ROMANCE: MENAGE ROMANCE: Tapped and Taken by Two (Pregnancy Sports MMA UFC Fighter Romance) (Alpha Male Romance) (16 page)

“Hey, I got you something.”

“More than breakfast, or lunch, I guess, and a bubble bath?”

“Much more.”

He came back with a jewelry box.

“Oh James, whatever this is, it’s way too soon.”

“I disagree.”

“But—”

He wormed his hand under the blankets and placed it on her bare stomach. “We’re tied together forever. You and me. So I want you to have this.”

She opened the grey velvet box to find a single pearl on a silver chain. “It’s beautiful.”

“I like the roundness of it.”

“Just like I’m going to be.” She asked a hard question next. One that could have her standing up, returning the gift, and walking out of the room. “Are you feeling better about the idea of a baby?”

He sucked in his breath, but nodded. “I’m getting there. I still don’t know how I be a father, but I like thinking about it.

That statement didn’t make sense to Randi but it kindled a warm glow in Randi’s chest. Could this be the family she never got with Devon? She allowed him to clasp the necklace around her neck and the pearl hung perfectly between her breasts.

A glance at the clock told her it was getting to the time she should head back to work. “I should start getting ready for work,” she told him.

“You should uncover yourself.”

His demand made her blush, and she gently set the breakfast tray aside, and uncovered. She lay bare before him. He admired her. When he pulled off his pants, the little burner phone clattered to the floor, and she thought about it again as he climbed on top of her. Before long, her mind was a complete, satisfied blank.

*              *              *

When she got back to the office, Chris sat hunched over her laptop. “We got video.”

Randi’s heart leapt. Video! They could finally start piecing these things together. The suspect they’d caught  in the last heist was a former Army sergeant who said he didn’t know the real names, or anything about his cohorts. Ex-military both of them though. The man the officer shot at the first heist was a former Marine as well. If the suspects were military, their information was on file somewhere. Fingerprints, DNA, all of it. It explained why they were so careful to burn up the cars.

Randi leaned over Chris’ shoulder, and the pearl necklace popped out of her blouse. It caught in the light and sparkled. Chris and her family didn’t have much money, and Randi felt suddenly self-conscious about the display of wealth.

“From the guy?”

She couldn’t help the grin spreading over her face. “Yup.”

“Moving awfully fast?”

Randi touched her stomach. “I mean, we’re already going to be parents. I tried to argue when he gave it to me.”

“What’s his name?”

“James.”

“James what?”

“Oh god, are you going to background check him?”

“You mean you haven’t?”

“No!” She thought of the burner phone. Then thought of his gentle touches.

“What does he do for work?”

“Internet banking stuff.”

“Lucrative, apparently.”

“Very.”

“Are you going to be a kept woman?”

“Very funny. Show me the video.”

“Watch these guys.”

They watched in grainy color as three men waited in line for tellers. One of them let an elderly woman go ahead of him, glanced over and got a nod of approval from his partner.

“All working in unison hey? These guys are pros.”

“Yeah. We don’t have video of them driving away, though.”

Something struck Randi as familiar about the taller one though. “Have you run the images through the database?”

“No matches.”

“And through a military database?”

“We’re working on the warrants now. They’re not as forthcoming.”

She thought of Devon. “They like to protect their own.”

“He’s familiar, though. I guess I thought we’d picked him up somewhere, but if there was no facial recognition match…” Her voice trailed off. It was the hairline, peeking out under the knit cap in the one moment before he tugged it down.

And the cheekbones.

She knew she was thinking of James, but that could just be the state of her brain. Everything was reminding her of James. The nose was different, though, and the teeth weren’t right. The man on the video had a limp and walked with his shoulders hunched. He was obviously way fatter than James was as well.

“Hopefully the military database would come up with some clearer results.”

She and Chris worked through the night. Finally, twelve hours later as they took turns waking each other up, which they used as the time to call it quits, they left with no new leads.

“Are you going home?” Chris asked.

“Yeah.”

“Your home?”

She smiled in spite of herself. “Yes.”

“What’s his last name?”

“You’re not really going to look him up, are you?”

“I just want to take a peek.”

“Moore. His name is Moore.”

Chris stuck her tongue out at Randi. “James Moore? Does he make you scream for more?”

Randi thought of the way he’d commanded her to uncover herself, and felt a slight thrill. “He’s really sweet.”

“He sounds it, but Randi, you don’t know him.”

“I’m getting to know him.”

“It kinda sounds like you’re just having a lot of sex.”

“Well that’s all it was supposed to be. It’s our common ground. We have to go from there. He made me breakfast in bed.”

“That’s nice. And he’s good looking?”

“Very.”

“Just…be careful, okay? This is the first guy you’ve been serious about…”

“Since my husband killed himself.”

“Well, yes. I know you’ve given yourself time to grieve, and you’re about the most level headed person I know, but being pregnant doesn’t mean he’s the only one out there. Just…take it slow, okay?”

Chris was really worried about her, she could tell, but as she headed for the subway station, she felt better than she had since Devon died. He’d be happy for her, she knew it. Knew he’d want her to find someone. It wasn’t a normal way couples got together, but since when did Randi Gagnon ever do anything the easy way or the normal way?

The final piece of the plan. James wished there was another way out, but what could he do. All the pieces were set in motion long before Randi and the baby. What could he do? The way to go was forward and walking into this job with second thoughts would only get him caught. If everything went well though, this could be the last job he would ever need to do. James had never done an armored truck before. Most truck robberies went bad fast, most guys wound up caught, but the takes, if one was successful, were huge. It took a lot of planning, it took a lot of luck, but most of all it took having a guy on the inside, which was the only reason why James was even thinking about this.

For this project, James had spent a good amount of time watching a Brinks driver named Carl Fellows. James hung out at the bars he hung out in, started getting his morning coffee at the same place as Carl, and it didn’t take long for James to know that Carl was going to be the guy to help him pull off a job like this. For the heist, Fellows’ code name was McCoy. Another man whose real name James didn’t know was Spock, James himself Kirk. For all the jobs that required the use of an insider, or someone who wasn’t a professional, James had the same approach. First, James disguised himself as a crumpled old man in a dark coat and made the contact with potential partner. Once they decided they were in on the job James, as the old man would set up the meeting. The old man was the only connection for Carl. The real James was just the guy executing the plan with him. If the police ever caught Carl or many of the other guys James had used in his plans, they would all only have this old man to talk about, who didn’t even exist. To Carl, James was just another person doing a job just like himself. He didn’t know anything real about James, and if it came down to it, the police would probably be more interested in finding the old mastermind behind the heist. Good luck finding him.

Today, James and Spock sat in an old junker Jeep Cherokee parked at a gas station a few miles outside the city. Spock kept checking his watch.

“Chill, man. They’ll be here. They still have five minutes.”

When they left the city a half hour ago, traffic had been thicker than they anticipated, so James wasn’t about to get too worried if they were a bit behind schedule. He could text McCoy, but not yet. He settled into the driver’s seat.

Instead of fancy prosthetics, this time James chose masks. James’ was Ghostface from the Scream movies, and he held it in his lap. Spock chose a Jason hockey mask from Friday the 13
th
.

“They’re late.”

“By a minute,” James said.

“I don’t like this. It doesn’t feel good.”

“Just relax.”

“I get feelings about shit like this,” Spock said. “Like before my chopper got blown up in Iraq.”

James studied the other man. He usually got bad feelings before a job that was going to go wrong but he didn’t feel anything that day. James was just ready to get this one done and start working on what he was going to do with Randi and the baby, but he was starting to worry about Spock’s attitude.

“It’s gonna be fine,” James said, trying to calm him down.

Fine to the tune of five million dollars if the information that Carl had given him was right. Give a chunk to Tomas and his family, add the rest to his own stockpile and start figuring out how to get Randi to leave the country with him. He didn’t even want to start thinking about how he would be able to keep this whole part of his life a secret for the rest of the time they were going to be together, the rest of his life he was starting to feel like he wanted it to be.

“Here they come.”

James’ stomach clenched. The Brinks truck rumbled into the parking lot, and James caught a glimpse of McCoy in the passenger seat, right where he was supposed to be. They parked close to the door, and McCoy hopped out and headed into the gas station. The truck idled, tail pipe sending up plumes of exhaust in the cold air.

James and Spock got out of the car. James stretched, hearing his back pop. He couldn’t get Randi out of his head. How tracking him gave her dark circles under her pretty eyes. Her body splayed out beneath him.

He needed to get his head in the game. The two of them paused by the door smoking cigarettes, waiting for McCoy to come out. He did, carrying two Mountain Dews. He headed back to the truck, and as soon as he got the door open, James and Spock put out their cigarettes, stuck them in their pockets (no need to giftwrap anything for the police), donned their masks, and ran for the truck.

McCoy didn’t get his door closed in time, and they were inside.

“Open up the back and no one gets hurt!”

“You’re making a big mistake,” said the driver.

When McCoy pulled his gun too, the driver’s face went pale.

“Open it up. Get the money.”

The driver pulled his revolver. Spock’s body went rigid.

“It doesn’t have to be like this, man. Not your money. Not worth it. It’s all insured,” James said. “Five minutes and you’ll be on your way home to your family.”

The driver raised his gun, and Spock fired. In the confined space of the cab, the blast deafened the other three men.

“Grab his key!” James could tell Spock was shouting, but had to rely on reading his lips.

It took McCoy’s key and the dead guard’s key to open the back. McCoy gaped at the body. James faltered, too. Thought about the war zones he’d been in, seen men shot and blown up. Thought about Vince’s face, beaten to a pulp.

James liked money crimes because, if they were done according to plan, no one got hurt. It was all insured. People didn’t even feel the pinch.

Spock turned his gun on McCoy and James, wavering.

“You backing out on me?”

“We said no one got hurt. It was one of the rules.”

In the distance, a siren.

McCoy was shaking, lost in shock now. His worst nightmare coming true that he would be going away for the rest of his life now that murder was involved. Spock was shaking as well, rapidly shifting the aim of the gun between the two of them. In a split second, James saw an opening and lunged for Spock, grabbing around the elbow and wrenching the gun out of his hand. McCoy watched with barely a reaction. James then handed the gun to Carl, looked him straight in the eyes so that he knew that he was listening.

“You’re the hero now Carl. I’m going to disappear, and this is your prisoner.”

James then slipped away to the Jeep Cherokee, and climbed into the driver’s seat. He slipped off his mask and calmly pulled out of the parking space and onto the street. Taking the first right down the alley got him around the first wave of police cars, he wondered if Randi was in one of them, and soon he was rubbing bleach onto the steering wheel and lighting a match as he tossed in the last of the empty boxes that they were supposed to have filled with about five million dollars.

What would McCoy say to the cops? What would Spock say to the cops? Would this be the job to bring James down? There would have to be another. Back in his Mercedes, he sat behind the wheel, shaking.

He dialed Randi’s number knowing of nothing else that was going to make him feel anything but the darkness that was crushing him in that moment.

*              *              *

Sitting at her desk, Randi picked up her cell, already smiling. “Hey handsome.”

“Hey.”

The smile fell off her face when she heard his tone. “Are you alright?”

“No. Can I see you?”

“Now?”

“Yeah, just for a minute or two. I…I just got some bad news, and I need to feel connected to someone.”

“Can you swing by my office?”

He paused. “I’ll come by the parking garage. Meet me there. We can sit in my car.”

“Are you—is everything okay?”

Was he leaving her? She remembered the hushed conversation, the cheap phone.

“Once I see you it will be. Top floor.”

She shrugged into her coat, told Chris she’d be right back, and headed out to the garage. Fat, fluffy snowflakes dropped lazily from the sky, and while she waited for his white Mercedes, she thought about what next winter would bring…her child’s first snowfalls. First Christmas. Her first Christmas with a family since Devon’s death. Sure, his parents and sister always welcomed her, but she’d never taken them up on it. Too sad, too much a reminder of the life she’d lost.

James rolled up in his car, and she headed over to where he parked. Slid in the passenger side. The warm red leather interior smelled like Old Spice and new car. She loved how a posh guy like him didn’t have an expensive signature scent, just grocery store shelf deodorant.

“What’s up?” She asked.

Unbuckled, he leaned over and kissed her. His heat and passion startled her against her cold lips.

“James, are you—”

“I need you. Right now.”

She laughed. “Here?” What if one of her coworkers walked past?

He nodded. She’d never seen such yearning in a man’s eyes.

Lust tingled deep within her. She scanned the mostly empty parking lot roof. Shift change wasn’t for another hour. He kissed her again, sliding a hand down her pants. He pushed her panties aside. Her body consented for her when he felt how wet she suddenly was.

She reached for him and found him at attention, unbuckled his belt and set him free. She stroked him with her hand as they kissed. Her desire built and built, and she tugged her pants down, freeing one leg. So inappropriate for a police detective, but she didn’t care as she climbed on top of James in the driver’s seat of his car.

Their frenzied lovemaking didn’t last long. She pumped up and down on top of him, knocking her knee on the gear shift. They thrust into one another, grunting like animals. There was no gentleness, only need. The pins came loose from her hair and the blonde waves tumbled down over her shoulders. He used her hair to maneuver her head to the side, and bit at her neck, teasing the boundaries between pleasure and pain. She moaned into him.

He came hard, jerking and shuddering, and she followed him a split second later with a scream, loud in the enclosed space. They didn’t need to worry about being seen, steam fogged the car windows to opacity.

Randi disentangled herself, flopping back onto the passenger seat, pulling up her pants.

“Thank you. I had to feel you.”

“What’s wrong, James?”

“I got some bad news today. About my job. I don’t know what I’m going to do. Some tough decisions. Let me drop you off closer to the door. And, god, I left you a huge hickey. I’m so sorry.”

Randi peered in the mirror. He wasn’t wrong. “Good thing it’s scarf season.” It was really the only thing she could think of to say. She didn’t mind having James insider her in the least, but now she was starting to get worried. What was up? But there was no clarity from James. She walked back into the precinct a little numbed a little blissed out.

*              *              *

“Where the hell have you been?” Chris demanded when she came back inside. “I’ve been calling you!”

She’d left her phone on her desk. “I needed some air, wasn’t feeling great.”

“You look a little flushed.”

“What’s going on?”

“They hit a Brinks truck this time. Killed one of the guards.”

It didn’t sound right…their guy seemed to be strictly a bank guy. Was he getting desperate? And they’d never hurt anyone before. “You’re sure it’s the same perp?”

“Not 100%, but it seems to be. Found the getaway car torched like the others.”

“Well, let’s go.”

Chris frowned at her, put her hands on her hips. “Wait a minute, if you’re not feeling well, I can grab Morrison to come with me instead. You can hang here, there’s certainly plenty to do.”

“No, I’m fine, it was a passing thing. I’m okay now.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“Then let’s go.”

*              *              *

The next night Randi and James drove out of the city. He told her it was a surprise where they were going, and after a delicious Italian dinner, she discovered he’d taken her to an ice castle. Huge slabs of sparkling ice that looked like children’s wooden blocks lit it in multiple colors. No wonder he’d told her to dress warm. They held hands and strolled through the corridors of colorful crystalline stalagmites.

He talked about his family, all dead.

“How?” she’d asked.

He kinda shrugged in a way that people do when they are trying to pretend something isn’t causing them to feel something when it really is. She recognized the look in his eyes from that first moment they ran into each other on the street. He had something he wanted off his chest, but he just wasn’t able to say it. She didn’t push. He told her how they’d grown up dirt poor, his father never around when he was alive. They didn’t have a lot of possessions, and he admitted he might be overcompensating these days.

“I get it. Sometimes material stuff is comforting. When Devon died, it was all that brought me pleasure. Touching things that couldn’t die, couldn’t feel. It brought with it the added bonus of being one more thing to beat myself up about—how materialistic could I be, blowing through huge swaths of Devon’s life insurance on monstrous shopping sprees. But the purchases would never leave me you know. Would never force me to come home from work one day and find them dead in her home.”