Dedicated Ink (13 page)

A jolt of liquid heat went straight to his groin when she grasped his belt in both hands, pulled, and unbuckled it. He didn’t interfere when she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, caressing his stiff cock the second it popped free.

Within moments, he was naked, and she ran her hands all over his body. Her touch was electric; his skin heated beneath her palms and his spine tingled, leaving him feeling charged – with desire, with the
need
to bury himself inside her, not just the want.

Like she understood, she eased back onto the bed, her lips still quirked in that tiny smile. It disappeared when he pressed his mouth against hers, slipping his tongue deep into her mouth. She tasted like the cheesecake they’d had at the restaurant – sweet and rich, with a hint of cherry.

He didn’t tear the babydoll away like he’d been dying to only minutes ago. The garment teased, but it didn’t really hide anything. With the straps hanging from her shoulders, her breasts were free, and without her panties, there was nothing keeping him from her.

Nothing except their position, anyway. Lying beside her was fine for kissing, fine for touching, but her belly prevented him from sliding on top of her like he wanted to, from simply settling between her thighs and thrusting into heat and pressure.

Breaking free from a kiss that had taken most of his breath, he cupped one of her breasts, squeezing and teasing the nipple. “How do you want to do this?”

She shifted, stretching out and draping her legs over his hips, lying that way with her back against the sheets and her hair spilling over the rumpled comforter.

The lips of her pussy touched his hip, velvet-smooth and hot, pressed against his body by her position. Groaning, he rolled over onto his side, sending his shaft sliding against her folds. Lying like that, with her body close and open to him, there was nothing easier than sliding inside her. Taking his cock in hand, he guided himself into position and rocked his hips, going deep on the first stroke.

He paused that way for half a second, his entire shaft wrapped in heat and pressure, but the pleasure demanded more. Giving in, he fell into a rhythm, quick but just slow enough that he went all the way every time, feeling her body stretch at the end of each stroke. Her breathing grew harder as he persisted, and the sound sent heat racing down his spine and into his groin.

Slipping a hand between her thighs, he pressed his fingertips against her clit and rubbed. She spread her legs wider in response, and he stared past them at everything her position exposed – the steep curve of her belly and the double swells of her breasts above, round and hard-tipped. His fingers burnt with the desire to skim their surfaces, to rub the dark pink pinpricks of her nipples like he was rubbing her below.

He didn’t dare stop what he was doing. Lying on his side, he could easily watch his dick thrusting in and out of her, his shaft wet and shining when he pulled back and it was partially exposed. Her tight muscles drew him back in, and watching his cock disappear into her was almost enough to make him come instantly. The way she arched against the mattress held him back, reminding him that she was close, too.

He made each stroke deliberate, pushing into her as deeply as he could, anticipating the flush that would creep across her cheeks and the way her mouth would fall open in a tiny ‘o’. When those things happened, he devoted his attention to her face, watching it transform as she gasped, her internal muscles wrenching tight around his cock.

Her climax was a series of waves, contractions that had her squirming as he swore, as lost in the sudden, pulsing tightening as she was. He couldn’t keep his gaze in one place anymore; it wandered all over her body, taking in everything and sending hot bolts of urgency straight to his dick.

He came hard, his head swimming with the sight of her body, curves and tattoos spilling out of lace so thin it felt like tissue paper beneath his fingertips. By the time he stopped thrusting, she was still and breathing hard, her eyes no longer closed.

Messy-haired and bright-eyed, half-wrapped in the wispy babydoll that hid nothing, she was everything he’d fantasized about not just that day, but every day since he’d met her. She fit into his life as well as their bodies fit together. Did she see that, finally?

* * * * *

Being home alone while Sam was working night shift shouldn’t have been any different than living by herself in her apartment had been, but it was. When he wasn’t there, she felt his absence and looked forward to when his shift would swing back to days, to when she’d be back to spending each night in his arms again.

The street was quiet and dark at just after eight in the evening – no one else was out, not even a dog. Abby unlocked the front door, her shopping bags swinging from one hand, full of the baby outfits she’d picked up after having dinner with her mom.

A strange feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that something was different the moment she walked through the door. For a few seconds she stood frozen, one hand on the knob. Then it registered – the computer monitor was gone from its stand, which was directly visible from the front door.

Finally closing and locking the door, she hurried into the living room.

She’d left the house before Sam had gone to work, but why would he have removed the monitor? It had been working fine, and the computer itself was still there.

She carried her bags to the nursery and dropped them off there before retreating to the bedroom. The moment she walked through the door, the feeling that had settled in her belly minutes ago returned in full force, and she knew Sam hadn’t been responsible for what had been done to the room.

Several dresser drawers were open and the floor was littered with Sam’s socks, underwear and t-shirts. The top of his dresser was strangely bare; a stick of deodorant and a comb were on the floor, half-buried in socks. A couple of items, like the jar of loose change Sam kept and his digital alarm clock, didn’t seem to be anywhere at all.

Abby turned on her heel and hurried to the kitchen, grabbing her purse before rushing out the door, breaking into an awkward half-sprint. Once she reached her car, she climbed into the driver’s seat and locked herself inside, turning the key in the ignition, just in case.

With her heart in her throat, she called Sam. Her pulse eased just a little when he answered on the third ring. “Hey, Abby. Everything all right?”

She shook her head, then caught herself. “No. Sam, someone’s been in the house. I think we’ve been robbed.”

“Where are you?” His voice had gone from mildly concerned to hard as steel.

“In my car. I didn’t want to stay in the house – I was afraid someone might still be inside.”

“Move your car a few blocks. I don’t want you sitting in front of the house. I’m on my way.”

Sirens sounded from the other end of the connection, and Abby gripped the phone tightly as she veered away from the sidewalk in front of the house, casting a last glance at her rearview mirror as she pulled away.

Once she was parked at what was hopefully a safe distance from the house, she tried to focus on Sam’s questions as she waited. As she answered, she couldn’t help but feel unhelpful. No, she hadn’t noticed an entry point – the door had still been locked – though she’d barely looked at any of the windows. And she’d only noticed a few things missing, while some obviously valuable items, like the TV, had been left apparently untouched.

Maybe she’d caught the thief in the act. The idea made her stomach ball up tight and hard, and she placed a hand over it as she glanced in her side mirror, eager to see the flash of Sam’s cruiser lights.

* * * * *

The crime scene was an enigma to everyone but Sam. Someone had clearly been in the house, but there was no sign of forced entry, and whoever had done it was long gone. They’d left the door and all windows locked and untampered with. Likewise, valuable items like the TV and computer had been left alone while things like the monitor and his alarm clock had been stolen. A jar of change, a few bills he’d kept tucked in one dresser drawer and some jewelry of Abby’s had been taken, too.

“Any ideas?” Cohen asked, standing in the middle of Sam’s kitchen.

“Yeah, I’ve got a pretty good idea of who should be questioned.” And it was his own dumbass fault for not changing the locks almost a year ago.

“Hey, Mackenzie. You see the note?” Robbins emerged into the hallway, her eyebrows raised.

Sam turned. “What note?”

The sheet of paper in front of Sam was mostly blank; the two names he’d scrawled down at the top made it look even emptier. “Any other suggestions?”

It felt hypocritical to even ask – he hadn’t suggested anything yet.

Abby sighed. “It’s hard to decide on one name, let alone three. Whatever we choose is what the babies will be stuck with for the rest of their lives.”

Sam nodded. The ultrasound she’d had a couple months ago had only revealed the gender of one twin – a boy. The other had been uncooperative, and they wouldn’t know its sex until birth, which meant that they had to come up with two boy names and a girl name, just in case.

“I’ve tried searching online,” Abby added, “but a lot of the name lists are either for trendy names that everyone’s using or really weird exotic names.” She smiled, but there was a tightness to the expression that wasn’t usually there.

“The locks have all been changed, you know. And they’re running extra patrols on this street. Nobody will be sneaking in here again – I promise. And I have the next couple days off, so you won’t be alone at night.”

Abby nodded. “I know.”

He shook his head. “It’s my own fault. I should’ve changed the locks as soon as she left – I didn’t realize she was this desperate for money.”

“She didn’t take that much, really.”

Sam snorted. “Only because she couldn’t carry it. She stuffed the suitcase she took from my closet full of whatever she could get her hands on.”

Rekindled, his anger burnt white hot as he remembered what she’d said to him on the sidewalk, when she’d tried to manipulate him into giving her money – “You owe it to me. Five-hundred dollars – that was how much my procedure cost, and you didn’t contribute a dime.”

He’d bitten his tongue and returned to the house instead of telling her she hadn’t even
told
him about it until it’d all been done, or that she could go find some other guy to sponge off of, since that seemed to be her specialty. He hadn’t said those things because he wanted nothing to do with her – not even for a minute – and there was clearly no reasoning with her. If anything, she was even more self-centered than he remembered her being, to the point that it was crazy.

“I’m not worried about our stuff,” Abby said, her voice soft as she sat with her pen poised above paper. “It can all be replaced. I’m worried about
you
.”

“Because of the note?”

She nodded.

His anger flared again as he remembered the note Robbins had found in Abby’s office, a scribbled
Watch your back, Sam!
penned on a blank sheet of sketch paper that had been left on the desk.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “She was probably just mad because I didn’t give her money in the first place and thought she could rile me.”

Abby’s frown didn’t disappear. “What if that’s not it, though? What if she’s planning to try to hurt you or something?”

“She didn’t seem violent when she confronted me out on the sidewalk, and even though I hate to admit it, I lived with her for months. She may be a liar and a thief, but it’s hard for me to imagine her attacking someone.”

“The police are still looking for her, right?”

He nodded. “No sign of her so far. Her official residence was empty, but she’ll turn up eventually – I doubt she left the city with what she got from pawning our stuff, or whatever she did with it.”

Abby nodded, breathing a sigh.

He did his best to shove thoughts of Trish from his mind as he leaned back against his chair, stretching. “Trish is the last person I want to think about while we’re trying to name our babies. Want something to drink?”

“Sure. Do we have any of that cranberry juice left?”

He poured a glass of juice and slid it across the table before grabbing a beer for himself.

Silent moments slipped by, and Sam’s ire faded as he racked his mind for baby names. There’d been a list in the back of the pregnancy book he’d bought, but it hadn’t been very long and none of the names had really stood out.

Abby set her half-empty glass down on the table. “Why
Beowulf
?”

“What – Beowulf?” Sure, now that she was in the last trimester, the name situation was getting kind of desperate, but not
that
desperate.

“Your tattoo. What made you choose a line from
Beowulf
? I’ve been wondering for months.”

His gaze was drawn to the familiar script inked across his left biceps, ancient words framed by scrolling blackness and a thin blue line. “I had this friend I went to college with – CCAC for our Law Enforcement degrees,” he said, latching onto the opportunity for a change in conversation. “We had to write this paper together for one of our English courses – our theme was good vs. evil in
Beowulf
.

“I liked the story.” He touched his arm, just beneath the hem of his sleeve.  “I remembered this line because it was a big part of our paper – it was this pivotal moment for the hero, when avenging evil became the same thing as being good.

“A few years later, I was already planning to get a tattoo – something law enforcement related, but not this. My friend and I had gone from attending the same college to working at the same place – we both got hired on by the city at the same time. Anyway, he was killed, and I decided to change my tattoo idea.”

Abby’s eyes widened above the rim of her juice glass. “Killed? In the line of duty?”

“It was a high speed chase. He was hit by a civilian vehicle and lost control of his cruiser on the West End Bridge. Suffered massive head trauma, never regained consciousness and died two days later.”

A tightening feeling struck the center of Sam’s chest, sharp and sudden, but it was only the ghost of the grief he’d known years ago. Time did heal wounds, to an extent, but he was proud to have the tattoo serve as a scar, a reminder.

Abby frowned. “I’m sorry. What was his name?”

“We called him Ralston. His first name was Ethan.”

Abby reached for the piece of paper and pen, writing something beside the two girl names they’d managed to come up with so far. “Maybe that could be our boy name.”

She slid the paper back across the table, and “Ethan” stood out in her clear script. It looked right in a way the other two names didn’t.

“I like the name anyway, and it would have a special meaning.” She took another sip of her juice.

Her suggestion and her enthusiasm struck him somewhere deep in his chest, taking the edge off of familiar pain, and he felt overwhelmingly lucky, like someone who’d placed a quarter in a slot machine on a whim only to unleash the jackpot. How had he ended up with someone so generous, someone so completely unlike any other woman he’d ever been with?  “I like it too.”

Abby smiled, and it was genuine this time. “Okay, then – one name down, two to go.”

* * * * *

Sam looked utterly out of place in his own kitchen, the only man among the pastel streamers hanging from the ceiling and balloons bobbing next to the microwave. As if purposely avoiding the rocking horse shaped glitter that had been spread across the table, he stood at the counter, taking a long drink from a glass of water.

“Heading out?” Abby asked, eyeing the boots he wore.

He nodded.

“You can stay, you know.”

He shrugged, putting down the pink, blue and yellow paper plate he’d just eaten a sandwich off of. “I don’t want to crash the party. Figured I’d go see a movie with some guys from work so you all can have fun without me in the way.”

Abby stifled the response she’d been about to give. If he’d made plans, there was no reason for him not to go out. He’d probably have more fun at the movies with his co-workers than he would being the only guy at the baby shower. “Okay, but don’t think you can’t come home whenever you feel like it. No one will mind at all that you’re here, and there’s going to be cake.”

“Speaking of cake…” Natalie said, marching into the kitchen, “I hope you don’t mind that Ava helped me decorate it. She was
really
into the idea of making something for her cousins-to-be. I tried to talk her into making a card instead, but you know how she is when she’s set her heart on something.”

“It’s no problem,” Abby said as Natalie placed an enormous cake box in the center of the table. “Are you sure that’s the right box? It looks like you could fit a wedding cake in there.”

Natalie grinned. “Just wanted to make sure we’d have enough for everyone. I’m sure Sam can polish off the leftovers.”

Sam mumbled something noncommittal, but his eyes lingered on the box.

“If he can’t, just let me know – Rob was grumbling when I left because I didn’t make any for him.”

“Make sure you take a piece home for him.” With a pang of sympathy for Natalie’s husband, Abby eyed the cupboard above the sink. “I can show you where the Tupperware is.”

Natalie was already in the living room, nearly to the door. She disappeared through it without a reply and returned moments later with her arms full of gift bags, each one shining with cascades of curled ribbon.

“I hope those aren’t all from you.” A sinking suspicion that they were just that crept into Abby’s gut as Natalie arranged the bags in a line against the far living room wall.

“You know they are.”

“You’ve already given me so much stuff Ava and Lucas have outgrown, plus you organized this shower and made the cake…”

Natalie shrugged. “You’re going to need twice as much stuff as most new moms – I’m glad to help, and I know everyone else is too. Two of these bags are full of nothing but diapers.”

Sam interrupted before Abby could reply.  “I’m gonna get going.” He leaned down, placed his hands on her hips and pressed his mouth to hers.

He tasted faintly of mustard, but his kiss was anything but unpleasant. Hot and lingering, it left her lips tingling even after it was over.

“Have fun at the movies. I’ll save you some cake.”

“Thanks. And hey… Don’t worry about me while I’m gone. I wasn’t sure whether to mention this before your shower, but when Cohen called about the movie, he gave me some news, too.”

Abby braced herself. “What kind of news?”

“It’s about Trish – they found her. Actually, she was arrested in an incident unrelated to the robbery. Apparently she was found in possession of some drugs.”

“Drugs?”

“Heroin.”

“God… Well, I guess we know what made her desperate enough to steal. Probably why she lost her job, too, for that matter.”

Sam nodded, frowning. “I had no idea she’d developed a drug problem. I would’ve changed the locks ages ago if I’d known.”

“Well, I doubt she was using it while she was living with you, considering your profession.”

Sam shrugged. “I’d like to think not, but she’s deceptive – she hid a relationship with another man from me for a little while. She could’ve hidden this too. We didn’t spend much time together during that last month, and it’s not uncommon for opiate abusers to hide their habit from friends and family at first.” He looked like he’d swallowed something sour.

“Cohen said she had quite a few bumps and bruises when she was brought in. Maybe we’re not the only people she stole from – or tried to steal from. I don’t think she’s revealed much of anything to anyone yet. She was high when she was arrested.”