SiNN (12 page)

Cubrero recalled Danielle’s words before he’d killed her.
That Lea had been interested in two men tonight, not one.

“Who else?” he demanded, his impatience growing.

The manager’s gaze jerked to the knife. Cubrero stroked the
blade slowly with his thumb, far preferring this weapon to a revolver or pistol
equipped with a silencer. Each was a quiet killer, but there was something so
intimate about a knife. A man could feel its steel sinking into his victim’s
flesh, gutting him, releasing the warm gush of blood as—

His thoughts paused at what he saw on the monitor. “There,”
he said, staring at two men in the back.

Both were tall, one looking to be in his early or
mid-thirties, the other slightly younger. The dark man had longish hair,
coppery skin and what appeared to be Native American features, while the other
was blond and clean-cut. Given their proximity to each other, they appeared to
be together.

“Stop the tape,” he ordered.

As it came to a halt, freezing on the two, Cubrero recalled
what he’d heard on the other end of the line when he’d called Lea.

“What are you doing?”
a deep male voice had asked.

Shifting his attention from one to the other, Cubrero tried
to match the sound to them, thinking it fit the dark one.

“Have you seen these two before?” he asked.

The manager pulled on his cigarette, not noticing the ashes
that fell to his tailored slacks. He glanced from Cubrero’s weapon to the recording.
Blowing out a mouthful of smoke, he spoke cautiously, “No.”

Cubrero couldn’t remember having seen them at the beginning
of the tape. Had they come into the show after it started, let in by the
bouncers who’d been loitering outside the door? Had they asked one of those men
about Lea, learning that she’d decided to leave before her last performance?

“Did any of the customers ask about SiNN tonight? Did your
men mention that to you?”

“Lots of guys ask about her and LuST and—” He stopped at
Cubrero’s hard stare. “No one said anything to me.”

“Start the recording again, run it at its slowest speed.”

The manager complied.

Just as Cubrero had suspected, the two men weren’t in the
audience at the beginning of the show. They’d come into the room later. Immediately,
the dark one had stared at Lea’s performance. The blond did too, but only after
he’d scanned the patrons as though he was searching for someone.

Me?

No doubt. They’d been here tonight to tell Lea of her
father’s murder, warning her that she was next, then took her into protective
custody to prevent it.

A flush of heat rose to Cubrero’s chest and throat, his
temper building at how they’d outmaneuvered him, though not for long.

He regarded the dark one who watched Lea with more than a
bit of lust on his face, while the blond wore a look of concern. Because it
wasn’t protocol for his partner to want a woman they were supposed to protect?

Cubrero studied their clothing, searching for a hint of the
weapons they surely carried.

“Print a copy of this frame,” he ordered, pointing his knife
at the screen.

“I’m not certain how to do that.”

Cubrero’s fingers fisted around his weapon.

“I’ll figure it out,” the manager said quickly, all
hesitation and excuses gone. “Let me turn on the printer.”

Its hum filled the silence along with his nervous throat
clearing.

Enjoying the man’s fear, Cubrero considered who in law
enforcement would be able to help him identify the men, no doubt Phoenix
detectives or U.S. Marshals. With what he paid his informants—with what they
knew he’d do to them and their families if opposed—he’d soon know everything.
His hands would be on Lea’s body and then around her throat. Just as gutting a
man was so very personal, strangling a woman also satisfied.

He pictured Lea staring at him in helpless horror, knowing
her life was about to end. Content with his fantasy, Cubrero waited for the
manager to print out the recording’s frame.

Tentatively, the young man came around his desk, holding out
a sheaf of papers. “Here you go. I made several copies.”

Standing, Cubrero took them, regarding the picture’s
quality. Not the best, but it would have to do. Without comment, he laid them
on a filing cabinet next to a copy of Penthouse, dog-eared from so much use.

“I could do them in black and white too, if you want,” the
manager offered.

“No.” He grabbed the young man’s wrist.

“Hey! What are you—”

Cubrero twisted the fool’s arm, interrupting his protest,
using surprise and rage to force his hand down to the desk. With one brutal
slice of his knife’s highly sharpened blade, Cubrero cut through flesh and
cartilage, then with a hard twist separated the bones of the thumb, severing
it.

The manager’s eyes rounded in disbelief, his mouth hanging
open for a scream that hadn’t yet come, the pain still seconds away.

Long before the agony arrived, Cubrero’s free hand was
around the young man’s throat, keeping him from making any sound.

“You tell no one about my visit tonight,” he warned. “You
tell no one what I asked.” He dug his fingers into the young man’s fleshy neck
to assure that he was listening and understood.

The manager choked out an anguished groan. His bulky body
shivered. Tears filled his eyes.

Savoring the terror he saw, Cubrero continued softly, “You
say one word, I’ll return for your other thumb and your balls. I won’t kill
you. I’ll just make you wish you were dead.”

He released him and stepped back, not wanting to get blood
on his suit. The young man crumpled to the floor, curling into a fetal
position, cradling his injured hand to his chest.

Spearing the severed thumb with his knife, Cubrero grabbed
his copies and left the cramped office, indifferent to the man’s pained howl.

Hunched in front of his laptop, Toby heard footfalls coming
toward the kitchen.

His fingers stalled on the keyboard.

Abruptly, the steps stopped. Lea’s muffled voice drifted
toward this room, followed by Jake’s, their conversation too muted for Toby to
understand.

Shit. A mixture of anticipation and dread, hunger and
annoyance ran through him, the stew of emotions making Toby hot, then cold,
then hot once more.

Was Lea coming in here to invite him to join her and Jake or
to challenge him as she had in the front room?

Toby frowned at the memory, cursing himself for wanting her.
It was nuts. He knew that. And Jake sure as fuck did too.

That hadn’t stopped him from stripping her bare or driving
his cock into her cunt with a right she’d given him.

Quicker than he would have liked, Toby remembered Lea on her
knees in front of the sofa, her body bent in submission, her hair fanned out
over her shoulders and back. He recalled the mole on her right forearm and the
one just above her buttocks. Her cheeks were deliciously rounded, her skin
smooth and flawless with youth. With her legs parted, she’d displayed her body
shamelessly, showing him her naked cunt.

Wanting him to see it.

Damn her.

Damn you for wanting what you shouldn’t have.

He swallowed at his memory of her female flesh, flushed with
arousal, plump with need, her opening so wet and inviting. So fucking tight and
warm. Like a voyeur, he hadn’t been able to look away. He’d stared at Jake’s
rigid cock disappearing into her bit by bit. He’d listened to Lea’s throaty
moans, no doubt at the pressure of Jake’s size. Had that excited her? Is that
what she wanted from a man—raw, rough sex with no degree of tenderness?

She hadn’t complained. When their bodies had finally touched
and Jake had buried all of himself inside of her, Toby forgot to breathe.

He’d imagined Jake’s pleasure to be his, the thrill of her
narrow channel hugging, squeezing his rod. He’d coveted her moisture glistening
on Jake’s shaft as the man had pulled back, releasing himself until only his
crown remained inside, then plunged into her once more.

The footfalls resumed, their advance recorded on the
hardwood floor that creaked beneath the individual’s weight.

Given the sounds and the length of the strides, they
belonged to Jake, not Lea.

He entered the kitchen, his naked feet slapping the Mexican
pavers. Toby kept his attention on his laptop’s screen, his thoughts on the
front room. Lea bent over the sofa, Jake taking and using her from behind.

Toby’s erection strained against the confinement of his
briefs. His balls hurt like they had when he’d been a virginal teen and
couldn’t masturbate enough to calm down. He wanted to readjust his weight, but
refused to move, not wanting Jake to notice him.

Yeah right. Like he was as invisible in this room as he’d
been out there when they’d been going at it like two porn stars.

Fuck. What was he going to do for the rest of this night and
tomorrow and all the other days here? More importantly, what were they going to
do? Toby wasn’t certain he could take another Jake and Lea show.

Yawning, Jake stopped short of the kitchen table.

Toby didn’t look up. In his peripheral vision, he saw Jake
scratching his ass, so fucking at ease with what he’d just done, so casual
about every goddamn thing. From the beginning of their partnership, Toby had
admired Jake’s mellow attitude, wanting to be more like him. Never the cool
kid, teenager or adult, he knew he was too uptight and kept trying to change.

His most recent attempt had occurred last week on his first
date with a pretty young woman he’d met at a conference. At the time, he’d
tried to emulate Jake’s effortless charm, telling himself that was how he
wanted to be.

Tonight though, all Toby continued to experience was
mounting irritation. Was Jake actually going to deliver Lea’s invitation that
they all get it on, fucking their brains out with no regard to the future since
she’d clearly given up on it?

Was he going to say that Lea desired him as much as she
obviously liked Jake? Toby frowned. Did he want that? Would he believe it?

On a new yawn, Jake asked, “Where are your plates and
utensils?”

Toby glanced up, instantly noticing Jake’s cock, still damp
with Lea’s moisture, the evidence of her lust. “My what?”

“Stuff you use to help you eat,” Jake explained, pushing his
fingers through his hair, dragging it away from his face.

His hair was too fucking long for a marshal, his damn
attitude too pissing blasé. “You’re going to eat?” Although Toby hadn’t meant
it to, his question sounded like an accusation.

Unfazed, Jake went to the refrigerator, its mahogany façade
identical to the cabinets. “Yeah. I’m probably going to breathe on occasion
too.” He opened the door, peering at the jugs of milk, bottles of juice,
designer water, beer and no end of food. “I understand it’s necessary to stay
alive.”

“Like fucking is?”

“Nope.”

He pulled out a tray of cold cuts and cheese Toby had
thought to get, stocking the fridge to bursting once he’d known they’d be
bringing Lea here, staying with her for a few days. Not forever. Just a short
period of time.

Placing the tray on the rustic table, Jake looked at him.
“Fucking’s for pleasure. You should give it a try sometime.”

“You should put some of your energy into protecting her.”

Jake nibbled on a slice of hard salami. “We’re here, aren’t
we? I saw you setting the security system the second we arrived.” He finished
the meat and chose a wedge of cheddar cheese. “Did you think we’d be hanging
out on the roof all night dressed like ninjas, Uzis drawn, ready to fire on
whatever the hell approached?” Jake grinned. “That’s only done in the movies.
Right?”

Toby pushed back in his chair and spoke quietly, so Lea
wouldn’t hear, “What you’re doing with her is nuts and even you must know it.”

Jake’s grin disappeared. He popped the wedge of cheese into
his mouth and talked around it. “Lea’s not complaining, so why are you?”

Toby spoke through his teeth, “I don’t want anything to
compromise this operation, her safety or our careers.”

Jake studied him a moment, then focused on the food,
choosing a slice of prosciutto.

“You want her as badly as I do,” Jake said, continuing
before Toby could deny it with his lie. “She’s like no woman you’ve ever known.
Believe me, I understand. It’s not just the way she looks, which is fucking
amazing. She’s a good person, as lonely as both of us have been, her past as
fucked up. Maybe that’s what made for such a fast connection between her and
me—and you. I don’t know. I don’t goddamn care. In a few days, she’s going to
be gone. I, for one, want what she has to offer while she’s still here.”

“Of course you do,” Toby shot back. “You’ve already proven
it.”

Jake accepted the rebuke with a shrug. “Just so you know, I
also want to make her feel safe beyond what our promises, badges and our
weapons can do. If you don’t, that’s your decision. I respect it.”

He returned to the refrigerator, pulling out two bottles of
Corona, Dijon mustard and a jar of pickles, placing the condiments on the tray.
Finding napkins and the bottle opener in a drawer, Jake tossed them on top of
everything else. With the tray and beers in hand, he headed out of the kitchen,
stopping at the doorway.

“It’s all right for you to be human,” he said quietly.
“We’re not super heroes, Toby. Even if we were, that’s not what Lea needs
tonight or during the few days she’s with us. She wants us to care. To give her
a sense of belonging. The kind you and I never really had.”

Toby’s jaw tightened. He struggled to keep himself from
saying something sarcastic or tearing into Jake for bringing up his past. Toby
never should have shared it. That time of his life was over, done with, having
nothing to do with now.

At his silence, Jake added, “Do yourself a favor, loosen
your tie, relax and think about what I’ve said.” With no further comment, he
padded back toward the front room.