Deadly Alliance (10 page)

Finn liked walking a terrain, seeing it in three-dimensional reality. Being aware of details in the surroundings helped him today. Resignation settled over him by the time he and his captive entered the dining room.

“Oh my,” Rose said. Dean Kelly made a quick pass over the recruit, and Papa coughed.

Finn pulled out his chair. Shoved the guy into it. “This one didn’t get away.”

Papa’s full regard landed on the recruit. “Think about dropping out, kid. Takbir is the real evil. They enslave Yazidi school girls. Did you know that?”

The recruit garnered a stoic expression. “Shariah law says nonbelievers can be taken as concubines.”

Finn said, “Tough pricks like them pre-pubescent.”

“Or pretty.” The recruit strayed from the script and eyed the plate of macaroni and cheese. Had he not eaten lately?

Papa shoved the plate toward him. “Go ahead, son. You look like you’re about to collapse.”

He ate greedily, seizing scones, scooping food with them.

Rose slapped a hand over her heart. “Les isn’t here. Go away.”

Finn pulled out his cell when he heard a ping. Guhleman requested the recruit’s laptop.

“Rose and Dean. If you don’t mind me asking, why harbor Les?” Papa asked.

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. “Les didn’t shoot Liam. Case of mistaken identity.”

“Les didn’t kill his twin brother.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Sometimes people die. You’re not happy about it. Or you feel some relief.”

“Either way,” Finn said, “now we know.” He grabbed the back of the recruit’s chair and turned it toward him. “You came for Les.”

The recruit looked less cadaverous. “I don’t have to answer that.” He jumped with the roar of a siren.

Outside an engine whined and whistled with acceleration, alternating with screeching rubber when the brakes were hit hard coming onto the street. The siren quieted and the motor wound down.

Through the front bay window came a revolving blur of blue light. Rose drew back in her chair.

Two LAPD officers burst through the front door.

Finn stood him up. “Take him in. Here’s his knife. The laptop goes to the FBI. Special Agent Gary Guhleman.”

“Roger that.” One officer took the items. The other cuffed him.

“This is religious persecution,” the recruit snarled.

“You’re playing the persecution card?”

Papa said, “This young man needs de-programming.”

Finn’s mind went to the twenty-one Coptic Christians from Egypt. The poor immigrants migrated for work, were kidnapped and beheaded.

The recruit snapped his head toward him. “The United States is the cornerstone for our advancement. Join us. You’ll have everything you deserve.”

“You don’t know what I deserve.” Finn thought of Les, a partner he didn’t deserve.

Les didn’t operate like most people. Les was at the center of his own universe. Everyone else revolved around him like objects. In the case of Amy, Les might find her beautiful and want to possess her. He learned of her kindness and generosity as caretaker of his twin. In his place, Liam suffered excruciating pain before his death. Amy, the humanitarian, stepped up. Rage swept over him like a wave he couldn’t hold back. Les belonged in prison where he’d be told what to eat, what to wear, and where to sleep. Would Les see the irony in it?

* * *

He and Papa sat in the Heart Rock Cafe, wired, not just with the coffee they consumed.

Papa said, “This is a Wi-Fi hotspot. Handheld devices everywhere. Mind if I call Dolly?”

“Not at all. I have one to make as well.” Outside, Finn wouldn’t have access but spotted an old-fashioned pay phone. He dialed Guhleman’s special line.

After a long minute of dead air, Guhleman came on the line. “Yes?”

“Finbar Donahue here.”

“Where are you?”

“Not in the Kelly’s backyard. Sorry the goons high tailed it. Except for the wounded.”

“We’ve got the healthy one. Kid likes rap. Recruited that way. Brainwashed. Helpful nevertheless.” Guhleman’s voice was a grumble. “Again, where are you?”

“Don’t you have automatic machines to tell you that?” Finn liked joking with the bloodhound.

“Yes, now that the Takbir project is top of the book.” Guhleman said. “You’re in Heart Rock on a pay phone by the farmers’ market. But we prefer it when people volunteer the information themselves. We find it makes the subsequent conversation go better. They’re cooperating. They’re invested.”

“In what?”

“In the conversation.”

“Hold on.” A minute passed before Guhleman said, “I have the laptop. Thank you.”

“Anything else going on?”

“Dean Kelly bought a black van. Les is probably driving it.”

“Good to know. What else?”

Guhleman said, “Aidan Rourke’s daughter and niece are hiding out at Bearwood Juvenile Center. Courtesy of the sheriff’s wife, wearing wigs and frumpy clothes. Same with Mrs. Rourke. At end of day the trio checks into a rented cabin in Blue Jay. They’re under the watchful eye of Avery Creswell.”

Finn knew Avery. “Thanks, Guhleman. We’ll converse soon.” Greater than his need to process the laptop’s contents was holding Amy, keeping her safe. Les remained in the shadows, hidden from the world. The twisting of love to achieve an even more twisted end stirred resentment inside him.

Across the street he spotted a hair salon with wigs in the window.

After a few minutes of scrutinizing, he walked out with a jet-black bob.

* * *

Finn made it to his house before the sunset. He showered, tugged on a pair of Levi’s. Restlessness gnawed at him. He grabbed a beer from his wet bar. With a sharp turn of his heel, he crossed the room and grabbed his tablet.

Throwing open the French doors to the early evening breeze, he returned to his living room sofa. The hunt wasn’t over, and he had no idea what it would take to end it. How many Takbir devotees were out there? What did they want? Whom might they use as bait?

He propped up his tablet and placed a Facetime call to Amy. “Hey.” He waved when she appeared on-screen. “Where are you?”

“Woodruff’s Coffee Hut. Hikers left. Decided to try their homemade chicken noodle.”

“You’re lying low.” He was grateful for that.

On his monitor her gaze narrowed. “You’re looking rough. What’s up?”

“Don’t I always look rough?” In the next instance he caught her up on the events at the Kelly home. “Les is alive. I’m guessing the Roaches killed Liam by mistake.”

She leaned back against the cushioned booth. “I’m going to faint.”

“I’m heading over, picking you up. On the way back here, I’ll fill you in with more details.”

“Details? I can’t process them.” She let out a heavy sigh. “Soup will get me going. I’ll drive to your place.”

“Other than shocked, how do you feel?”

“Like a fool. Like the butt of his joke. Betrayed, belittled, undervalued. Small.” A whimper escaped her lips. The sound, like that of a wounded animal, shocked him. A tear slid down her cheek before she blinked.

For the first time he scrutinized her eyes. Amber specks burning against green magnified friction. Was she angry, sad, or both? Finn put a finger on the screen and traced it. “Damn it. I miss you.”

She inhaled a quivering breath. “Ready for some missing-me sex?”

“More than ready.” His cock throbbed, demanding what they both craved.

“You and I, we need a couple’s song.” She jammed her hands at her waist. “Are you on-board?”

He nodded and downed a gulp of beer. “What’s fitting for us?”

“I’ll go with one of my old favorites, Bad Romance.” She started singing. “I want your love, and I want your revenge.”

“Lyrics smack of truth.” Pausing to put the beer bottle on the coffee table, he longed to plunge deep into her and make her his. “Don’t dress like Lady Gaga.”

“What should I wear?”

“A wet T-shirt?” As long as he had Amy’s body available to him, nights were far from lonely. Her warmth burrowed deep in his bones, but he struggled with thoughts of women’s faithlessness, thanks to his mother. It wasn’t that Amy had morals of an alley cat, but how forgiving was she of Les? Finn didn’t want to dwell on the negative, but there it was. Cut me down to size? That’s bad romance.

Chapter Eight

Coming up the steps to Finn’s front door, Amy noticed a warning sign: Beware of Cat! She grinned to herself at the sign etched with the snarling feline before noticing a huge black and white cat.

The cat watched her from a shadowed corner, arched its back, and spat. The cat lunged closer.

Amy hoped to make it in before being clawed and pushed a button. The doorbell chimed, and the door opened. “You have a scary watch-cat.”

“Sorry about Toughie.” Finn stepped aside. “He’s a feral. He likes me. I feed him.” He crowded her in and kicked the door closed, his mouth on hers before the lock clicked shut. He was a fast mover, and his passion stole her breath. His lips slanted over hers, and his tongue slid deep, making her shiver with want. Clinging to his broad shoulders as he bent her backward, his warmth and strength came through his cotton T-shirt, one she planned to wear later, wet.

“All the damn day, I’ve missed you,” he growled, nuzzling his nose against hers.

What was it about this guy? Sure, tall and built. There was a ridge on his nose, and the scars, but they worked together to make him powerful. She sucked in much needed air. “I need some bad romance.”

“Ha.” He released her and walked to his umbrella stand. He carried back a vase of flowers. “These roses are for you.”

“Thank you.” She took the vase and her lungs inflated with onrush of the sweet scent. “This is what it is to be happy. Pink and yellow roses given to me, by you.”

He looked pleased. “The colors reminded me of your blonde hair and rosy cheeks.” He pulled her jacket from her shoulders and hung it on a peg. “Hope the flowers earn me a blow job.”

“No bribes are necessary.” She bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a smirk.

“Make yourself at home.” His voice faded with his move to the kitchen.

“Your farmhouse is amazing.” She leaned against the counter, aware of her breathing’s in and out loudness. Her desire for him was outside the scope of her experience. She managed to carry the flowers into the living room and set them on an end table.

He brushed by her. Finn, not quite touching, raised goose bumps and made her crave direct contact. Over the past two days she thought about him more often than ever. She imagined his huge hands stroking her clit, his face when he came, and his protective expression.

Finn took a pass over her face. Les had never looked at her with caring intensity. He leaned back, and she admired his broad shoulders. Jesus, he was so male from his hard body to his primal needs. Needs including her. On this level, she had no reservations. She looked at the ceiling and blew out air.

“Something wrong?”

She looked down with full recognition of her problem. Falling in love was the best way to kill off your heart. If it belonged to him, she didn’t own it.

“Amy?”

“You’re not the long relationship type. I’m not in a good place for one either.” Numbness spread over her, but sour-graping just might help. He was unobtainable.

His eyebrows lowered in a frown. “What can I help you with?” His voice shifted to the tone of customer-service. “Go ahead, talk.”

“I just,” she said, “well, life is weird right now. I need to concentrate on myself, my sportswear business.”

“Amy. Take a break anytime. Do what you need to do.” He put an arm around her shoulder, but his words hit her like a cold shower. An icy reminder of his non-commitment.

“I didn’t say I needed a break. Not from bad romance.” A flash of ugly green woke up in her heart, and she hated herself for picturing him with another woman. She did her level best to hide sick envy and relaxed her shoulders.

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Hearing what you want, I can comply. I want to do all kinds of things to you. Make you feel good. Make me feel good.” His hot and steady eyes focused on the wall. “I want to go down on you, let you come against my mouth. I want to fuck you until you’re dizzy.”

“Lots of mind-blowing orgasms for both of us,” she said, her breath coming faster. “What could be better?” What could be better is if he looked me in the eye.

* * *

A candle flickered in the mirror, and Amy smelled sandalwood. A Tom Ford wooden decanter sat on a shelf for his pricy cologne. His bathroom was dark because he’d pinned a towel over the window. Guy-style except for the spa decor. The black and white cat peeked in and looked down on her. I
f cats weren’t cute, we'd realize what nasty, cruel little bastards they are. Do cats mellow during their nine lives? Will Les be less of a prick on his second chance at it?

Finn’s bathtub, huge and shiny white, had water jets to turn on and a glass-tile ledge along the wall for unscented body wash and a loofah. He reclined against the back of the tub, with her feeling content between his legs, her head resting against his chest.

A deep masculine voice flowed over her shoulder. “Let me help you.” His big hand lifted her wet T-shirt, lathered up her breasts, and made designs around her nipples. His electrifying touch ran riot along her nervous system as he nudged aside her hair with his chin to kiss the back of her neck. Last night they’d screwed each other into exhaustion. Now they cuddled before starting up again.

The rasp of his day-old beard brushed her neck. Her heart pounded, and she rolled over, slippery in the water, and held to his shoulders. Slowly, she pulled up his body. His chest hair grazed her breasts, teasing her skin. Under her, he hardened, and her breath caught. She ran the tip of her tongue along his teeth until he grinned in his special way that crinkled his eyes and made her heart thump. His hands slid under the water, parting her legs, shifting her on his lap. She moaned as his fingers parted her lower lips and stroked inside her. His eyes sparked with her arousal against his hand. The water rose and fell on the sides of the bathtub with their tender movements. “I’m putty in your hands.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled. “Carpenters work the putty with their hands. Get it all soft and pliable.”

“Nothing wrong with that. As long as I’m the object of your desire.”

“I’m not soft. I am at your mercy, my queen.” He had the pale skin of Ireland, a long aristocratic nose and clear blue eyes, but the rest of him was all macho. She lay with her cheek on his shoulder and her arm draped across his hard chest. Her fingers drifted idly up and down the bulge of his biceps. Draped along his side with one leg tucked between his, she listened to the steady beat of his heart and thought about how nothing was going as she expected.

She looked at the clock on the vanity. She’d lost momentum in the chaos. “I need to finish a sketch. Hard to think when I’m scared as fuck.”

He patted her bottom. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” His fingers sifted through her hair. His other hand splayed over her back.

She snuggled closer. “The Kellys kept Liam hidden away. I only saw him once.” The bloodbath he’d endured brought horrifying pictures in her mind. “I’m sad for Liam, but mad at Les. He’s an impostor.” Tears came, angry tears.

Finn rolled carefully and covered her with his body in a hot blanket of manly power.

He didn’t say anything as the moment passed, which was a gift. He didn’t ask if she wanted to see Les. She did. She wanted to kill him, but knew it wasn’t smart. They stood and got out onto the mat. Finn dried off her off, and Amy wrapped a towel tightly around herself as she watched him, admiring the long lines of his back and legs, the muscles moving under his skin, the brown hair of his chest and groin.

He grabbed a bottle of lotion from the nightstand and smoothed it over her. It soothed her anger, and he tucked her under his arm, sheltering her. His quiet strength sank into her, shoring her up like an anchor. “Don’t hide your pain from me.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want a pity fuck.” She wanted to give Les a piece of her mind.

He laughed. “Besides the shit we’re facing, we have a Bad Romance.”

“Real bad.”

He heaved out a sigh. “You make me crazy.”

“Do I?” She stood on her toes and kissed him on the mouth. “I’m glad. Don’t go crazy for someone else. While we’re together, I mean.”

He lifted his chin. “Amy, I love being with you.” His hands moved lower, across her hips, down the backs of her thighs.

“That’s nice.” She’d learned complete honesty between men and women was naive.

“You think I’m self-absorbed.”

“I don’t think you’re an early ejaculator.”

He smirked.

She liked making him smile, but no longer believed everything she was told and wasn’t about to ask him how long. In the bathroom mirror, she caught a glimpse of blotches glowing across her breasts. “Nothing compares to the climaxes you give me. I feel wonderful through and through.”

“You do it for me, too.”

“Great. You’re great,” she said.

He answered with an exuberant kiss. “Our first night. I took you from behind.”

Amy was pinned between the wall and his body. “Loved every minute of it.” Pushing hair off her face, He breathed against her throat, making her shiver. We are not over. She pulled on her clothes. “I plan to sketch today.”

“Both of us will be busy. I have some crap to wade through.”

“I’ll head to your kitchen. Make dinner.” At the mention of food, her stomach grumbled, and she placed her hand over her noise-making tummy.

“No need. I ordered in Jimmy John’s.” He smiled wryly. “When I placed their sandwiches in the fridge, I noticed they included pickles.” He winked.

Delight fluttered lower.

As soon as they were downstairs, he opened the French doors.

She said, “You set up a table on the porch.”

His one hand gently grasped her elbow while the other pressed into her lower back. “I call this my farmette. In the past chickens pecked around the coop, vegetables sprouted in the field, and the farmer raised sheep.”

“I never tire of watching the sun set.” She wished all their experiences could last.

He slid a chair out for her and helped her scoot closer to the table. Rather than go to the opposite side, he took the seat to her right. Toughie the cat leaped from the railing to the roof. A few birds tweeted a warning of a predator.

She fiddled with her paper napkin. “Turkey and swiss are perfect on whole wheat. They packed the sandwich with greens.” Before she said anything more, he motioned to a fruit salad and grabbed a bottle of wine.

“Melon and grapes are always fresh from Jimmy’s.” He picked up a sliver of honeydew and offered it to her.

She took a bite and then wrapped her tongue along the pad of his finger. The fresh flavor burst within her mouth. She closed her eyes. “Delicious honeydew.”

“Ripe like you, honey.” He poured wine into her plastic glass. “Let’s make a toast.”

“To safe keeping, for us and others.” She clinked her glass to his.

Their conversation lulled as they settled to eat. During this quiet time, she didn’t think she was the only one off balance.

He narrowed his eyes. “Can you rehash the hike?” He pushed a container of potato salad her way.

“I heard a woman scream. Dolly Pugh from the assisted living cabins was knocked down by two thugs. She said they were running from a young man with a gun. He wore a ball cap.”

“Did Dolly say anything else?” Finn took a bite of the potato salad and took a sip of wine. “Careful. Spicy hot.”

“Dolly said she passed another man. Sounded like Les. Not at all crazy, huh.” She took a bite of potatoes, and her eyes began to tear.

“This is my guess. The Roaches shot Liam by mistake.” He placed a hand on her face, aware of her effort to make sense of things.

It started with the peppery potatoes, but went down from there. “Please don’t spare details.” She blinked away her angry tears.

His explanation took a while. Four recruits were in custody. Their robe-clad leader, Omar al-Anbari, and others escaped. “They came to pay Les a visit.”

She let out a sigh. “Did Les make a deal with them?”

He gave her a nod of understanding. “First, Les made a deal with the Roaches.”

“With the money laundering account,” she said.

Finn leaned back. “His business relationship with the Roaches went sour.”

She wrapped her hands around her wine glass. “So, Les went into hiding. He came up with the alternate deposit slips.”

“Right, Les managed well.” Finn’s expression was stoic.

“Guess your friendship didn’t mean much.” It took muscle control not to break the wine glass, and she put it down.

“That’s one way to put it.” His cat meowed, and he smiled. “Toughie is darn loud.”

She said, “Toughie found you rather than the other way around. When did he show up?”

“About a year ago. Once I started feeding him, he never left.”

“Just wondered,” she said, changing the subject. “It’s good Avery is overseeing your step-family at a motel in Blue Jay.”

“They’re wearing wigs and other disguises. Can you do the same?” Not waiting for her answer, he disappeared through the French doors. A moment later he handed her a wig. His eyebrow arched high.

“Who has bluish-black hair?” Amy placed the wig at her eyebrows and pulled it all the way over her head, tucking her hair under it. “Okay, I am officially in hiding.”