Indulgence (342 page)

The kiss he planted on her neck sent a shiver down her
spine.

I can hardly wait.
“Maybe I should have bought two
cans of whipped cream,” she whispered in return, reaching behind her to rub her
palm up against his erection.

“Maybe I won’t let you leave.”

She stiffened at first, and then turned to look deep into
his eyes. He had no idea what he’d said. She started to tear up.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. Bravely, she looked up at him. “Nothing
that a night of new things couldn’t cure. I have a specific use in mind for
that whipped cream, and I won’t be stopped.

“Counting on it.”

“I get to pick something you’ll wear, okay?” she said.

Armando nodded. She found a black satin Zorro mask and held
it up to his face. “This. This is you.” She stepped close enough to touch her
thighs to his, and slipped the elastic band around the back of his head. His
brilliant smile offset the traces of curly hair around his temples and at the
back of his neck. His face was obscured above the nose.

“Very sexy,” she whispered.

He slid the mask up on the top of his head. “And now
something for you.” He picked a pink sequined fabric mask with jewels around
the eye detail. “I think we should try these out to make sure they fit,” he
said.

He slid his mask down, leaned towards her face and their
lips touched. The warmth of his flesh on hers as he slid back and forth over
her mouth sent a tingle all the way to her toes. Armando’s kisses were expert.
She could only imagine how they would feel on her body if all she wore was the
dainty pink mask.

They took turns picking up some warming gels, stimulating
gels, feathers and flavored lubricants. He brought an expensive box of colored
French condoms from behind the counter. Dori’s grin as she set them on top made
Gina blush. Again.

As Armando paid for their purchases, the door opened behind
them and an unlikely couple walked inside.

“Clark, nice to see you two today,” Dori said as she
extended them a wicker basket. At the sound of the man’s name, Armando turned
abruptly.

“Detective, Daisy.” Armando extended his hand but didn’t
look at Daisy.

Detective?

Riverton squinted as he searched between Armando and Gina’s
faces. “Armando, you were perhaps the last person I expected to see in here.”

“Watch it,” Dori called out. “Don’t mess with my customers.”

Gina could see Daisy was self-conscious about being ignored.
The beautiful blonde woman with the enormous rack extended her hot pink
polished fingers and whispered, “I’m Daisy.”

Gina was focusing on the tension between Armando and the
detective, but she politely shook Daisy’s hand and smiled. “Nice to meet you
too.”

“I need a word with you sometime soon,” Clark said.

“Honey, this is Detective Clark Riverton from the San Diego
P.D. We worked on something together last year.”

Gina shook Riverton’s hand. The wizened old cop was no
dummy. She wondered what he wanted with Armando. Something about the way he
looked at her made her wary.

“Gina here has something perhaps you should know about,
Clark.” Armando was going to continue, but Gina cut him off.

“Armando?” Her scowl and frown worked.

“I apologize. It seems I stepped out of line for a second.”

Gina wanted to get as far away from the detective as she
could. Had he seen her before? She couldn’t remember his face, so perhaps not.
But as one of the few women on the force, she was probably more high profile.
Worst of all, he probably knew Sam, and if he did, there was a good chance he’d
know about her.

“I think we should be going,” she nudged Armando. The pink
and black striped plastic bag crinkled in her grip.

“Okay, Armani,” Riverton chuckled, eyeing the bag. “Better
let you get that stuff refrigerated.”

Daisy slapped his arm. “Come on, Clark, leave them alone.”

“Nice seeing you, nice meeting you too,” Riverton said as he
nodded in Gina’s direction. He extended his card to Armando, who examined it.
“Give me a call, okay?”

Armando answered, “Sure thing. I’ll call you Monday
morning.” He placed the card in his wallet.

“My cell is on there. Call me tomorrow, tonight if possible.
Can you?”

“Not sure about tonight, Detective.” He pulled Gina to his
side. “But tomorrow works. Have a nice night. ’Night, Daisy,” Armando added as
he gave her a little wave with his fingers.

Outside, Gina was impatient for information. “Who is she?”

“Daisy? She’s, well, she was Cooper’s girlfriend for a bit.
Before he met Libby.”

Gina was noticing the difference between the two women.
Daisy was covered in tats, tall, and had work done. The Libby she met yesterday
at the housewarming was a classic beauty. Auburn-haired and with one-tenth the
makeup Daisy wore. They were from two different worlds.

“I’m having a hard time seeing Cooper with Daisy. Cooper.
The tall dude you introduced me to yesterday?”

“The very one. Nebraska born and bred.”

She shook her head. Did Armando’s tastes vary as much? Did
these guys pick up girls depending on their mood swings? It worried her.

“Daisy is the one who does all our tats for Team 3. He
showed her his forearm with the frog footprints extending from wrist to the
inside of his elbow. “This is one of hers.”

“Even the wives?”

Armando stopped. “Ah, no. Not the wives. They use someone
else.” He gave her a wise-ass smile.

“The wives have lots of tats?”

“Some do. Don’t know one who hasn’t had a couple, from what
I could tell.” He winked at her. “They do kid’s names, occasionally something
more serious.”

“Like what?”

“Like the date he didn’t come home.”

She understood. She’d seen the wives of slain officers, the
children who had to face a future without their father. She’d been to too many
funerals in her short career.

“That breaks my heart,” she said. “Does this happen often?”

“Often enough.” Armando went off somewhere else. Gina could
tell he wanted to change the subject. She was going to make another comment,
but he added. “No, tats are mostly a guy’s thing. Especially the newbie SEALs,
the young ones. I’ve seen some crazy stuff. When they’re young and first on the
Teams, they don’t have anything else to spend money on, so they get all painted
up like a warrior. Just part of the culture, I guess. We get pretty inked up,
but then you’ve already noticed that, haven’t you?”

She gave him a coy smile. Indeed she had.

“It does seem like you wear a lot of ink, but then, I don’t
have much experience to compare it with.”

“And that’s a very good thing,” he said as he wrapped his
arm around her waist.

Sergeant Kozinski knew exactly who he wanted picked up based
on the detailed account on Gina’s CD. He spent most of Saturday filling out
paperwork and lining up a grid showing who was responsible for what and whom
they reported to. They’d had some undercover information before they’d decided
to go after Carlos. What Gina provided were the strong ties that bound everything
up in a bow.

He was surprised how clear Gina’s recording was, how
detailed, as well. That’s why he was fairly sure there had some foul play with
Sam and the first audio recording. Gina was a smart cop, and a capable team
player. Kozinski didn’t think she’d be dumb enough to give him a blank
recording.

So now he was acting on that information, not waiting for
Monday. Of course, it was possible he wouldn’t be able to get the arrests
approved, but he knew he’d find someone to sign off on it, and he wouldn’t stop
trying until he got it. He felt time was of the essence.

The Scorpions had been involved in a skirmish at Babes on
Friday night, and they’d arrested two of Carlos’s minions who’d had a minor
spat over one of the dancers. They were so smart with their operation, Kozinski
thought, and yet they’d get themselves into trouble over a dancer. Sometimes
the girl was helpful, especially if she had something to lose, like her
probation. But most of these were young girls who cruised through town and were
gone before his cops could profile them.

So part of his Saturday was finding a judge who would sign
off on a search warrant. He had to gather together the manpower so several
could be performed simultaneously. Each planned search had to have a backup in
case no one was around or got complicated. And it always got complicated. But
that’s what Kozinski was good at: planning for the unforeseen to get the task
done. It was important to catch them with goods of some kind: guns, drugs,
illegals, or girls. For the best chance of conviction, he wanted to catch them
in the act.

Tito, the youngest courier, who was all of twenty, was the
most cooperative. He’d been Sam’s snitch for nearly a year, and it had been
helpful in building the case against the gang. Tito had been promised extra
consideration when the sweep occurred. A very smart sister who was studying
criminal law negotiated his situation. God bless her soul, she’d advised her
brother to cooperate completely with the police hoping to keep her brother out
of jail. He’d had some run-ins with the juvenile authorities, but nothing that
would permanently taint his record like this. Even though under age, a stint in
lockup would only introduce him to a more seasoned criminal element, she said.
Tito had a fake ID that said he was twenty-five. The kid looked fifteen, and
Kozinski knew he’d be one of the early casualties of war, if it came to that.

Tito told him that Carlos was doing a cruise up the coast
and back with a couple of his lady friends and wouldn’t be returning until
Sunday late afternoon. That gave them just enough time to start picking up
people Saturday and Sunday, and then meeting Carlos at the pier when he
returned. The sergeant doubted Carlos would dock a two-million-dollar boat in
just any pond. He’d have to come back to his berth in San Diego.

The warrants were issued and shortly afterwards they
released Tito to the care of his sister. Kozinski had wanted to release him to
Sam, but he hadn’t been able to reach the man all afternoon. And with what he
was beginning to suspect about Sam, it was probably better—no, safer—for Tito
anyway. All Kozinski had to do now was wait for the phone calls to come in
telling him how the teams were coming with the arrests.

Which is why it concerned him that Sam was nowhere to be
found. Finally he got the call that the warrants had been executed.

Then he got three urgent calls and text messages from Sam
and knew something was wrong. He agreed to meet the officer at Ducky’s rather
than the station, because it was closer. And, based on his suspicions, Kozinski
felt he’d better have a few witnesses to this meeting with Sam.

He hoped Sam would get it together fast so Kozinski didn’t
have to fire the man. That was a bureaucratic nightmare, trying to get rid of
someone who had been on the force nearly twenty years. He halfway hoped the man
would retire before he learned the truth of Sam’s involvement with some of the
complaints he’d had from a couple of female staffers lately. And there was that
one prostitute that claimed she was one of Sam’s regulars, until she broke it
off for “personal reasons.” Kozinski wondered if Sam’s wiring was starting to
fry. He hoped he was wrong.

But his intuition was usually spot-on accurate. That
intuition had saved his life a couple of times over his career. He wasn’t going
to abandon his hunches just yet. Certainly not just so he wouldn’t have to do
something tough like put an officer out to pasture. When it came to right and
wrong, the public was to be protected at all costs.

The squealing espresso-maker startled him. He took another
sip of his plain coffee and prepared himself for the meeting. He slowed his
breathing and settled his nerves.

Sam appeared in the doorway and Kozinski was shocked to see
the normally well-groomed officer looking so disheveled. He had a day-old
beard, and his hair looked like it had been run through with his fingers
instead of a comb. His brown kaki shirt was wrinkled and dotted with several
grease stains from a meal.

But his eyes were what worried the sergeant the most. He had
a distinctive alcoholic red ring around both eyes, and his lids were puffy,
reacting to the allergy that booze definitely was for him. The shit-eating
smirk Sam wore tore at Kozinski’s heartstrings. Nothing worse than seeing a man
going through a breakdown and having the man know you’ve seen it. No amount of
covering up could hide that fact. Both of them had seen enough of it to know
what was going on.

But Kozinski decided to pretend anyway. “You look like shit.
Whose couch did you sleep on last night, or did you try to make up to the
Mrs.?” He decided bringing up something they both acknowledged as painful would
be a helpful start to some truth talking.

Sam chuckled. His belly was flabby and his breathing labored
“That woman’s already got a bedmate. Didn’t take her long at all. Another cop,
can you believe it?”

“Where?”

“Not here, thank God.”

“So then, what is it that you need to talk to me about so
urgently?”

“I’m worried about Gina.”

You dumb fucker. You honestly believe I’d fall for that?

“Well then, I’m worried about you,” Kozinski answered. “I
asked that you two bury the hatchet. She’s done some really good police work,
Sam. I’m kinda proud of her, taking on this job with no real experience.”

“So you can make your female quotas?”

“That was originally part of the decision, of course. But
she’s earning her stripes, Sam. The girl is solid. Gotta give her credit where
credit is due.”

The sergeant could see it hit Sam right in the chest like it
had been a .45 at point-blank range. The surprise in Sam’s face was replaced
with deep lines showing hatred as he plastered on a crazy-assed smile of pure
evil. Now Kozinski was worried for his own welfare and wondered about the
safety of the public. He’d have to do something about this. Today. Things had
deteriorated too far.