Undercover Lovers (16 page)

 
Her mind was on Mick
Tucker.

***

Tuck slid back into the
driver’s seat and slammed the door. He slumped forward, resting his
head on the wheel. He tried not to picture of Cricket’s face when
he told her he wasn’t feeling well. Disappointed but resigned. He
was disappointing her already.

What were the fucking odds,
though?  Two hundred miles from New York City and he runs into
fucking Skeet McAllister. And not while he was alone. Oh, no. That
would have been way too easy. It had to be when he was with
Cricket. 

Nausea roiled in his stomach
as he tried to sort his thoughts. In his peripheral vision, he
could see the light in her living room click on. It wouldn’t do for
her to look out the window and see him still parked there. The last
thing he needed to do was add to her suspicions. He sat back and
started the car, then pulled away from the curb.

His mind was
reeling.

Focus.

Okay, so what to do first?
He needed to call Samuels and tell him. And then what? Move? Start
over?

Not what he wanted. But this
was bad. Really bad. It would have been different if some guy
thought he knew him and said “Hey, Bob Jones, right?” He might have
been able to play that one off. He was nothing if not a good actor.
But the fact that Skeet had called him out as Mick
Tucker
? That seemed
downright shady. Not to mention his strange reaction. If his mind
hadn’t been addled with sex, he would have been able to think more
quickly on his feet. And Cricket was way too sharp not to have
noticed.

Fucking Samuels. He was all,
“Witnesses are advised to keep their first names or initials when
possible.” Supposedly it jogged the memory or some nonsense. Tuck
had tried to tell him he’d be fine using a totally made up name.
Shit, he’d been using them his whole life. But Samuels had
persisted. Said it would keep him from making mistakes, not turning
his head when called or signing paperwork wrong.

Tuck had finally agreed, but
he’d chosen to use his last name as his first name, going by the
logic that he’d answer to it just as he had on the football field
in high school. But at least he wouldn’t be Mick
anymore.

And more than anything, he
didn’t want to be Mick anymore.

 
He smashed his hand
against the wheel and let out a string of curses.

***

Cricket sat in front of her
computer and swallowed the bile that rose to burn her throat. The
newspaper headline leapt off the screen, the bold, black print in
stark relief against the harsh white background.

Career Confidence Man Mick
“The Mick” Tucker Murdered by the Mob

The verdict is in.Jimmy “the
Face” Mancini has been convicted of first-degree murder in the case
of The Commonwealth v. Mancini. This is expected to be the first of
many trials as Mancini is just one of four men suspected of
involvement in the pre-meditated murder of Mick Tucker.

This was a huge win for the
New York City District Attorney’s Office as it represents the first
major victory in the war against the Mancini crime family. The
alleged Don of the family, Jimmy faces as many as eighty years for
his crimes, which include racketeering, conspiracy to commit murder
and twelve other charges.

The key witness for the
prosecution was Mick’s son, Mick Jr. Only eighteen at the time of
the murder, the younger Tucker had allegedly been his father’s
accomplice since he was a child. Unsubstantiated reports from
several of The Mick’s self-proclaimed colleagues who spoke to this
reporter under the guarantee of anonymity claim the boy was a key
player and was orchestrating elaborate cons by the age of
eight.

While juvenile files are
sealed, according to reports, Mick Jr. spent some of his formative
years in Rockland Home for Troubled Youth, usually coinciding with
the times his father was in prison.

Despite his rocky
relationship with the law, Tucker held up well on the stand. His
emotional testimony, including his account of the night of this
brutal killing, clearly affected the jurors.

The screen blurred and
Cricket closed her laptop with a snap. Her eyes burned with unshed
tears. She refused to embrace her instinctive horror at the Tuck’s
upbringing. If she allowed herself to examine that and really think
of what he’d been through, she would fall apart.

She needed to focus on his
actions and the choices he’d made as a grown man. And from where
she was sitting, it sure seemed like the apple had fallen right
next to the tree. No matter how she turned it and as much as it
made her face burn with shame, the fact was that he’d duped her.
He’d pretended to be this nice, unassuming guy. Then when he’d had
the opening, he made his move. And she was so stupid, she’d made it
easy for him.

She should have known
better. Only a bad boy could make her feel that good. She was so
dysfunctional, she could pick them even if they were in
disguise.

Her stomach cramped as she
mentally ran through the deeper implications. God, was he even a
professor? Was the school itself a part of some elaborate
con?

What had she gotten herself
into?

***

Tuck stared at the letters
on her office door.

Dr. Eleanor Malloy,
PhD

It had been two days and he
hadn’t been able to make himself call her. But it wasn’t about what
was comfortable for him right now. She had the right to know the
truth, straight from him. But if he told her, why would she ever
want to be with him again?

She wouldn’t. A lump lodged
in his throat and he swallowed hard. And it didn’t matter, she
still needed to know. He wasn’t that guy anymore. The guy who spoke
more lies than truths. The guy who took and took and never gave.
The guy who shattered people's dreams for profit and the thrill.
That guy was dead and gone, sharing a grave with the man who
created him.

His temples pounded and he
tried to hold back the flood of bitterness and sadness that warred
inside of him every time he thought of The Mick.

“
Okay, boy’o. Ya ready?
Yeah? Good lad. Let’s go over it one more time. What’s yer
name?”

He pinched the bridge of his
nose between his thumb and forefinger and blocked out the voice
ringing in his head.

Then he mustered the courage
to bring his fist down to rap on the wooden door.

Cricket opened the door a
few endless seconds later. She looked like shit. The skin under her
eyes was thin and bruised. Her cheeks were almost devoid of
color.

He was too late.

“
Just tell me, Tuck. Is it
just me you fooled? Are you even a real professor?”

His mouth worked, but he
couldn’t answer.

Her voice grew shrill. “God
dammit, these are children’s lives you’re screwing with. I can
accept that you used me. I cannot accept you using this school and
these kids.”

As much as he deserved her
anger and mistrust, her words rained down on him like razor
blades.

“
I have no choice but to
report you to the dean. I have an appointment with him in thirty
minutes.”

Tuck didn’t respond as
nausea threatened. He handed her the damp sheaf of papers clutched
in his hand, turned on his heel and walked out.

***

Cricket lay on her living
room floor, scattered paper surrounding her. Her sobs had finally
quieted to sniffles and she ran a hand over her puffy
face.

The note had been bad
enough, but the clippings and the newspaper articles had sent her
over the edge. His letter had said he was including them because he
wanted her to know the man he was before he had entered the Witness
Protection Program and turned his life around. Before he walked
away from Mini-Mick Tucker and got his degree to become Professor
Tucker Lamb.

She imagined he thought she
would be disgusted with his past in the way that he seemed to be
disgusted with himself, even though he’d changed. Instead, it had
torn a jagged hole in her heart as she pieced together the
miserable life of the little boy he once was.

She looked down at the last
few lines of the now soggy letter one more time.

So I pretended to be someone
I’m not, then tricked you into being with me. Because deep down I
guess I’m still that same guy who will do anything to get what he
wants. And I wanted you so bad. Even worse? I wouldn’t take it
back, because being with you is the most honest thing I’ve done in
almost eleven years. I only wish I deserved to know you and have
you in my life.

Tuck

She pressed her hand over
lips still swollen from crying and jumped to her feet. He wasn’t
getting off that easy.

By the time she got to his
house, her stomach felt like a net full of butterflies. She knocked
on the door and waited. The sound of footsteps creaked closer and
she steeled herself as the door opened.

“
If you did something when
you were a kid that you can’t forgive yourself for yet, I can
understand that. Everyone has regrets. But if you’re saying we
can’t even give this a chance because you somehow coerced me to be
with you? Don’t flatter yourself. You may have been good at the con
back in the day, but I reeled you in as much as you reeled me
in.”

He held her gaze with
haunted eyes, but didn’t step back to let her in. He hadn’t shut
the door on her, so she was going to take that as a sign of
encouragement. She laid her hand on his chest. “You owe me a night,
Tucker Lamb and I’m going to have it. If you want me to go in the
morning, I won’t bother you again.”

She held her breath as she
waited for his response, but he never spoke. He just reached out
hand and slid it into the waistband of her shorts, using them to
pull her into his living room before kicking the door shut behind
him.

He was on her in an instant,
unsnapping her cutoffs and shoving them roughly down her legs,
stopping at the back of her knees to caress her lightly there
before moving back up her body.

“
Take this off,” he growled
as he grabbed the neck of her t-shirt with both hands and pulled it
over her head, baring her to his heated gaze. She hadn’t taken the
time to put on a bra so she stood before him naked, but for her
underwear.

“
God, your tits are
gorgeous,” he groaned as if he was in pain.

He wrapped a fist in her
long hair and pulled, turning her head hard to one side. He bit her
neck as he parted her legs with his hand.

He backed her up until her
legs pressed against the soft velvet of the couch and she sat. With
slow deliberation, he hooked a finger on either side of her
underwear and dragged them down over her legs. He tossed them aside
and faced her, staring down as if he’d been invited to enjoy his
last meal.

***

Cricket’s sex glistened just
inches from his mouth. He wanted to bury his face between her legs
and drown in her. Instead he held back, teasing her, drawing it
out. If this was the only time they had together, he wanted them
both to remember it.

He closed his teeth on the
flesh of her hip, then her thighs.

“
What is it? Tell me what
you want,” he whispered.

 “
Please put your mouth
on me.”

He bent low and covered her
with his tongue, lapping then sucking. She cried out as she moved
against his mouth. He quickened the pace, suckling harder,
faster.

Her body stiffened and he
waited for her to shatter. Instead, she jerked away from him and
sat up. She reached between them and grabbed his cock through his
jeans and squeezed.

“
I need to touch you
too.”

“
I can’t take it,” he
rasped.

Instead, he stood and thrust
his jeans off.  He pressed her back, positioning himself
between her legs. He halted and let out a vicious curse.

“
I’ll be right back. No
condom.”

She reached down to pick up
her shorts and a row of five unfurled in her hand.

“
You’re the smartest woman
I’ve ever met.”

She pulled him close,
rubbing her breasts over his torso and stomach as he fumbled with
the packet. He finally got it covered and she was there waiting,
giving him a guided tour to her hot pussy. He slid into her an
inch, then two, gritting his teeth in an effort not the thrust hard
and fuck her like an animal. She would have none of it. She snapped
her hips to his, taking him all in. Sweet, wet heat stole his
breath, flooding his senses like a drug. He struggled to form a
coherent thought, to focus on Cricket, to make it good for her, but
she wriggled restlessly beneath him, her patience at an
end.

Tuck steeled himself then
bent low, pinning her with his hips. He scraped his tongue and
teeth over her collarbone, then clamped onto her elegant neck. As
she tensed at the bite, he pulled back and plunged forward again,
filling her, stretching her. She rocked beneath him, urging him
faster, but he resisted her siren’s song. Slow and steady, he
pulsed in and out, fanning the flames, drawing the anticipation
out.