Magic Moment (25 page)

His hand stroked her cheek, and Laura opened her eyes.

“I’m glad you suggested I marry you,” she murmured.

“I’m glad you agreed. I love you, Laura Donovan.”

Hearing him say her name as a married woman excited her as much as his touch.

“I love you, too. So much, Chase.”

His hand stopped stroking her cheek and cupped her chin, bringing her mouth to meet his. Tongues, lips, every sense came into play as his kiss electrified her. His hand cupped her breast, pregnancy making it rounder, firmer, and fuller than the last time they had made love. Chase fondled first one, then the other, her nipples tweaked into hard, erect peaks. His mouth, now nibbling her neck and shoulder, thrilled her beyond words, shaking her senses to their core. She felt him pressed, hard and swollen against her thigh.

Laura panted, urgent to release months of pent-up passion. She quickly wriggled over on her side, her back pressed against his chest. He tasted her available shoulder.

“Is this okay?” she asked. Lying on their sides was the most comfortable way to receive him at this stage of pregnancy.

“Any way is okay as long as I’m with you,” he said huskily and went back to enjoying his light bites on her shoulder.

Laura sighed at his tingling touch. His lips and teeth excited her. His hand reached down between her thighs.

“Can I touch you here, honey?” His hushed tone a tender caution, as if afraid he might harm her, the baby, or perhaps just bring back bad memories.

Laura entwined her fingers with his, placing his hand at her crest. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “You can touch me anywhere you like. You’re my husband.”

Chase chuckled softly, and his lips returned to her shoulder. His hand slid between her thighs, pressing, caressing, arousing. His gentle style stirred living flames that burned her very being. She closed her eyes, melting with the magnificent sensations his spell produced. Laura was woozy, as if she’d consumed a quart of his Irish whiskey. If she didn’t have him soon, feel him embedded inside her, moving, stirring, she was certain of fainting.

When his hand moved to her hip, Laura raised her leg, bending it at the knee. Cupping her hip, Chase pulled her to him, sinking himself easily into her velvety warmth. His arm encircling her head, he stroked her hair while leisurely easing himself in and out of her. He drove and pushed ever so slowly, yet not too deeply, as if they had all the time in the world. Laura moved easily with him, the pressure immersed within her brought about the most fantastic, spine-tingling sensations.

She pressed back hard against the burning heat of his yearning. Her breath coming in little pants, Laura moaned his name, devouring his rhythmic heaving, her muscles clenching him tight inside her, as his eager thrusts brought her a sequence of untamed, overpowering spasms that sent her spinning, spiraling, whirling away.

As she cried out her own erotic finale, Laura clawed the sheet as the ripples overtook her. Chase gasped, moving strongly yet carefully. His mouth closed over the tender skin of her neck as his final thrust shuddered through him, and he jerked with his ecstasy before pulling her close and slumping against her.

Dizzy, lightheaded, out of sorts, or any other word used that meant floating into oblivion was how Laura described her state of mind. When his breathing had slowed, Chase rolled over on his back, tugging Laura with him. She happily squirmed around, settling herself as close to her husband as physically possible with her expanding belly between them. She loved curling against his long, muscular body; their damp, bare skin touching. His arm always wrapped around her, her head resting on his shoulder.

Laura was the most content she had ever been in her life.

Steering Lonnie’s Toyota into the parking lot, Chase pulled into the first vacant spot he came upon. Over the weekend, when he hadn’t been looking at houses with his wife or making love to her, he had been silently pondering the old photo album.

Finally on Monday, while Laura napped at the house, he placed the telephone call from
Madre
. Rattling off the details, Chase’s emotions had been a massive combination of apprehension, hostility, and relief.

After returning to Sea Tower back in July, Chase had twice brought up hiring a private detective to investigate Dick Donovan and Oliver Daniels. Laura had opposed vehemently. She didn’t want to talk about what happened with a stranger. Chase respected her wishes. Then Dick Donovan showed up at Aunt Lonnie’s door. Followed by the photo album.

So much for husband and wife talking. Chase had lied to his wife. The first time, when he had told her Dick assured him Laura was safe. Chase hadn’t known what else to say to her, and had feared another panic attack. He thought it a harmless fib that he would deal with later. His father’s visit got shoved in the background as the couple excitedly prepared for their baby, and discovered each other again.

Friday night and the photo album brought out the memory Chase had suspected she suppressed. This morning he heard himself sprouting lie number two. He had nearly choked on the words as they left his mouth. He told Laura he needed a part for the boat. So anxious to get out the door, he had almost neglected to kiss her goodbye.

Now, he stepped through the double glass doors and into the wood paneled and linoleum eatery. Several patrons sat at the counter with coffee and newspapers. An elderly couple sat in a booth, conversing over salads.

Chase scanned for Ned. His friend sat in a booth, facing the front door. He spotted Chase and waved. Two other men sat in the booth, their backs to the door. As Ned had promised over the phone, he hadn’t wasted any time in setting up this meeting.

Ned moved toward the wall, and Chase slid in next to him. The waitress quickly appeared at the table. Chase ordered a black coffee.

Once the woman left, Special Agent Ross Saunders introduced the man sitting next to him. Jake Morgan was a detective with the Philadelphia Police Department. Several years older than Chase, Morgan had brown hair, gray streaks combed through. He sported a full matching beard. He wasn’t dressed in a police uniform or a dark suit as Saunders was, but casually in jeans and a navy cloth bomber jacket.

“Detective Morgan works as Philly PD’s special liaison with the FBI. He assists us with cases that start as local, but end up being federal,” Saunders explained.

Chase and Morgan, who faced each other across the table, shook hands.

The waitress, a petite brunette in her early twenties dressed in a pink uniform with the nameplate,
Lily
, arrived with an empty white mug. She placed it in front of Chase. Pouring from the pot she carried, Lily inquired if anyone cared for a refill. Each of the other men accepted. She obliged, reminding them to call her if they needed anything.

Chase took a swig, then spoke. “Let’s get one thing clear, Saunders,” he began, his voice bitter. “I don’t like you. I don’t like the way you do business. You held me on a charge that could’ve been cleared up in less time than a roulette wheel spin.”

Saunders, unfazed, stirred cream in his coffee. “You pulled a gun on two federal agents. We were looking for a woman who had been observed, by an agent, on your boat,” he said. “It appeared to the agent you attempted to throw the woman overboard. That she may have screamed.”

“The woman is my wife,” Chase said. “I picked up my wife to carry her down to our bed. She wasn’t screaming, Saunders. She was laughing. I wasn’t tossing her anywhere. I was playing with her.” He arched an eyebrow cynically. “Don’t you ever play with your wife?”

“I’m not married,” the agent answered.

“Well, you better learn how to play, if you ever want to be.” Chase shook his head. “You thought Laura was my hostage?” He added a caustic laugh. “We were docked. She was on deck reading a magazine. She had a cell phone.
One I gave her.
I don’t know whether I’m a lousy kidnapper or you and your Baltimore counterparts are inept FBI agents.”

“Chase,” Ned warned.

Chase didn’t care who he offended, especially not Saunders. “You used Laura. Dragging her out of the diner, frightening her. You wanted the jackasses you’re after to know you were watching them,” he said tersely. “Then you screwed with her head, trying to convince her I was in shit up to my eyeballs. That I married her to save my ass.”

“You have to admit, Donovan, a sudden marriage appeared awfully suspicious,” Saunders countered. “I didn’t take advantage of Laura. I presented her with evidence.”

“Give me a break.” Chase snickered. “How dumb do you think I am?”

“You two are still married, seem to be on track.” The agent put the coffee mug to his lips. “No harm, no foul.” He took a swallow.

“That’s true,” Chase said. “Laura and I are married, happy, and expecting a baby. Laura and the baby are the reasons you and I are meeting today. So let’s stop the ‘who’s on first,’ and each put our cards on the table. I want my wife and baby safe.”

Saunders was quiet, giving the impression he was contemplating. Chase considered the pause a dramatic affect.

“Okay, Donovan,” the agent finally said. “Let’s get down to business. To show you what a nice guy I am, I’ll open.”

“Good enough,” Chase said, his animosity not wavering.

“I better start,” Morgan said. “Give you two a chance to go to your respective sidelines for a time-out.”

Chase was silent, glaring at Saunders.

“Before my promotion, I worked undercover,” Morgan began. “I was assigned a low-level bookmaker named Zippo Leon.”

“What’s low level?” Chase asked.

“Zippo was a wanna-be who wasn’t gonna be,” Morgan said. “He liked to think he was in with the big boys, but he couldn’t get the time of day from them. Zippo had his fingers in a lot of petty stuff, but all we got him for was a small-time numbers operation. He took a plea.”

“How much time he get?” Ned inquired.

“Seven years,” Morgan replied. “It didn’t take him long to bitch he wanted out. Less than a year into his gig, he called me with a tip. In exchange, of course, my federal contacts were to reduce his sentence.”

“Why you?” Chase asked.

“Undercover, I was his gopher. While working the case, I met my wife, Kristina.” Morgan smiled. “Zippo thinks Kristina, him, and me are buddies.”

“He sounds like an interesting character,” Chase observed.

“Colorful would be a better word,” Morgan said. “He sold beer and soft drinks to major restaurants, legally and illegally, in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Delaware.”

Morgan paused, drinking from his mug before he continued. “Anyway, Zippo gives me some restaurant owner who had approached him about a drug deal. The drugs came from South America. Shipped to a produce warehouse. A warehouse client picked up the drugs along with his regular legit orders.”

Saunders continued. “The guy sets up in various parking lots, deals his produce out of the back of his truck, and the drugs out of the front.”

“What was the connection between the restaurant owner and Zippo?” Chase asked.

“The restaurant owner wanted Zippo’s trucks for delivering drugs,” Morgan said. “Zippo wasn’t interested. He was content with what he was doing.”

“Why didn’t Zippo bargain with this information at his original arrest?” Ned asked.

“I can count off Zippo’s undesirable traits,” Morgan replied. “One thing I did find laudable was his loyalty. He was no snitch. Prison, undoubtedly, changed his perspective.”

Saunders picked up the story. “Detective Morgan came to us, but by the time we got people in place, the restaurant proprietor had died. Heart attack. Restaurant closed.” He mentioned the restaurant and proprietor’s name. Neither rang a bell with Chase.

The agent continued. “Everything might have stopped there if not that in the restaurant’s parking lot, our people observed the white truck exactly as Zippo Leon had told Detective Morgan.”

“The guy in the white truck?” Chase asked even though he knew the answer.

“Oliver Daniels,” Saunders said. “We observed customers buying more than apples and oranges. Certain individuals came up to the truck, Daniels took a bag from beneath the front seat and the deal went down.”

“Why didn’t you raid the truck? Confiscate the drugs and arrest him?” Chase asked.

Morgan interjected. “We want more.”

Saunders picked up a white sugar packet from the tray on the table. “Since we established the drugs came in through a Food Mall warehouse, our next step was to find out where Daniels bought his produce.”

“My father’s warehouse,” Chase said.

“Your warehouse, too,” Saunders reminded him.

“My name’s on everything my father owns or leases,” Chase admitted. “Half of which, if you asked, I couldn’t tell you. I never paid attention.”

“We staked out the warehouse, Chase,” Morgan said. “But couldn’t get a handle on specifically what Daniels was buying, how often, or where it came from. We were looking for a pattern, and that’s why we brought in Laura Roberts. Who better to ask than the person who keeps track of purchases?”

“Her name is Laura Donovan,” Chase corrected.

“Sorry.” Morgan gave a half grin. “Laura Donovan.”

“Is that your only interest in Laura? The invoices? At any time was she a suspect?” Ned asked.

Chase shot his friend a cutting glance.

Ned disregarded the warning. “I’m an attorney, Chase. I’m
your
attorney, and I want this out there.”

“Everybody’s a suspect until I prove otherwise,” Saunders said. “I asked Laura a few questions regarding invoices. She confirmed merchandise arrived from South America. She recalled some of Daniels’ purchases. I let her go. It was all harmless.”

Chase’s animosity wasn’t waning. “How magnanimous.”

Saunders stare was bold. “Later, we had more questions. Only you conveniently had a car whisk her away, married her, and sailed off yonder on your boat.”

Chase hadn’t had anyone whisk Laura away. Saunders’ word,
harmless
, when referring to taking Laura to headquarters stuck in Chase’s gut.

“How did you discover Laura and I docked in Beach Bay?” Chase asked. “You had her under surveillance?”