.”
Dom picked up her report and walked past Meyers to her office door. Then she
turned back to the agent. “If you were in my shoes, you’d probably do whatever
you could to get me fired. But all I feel for you is pity. It must be terrible
to live your whole life filled with hatred and spite.”

Without waiting for a response, she walked down the hallway
to her boss’s office. As usual, Lowery’s door was open and he greeted her
warmly. But as she took a seat in his visitor’s chair, she could see from his
searching glance she hadn’t successfully camouflaged her shadowed eyes.

He leaned toward her, his concern clear. “How are you?”

Domino thought about lying but she’d always respected her
boss. “Not great but I’ll survive.” She handed him the folder. “Here’s my
report.”

“I want you to know Meyers is being disciplined.” Lowery’s
jaw set. “I would never have partnered you two if I’d known about his
feelings.”

She made a dismissing gesture. “It’s water under the bridge.
I understand some of Salvi’s employees are cooperating.”

“We have several leads which may verify the Cabazone family
connection. But after what I learned today, I’d say there’s no question the
Xecutive Branch had ties with organized crime.”

“What happened?”

“There was a car-bombing in New York last night. One
victim,” Lowery paused, “Victor Xavier.”

“Damn.” It didn’t pay to know too much about a crime
family’s business. “Well, that’s one less person we can interrogate.”

Lowery nodded. “The Cabazone drug pipeline through D.C. is
shut off for now but we’ll watch for new distribution.”

They sat silent for several seconds and Dom suspected her
boss—like her—was thinking of the never-ending battle they fought against
drugs. Then with a sigh, she decided it was time to tell him her plans. “While
I was off, I had some time to think.”

Lowery listened, his friendly eyes patient, and Dom had to
swallow a lump in her throat. She would miss this man most of all when she
transferred to another DEA office.

“I’ve been waiting for the assistant director position to
open here,” she said. “But I searched the personnel listings and there’s a
similar opening in the San Francisco office.”

“You want to transfer to the West Coast?”

“I’m at a point in my life when I need a change,” Dom
explained. “A new start.”

Lowery stood and walked to the window, one of the few perks
of his directorship. When he turned back to her, his expression was serious.
“I’d like you to take a couple weeks’ leave to think about this. It’s an
important decision. Then if you still want to move, I’ll give you a glowing
recommendation.”

Despite her resolve to keep things professional, Dom felt
her eyes fill with tears. She blinked them away and nodded at the man who’d
been her mentor. “Okay, I’ll take the time off. But I don’t think I’ll change
my mind.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Dalton spent the next week trying to win back Domino. Every
morning he arrived at her house by dawn and placed his latest gift by her front
door. He chose things that reminded him of the good times they’d shared—a
bottle of her favorite Chianti, a heated foot-massager since he wasn’t there to
rub her tired feet, even a chew toy for Smokey. Dalton grimaced. On top of
aching for Domino, he also missed the mutt.

Today’s offering was an audiotape he’d recorded of twenty
S&M-tinged songs like the ones they’d joked about in bed. Would she
remember the times they’d laughed together and had spoken of their lives and
their dreams? Maybe if she did, she’d be ready to hear what was in his heart.

Thanks to his side trip to Dom’s house, he was running late
when he parked at the cop shop and walked into the bullpen. The morning hubbub
was in full swing with detectives swigging coffee and working the phones.
Dalton thought about Jason as he headed for his desk. His late partner was
probably laughing his ass off in heaven to see Dalton twisted in knots over a
woman.

“Morning, sidekick.” Suzi, his new partner, walked up
carrying two Starbucks coffee cups. She handed one to Dalton.

“This will be duly noted in your next performance
appraisal.” He tasted the hot brew.

Smiling, Suzi flipped him off and made him laugh. Then she
dropped into the chair by his desk. The only reminder of her brush with death
ten days before was a bare spot on the back of her head where the doctors had
stitched her up. Dalton avoided looking at the bald patch since it reminded him
how close he’d come to losing another friend.

“So, what’d you leave her this morning?” Suzi asked.

“A cassette of songs. Sort of a joke between us,” he
explained when she looked unimpressed.

Suzi sipped her coffee. “She hasn’t tried to contact you?”

To each present, he’d attached the note—
Call me, Dalton.
So far, she hadn’t complied with the request. He felt the now familiar
stirrings of panic. “No.” He clenched his jaw. “If I don’t hear from her by
next week, I’m going to ring her doorbell until she talks to me. I’m not giving
up.”

“Good.” Suzi nodded her approval. “By the way, have you ever
told her you love her?”

“Who said I—” Dalton broke off his instinctive denial at the
look in Suzi’s eyes. “No, I haven’t. Now she won’t talk to me and I’m not
leaving that information on her fucking voice mail.”

“Okay, okay.” She held up her hand in a placating manner. “I
guess we should hit our caseload, partner.” Suzi reached for a file on his
desk, a new assignment concerning a report of construction graft within the
D.C. government. “And when we head over to interview the mayor’s cabinet, I get
to drive.”

“In your dreams, Cho.”

* * * * *

Thursday, March thirteenth. Domino looked at the boxes she
was packing—out-of-season clothes, books and CDs—in anticipation of a transfer
to the DEA’s San Fran office. She’d told herself the West Coast assistant directorship
position was a good career decision but it still felt like running away.

Her eyes strayed to the top of her dresser. A pink envelope
containing a gift certificate to her favorite restaurant laid there, the latest
of Dalton’s presents. She’d mentioned the French bistro to him in passing once
but they’d never had the opportunity to go together. The thought he’d put into
this and his other gifts made the ice she’d packed around her lovesick heart
melt a little. Did he truly know her and care about her as more than a
convenient sex partner?

Smokey wormed his way around the open cartons and packing
materials, dragging the chew toy Dalton had left for him earlier that week.
Domino brushed her hand across the dog’s tufted head, knowing he was suffering
from Dalton-withdrawal symptoms too. When Dom left for San Francisco, Smokey
would stay behind with another Virginia DEA agent. Would her canine partner
miss her as much as he missed Dalton? Tears stung her eyes.

A ringing penetrated her sadness and Domino dug through a
mound of bubble wrap to locate her phone. “Hello?” she answered, almost hoping
it was Dalton.

“Hi. This is Suzi.”

Domino told herself she was happy the caller wasn’t her
persistent ex-lover. “What’s up at Cop Central?”

“Same old, same old,” Suzi answered. “But I’d love an
old-fashioned girls’ night out. Wanna meet me for pizza?”

Dom looked down on her frayed jeans and stretched-out
sweatshirt. “What if you come to my house and we order Chicago-style pizza from
Donatello’s? Now that the case is closed, you can actually park in my driveway
and come through my front door.”

Suzi chuckled. “That would be a new experience. Okay, I’ll
be there ASAP and I’ll bring dessert.”

“Great. How about a kitchen sink pizza?” Dom asked.

“I like everything but pineapple.”

Domino bid her goodbye and ended the call. Feeling better
than she had all day, she dialed Donatello’s number from memory. She ordered a
loaded large pizza and abandoned her packing to prepare for dinner. Trailed by
Smokey, Dom walked to her kitchen and set the table with paper plates and a
pile of napkins. Pizza was a hands-on meal.

She opened the refrigerator to double-check her supply of
cold beer. Suzi would probably want Coors with her pizza. But Domino was drawn
to the bottle of Chianti Dalton had placed outside her door that week. His note
was still attached by a ribbon to the bottle neck. She slipped off the note and
started to throw it in the trash. Then she changed her mind and put the note
with the others in a kitchen drawer.

All the notes were the same—
Call me, Dalton
. Maybe if
he’d written
Love, Dalton
…but she doubted she would’ve called him even
then. Her self-preservation instinct was too well-developed. Domino frowned.
Getting a corkscrew, she opened the bottle and poured herself a glass.

The rich, earthy scent of the wine reminded her of the time
she’d cooked lasagna for Dalton, and—entwined lover-style—they’d drunk the
full-bodied Chianti from each other’s glass. He’d licked a few escaping drops
from her lips then she’d tasted the wine on his tongue. The garlic bread had
burned before they’d come up for air and remembered the meal.

Domino leaned against the counter and closed her eyes, her
lips curving in a wistful smile. She wouldn’t be creating any more memories
with Dalton so she allowed other sensual flashbacks to flow over her,
triggering a physical longing for the man.

The doorbell interrupted her daydreaming. Dom checked her
watch, surprised at the time and hurried to the foyer. Smokey beat her there
and was dancing about in excitement. She checked the peephole before opening
the door to Suzi. The smiling detective was carrying a box from Rinaldi’s
bakery and juggled it to the side so she could give Domino a one-armed hug.

“It’s great to see you.” Dom was surprised at how much she
meant it. Here was another special person she’d miss.

“Ditto.” Suzi walked into the kitchen and set the box on the
table.

“Beer or wine?” Playing hostess, Dom went to the fridge.

“Beer.” Suzi peeled off her coat and gloves and placed them
on one of the kitchen chairs.

Domino opened a beer bottle and handed it to Suzi. The
detective settled onto a chair and, making herself at home, opened the bag of
beer nuts on the table. Smokey whined and she pulled him onto her lap.

“Missed you too, ferret-face,” Suzi said, feeding him a beer
nut and getting a lick on her nose.

Domino laughed. “When it comes to Smokey, you’re as bad as
Dalton—” She turned away, her heart squeezing, and poured more wine.

“Speaking of Dalton,” Suzi said, “he told me you loved
Rinaldi’s cannolis. So I stopped there on the way.”

Domino had known the topic of Dalton would arise during the
evening but she hadn’t thought she’d introduce it herself.
Damn.
Maybe
subconsciously she wanted to discuss him with a girlfriend.

Resolute, she faced Suzi, carried her wine glass to the
table and sat down. “How much do you know about my breakup with Dalton?”

Suzi’s expression was somber. “I know he acted like an ass
and any self-respecting woman would’ve dumped him after what he said.”

Dom reddened, embarrassed by the memory of his words.

Meeting her gaze, Suzi continued. “But I also know he’s a
great guy, someone I trust with my life and someone who cares for you a lot. It
doesn’t excuse what he did but Dalton’s been screwed by every woman he’s given
a damn about in his life.”

“He told me about his mother abandoning him,” Dom said, “and
his fiancée sleeping with her boss.”

Suzi nodded. “I’ve known him for five years and I’ve never
seen him as gone on a woman as he is on you.”

The words were balm to her damaged spirit but Dom couldn’t
risk that level of pain again. “What we had was chemistry, cranked up by the
whole Mistress Bella thing.” She slid her fingers along the stem of her wine
glass. “We don’t have enough in common to last a year.”

“You don’t
really
believe chemistry was all you had?”

Domino frowned, not sure if she was trying to convince Suzi
or herself. “I swore long ago I wouldn’t settle. I want a man who’s committed
long-term, who wants the same things I do.”

“You’re not answering my question,” Suzi pointed out.

Domino plowed on. “It’s all moot anyway. I’ve applied for a
job in the San Francisco DEA office.”

Suzi looked stunned. Domino was spared a further discussion
of her love life by the doorbell.
Saved by the pizza.
She rose, took her
wallet out of her purse on the counter and headed for the foyer. Calling back
over her shoulder, Dom said, “The pizza’s on me if you’ll tell me about the
sexy massage client you mentioned at the club.”

* * * * *

Midnight. Dalton sat on Jason’s sofa, drinking a beer. He’d
probably need carpal tunnel surgery on his right hand soon thanks to the
repetitive bottle lifting he’d been doing lately. Either that or a trip to the
Betty Ford Center. He sighed.

Soulful jazz surrounded him as the CD he’d chosen played for
the third time. Was selecting continuous replay on the CD deck a sign of
depression? Did he really care?

Chi cat-walked his way across the entertainment center and
rubbed his head against the amplifier buttons. The music abruptly switched from
the jazz CD to a country-western radio station. Dalton groaned but didn’t get
up. The Colin Raye lost-love song, one of Jason’s favorites, seemed
appropriate.

“I can still feel you as close as skin…” Dalton let his head
fall back against the sofa as the singer’s plaintive voice rose and fell.
“There’s a place you touched with your love…” The sad lyrics about a woman
who’d slipped away created a painful echo in his heart.

“Now I’ve seen it all.” Suzi walked into the room and shooed
Chi away so she could turn down the volume. “Dalton Cutter crying in his beer
to a country song.”

“I should’ve never given you a house key,” Dalton muttered.

Suzi took off her winter coat and settled into the chair
across from the sofa. “If you’re going to get pissy, I won’t tell you about my
dinner with Domino.”

Dalton snapped to attention. “You saw Dom tonight?”

“Just had a pizza at her house.”

Eager for news of her, Dalton shot questions at Suzi. “How
is she? Does she look okay? Did she talk about me?”

“It’s sorta a good news, bad news thing.” Her hesitation
made Dalton want to shake her.

“Damn it, Cho, just spit it out.”

She wearily pushed her bangs off her forehead. “It’s pretty
obvious Dom still has feelings for you and I don’t mean hate.”

“So there’s hope?” Dalton’s gut churned.

“Yes, but there’s a problem.”

“A problem,” he bit out. “You mean something beyond her not
talking to me and refusing to see me?”

Suzi met his gaze, and the sympathy he saw ratcheted up his
anxiety. “She’s requested a transfer…to San Francisco.”

“San Francisco?”
He stood and paced, unable to wrap
his mind around the news. She was leaving town, leaving him for good, and it
cut deep. “Hell, why not Alaska or Hawaii? If she’s so set on putting distance
between us, why doesn’t she join the CIA and go to Siberia?”

“You just need to step-up your plan,” Suzi said. “Get her to
talk to you sooner.”

Dalton stopped walking. “How much time do I have?”

“She should know by next week if she got the job.”

Next week.
He couldn’t think past the mind-numbing
panic. Dalton turned to his new partner for help. “Any suggestions?”

“Yes, but I refuse to strain my neck explaining them.” She
pointed to the sofa. “Plant your ass and don’t interrupt.”

He sat down, and she continued. “Your gifts are working but
you don’t have the luxury of time. From what you’ve said, you’ve never actually
told Dom your feelings.” Squirming, Dalton opened his mouth to defend himself
but clammed up when Suzi pinned him with a look. “You’ve got to tell her you
love her.”

“She won’t see me.”
He wanted to throw something, put
his fist through the wall.

“I know.” Suzi was using the soothing cop voice she saved
for potential suicides. Appropriate since Dalton was teetering on a ledge. “So
write her a letter.”

He groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’m no
good at pretty words.”

Suzi snorted. “Duh. But you don’t have to write a sonnet.
Just tell her how she makes you feel and how much you miss her. It’ll mean more
if it’s in your own words.”

Dalton considered the suggestion. What choice did he have?
He couldn’t let Dom leave thinking he didn’t love her. “Okay. I’ll write a
letter and leave it with the gift tomorrow morning. But I want a backup plan in
case she still doesn’t call me.”

“Like what?”