Through Fire (Portland, ME #3) (30 page)

As instructed, Tim pushes open a window of the corner house four doors down. “Hold on here for a minute,” he says, as he shimmies himself through the open window.

“Now you,” Chuck gives me a little push when Tim’s hand reaches out. The sound of gunshots have me swing my head around in the direction we came, and I see someone hanging out the window we exited, some kind of long gun in his hands. “NOW!” Chuck roars as he shoves me through the window. Tim’s hands grab at me and pull me against him. “A black SUV will be waiting in the alley off the side street. I’ll hold them off—GO!” he yells, as he turns to return fire at whomever’s been shooting at us.

This house has an actual spiral staircase going down to the second level and appears to be completely empty of any sign of life. I’m numb with fear and cold as I allow Tim to pull me behind him. I can barely keep up, and when we fly out the back door into the small yard, I stumble and fall on hands and knees. Before I have a chance to scramble to my feet, Tim has me lifted off the ground and is running for the back gate, as bullets start hitting the fence to my side.

The back door is open on the dark SUV sitting at the end of the alley. Tim almost throws me on the backseat, crawling in after me. It’s only when Mike turns around from the front seat and tells us to buckle up and hold on tight, that I lift my eyes to Tim and my heart stops in my throat.

“You’re hurt!”

R
uby

“It’s just a scrape, Boop”

I shoot a sharp look at Tim, and he wisely clamps his mouth shut as I continue cleaning the gash in his scalp just above his ear. “You need stitches,” I hiss impatiently, tossing the dirty sterile gauze on top of the others collecting in the garbage bin.

We’re back in the bowels of the downtown FBI building, where Mike managed to get us. A surprise, since I was sure his NASCAR driving style, through the normally almost impassable streets of Boston, would leave us in a crumpled wreck more than once. Tim and I were locked into one of the interview rooms with a table, two chairs, and a thermos of coffee. The first aid kit was tossed in as an afterthought. I immediately started rummaging through it, eager to get a closer look at the cause of the blood on Tim’s face. It almost gave me a heart attack when I first noticed.

“Ruby...” His hands settle on my hips as he pulls me close. “I promise, I’ll be fine.” I allow myself a minute to drown in his alert blue eyes before I tamp down the tears threatening. With brisk movements I finish tending to his wound, silently cursing his stubborn streak as I close the edges as best I can with the butterfly bandages, conveniently supplied in the kit. Tim’s hands on my wrists stop me when I try to wrap his head in gauze. “That’s enough,” he says gently, but his hands are firm.

“Fine,” I bite off, turning to the thermos next in my need to stay busy.

I’ve just finished pouring each of us a Styrofoam cup with the nastiest smelling coffee ever, when the door swings open and Mike walks in. “Have a seat,” he gestures at the empty chair for me to sit and edges himself on the corner of the table. “Sorry about that,” he points at Tim’s head, who just shakes it off.

“What the hell just happened?” I can’t believe those words just flew out of my mouth, and apparently neither can Tim, judging by his surprised chuckle. Mike seems to find it amusing as well, which only serves to feed my temper. “Glad to know this is all very amusing to everyone, but can I remind you that my boyfriend almost got his head blown off just now?” Hysteria is creeping up in my voice. I can hear it, but I can’t seem to stop it. “Is that what you consider a safe house?” I rant on, almost oblivious to the pacifying hand Tim places on my waving arm. “He’s hurt! By a bullet!” I blurt out unnecessarily, since this is something that is clearly apparent to both of them already. Frustration finally breaks my hold on the tears, which now stream freely over my cheeks. Tim scoots his chair close and pulls me into his side.

“I know,” Mike says apologetically. “Unfortunately, it appears we had a leak inside our department.”

“You think?” Tim sneers, earning him a little squeeze from me.
You tell him, honey
.

Mike raises his hand. “Josh was added to our team three months ago, fresh from the five month training at Quantico. He had an exemplary record in his two years prior to that with the Boston PD. We never questioned his request to join this unit, since it seemed only logical he’d ask for placement in his hometown.”

“Josh? The same Josh who...?” I’m incredulous. The fresh-faced young and enthusiastic agent would have been the last person I’d suspected. I ignore Tim’s mumbled, “
I knew it,”
keeping my focus on my rolling stomach instead. Suddenly my body wants to revolt that delicious eggplant parmesan.

“Chuck got suspicious when he intercepted a few words of a phone call Josh was apparently conducting, locked in the kitchen pantry. Rather than confront him, he decided to get you to safety and sent me an alert. We were already on our way, when apparently, whomever Josh had been in contact with blew the front door right off and gained entry. Rhonda got hurt in the process, but she’ll be okay,” he quickly adds, seeing the alarm on my face. “She did manage to take down Josh, after hearing him direct the two men that entered up the stairs. My team managed to round everyone up, just as you were scrambling into the SUV.”

“Is Rhonda going to be okay?” Tim asks the question that is burning on my lips.

“Shoulder shot. She was lucky but she’ll be fine, as will Chuck who got nicked in his thigh.”

“Jesus,” Tim mutters. I’m just stunned.

Mike continues to explain that it had been Eduardo Lima and a second man at the safe house. They’d been able to arrest Terry Milano last night, but hadn’t been able to locate Lima.

“I have to tell you,” Mike turns to me as I huddle against Tim’s shoulder. “Things could’ve gone an entirely different way, if we’d known all along who you were. Don’t get me wrong,” he hurries to clarify when he sees the guilt clearly on my face. “What I’m trying to say is that keeping your identity and whereabouts secret, may well have saved our case. And more importantly: your life. No one knew you were even here, until you were rushed out of here in the van.”

It’s near midnight when the door opens and Mark walks in, making a straight line for Tim and me, pulling the two of us in his arms at the same time. “Fuck, I’m relieved to see you both. Come on.” He starts moving to the door, gesturing for us to follow. “We’ve been set up in the penthouse suite at the Nine Zero on Tremont. Views of the Back Bay and the Boston Common.” His grin would be infectious, if the events of the day weren’t just catching up to me. Barely stifling a yawn, I shuffle behind him out the door.

T
im

I’ve never really experienced this kind of opulent luxury.

I’m standing in front of floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the lights of the Boston nightlife below. It never seems to end, given that it is almost two in the morning in the heart of winter. Even a few horse and buggy rides are still carrying passengers around the Boston Common. I bet Ruby’s never been on a carriage ride—something I’d like to do with her.

She’s sleeping in the suite’s master bedroom, already out cold when I carried her from the SUV that dropped us off, up the private elevator, and straight to bed. I don’t think she got any of the last minute information Mike gave us on our way out the door. For the next day or two, while the main players are being interviewed and the last of the human pipeline can be rolled up by the various agencies involved, we’ll be the FBI’s guests at one of the most luxurious hotels in Boston.

The big difference with the safe house is that Mark will stay with us and that we have free access to phones, TV, and Internet. The luxury is fun as a one-time experience, but the freedom to connect with the outside world is priceless, even after only a short day and a half.

“What’s going through your mind?” my brother, twirling his own glass of casket-aged scotch, asks as he steps up to the window beside me.

“That I’ll never take my freedom for granted again.”

“That bad?” I feel him turn toward me.

“I’m not just referring to the past few days. More like the past few months. Ever since finding out the kind of life Ruby’s been forced to live. That she is still able to smile and laugh—even love—is an absolute miracle to me,” I confess, as I turn to look in the direction of the open door to the bedroom where she sleeps. “You already figured that out, didn’t you?” I turn to Mark, who is suddenly studying the amber liquid in his glass.

“Only just,” he says quietly. “Working as a cop for all these years, you become almost blasé about the stuff you encounter. Brushing it off, because the reality is, we are just Band-Aids. Whatever it is we do doesn’t change anything. We just mop up after the mess has already been made. Discovering that, for some of us, the numbness has worked itself so deep that slipping into the dark side seems effortless, that was a wake up call.” He takes a deep swig of his drink and I follow suit, savoring the warm burn of the scotch sliding down my throat. After a moment of silence, Mark continues. “Did you know that that little prick, Josh, had been on the team protecting that young girl we found in the park?”

“Are you serious?” My mouth falls open as I turn to him.

“As a heart attack. Apparently he volunteered for the detail. At the time, they felt his youth was a perk. Would maybe make the girl feel more comfortable with someone closer to her own age. No one thought twice about the time he spent with her, because they’d specifically assigned him to try and get close to her. Trying to get her to give up some information. Mike speculates that instead of instilling trust, he used his position to whip up the fear in her, until she felt she had no other choice.”

My heart constricts at the thought of that poor girl dying alone at her own hand. Much like Ruby had later attempted to do. The difference had been that Ruby had people caring for her. Had me already loving her. She did that. Her subtle strength, her naturally caring demeanor, even the edge of darkness she always seemed to carry around—they all served to have me throw aside my years long conviction to avoid the messy realities of love.

Suddenly I want to feel her body against mine and I set my glass down on the coffee table. “Will you be okay out here?” Mark mentioned he’d crash on the couch, which was a large sectional number, comfortable enough to sleep two, let alone one person.

“I’ll be fine. Go on to bed,” he says, clamping his hand on my shoulder, before pulling me in for one of those backslapping man hugs. Fuck if it doesn’t choke me up. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he says, strain marring his face as he turns his back, staring out into the Boston night.

This time, when I crawl behind Ruby and try to pull her body flush to mine, she turns around and presses her cheek to my chest, where my heartbeat settles down in a steady rhythm.

-

I
wake up to the soft click of the bedroom door. I lift my head to see Ruby’s distinct outline coming toward the foot end of the bed.

“Are you okay?”

“Shhh.” She puts her finger to her lips as she reaches the mattress. The diffused light of dawn comes through a crack in the heavy curtains and casts a spotlight on her. Her eyes are dark on mine as she slowly pulls her nightshirt over her head, dropping it to the floor. My breath hitches in my throat as I watch the soft light stroke every curve on her glorious body. So damn beautiful, she literally takes my breath away. Her long, messy dark mane of curls falls down her shoulders, creating a teasing curtain over her breasts. The ends almost reach her waist. With each breath she takes, the ripe dark nipples peek through, making my mouth water. She’s delicious and up to no good, as she slowly climbs on the bed on hands and knees, whipping the covers out of the way and spreading my legs apart as she crawls up. I want to reach out and touch, but something in her eyes tells me to let her take control.

I hiss and drop my head back as she deliberately runs her dangling breasts over my groin. My dick is already at full staff. Thank fuck I ditched my underwear before snuggling up to her last night. With her hands behind my knees, she pushes my legs wider apart, leaving me feeling almost obscenely exposed.

“Jesusss...” I can’t hold back a curse as she teases me with the weight of her luscious tits between my legs, before sliding down enough to where her mouth can reach. The first touch of her tongue, along the underside of my cock, sends a shiver all the way to my toes and my mouth falls open. When she pulls back, my eyes shoot open at the cold air that hits the wet trail she leaves behind. She’s softly blowing from my balls all the way up to the weeping crown of my dick. I grab a pillow and stuff it behind my head. This is a show I don’t want to miss one second of.

Her little smile hits me first. It’s seductive, but confident and trusting at the same time. She’s enjoying this.

With a little flick of her eyelashes, she bends down again, and laves at my balls before tugging them in her mouth one by one. It’s almost impossible to keep my eyes open as she rolls her tongue around the globes. Her hands slide down the backs of my legs and push them higher still, lifting my ass slightly off the bed. Her tongue traces the seam on my scrotum until she reaches the taint. There she presses a thumb and her mouth finds its languid way back to the base of my cock. I don’t miss the rocking and shifting of her hips, a clear indication she’s as turned on by this as I am.