Undercover

UNDERCOVER By

Terri Carnis

Undercover

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© copyright Oct. 2007, Terri Carnis Cover art by Alexis DeShanks, © Oct. 2007 ISBN 978-1-60394-097-9 New Concept Publishing Lake Park, GA 31636 www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events and places are of the authors’ imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

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Chapter One Kyla Cusack rushed to the motel mirror to check herself out, knowing she only had a few minutes before her ‘john’ arrived, expecting sex. Wavy red hair framed her pale blue eyes and pouty lips, accented by sapphire-blue eye shadow and ruby-red lip-gloss. Both looked good on her skin, pale as milk, and the black silk bustier acted like a push-up bra, all but putting her breasts on full display. It was too much for her taste, but there was no point in complaining. When you worked as a sex decoy in the Vice Unit, you had to look convincing, playing whatever role you’d been assigned. The day before, she’d gone to a fashion ball as a high-end call girl, wearing a gold lame´ cocktail dress and two-carat diamond earrings, along with a splash of French perfume that cost $200 an ounce. She’d received the VIP treatment at Seattle’s Alexis Hotel then been propositioned for sex in the famous Space Needle, where she’d busted her date … all of which was classier than her current grit-and-grime assignment near Denny way. She ran her hands over the black vinyl mini skirt. Shifting her weight, she regretted wearing the fuck-me mules, with three-inch stiletto heels. True, they pushed her height to five foot eight-inches. But they also killed her arches. She glanced at her watch, then rapped on the wall shared with the next motel room. Two reassuring taps came back, which signaled that her partners, Vice Detectives Ruben Morales and Paul Schaffer were ready to protect her and help arrest her client. Behind her, a tentative knock sounded on the door, followed by a muffled voice. “Hey, Babe. You ready?” She glanced in the mirror, pushing up her breasts—careful not to disturb the wire concealed in her bustier to record the transaction. Then she smoothed down her skirt, making certain that her badge—hooked over the front of her panties—didn’t show. Quickly, she stepped to the door and peered through the keyhole, making sure her trick was alone. He stood there, a big guy wearing a pin-stripe suit, with perspiration dotting his forehead. He hadn’t bothered to take off his gold wedding ring, which reflected the hallway lights. She figured him for a traveling businessman, maybe in town for a convention. For reassurance, she touched her necklace, with its array of dangling metal rectangles. The longest rectangle held a small, carefully disguised knife blade. “C’mon, Baby,” he said, giving the door a thump. “I don’t like waiting.” Usually, she carried a snub-nosed pistol, but its bulge would have shown in tonight’s ‘uniform’, so she made do with the mini-knife and backup from her partners. Quickly, she manufactured a smile and opened the door, shifting to her sultry voice. “I’m ready,” she said, “if you are.” He hesitated at the doorway, his gaze darting about the room. Did he think a pimp was inside, ready to rob him? That happened a lot, so she understood his caution. Or had he made her as a cop?

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She gave her breasts a slow squeeze, working them higher in her bustier and then gestured at the bed. “Ready to fuck?” He bit his lip, and for a moment, she thought his conscience as a married man might win out. Then, towering over her, he focused on her cleavage, where the bustier showed part of her nipples. But he didn’t say anything … didn’t respond to her offer. She stifled a sigh of fatigue. Her feet were killing her, and he had to commit, or there’d be no arrest. “Come on,” she said, giving her hips a little twitch. “If you’re willing to pay, I’ll give you a ride you won’t forget.” “Oh yeah,” he said, stepping forward, making her retreat to the bed. “A hundred bucks for a half-and-half.” She forced a smile at his use of street lingo, using ‘half-and-half’ to refer to oral sex and intercourse in the missionary position. “Fine,” she said, “a blow job and a straight lay.” He grinned. “How about warming me up, by flashing a little pussy?” “My pleasure.” She lifted her skirt and flashed her badge. “You’re under arrest,” she shouted, a cue to her partners, who burst through the door and grabbed the guy’s arms. Instead of fighting like some of them did, this john folded. Blinking, he stammered, “There m-must be some m-mistake.” “Yeah,” she said as she cuffed him. “There was a mistake, all right. Bad judgment on your part.” **** Ninety minutes later, she was relieved to be in her condo, no longer wearing her trashy hooker outfit. As was her usual ritual before taking off her gun and badge, she stood before the small photo shrine to her half-sister, Anna, from her mother’s second marriage. While burning lemon-grass incense, she prayed for Anna’s soul as she looked at the three photographs. The first one showed the two of them hugging. The next photo showed Anna reading to children in the library where she’d worked. The final snapshot showed Anna at the Woodland Park Zoo—one of her favorite places—watching a snow leopard that was behind bars, sunning on a rock. That was the last photo she had of Anna, taken at age nineteen, a week before Anna had disappeared from a movie theater, only to have her nude body turn up a month later. Evidence at the crime scene confirmed she’d been kept a prisoner, tortured, and raped repeatedly before being strangled. Gently, Kyla reached out and touched the zoo photo as she prayed for Anna’s soul, asking that she found goodness and mercy in her afterlife. It had been so hard, losing Anna, because she’d been the center of her universe. Anna’s mother had left her father when Anna was a child, remarried and given birth four years later to Kyla. When the next divorce came, Kyla’s father had moved to the east coast and her mother had had a nervous breakdown—spending most of her time in mental hospitals. So Anna had raised Kyla, giving her the love and inspiration she had missed as a child. With Anna’s death, Kyla—at age 15—had been forced into a foster home. That was when she had vowed to become a police officer. She wanted the chance to find her sister’s killer

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and bring him to justice. And if she couldn’t do that, to at least prevent other women from falling prey to crimes of sexual violence. Finished with her prayer and incense ritual, Kyla placed her gun in a bedroom drawer then stepped into the bathroom and got the bath water running. After chasing pimps and perverts, she liked to scrub herself clean and remind herself that the ‘real her’ wasn’t someone who hustled in bars and nightclubs. While the bathtub filled, she saw her nude reflection in the mirror. She wasn’t quite centerfold-caliber, but close to it. More importantly—as a sex decoy—she had a talent for turning men’s heads. Mostly, she had learned her allure came from her sensuality and attitude, as much as her looks. Somehow, she produced a steady sexual undertow that pulled men toward her. That was her ‘gift’. It sounded desirable, attracting men. But she got paid to attract the wrong kinds of men— bastards who broke the law and liked to take advantage of women … sometimes, savage men with twisted desires. Definitely that part of the job had aged her, and it showed in her eyes. Eager to forget about work, she poured in some bath oil then lowered herself into the tub. She let her body relax as she soaked. Then she stood and cleansed herself with scented soap. Then she used more soap and did it again. Finally, she got out, toweled off and slipped into the baggy flannel pajamas she found so comfortable. For a moment, she paused, considering the irony of her situation. Here she was, sexy as hell and using all her charms on the job, but her own love life was a disaster. Downright pathetic. Most of time she was too tired to even play the dating game. And whenever she took a chance, she seemed to be a magnet for jerks—attracting alpha males who were so full of themselves that they only saw her as a prize or sexual conquest … not a person. And to make matters worse, most men—given her effect on them, expected her to have a ravishing appetite for sex. Not that she was against that, but the truth was, she had yet to find any man who stirred her passion to the boiling point … not since her disastrous affair the year before with FBI Agent Nick DeStassio. As she combed out her hair then blow-dried it, she thought back to when they’d met at a crime conference that focused on the connection between victims and serial killers. The theory put forth by the conference was that a better understanding of how serial killers selected their victims would lead to a better arrest rate. In turn, such arrests would prevent further serial killings and, hopefully, provide a sense of closure for survivors of those whose family members had fallen victim to such horrible deaths. Despite the grim topic, Kyla had done well until the very last day of the conference, when—during a slide show that focused on how some serial victims were posed by their murderer—she’d seen a crime scene photograph of her half-sister, Anna. Illuminated by the stark strobe light of a camera, the photo showed her body as it had been discovered at dawn— nude, tied to a pine tree, with her pantyhose still wrapped around her neck. Kyla recalled how her stomach had clenched as the voice of the speaker had fallen away. But she hadn’t remembered standing up and walking out in a daze, because the next thing she knew, a man with sun-bleached brown hair was talking to her, touching her wrist…trying to get her attention … his deep brown eyes filled with concern.

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After a moment, she realized he was introducing himself as Special Agent Nicholas DeStassio and asking if she was all right. She remembered noticing him earlier in the conference, good-looking with a big shoulders and a quick smile. But at the moment—still reeling from the shock of seeing the graphic photograph of her sister’s body—she felt compelled to apologize for her reaction. “It’s just … I haven’t seen that photo for a few years,” she said. “I wasn’t ready for it.” He nodded. “I’m sure it’s painful.” “My half-sister,” she added, her voice breaking, tears filling her eyes. “I’ll be all right in a moment.” He’d taken her by the elbow and said, “Give yourself a break. You don’t have to do that to yourself. Don’t deepen the hurt, thinking you’ve got something to prove.” Surprised by his compassion, her tears began to fall. “It hurts,” she said, “more than I like to admit.” Her legs suddenly felt unsteady and she leaned on him, further embarrassed, but he didn’t pull back. “Maybe a stiff drink would help?” he offered. He pointed toward the bar at the other end of the hall and she nodded. Once they found a quiet booth at the back of the bar, he ordered drinks and she found herself telling him about Anna … how much her half-sister had meant to her. In turn, he’d sketched out a little about his own life, from being raised on a horse ranch in the empty reaches of Montana, to growing up as a loner…finding it harder to open up than to buckle down and work in law enforcement, first as a Deputy Sheriff then getting his masters degree in criminal justice and being recruited by the FBI. She took comfort in trading shoptalk, explaining that she worked as a sex decoy, while he said most of his assignments were undercover … assignments he wasn’t at liberty to discuss. From the trauma of seeing her sister’s body, and the tenderness DeStassio had shown in consoling her, the strength of their unspoken attraction had quickly intensified, and they’d ended up spending the night together in her room. And what a night it had been. Up until then, her experience had been that men, once they got you in bed, were willing enough to get you aroused—but mostly for the purpose of gratifying their own urges. With him, however, it had been the opposite. His gentle touches, caresses and kisses had surveyed every inch of her body, sparking her passion then nurturing it until it had blossomed with a richness and fullness she hadn’t thought possible. Urging each other onward with kisses, embraces, and thrusts that seemed to melt her from the inside out, until the heat and urgency of their lovemaking all but consumed them, triggering a series of climaxes, each more intense than the last … leaving her so pleasured and exhausted that she had slept without any sense of time passing … without even the barest trace of a dream. But then next morning, soon after she woke to the sound of the shower running, all of the beauty and trust they’d shared had been shattered. Intending to brew coffee for them in her hotel room’s kitchenette, she had seen his briefcase on the counter, partially opened. Curious, she hesitated then decided to take a peek. She expected to find maybe notes from the conference and some inter-office FBI memos. Instead, she found a spiral notepad, its pages crowded with a form of shorthand she couldn’t decipher, next to several closed packets of photographs, each bound by a rubber band.

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She knew it was none of her business, but couldn’t resist the urge to look. So she picked one packet of photos and removed the rubber band. As she rifled through the photos, she was stunned to find crime scene shots of her half-sister, her body posed by whoever had killed her and tied her to a tree. Then, adding to her confusion and sense of alarm, she saw a photo of herself, in a newspaper article about her sister’s funeral. Suddenly, her sense of alarm turned to anger. DeStassio had known exactly who she was when she’d gotten upset and run out of the crime conference. And he had known about her halfsister. So last night’s lovemaking hadn’t been at all what she’d thought. Instead of being about tenderness and genuine passion, it had been about something so strange that she couldn’t understand it, even as nausea began to grip her. Stunned, she opened another set of photos. These were also crime scene photos, showing a different victim, a young woman found nude in a creek running through a thickly wooded area. Again, there was an article with a photo of a family member—this one indicating this crime had occurred thirty years ago. In the next packet, she found crime photos and another article—even older. Forty-two years ago … a crime that had occurred before she or DeStassio had even been born. Here she’d poured her heart out to DeStassio, telling him how much Anna had meant to her, and he’d soaked it all up as if it was brand new to him. Yet he already had some awareness of Anna’s death, probably in connection with other cases he’d been assigned. In her eyes, that made him a complete creep who had taken advantage of her grief and vulnerability. As she gripped the photos, her hands shaking with rage, she sensed someone behind her and turned, finding him with his hair still wet from the shower, wearing a hotel robe. His expression was one of anguish. “If you’ll let me explain ....” But instinct had taken over and she punched him—a right cross to the jaw, then kneed him in the groin. As he folded over at the waist, she threw the photos and articles back in his briefcase, slammed it shut, and pitched it into the hallway outside her room, shoving him after it as he tried to straighten up, struggling to talk. “Please, wait,” he’d urged, but those were the last words she’d heard as she slammed the door. She checked out of the hotel an hour later, wanting to forget every moment of contact she’d had with Nicholas DeStassio. So she had chosen not to report his photo of her, or his actions at the conference. Bottom line—she hadn’t wanted to do anything that would have forced her to think about him, face him, or ever talk to him again. Now, as she smoothed out her flannel pajamas and entered her condominium bedroom, she tried to push DeStassio from her mind. She had sworn to herself that she wouldn’t let her experience with him affect her, but it did, nonetheless. She had begun to distrust her own feelings and passion. Ever since that night with DeStassio—whenever she made love to a man—it had become more and more like her job as a sex decoy, with her becoming an expert at faking it. She learned to keep herself distanced from what was happening, and her feelings about it, never surrendering to her true urges and impulses. Her experience with DeStassio had toughened and hardened her, at the expense of her emotions, until she realized she’d taken on more than a passing resemblance to some of the stony-eyed hookers she met on the street.

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Realizing that, she felt a sharp pang of loneliness as she sat on her bed and hugged herself, then sighed. Bone-tired, she yawned and stretched her arms overhead. Her digital alarm clock read 2:10 a.m. Thankfully, sorting out the shambles of her personal life could wait. Exhausted, she fluffed up her pillow. But before she could crawl into bed, her cell phone chimed. Cursing, she picked it up and saw by the readout it was Captain Williams. “Yes, sir,” she answered. “Detective Cusack.” “Kyla,” he said, “we have a chance for a major arrest. Take a cab to the corner of 33rd and Stanton.” “Sir, I ....” “I know. You just pulled a long shift. But lives are at stake. Some young women have been kidnapped. We need you as a sex decoy, undercover.” She found a pen and jotted down the license plate and description of the vehicle he’d be waiting in. “What clothes should I wear? My decoy wardrobe’s at the station.” “No time for that. We’ve brought one of your costumes for you.” “I’ll get there as soon as I can,” she said, already getting dressed. She hung up, then thought of her sister, Anna, her hope crushed, dying at the hands of her abductor. Moving quickly, determined to help the kidnapped women, she grabbed her gun and badge.

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Chapter Two In the crisp night air, Kyla got out of the Yellow Cab in the business district. She wore a hooded sweatshirt, skin-tight jeans and tennis shoes as she headed for the captain’s surveillance vehicle, a dull gray cargo van parked half a block away. She walked quickly past several upscale restaurants and bars, her breath pluming in the air. As she passed Martini Heaven, she felt the hungry gaze of men seated by the window, following the sway of her hips. At this hour of the night, they probably assumed she was a working girl. She smiled, certain that they’d be less cocky if they knew about the badge and snub-nosed revolver in her fanny pack. She reached the van and rapped on the side panel. The door slid open and two officers with beefy arms pulled her inside. Before the door closed, the van was rolling. From the back, Captain Williams gestured for her to join him. She sat facing him. “Reporting for duty, sir.” He nodded as she studied the dark circles beneath his eyes and streaks of gray in his crew-cut hair … all, she was sure, from the pressures of the job. He picked up a folder, as if to open it, then stopped and frowned. “Detective Cusack, have you ever had second thoughts about the danger of your assignments? Or what you have to put up with, working sex crimes?” Here it comes, she thought. Word must’ve gotten out about the pimp she’d roughed up at the start of her shift. He’d probably complained when he’d been booked, claiming she’d been the aggressor. When, in fact, the slime ball—interviewing her as a prospective hooker, had said, ‘Gimme some titty,’ and made the mistake of grabbing her nipple. What really ticked her off was that if a male officer had been provoked by a low-life and responded the same way she had—kneeing the pimp in the groin then head-butting him—it would’ve been overlooked. “Well, Detective?” prompted the Captain. “No, sir,” she responded. “No second thoughts.” Captain Williams nodded and called to the driver, “Head to the rendezvous point.” Relieved that she’d misjudged what he’d been about to say, she felt the van accelerate as Captain Williams tapped the folder in his lap. He stopped and looked at her. “You deserve to know the truth, Cusack. I’m being pressured to loan you to the Feds for this operation, but I think the way they’re running it stinks.” Impatient, she leaned forward. “You said young women were kidnapped.” He held up a hand. “My point is, this is a dangerous assignment and the Feds are sharing very little information with us.” “Dangerous, how?” “If you accept, you won’t have your usual backup. It’s a Federal operation, all the way. And you’ll be up against the Red Mafia.”

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Immediately, brutal stories came to mind that she’d heard about Russian mobsters torturing and maiming whoever opposed them. Still, she gave the captain a stoic nod. If she showed any hesitation, she knew she wouldn’t get the assignment. “Okay,” said the Captain, “I’ll brief you. But you aren’t obligated to sign on for this.” He removed a color photo from the folder and set it on the seat. It showed a brute of a man with a square jaw, gray, brush-cut hair and a short goatee. Mostly it was the fierceness of his gaze that caught her attention. “Vladka Sergov. A rising star in the Red Mafia. Lately, he’s been kidnapping young women and forcing them to perform in porno DVDs that he’s producing and selling.” In that case, Kyla decided, Sergov deserved in the worst way to be taken down. The captain laid out two more photos. The first was of a tall man with black curly hair. His rugged good looks were spoiled only by the long scar on his cheek—probably from a knife fight. He was laughing as he shoved someone in the chest. She had met her share of men like him—bullies who loved to intimidate others. The other photo was of a beautiful, long-necked woman with blonde hair, worn in a chignon. Her low-cut silver dress showed plenty of cleavage as she smiled and sipped a drink. Despite the smile, Kyla noticed that her eyes were hard, without the slightest trace of warmth. Captain Williams tapped the photo of the man with the scar. “This is Lev Reznik, Sergov’s chief enforcer and executioner. The woman is Elena Kozlov, Sergov’s mistress and— some say—the brains behind Sergov’s porn DVDs, which is what the Feds want you to infiltrate by going undercover. With you on their team, they hope to recover the kidnapped women.” “What sort of team?” The van jolted as it took an on-ramp, then vibrated as they accelerated onto Interstate Five, southbound, toward Tacoma. Captain Williams pulled out another photo. While Reznik, the Russian enforcer had been good looking, the man in this photo was undeniably handsome in his FBI field jacket. But her stomach clenched when she realized it was Nicholas DeStassio. The captain said, “I believe you went up against Agent DeStassio in a pistol shooting competition last month.” Numbly, she nodded. She remembered her discomfort at seeing DeStassio at the match then her act of willpower in ignoring him. She hadn’t looked at him throughout the entire competition. Even when they’d gone up against each other in the final round, shooting from adjoining lanes, she had avoided meeting his gaze. Despite that, he’d made an earnest plea in the finals, when it was down to the two of them, shooting side-by-side. He had urged her to let him explain himself. But she’d kept wearing the big ear protectors that were issued to all shooters and pretended not to hear him. “You’ll be teamed with Agent DeStassio,” said Captain Williams. “The FBI thinks he’s in the best position to locate the kidnapped women. But he needs a sex decoy to make it work.” She took a deep breath, determined not to let her revulsion for DeStassio jeopardize any chance of rescuing the women. “Who else is undercover on this?” “Just you and DeStassio.”

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Again, she studied DeStassio’s photo. It was a casual shot, but couldn’t hide his bedroom eyes, the dimples in his cheeks, and his leading man smile. All of that made her heart ache, given the passion he had awakened in her before she’d discovered how deceptive he’d been. Shoving her feelings aside, she asked, “What’s the plan? How are we going to get the women out?” He gave her a sharp look. “They haven’t told me shit, Cusack. You’ll have to ask DeStassio.” She thought about that as the van took an off ramp, descending into a sprawling warehouse district. Safety and survival in undercover work depended on a solid plan and trusting your partner, but she certainly didn’t trust DeStassio and, if there was a plan, no one had shared it with Captain Williams. Still, none of that mattered to the kidnapped women Sergov planned to use as sex slaves in his porn flicks. All that mattered to them was whether someone cared enough to take whatever risks were necessary to rescue them. “I can promise this much, Cusack,” he added. “Put away Sergov, and you’ll earn that gold shield you’re after.” That was the promotion she wanted. But more important was saving the young women who’d been kidnapped. To hell with DeStassio she thought. I’ll work with him, but won’t let him get to me. “When do I start?” she asked, all business. The van pulled to a curb as the driver cut the headlights and rolled down his window. The captain gestured at the warehouse halfway up the block where she could hear the thumping bass beat of club music. “Sergov,” the Captain added, continuing her briefing, “runs illegal night clubs like floating crap games. He moves to a new location each night, commandeering whatever space he can use.” From the chain link fence surrounding it, she could see the warehouse was still under construction. But judging from the pulsing green laser beams, visible through the entrance, and the heavy, pulsing music, Sergov had things going full blast. “If his parties are this big, why has it taken so long for the Feds to infiltrate?” “People only get in with a special, coded invitation.” He paused. “Sure, we could shut down his illegal nightclub, maybe even confiscate some drugs. But that wouldn’t rescue the women.” He pulled a small, printed invitation from the folder. It showed a red dragon, against a field of black. “A bar code is hidden in the field of black, readable only by infrared. Each invitation has a unique identity, and all invitations are scanned at each entrance. Security is heavy.” She examined the invitation. “How did you get this?” “DeStassio managed to leave one at a drop site he’d prearranged. So he’s making some progress undercover. Otherwise, how would he get a pass?” “So he has a plan?” The captain shrugged. “DeStassio might be working it out on the fly. He barely had time to get word to us that he’s been ordered to troll for beauties tonight—ones Sergov plans to kidnap.” She nodded. At least DeStassio was trying to rescue the women.

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The captain paused and looked at her. “You’re under no obligation to take this assignment.” “Who asked for me?” Captain Williams took a breath and let it out. “DeStassio. He remembered you from the pistol match. Said you were his stiffest competition because you really pushed yourself.” “Why ask for me so late in the game?” “The other decoy—already working undercover—was killed, shot in the back. Evidently she tried to make it over a fence behind one of the warehouses where Sergov was throwing a party.” She felt her stomach knot. “DeStassio did nothing to help her?” “According to DeStassio, she made a blunder and blew her cover. If they’d taken her alive, DeStassio would probably be dead, as well. They would have tortured her to find out whether she was working with anyone.” She let that sink in, wondering if the woman had sacrificed herself to save DeStassio. Or had DeStassio sacrificed her to save himself? “Why did DeStassio ask for me?” “He said he needed someone who wasn’t going to blink—even when the going gets tough.” She wondered if there was more to it. Did DeStassio still have some compulsion to try and hook up with her? She hoped he didn’t think her working with him meant he had a chance in hell with her. Then she shook off those thoughts. All that mattered right now was the kidnapped women. She edged forward on her seat. “So … I enter Sergov’s stronghold and DeStassio will recruit me to be in one Sergov’s skin flicks?” “Near as we can tell.” The captain held up a hand. “But before you jump into this, there’s something else you need to know.” He frowned. “You can’t pack a weapon or a badge, and you can’t wear a wire.” She thought about it, then realized why. “If I’m a candidate for Sergov’s porn flicks, he’ll expect to look me over … in the nude.” “It gets worse. Besides Sergov being on the lookout for more undercover officers, time is running out for the kidnap victims.” He laid out three DVDs. The cover of each showed a variety of nude women, in graphic sexual positions, always with the same, muscular man. The man’s screen name was Dimitri the Dominator, evidently based on the length of his cock. On every DVD cover, each woman seemed to be in the throes of passion, but Kyla knew they had probably been drugged, or threatened—whatever it took to have them perform. She looked up from the DVDs. “I get it, Captain. I’ll be up to my neck with sleazebags. And the kidnapped women are being forced into sex against their will.” “It’s worse than that.” He set a separate morgue photo by each DVD cover, showing the same women, each with a bullet hole in the center of her forehead. He added, “They fought back or tried to run. Each was shot by a 7.62 mm Tokarev, the weapon of choice for Reznik, Sergov’s enforcer.” Captain William’s gaze bore into her. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if women’s lives weren’t at stake.”

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Kyla felt her jaw clench as she stared at the morgue shots. The women were young and innocent looking … each about the age her sister Anna had been when she was raped and murdered. “Count me in, sir.” She handed over her gun and badge. The captain nodded and glanced at his watch. “You’d better hit the dance floor. That’s where DeStassio will contact you and bring you up to speed.” “Got it, sir.” A blush crept up the captain’s face as he held out a large paper grocery bag. “Here’s your costume.” She took the bag and peeked inside it. She saw a forest-green dress with a deep v-neck and matching stiletto heels. Then, underneath the dress she found a clutch purse and a pair of green lace panties. No bra. It all seemed appropriate for her undercover assignment. The captain coughed and looked at his shoes. That’s when she realized she would have to change in the van. As they turned around, she sighed[delete,] then set her jaw—drawing on the part of herself that the job had hardened. Quickly, she removed her sweatshirt, pulling it up over her head. Two minutes later, she stood on the pavement in the crisp night air, wearing a dress that came to mid-thigh and showed plenty of her breasts. She caught the steady thump of dance music as she looked up the block, through the warehouse windows, seeing the pulse of green laser lights. “Cusack?” She looked over her shoulder, seeing Captain Williams. “Stick with DeStassio. He’s your lifeline.” She nodded, more to herself than the captain. How much could she count on DeStassio? Was it a mistake he’d made that had gotten the other sex decoy killed? Irked with herself, she thought, enough with the doubts and concerns. It’s time to nail Sergov. As the police surveillance van drove away, she squared her shoulders and walked toward the warehouse, the music growing louder as she neared it. She made sure that her hips swayed with the music as she flaunted every inch of her body. Fuck Nicholas DeStassio, she told herself. It’s the kidnap victims who count … the women whose lives I intend to save.

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Chapter Three Inside the dimly lit entrance to the warehouse, a large pair of thugs blocked Kyla’s path. They were ugly look-alikes with blunt noses and scarred hands, both of them wearing black sport coats. Even in the shadows, she could see the bulge of their shoulder holsters. For a brief second, that made her wish she had her revolver inside her clutch purse. Then she shook off the feeling, knowing any doubt or hesitation would make them suspicious. She watched both men sweep their gaze over her—evidently realizing her dress was too tight for any concealed weapon. Then they looked again, their stare lingering on her breasts and crotch as the nearest one grunted, “Invitation?” She handed over the red dragon invitation and he scanned it with a hand-held device that cast an orange glow. It beeped and they waved her inside. The beat of the music vibrated so loud that the air seemed to pulse as she approached the densely packed dance floor. Under the harsh flicker of strobe lights, she watched a sea of bodies thrust and rub against each other in frenzied gyrations. The collective mood seemed to be one of sexual abandonment, urged on by a spotlighted DJ, working from a raised platform. She squeezed through the crowd, blending in by holding her hands overhead and thrusting her pelvis to the music, her eyes half-closed as she sized up the place. People danced with little room to maneuver. Beneath their moving feet she glimpsed glowing rope-lights on the floor. All of them led across the room to a makeshift bar, where she expected drugs were sold along with the liquor. At each corner of the warehouse floor, she spotted more of Sergov’s security thugs in black sport coats. As she undulated in place, men danced past her. A few tried to catch her eye, or brush against her breasts, hoping she’d take an interest. She ignored them as she twisted and turned with a wild kind of energy. Pretending to let the music take hold of her, she moved beneath a bright cluster of strobe lights then flung her head from side to side, waving her long red hair like a flag, hoping to attract her undercover partner, Nicholas DeStassio. Hanging out at the bar, DeStassio sensed, then saw a shift in the crowd beneath a cluster of strobe lights. People were backing off, giving a hot redhead room to dance. DeStassio did a double take. He realized the sizzling dancer was Officer Kyla Cusack, wearing a flimsy green dress as she worked the floor, dancing in stiletto heels, her flame-red shoulder-length hair swinging from side to side as she drew plenty of male attention. The last time he’d seen her, after their disastrous misunderstanding at the crime conference, had been a month ago at an interagency pistol competition. She’d shot alongside him, her hair tucked up under a ball cap. She’d worn fatigues and camouflage paint on her face. Standing side-by-side as they fired at targets, he’d tried to talk to her. Tried to ask her for five minutes alone, so he could explain about the photos she had found in his briefcase at the crime conference … photos of her and her half-sister, Anna. But she had ignored him.

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If she’d given him the chance, he would have explained that, as an investigator of several cold case homicides performed by different serial killers, he had developed a new theory. He believed that some serial killers stalked more than one member of the same family, especially if there was enough of a resemblance to the physical type they were seeking. Certainly, the photos he’d seen of Kyla and her murdered half-sister, Anna, captured their strong resemblance. So he’d come to the crime conference to contact some of the attending forensic psychologists. He’d hoped to gain their insights as to how such serial killers might proceed if they stalked multiple family members while selecting their victim. Ultimately—once he got a chance to refine his theory, he had planned to then contact surviving family members who shared a resemblance to their murdered kin. By interviewing them, he could determine whether they recalled any details about anyone who had contacted, observed, or followed them in the weeks leading up to the murder of their kin. Then, from any information gathered, he planned to produce new lists of suspects to use in solving those cases. Kyla’s attendance at the conference was nothing he had known about in advance—even though he suspected it might have struck her that way. Now DeStassio shook his head as he sat at the warehouse bar, trying to ignore the blaring music, still saddened by Kyla’s terrible reaction to the photos … especially after their wonderful night together. Someone bellowed with laughter, interrupting DeStassio’s thoughts as two drunken men stood at the makeshift bar, sharing a joke. DeStassio looked out onto the dance floor, his gaze once again caught up by Kyla’s gyrations as she danced with abandon, following the thumping beat. He couldn’t believe how sensual she was as she undulated in place, working her body, strobe lights spotlighting her. DeStassio stepped away from the bar and started in her direction. It was time to brief her on Sergov. Quickly, he worked his way through the crowd, moving closer to Kyla as a tall guy closed in on her. Kyla felt herself in the groove, lost in the music, when she heard, “Hey, Baby.” She turned, seeing a tall, twenty-something guy with bulging biceps and a ‘barb wire’ neck tattoo, dancing in a muscle shirt and tight pants. He dipped lower, getting crotch-to-crotch, and pumped his pelvis at hers, grinning the whole time. “Not interested,” she said and spun away, just as she heard a new song kick in with a driving rhythm so loud that the floor pulsed. A hand squeezed her butt and she spun around, ready to pop the would-be-stud, but someone had beaten her to it. DeStassio. She recognized him with his sun-bleached hair and enticing brown eyes. Tricked out in skin-tight leather pants and an open-throated velvet shirt, he slipped an arm around the guy’s shoulder, like they were old buddies, but the guy’s watering eyes told her the real story. DeStassio had dug his thumb into a nerve in the guy’s shoulder. His face twisted with pain and his knees started to buckle. DeStassio gave him a sideways shove, adding, “Sorry, pal. The lady’s with me.” Rubbing his sore shoulder, the would-be stud retreated into the crowd as DeStassio flashed a smile and raised a digital camera. Moving his broad shoulders to the music, he got close to her, aiming the camera at her as it flashed. “Keep dancing,” he said, “and listen up.”

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“Sure thing.” She winked and bumped his hip with hers. Then—putting on a show—she shook her booty as DeStassio’s camera flashed again. “Nice,” he said, then slipped up against her, cupping the small of her back—surprising her with a gentle touch she hadn’t expected. In a voice only she could hear, he asked, “Does this mean you’ll work with me?” “Only because lives are at stake.” He cupped her face in his hands and brushed her lips with his. “I’m going by the name of Davis,” he said. “You?” To her irritation, at the touch of his lips, she felt herself flush with heat. “Your cover name?” he repeated. As she thought of the kidnapped women and the brutal fate that awaited them, her halfsister came to mind. “Anna,” she said. “Call me Anna.” “Fine. And once this is over, I hope you’ll let me explain about my photos at the crime conference.” “Save it,” she hissed. “I’m only here for the missing women.” He nodded, but she could see the pain in his eyes. Then she saw a shift in his expression, from one of concern to one that suggested he was getting down to business. In a voice she could barely hear above the driving, staccato music, he said, “Here’s how it works. Sergov keeps me busy photographing skin-flick contenders—all women who’ve come here alone. Winners are offered big bucks to come to a private room for a little show and tell.” “Like an audition?” She got chest-to-chest with him, raising her arms overhead as she thrust her pelvis against his, keeping time to the music. “Jesus.” She saw him flush at the base of neck and realized she’d taken him by surprise. Still, he recovered quickly, pulling her closer, and returned the favor, grinding his pelvis against hers, thrust-for-thrust. She felt him harden and, to her embarrassment, she felt a sudden warmth at her core. Startled at her response, she pulled back as two busty women in spandex danced past, sharing a laughing, bare-chested man who had shaved his head. “This camera I’m using,” said DeStassio, holding it up, “is part of a network. Every shot I take, Sergov views in a back room the instant I take it. He’s watching, deciding who he wants to see up close and personal.” “What if I get invited, but don’t win the audition?” She saw a flash of worry in his eyes, which he quickly covered with a slick smile as other dancers crowded them. “Believe me,” he said, “second place stinks. It’s a ticket to nowhere.” She nodded, getting the message. Sergov wasn’t one to leave witnesses behind. Anything but first place would earn her a bullet in the head. “So let’s dazzle ‘em,” she said, determined to help the women who were still alive. As the DJ started playing a new song, she leaned in, kissing him hard, and felt his sharp intake of breath. He pulled back a few inches, the look in his eyes suddenly serious…almost tender. “Normally, I’d ask,” he said, his voice apologetic, “but this is our only chance.”

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With one hand, he aimed the camera. His other hand slipped into her plunging neckline, cupping one breast as he triggered the flash. She closed her eyes, surprised by the near-electric feel of his touch, and—for a split second—forgot where they were and the victims whose lives were at stake. Almost against her will, she savored the warmth of his hand against her breast, wishing he would stroke her nipple, which had begun to harden. Then she caught herself and opened her eyes. She saw two people she recognized, dancing together, moving toward them—Reznik, Sergov’s enforcer, and Elena, Sergov’s mistress. Reznik, wearing black slacks and a leather jacket, seemed unhappy, almost sullen, shrugging to the music. Elena, wearing red tights and a sheer lace peek-a-boo blouse looked gleeful, shaking her booty. She wore no bra and the blouse revealed the exquisite shape and dark nipples of her breasts. Kyla could tell that Reznik and Elena were only posing as dancing partners. The giveaway was their eyes. Instead of watching each other, their gazes were locked on her and DeStassio. As DeStassio started to remove his hand from her breast, she said, “No. Find my nipple.” She’d said it loud enough for Reznik and Elena to hear, wanting them to see she had what it took to star in their skin flicks. But the strange thing was, a part of her wanted this-DeStassio’s hand doing more to tease and arouse her. DeStassio shifted his hand, causing her shoulder strap to slide off, exposing her breast. Then he softly pinched her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Kyla shuddered with pleasure, half-closing her eyes as she watched DeStassio, surprised by the sudden pulse, visible in the vein that traced his jaw line. She saw Elena narrow her eyes, offering a predatory smile. Then Elena spoke into a cell phone. Kyla watched Reznik look from her bare breast to DeStassio, a challenge in his eyes. DeStassio leaned in, his lips brushing hers as he replaced her strap, then whispered, “We just made it to the finals. Keep it up.” “Like this?” Eager to come off like a hot couple, she pressed in harder, closed her eyes and French kissed him. When she pulled back, Reznik and Elena were gone. DeStassio caught his breath, fighting off the urges Kyla had awakened in him. The feel of her tongue, pushing against his had him hungry for more. But he had to stay alert. He couldn’t get caught up in the heat she had sparked in his loins. Their lives—and the kidnap victims’—depended on the two of them staying level-headed and working as a team. “Now what?” she asked, gyrating in place. He hooked her arm, then spun her in close, chest-to-chest. She felt herself drawn to his gaze and faltered, missing a step, then quickly recovered. “If you get chosen,” he said, “they’ll offer you a drink that’s been doctored.” “No way will I be drugged.” Pressing his lips to her ear, he said, “I’ll switch drinks. Just pretend you’re out of it, and they’ll deliver us to the movie set.” She shuddered, feeling the warmth of his breath. “Where is it?” “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Sergov moves everything around, like his parties.”

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He danced behind her, pressing his groin up against her buttocks. She felt the firmness of his cock, growing harder as he thrust against her, her body moving with his. “What about the women?” His arms went around her waist, cinching her closer as they moved to the music. “Same thing. He shifts them from place to place.” Angered by his casual answers, she spun around, getting in his face. “Then how the fuck will we rescue them?” “Keep your cool. I’m close to finding them.” She remembered Captain Williams’ warning, and leaned in, nibbling his ear. “Doesn’t sound like much of a plan.” Her words stung, flushing his face with anger, even as the warmth of her breath against his ear made his erection grow harder. “Listen, Anna. I’ve been working my ass off setting this up.” “I’d like to rescue the women before I win the audition and get stuck with Dimitri the Dominator.” Irked that she doubted his concern for her, or his ability to protect her, he put his hands on the cheeks of her ass and pulled her close, his eyes inches from hers. “Look. I’ve got it covered.” “How?” she asked, jerking her body to the music. “I’ve slipped some of Sergov’s date-rape drugs into the pocket flask the cameraman’s always nipping vodka from. Sergov knows I can run the cameras, so once the cameraman passes out, he’ll ask me to do that. I’ll stall while I record Sergov on one of the cameras, talking about his sex-slave, porn operation. Then I’ll call in the troops.” Until the troops arrived, she realized DeStassio was her only protection. She spun away from him then back, moving to the music’s beat. “What if Sergov discovers who we are?” “Our cover’s solid.” He saw the warmth leave her blue eyes as her gaze hardened. “Cut the crap, okay? The last sex decoy working undercover with you turned up dead.” Her accusation struck him like a punch to the stomach. Without meaning to, he grabbed her waist and squeezed hard enough that she flinched. He hissed, “You think I didn’t look out for her? If she’d kept her cool, instead of panicking, she’d still be alive and we wouldn’t be here having this argument.” His whispered answer had been fierce and sincere. Clearly, he believed what he was saying, but it was still her life at stake if he screwed up. She frowned as she swayed and shimmied beneath the strobe lights. Trying to keep the concern from her voice, she said, “Inspire some confidence, ‘Davis’. Tell me you’re packing something besides the bulge between your legs.” When he hesitated, she grabbed him around his waist, digging her nails in, wanting an answer. He felt the jab of her fingernails and couldn’t help admiring her. She was tough. That meant she had a good chance of getting through this in one piece. “I’ve got pistols hidden in a yellow case with a movie camera that’s going to the porn set. Also cell phones. Plus, I’ve got a surgical ear implant that lets me hear radio updates from the hostage rescue unit, a SWAT team that’s keeping tabs on us.”

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The DJ switched to a faster song and DeStassio raised his arms over head, pumping his pelvis, moving into her. She asked, “Is your hidden ear-piece two-way communication?” “No. I just hear whatever they feed me—brief broadcasts on the hour. If I transmitted back, Sergov might catch on.” She shimmied to the music, getting even closer. “How far away is the hostage rescue team?” He started to answer, wanting to put her at ease, but Sergov’s mistress, Elena slid up alongside them, flashing a wad of cash. “Hey,” Elena said to them. “There’s a little party in the back room.” She used the currency to trace the edge of Kyla’s breast. “Kind of a contest, you know? Wildest dance couple.” “Wow,” DeStassio said, slipping his arm around Kyla’s waist. “Sound good?” Biting her lip, Kyla fell into character, playing off DeStassio’s comment. She looked from the cash in Elena’s hand to him. “I’m game if you are.” Elena motioned for them to follow and started into the crowd. Halfway across the dance floor, Elena began moving toward the bar. DeStassio kept his arm around Kyla’s waist as they followed, slipping past other dancers. Up ahead, he saw Reznik waiting at the corner of the bar, next to two drinks that were already poured. Reznik’s eyes lingered on Kyla, then shifted to him and hardened, as if to bait him into a fight. Don’t I wish, thought DeStassio, knowing it was Reznik who had shot the last decoy. But Reznik would have to wait, because he had a mission to complete. The DJ cued up a new song with a bass beat so strong it felt like an undertow. As DeStassio and Kyla reached the bar, Reznik veered off toward a darkened hallway, motioning for them to follow him as Elena picked up the drinks. Turning to Kyla, Elena handed her one. Elena sipped from the other drink and walked beside them as they entered the hallway. The music from the nightclub was still quite loud as DeStassio squeezed Kyla’s arm, alerting her. Kyla pretended to take a sip, then—when Elena looked away—tossed out the liquor through an open doorway. At the end of the hallway, they pushed through sheets of black plastic that hung from ceiling to floor, covering a doorway. They entered a room with soft lighting that had a few chairs and some pillows thrown on the floor. In the far corner, stood a thick-chested, gray-haired man wearing a dark, tailored suit and a blood-red tie. Elena called to him. “Darling, here’s that fabulous couple I mentioned.” He turned and Kyla found herself face-to-face with the cold-blooded gaze of Vlady Sergov. He stroked his goatee as he shifted his attention to her. “Very nice,” he said, looking her over. Then his gaze shifted to DeStassio. “But there’s a problem.” DeStassio felt Kyla tense against his side. He prayed that she’d keep her cool and follow his lead as Sergov stepped closer, keeping Reznik at his side.

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Chapter Four Inside the small, dimly lit room, DeStassio kept his arm around Kyla’s waist as he faced Sergov, whose bulk added menace to his gaze. Sergov was flanked by a sneering Reznik on one side and Elena on the other. Over the thump of dance music, coming from the hall, Sergov said, “No contest, tonight.” DeStassio pretended to ignore Reznik’s presence as he gave Kyla’s arm a reassuring squeeze. Careful to sound casual, he said to Sergov, “Yeah? Why not?” Elena looked disappointed as Sergov spoke softly. “It seems one of my film crew is....” He paused, then added, “Is incapacitated.” DeStassio shrugged. “If you need someone to run the cameras, I can handle that.” “That would help,” said Sergov, “if it was the cameraman. But it’s Dimitri who is screwed up.” DeStassio blinked. He’d slipped the drugs into the cameraman’s hip flask, but Dimitri must have taken a nip. Sergov shrugged, offering a thin smile. “Without Dimitri ... what good are more women?” “Maybe he’ll come around,” said DeStassio. Sergov shook his head. “He was a disappointment. And I do not accept disappointments. Ever.” Reznik grinned, stretching the scar on his cheek. “I sent Dimitri on a permanent vacation.” Sergov added, “And now this beauty has seen me … and heard this.” He let his voice trail off and looked at Reznik. Wobbling, Kyla stepped forward. “But I’m ready for the contest.” She sounded eager and a bit drugged, so DeStassio had to give her credit. She knew getting recruited was their best chance of rescuing the women. Elena reached out and stroked Kyla’s arm, genuine disappointment in her eyes. “I would have enjoyed watching you.” DeStassio improvised, blurting out what he thought was their only chance. “Hell, let me do her. She’s been teasing me all night.” Kyla released the breath she’d been holding. On her own, she never would have volunteered to make a skin flick, but if it meant finding the women and putting Sergov behind bars, she was willing to give it a go. “What about Russian?” Sergov asked DeStassio. “That’s my market. Do you speak it?” DeStassio forced himself to chuckle, even though, inside, he feared for Kyla’s life and his own. “C’mon. It isn’t about dialog. Just turn off the sound, then dub in whatever you want.” “You mean,” said Kyla, joining in, “I get to make a movie? With him?” She threw him a look of longing that bordered on lust. Thank god she’s playing along, he thought.

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“Okay,” said Sergov slowly. “Why not?” DeStassio breathed a sigh of relief as Sergov headed for the door, about to leave the room. “No,” said Elena, catching up with Sergov. She turned and shot DeStassio a taunting look. “Not ‘till we see if he’s good enough where it counts.” DeStassio felt himself blush as Elena looked from his face down to his crotch. “That’s right,” Elena said. “Drop your pants.” Kyla, in spite of their dire circumstances, found herself staring at DeStassio, who—at the moment—looked like a deer caught in the headlights. She stepped over, squeezed up against him and said, “Now I get it. We’re going to make a nasty movie.” With that, she unzipped his leather pants, then slipped her hand into his briefs, to his cock, and teased its head with her fingertips while she French kissed him. Immediately, she felt his cock respond, growing thick as it pushed upward. She blinked, torn by mixed feelings. She couldn’t help remembering the searing pleasure they had shared in bed back at the crime conference. But she also remembered the way her stomach had turned, finding the crime photos of her dead half-sister in his briefcase. At her touch, DeStassio groaned, and the sound brought her back, reminding her that she had to be convincing, that their lives hung in the balance. “Oh my,” she said, winking at him. “I think it’s time to come out and play.” DeStassio shuddered at the rush of pleasure he felt from her touch and thought, We’ll get through this. He reached for his fly, but she pushed his hand away and popped the buttons herself then knelt and pulled down his leather pants and briefs, unleashing a cock that rivaled Dimitri the Dominator’s. Kyla ran her tongue over her lips then used a fingertip to trace a vein that ran the length of his cock. Immediately, his cock stiffened and rose quickly, jutting toward her, and her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t help thinking back to their one night of bliss, when she’d wrapped her legs around DeStassio as he slipped his cock inside her. DeStassio’s breathing quickened. His cock almost pulsed from her touch, and he fought the urge to reach for her. “Excellent,” said Elena, “but save it for the film.” Kyla blushed then stood, watching DeStassio pull his briefs up and work at stuffing his stiffened cock in, then he pulled up his leather pants and struggled to get his fly closed. “Come on,” Elena, stepping forward, offering Kyla her arm. “Since you’re so eager, let’s look at some costumes.” Kyla hesitated and DeStassio felt a nudge from her elbow. Slurring, she said, “What about his costume?” Sergov smiled. “Good point.” He whispered something to Reznik then gestured at DeStassio. “Reznik, do you mind helping out Davis, here? Make sure he’s ready to perform?” DeStassio felt Kyla lean heavily against him as she giggled then kissed him on the cheek. “He’s my best and only good luck charm,” she said in a woozy voice. DeStassio understood what she was telling him. Don’t leave me.

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Sergov pointed at DeStassio. “I’ll see you on the set.” His gaze lingered briefly on Kyla. Then he slipped out of the room and through the black plastic sheeting, into the hallway. Smiling, Elena took Kyla’s hand and led her toward another doorway. “Everything’s in here.” DeStassio started after them, but felt a heavy hand grab him by his shoulder. He spun around, facing Reznik, whose stubble couldn’t hide the long knife scar on his cheek. “The boss said to warn you,” said Reznik. “Your first screw-up will be your last.” DeStassio smiled, not wanting Reznik to sense his concern for Kyla. “Tell you what, Rez. If I need a bright idea, I’ll steer clear of you. Until then….” He reached up, where Reznik had clapped a hand on his shoulder, and grabbed Reznik’s wrist, finding the pressure point. Reznik’s face contorted with pain as he tried to sidestep and break free, but couldn’t. Snarling, off-balance, Reznik swung with his free hand. DeStassio ducked the punch and shoved him sideways. Furious, Reznik drew his pistol from a shoulder holster, aiming it at DeStassio’s chest. DeStassio just stood there, grinning. “Hey, big man. Sergov expects me to nail the looker that Elena just hauled off. If I can’t because of you ….” Reznik scowled and holstered his pistol. “You and I aren’t finished.” “Glad to hear it.” If Reznik gave him the slightest excuse, DeStassio was going to kill him for shooting the sex decoy he’d been working with. Acting calmer than he felt, DeStassio strode past Reznik, entering the room where Elena had taken Kyla. He saw Kyla, backed into a corner, wobbling, with Elena standing in front of her, holding up a lacy red bra. “Try it on. It matches your hair.” As he stepped forward, Kyla’s knees buckled, and Elena caught her, propping her up. “Too bad,” Elena said to DeStassio with a wanton grin. “I thought we’d get to explore some ‘wardrobe options’ before the drugs kicked in.” DeStassio bent down, slipping one arm beneath Kyla’s knees, the other behind her shoulders. He lifted Kyla to his chest, backing away from Elena. Hopefully, Kyla was still faking it. As DeStassio held her, Elena traced her fingertips over Kyla’s thigh, where her dress had ridden up, and licked her lips. DeStassio resisted the urge to yank Kyla away from Elena. “Where do I take her?” Elena sighed. “There’s a semi-truck loading at the warehouse dock. Put her in with the cargo.” Carrying Kyla, DeStassio moved into the hall, heading toward the back of the building. He walked quickly, clutching Kyla to his chest, feeling like shit for letting Elena touch her. As he strode into the cold night air, he swore it wouldn’t happen again. He turned toward the loading dock, feeling the warmth of Kyla’s body pressed up against his chest. Behind him, the sounds of music and the party were gone, the warehouse now darkened, except for lights at the loading dock. Ahead of him, he saw the sixteen-wheeler and several men loading equipment, including the sound system and laser lights the DJ had used.

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Approaching the semi, he glanced down at Kyla, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest—the lush curves of her lovely breasts, revealed by a plunging neckline. Had Elena managed to drug her, or was she still faking it? “Hey,” he whispered. “Are you all right?” Without opening her eyes, Kyla said, “Shut up. Someone could be watching.” He heard the barest crackle of static in his left ear, where the radio receiver had been surgically implanted. A faint voice, said, Red Dog, here’s your hourly update. Perimeter secure, but thin. Several sixteen-wheelers are leaving the warehouse. We don’t have the manpower to follow all of them. Making our best guess. Hoping the trucks we follow go to site where the missing subjects are being kept. Over, out.” Shit, thought DeStassio, coming to a halt. He needed his team to follow the last truck, which would be transporting him and Kyla. But he had no way of reaching them … not until he got his hands on a phone. “Keep moving if you know what’s good for you.” It was Reznik’s voice, in a taunting tone, coming from behind him. DeStassio refused to give Reznik the satisfaction of looking back. Instead, he shouldered his way past two of Sergov’s workers and carried Kyla up the ramp, into the hold of the sixteenwheeler, which was illuminated by interior, overhead lights. He carried her past stacks of crates and boxes, into a corner, where he found a pile of blankets. He sat on a crate, still holding Kyla, and managed to pick up a blanket, which he draped over her legs and chest. Other workers carried in more boxes. “Hey,” one said. “Leave her and ride up front. It’s warmer.” “Thanks,” said DeStassio, “but I’m staying. Sergov expects me to take care of her.” Finally, DeStassio saw the yellow fiberglass camera case coming up the loading ramp, carried by one of Sergov’s grunts. It was the only yellow case, used for one of the digital movie cameras. Knowing that case would be easy to spot, he had cut away some of the foam padding inside to hide two semiautomatic pistols, extra clips of ammunition and two cell phones programmed to speed-dial his backup team. He whispered to Kyla, who was still pretending to be unconscious, “Here comes our firepower and phones.” Just then, the grunt caught his shoe on something and fell off the ramp, dropping the yellow camera case, which landed with a crash—cracking the cover, but not popping it open. “Damn,” said the grunt. Another guy stopped to give him a hand up. “Dump it in the warehouse. Otherwise they’ll know we broke it.” “Yeah?” said the first grunt. “What about the camera?” “There’s bunches of cameras already there.” By the time DeStassio stood, still holding Kyla, the yellow camera case had been carried out of sight, and the other grunt was unhooking the ramp. “Don’t make a fuss,” whispered Kyla. “It’ll draw too much attention.” DeStassio lay her out on a long crate, realizing he didn’t have time to tell her how serious this was.

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He figured he only had about sixty-seconds to improve their situation, or they’d be at the mercy of Sergov, with little chance of defending themselves.

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Chapter Five Leaving Kyla inside the sixteen-wheeler, DeStassio called out to the worker who was removing the ramp. “Hold on. I forgot my cigarettes.” DeStassio hopped out of the truck and ran the short distance to the warehouse. He ducked inside, but didn’t see the camera case. Outside, he heard the engine of the sixteenwheeler revving up, getting ready to roll. The worker looked up, surprised. “What do you want?” “Where’s the yellow camera case?” The man shrugged. “Beats me. Alex took it.” DeStassio saw a cell phone holstered on the man’s hip and, before the worker could react, DeStassio punched him, knocking him off his feet. As he struggled to get up, DeStassio grabbed him by the arm and swung him around, ramming his head into the wall. He heard the man’s neck snap. The worker collapsed and he hauled him into a small room where sheets of black plastic lay in heaps on the floor, wrinkled and twisted. DeStassio grabbed the man’s cell phone and the cigarettes from his top pocket, then covered him with sheets of loose plastic and ran outside. The worker about to close the sixteen-wheeler’s cargo doors, yelled, “Hurry up,” to DeStassio.” DeStassio hopped on board, flashing the pack of cigarettes, while palming the cell phone with his other hand. The doors swung shut and were locked from the outside as DeStassio made it to Kyla’s side. She sat up as he snapped open the cell phone and dialed the SWAT team’s number. “Red Rover,” a male voice answered, shredded with static. DeStassio glanced at the cell phone and saw its batteries were almost exhausted. “This is Red Dog with Officer Cusack, riding in the last sixteen-wheeler leaving the warehouse. Do you copy?” “Red Dog,” repeated the voice, fainter this time. “Go ahead.” “We’re in the last sixteen-wheeler ....” The phone abruptly died in DeStassio’s hand, its screen going dark. “Shit,” he said. As he closed the phone, he heard the rumble of the truck’s engine, then the hiss of air brakes being released. The boxes and crates in the cargo hold shifted slightly as the truck backed up, then pulled a wide, slow turn. Soon, the sound of gears being shifted and a steady vibration told him they were moving, heading for whatever location Sergov had lined up. From his sour expression, Kyla knew they were in trouble. She stood. “No guns?” she asked. “No cell phones?” “No.” Discouraged, wondering if their luck had run out, he moved to her side. “My stash disappeared. I grabbed this phone off one of Sergov’s grunts. The batteries are dead.”

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She hugged herself. “Did your team acknowledge your message?” When he looked at her, she knew the answer before he spoke. “It was a bad connection. I can’t tell if they got my message or not.” He tapped his ear. “When they give the hourly broadcast, I’ll know for sure.” She started to pace, hemmed in by the cargo of crates and boxes. “Does anyone know you snatched a phone?” He shrugged, as if apologizing. “I broke his neck and hid the body.” She turned and shoved him in the chest, sending him into a stack of crates. “And when the body’s found, Sergov will be alerted. He’ll know someone’s working undercover.” He felt terrible for putting her in more danger. “Look, when we arrive at the movie set, I want you to escape.” She thought of the women Sergov had kidnapped, who had little chance of being rescued if she or DeStassio abandoned their assignment. “No,” Kyla said. “Let’s stick it out, do whatever we have to get evidence on Sergov.” She set her jaw and looked at DeStassio. “If I pass the audition, I’ll be put with the other women, right? I’ll have a chance of getting them out.” DeStassio shook his head. “You’d have no weapons, no backup team. If something happens to me ….” “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.” “Face it,” he said. “Our odds are better now, while we’re together. Maybe we’ll catch Sergov and Reznik off guard.” She crossed her arms. “I won’t abandon the kidnap victims.” My god, he thought. What courage. She really meant it. She’d rather sacrifice herself than give up any chance the women might have. He berated himself for losing whatever chance he might have had with her back at the crime conference. “Look,” he said. “Forget about getting evidence on Sergov. Help me turn the tables and I’ll personally beat it out of him. We’ll find out where the women are before I call in the troops.” She looked at him, surprised. “Even if we rescue the women, if Sergov can prove you coerced him, your evidence would get tossed. Plus, that would be the end of your career.” She paused. “Why would you do that?” He stepped forward and took her by the shoulders, holding her at arm’s length. “I lost you once,” he said, “because you were hurt and confused by photos you found in my briefcase. But I’m not about lose you again—letting you sacrifice yourself, with no guarantee those women will be rescued.” She knew he was right about there being no certainty that she could help the women once she joined them. But beyond that, she’d heard the concern in his voice, concern for her, and it was genuine. She looked around at the truck’s walls and locked doors, which held them prisoner, along with a load of cargo. “All right,” she said, sitting on one of the crates. She patted a spot beside her. “You’ve been pushing me to hear your explanation about the photos. I’m listening.” Immediately, she saw the relief in his eyes, so she held up a hand before he could speak. “Just so you know, DeStassio. I realize our chances are slim, heading into Sergov’s lair without any weapons or a way to reach your team. That’s why I want things settled between us, if they

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can be. Because when the shit hits the fan, we’ll have to cover each other’s backs and I don’t want any distractions from unfinished business.” He took a deep breath and let it out. This was his one chance, and he’d better not blow it. “Okay. There are lots of details, but the bottom line is, about a year ago I came up with a theory about serial killers, that some of them might study more than one family member before they select their victim, especially if the killer is looking for a certain physical type, and more than one family member fits the type he’s targeted.” As he spoke, her face took on a pained expression, and he figured she must be thinking about her half-sister. “If that’s true,” he continued, “there’s more information out there, which could lead us to these types of killers … help bring them to justice.” “How?” she asked, thinking back to the vow she had made about becoming a cop so she’d have a chance at catching Anna’s murderer. “Usually in talking to family members, we question them about any people the victim may have interacted with in the last days of their life. But if other family members were also being considered as targets, any recollections they have about people they met or interacted with, near the time of the murder, might point to the killer.” She hesitated, wanting to believe him. “That makes sense, but why did you bring that article with the photo of me to the conference?” “If you’d looked at the other packets of photos, you would’ve seen they weren’t all photos of you and Anna. I went through transcripts of interviews with surviving family members from several serial murders. Then, using newspaper articles about the crimes, I picked out family members who resembled the victim. So I had photos of victims and survivors from several families. You and Anna were one of twenty cases documented in my briefcase.” “Let’s say I believe you, about your theory. Why didn’t you tell me you knew who I was when you followed me into the hall at the conference?” He scooted closer to her on the crate and took her hand. He felt her tense up, but he didn’t let go. “I was thinking about your feelings,” he said. “Until I bounced my theory off some forensic psychologists, I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up about catching the killers on cold cases.” Seeing the concern in his eyes, hearing the tenderness in his voice, she realized this was what he’d tried to explain to her the morning she’d thrown him out of her hotel room and then last month at the shooting competition. She felt tears running down her face. He squeezed her hand once then released it as he reached up to brush her tears away. “What I wanted to tell you, after that wonderful night we had together, was how right we seemed for each other. And to let you know....” His voice trailed off. “I wanted you to know …. I’m sorry I upset you and that I care about you.” He paused, looking down at his feet. He spoke as if resigned to her still being angry. But she wasn’t. Not anymore. Not after hearing what his true intentions were. And now, realizing she might be able to recall things from her last days with Anna, information that might help identify Anna’s killer ….

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“Look,” he said, “we’ll improvise … find a way to turn things around and call for reinforcements. Then, while they’re on the way, we’ll work over Sergov. Find out where the women are. We’ll ....” She kissed him. He felt the heat, the urgency of her kiss, and found himself responding in kind, as her body pressed into him, with her breasts straining against his chest. She pulled back a little, her intense gaze boring into his. “I don’t know how much time we have, or if we’ll even survive this. But if we do, I want to help you find my sister’s killer. And I want to make up for lost time.” His deep brown gaze searched hers. “Lost time?” “Between us.” When she kissed him again, harder this time, her tongue probing his, he felt his cock harden. His urge was to tear her clothes off and make love to her right then and there. To regain the urgency and passion they’d felt back in her hotel room, before the misunderstanding had soured things between them. As he lowered his face, kissing the hollow of her throat, then the swell of her breasts, she moaned softly, and whispered, “Yes … please.” The truck shuddered, the gears shifting down, then turned sharply, almost pitching them off the crate. He caught her to keep her from falling. “Shit,” he said. “What lousy timing.” She reached up, putting her arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely. “Remember, I’m Anna,” she said, “and you’re Davis. And I’m dizzy … just coming to from being drugged.” He nodded. “Whatever it takes to save the women,” she said, “I’m going to do it.” She searched his eyes. “Are you with me?” As the truck groaned to a halt, he said, “All the way. Whatever it takes.” Just as she lay back down on the blanket and crates, he heard the sound of the rear doors being opened. Then glaring light filled the truck, which faced a loading dock. A moment later, Reznik climbed up, scowling, followed by Sergov, his bulk silhouetted by the loading lights. With an amused look in his eyes, Sergov approached Kyla, who was stretched out on her side. He grabbed her shoulder and shook it. “Do you remember the contest?” DeStassio watched her act groggy, and then wobble to her feet. “Did I win?” Sergov laughed. “The audition is about to begin.” As DeStassio steered her past them, Reznik leaned close and whispered to him. “Remember. One mistake and ….” Reznik shaped his hand like a gun and aimed it at DeStassio.

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Chapter Six DeStassio shoved past Reznik, keeping up with Kyla and Sergov as they walked down the truck’s loading ramp. Moments later, they entered a large storage bay in a warehouse. This warehouse, DeStassio noted, wasn’t under construction like the ones Sergov typically used for his nightclub parties to sell drugs and troll for women he could kidnap. Inside, DeStassio saw movie lights mounted on stands with the props for a few simple sets in place, assembled in different corners of the warehouse. The set to his right looked like a fashion photo-shoot in progress, with a fancy digital camera and umbrella lighting positioned by a yellow couch that held a pair of ostrich feathers. Across the way, he saw a red convertible sports car parked near tools that hung from a wall on pegs, with a mechanic’s jumpsuit draped over the car’s door … the set for a mechanic’s garage, he supposed. And the set off to his left resembled an office, having a desk with a swivel chair behind it, two guest chairs, and a lamp. Through a large window, DeStassio could see Elena in an interior room where all the editing equipment had been set up. A few days ago, while meeting the cameraman at a one of Sergov’s parties, DeStassio had learned that they shot multiple cameras all at once then later selected and strung together the best shots and scenes in a single editing session—so this must be the editing facility. Elena, flashing a predatory smile, came out to meet him, Kyla, Reznik, and Sergov. “So,” she said to Kyla, “which would you rather be? An office secretary with a boss who’s eager to get in your pants? A fashion model, being handled by a horny photographer? Or a gal who wants her sexy sports car repaired by a well-hung mechanic?” Kyla gripped DeStassio’s arm, as if still drugged, wobbling on her stiletto heels. “Which do you want?” “I’m in the mood to be a mechanic,” he said, thinking the wrenches and screwdrivers might make effective, improvised weapons. “Wow,” Kyla said. She laughed, giving a shimmy that made her breasts sway. “That sounds great, getting fucked on the hood of a sports car.” She reached out and gave his crotch a squeeze, playing her role as the loose, nightclubparty girl. Sergov nudged DeStassio. “Make sure each movie camera has a good feed to the editing room.” As DeStassio looked at Kyla, he saw a mix of feelings in her eyes. He knew she wanted him to have a chance at planting a camera in the editing room, to get evidence on Sergov. At the same time, she didn’t want to be separated. “Don’t worry,” Reznik said, leering at Kyla. “I’ll keep an eye on her … take real good care of her.”

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Not having any other choice, DeStassio told Kyla, “I’ll be right back. Meanwhile, Babe, go warm up the hood of that sports car.” He shot Reznik a warning look then strode away. Approaching the editing room, DeStassio glimpsed movement off to his right. He caught a brief look at two men walking past the loading bay, each carrying Uzi machine guns. He had expected armed men, but it discouraged him to see the firepower he and Kyla would have to overcome. As Kyla watched him go, she told herself to stay calm and keep to her role as a drugdazed club dancer with few inhibitions. She wobbled a little as she walked toward the red convertible with Reznik at her side. The way he looked at her, his eyes drifting over the sway of her hips and jiggle of her breasts, she knew he wanted to get his hands on her. “This’ll be fun,” she said, “balling on camera.” She smirked at him. “You wanna know why?” Reznik licked his lips, probably imagining himself in DeStassio’s shoes. “Why?” “Because he’s hung like a horse.” As she laughed, holding her hands apart, indicating the impressive length of DeStassio’s cock, she saw the flare of envy in Reznik’s eyes. Getting close to the editing room, DeStassio glanced back over his shoulder, wanting to make sure Kyla was still okay. She seemed to be holding her own with Reznik. Inside the editing room, DeStassio found Pavel, portly and bald, sitting at the editing console as he calibrated the color intensity on the editing screen. Absorbed in his work, Pavel nodded hello without speaking. DeStassio quickly checked the picture taken by each video camera. They were all functioning and simply needed to be moved into position. Quietly, he looked over the spare cameras in the editing room. He found a small, hand-held one, which would be ideal to hide in a corner of the room, tucked into a jumble of cables. But with Pavel here, he couldn’t do it. “Pavel,” he said, “we’re shooting first by the red convertible. I’m getting the cameras in position.” Pavel gave him a worried look. “When Dimitri got drunk, I never expected….” His face turned pale. “Reznik shot him on Sergov’s orders.” He sent a furtive glance toward the doorway. “Now I wonder if any of us are safe.” DeStassio approached him, pretending to offer reassurances while he looked for a cell phone. “Well, I’m filling in for Dimitri. Maybe that will calm Sergov down, once we’re back on schedule.” “You think?” asked Pavel, still sounding doubtful. DeStassio saw a cell phone on the console behind Pavel and knew he had to act while he had the chance. “Pavel,” he said, “check whether there’s enough lighting by the car.” If Pavel walked over, he could grab the cell phone and probably have time to hide the hand-held camera. Pavel eased his bulk out of the swivel chair and walked to the doorway. As soon as Pavel’s back was toward him, DeStassio slipped the cell phone into his pocket, then stepped toward the small camera he planned to hide. He was startled when Pavel said, “It looks fine.” DeStassio turned to see Pavel still in the doorway, looking toward the sports car.

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Recovering, DeStassio added, “Shoot without sound. Sergov wants the sound dubbed in when you edit. Got it?” “Whatever he wants.” Pavel nodded and returned to his seat, making some adjustments on the editing console. Cursing beneath his breath, DeStassio left the room, carrying two cameras on tripods. Without the hidden camera, he doubted they’d get evidence on Sergov that would hold up in court. DeStassio heard a faint crackling of static in his surgically implanted earpiece. Slowing his pace, he listened as he heard, “Red Dog, this is Red Rover. Lost you when all the sixteenwheelers left the warehouse. If you can, signal your location. Again, signal your location. Also, one other kidnap] victim was found, shot through the head. Red Rover, over and out.” Shit, thought DeStassio, the only luck they seemed to have was bad luck. As he walked toward Kyla and Reznik, he played out two coils of cable that ran back into the editing room. Ahead, he saw Reznik grab his crotch as he leered at Kyla, moving in on her. She wasn’t backing down, but he could see the tension in her shoulders. “Hey,” he called to Reznik. “If you’re that anxious to see her naked, lend a hand. Bring over the other camera.” Reznik scowled, but Elena, who stood off to the side, next to Sergov, yelled, “Do it, Reznik. We’re on a tight schedule.” DeStassio reached Kyla as he set the cameras down. “Thanks,” she whispered. Continuing to act as if she were drugged, she ran her hands along the red convertible sports car, as if admiring it. Elena and Sergov approached them as Reznik grumbled, but did as he’d been ordered, quickly setting the third camera into position. DeStassio checked on the cable that ran from each camera to the editing room. He saw Elena look hungrily at Kyla as she and Sergov joined him. “Is everything set?” Sergov asked DeStassio. “Yes.” He pointed to the three cameras. “Each camera will run, continuously, from start to finish, giving you angles to choose from when you edit.” Watching DeStassio as he talked to Elena and Sergov, Kyla released the breath she’d been holding. On her own, she never would have volunteered to make a skin flick. But if it meant saving the kidnapped women, she’d give it a go. She saw Elena give DeStassio some final instructions that she couldn’t hear. Then Elena and Sergov walked across the warehouse floor, into the editing room. DeStassio slowly approached her, his face grim. “We’ve only got a few minutes,” he whispered. “Then they’ll expect us to begin.” She nodded, whispering back. “Did you hide a camera to catch Sergov?” “Didn’t get a chance. And the hostage rescue team didn’t get my message. They have no idea where we are.” He saw her shoulders sag. “So, we’re on our own.” “I managed to snag a cell phone. It’s in my pants pocket.” “With cameras trained on us, they’ll see it if we use it.” “Maybe not,” he said. “I’ve got an idea. Besides, we have to risk using it. Another kidnap victim was found, shot to death.”

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From the editing room, Elena called out, “Let’s get started.” Kyla glanced through the open doorway at Elena, sitting at the console of the editing room next to a bald man. Behind Elena, she saw Sergov tap his wristwatch as he stood talking with Reznik. Kyla felt her stomach knot. The clock was ticking, not only for them, but for all the women Sergov had kidnapped. “Give me a minute,” DeStassio hollered back. I’ve got to put on the mechanic’s coveralls.” “Fine,” answered Elena. “But don’t wear any clothes underneath. Just the coveralls.” “What’s your idea?” Kyla asked. DeStassio started unbuttoning his shirt. “Don’t be obvious, but look around. See where the movie cameras are positioned.” Kyla reached for and handed him the mechanic’s coveralls, checking out the location of each camera. “Stand,” he said, “so you’re blocking one camera and I’ll do the same, keeping the phone between us. The car will block the last camera.” “But if you raise the phone, they’ll see ....” “Here’s the thing ….” He peeled off his shirt, revealing a muscled chest. “I’m going to drop the phone into the convertible, on the front seat. The way the cameras are angled, it shouldn’t be visible. Deciding she still had to look enthused and slightly drugged to fool Sergov and the rest of them, Kyla stepped forward and undid the buckle on DeStassio’s belt. “They’ll see if we get in the car and duck out of sight to use it.” He blushed, then gave her a weak smile as he unzipped his leather pants and kicked off his shoes. “Maybe not, if their eyes and the cameras are trained on something else.” Puzzled, she helped him pull his leather pants to his ankles, then she stood, blocking the view of one camera. As she did that, he stood so the other two cameras only saw his back. Quickly, he pulled the cell phone from the pants pocket and dropped it onto the front seat. Then he pitched his pants aside, out of camera range. “What else would they be watching?” she asked … then saw the answer in his eyes. “Us,” she said, then glanced at the bulge in his briefs. “If I … if we roll the windows down, and you let me take you from behind, with you bent over the door, facing into the car ….” She pictured the position, and saw what he meant. The eyes of everyone in the editing room wouldn’t be on the sports car. “Right,” she whispered, and glanced toward the editing room. “I’ll give you the number to dial and you’ll talk to the rescue team.” She set her jaw and nodded. “We don’t know the address here, but I suppose ....” “They’ll triangulate off the cell phone signal to get our location.” She tried not to think of the people in the editing room who would be watching them on camera. Instead, she focused on the women they needed to rescue. “Sooner or later,” he said, “someone’s going to find the guy I killed.”

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He started to take off his briefs, and she grabbed his wrist. “Just remember your promise,” she said. “If we turn the tables on Sergov, we beat the information out of him before your team arrives.” He nodded, his gaze on hers. “Put on a show of getting ready,” he said, “while I look for props we can use as weapons.” She nodded as he turned away and slipped out of his boxer shorts, then picked up the coveralls that were hung over the car door. As he stepped into the coveralls and zipped them up, she fluffed her hair, then checked her makeup in the side mirror of the sports car. Man, thought DeStassio, is she cool under pressure. While she primped, he knelt and looked in the tool chest by the car’s front wheel. Inside it, he found a Phillips screwdriver that could be used to stab, then a crescent wrench and a hammer, both of which could be used like a club. “Let’s go,” called Elena from the editing room. “Hurry up.” “Fine,” he hollered. “I’ll put on my shoes and we’re good to go.” He slipped the wrench and screwdriver into his coverall pockets, then rested the hammer against a front wheel as he slipped his shoes back on. Part of her was frightened. Once Sergov discovered that one of his men had been murdered, he’d probably dispose of every possible witness and flee the movie set. But another part of her made every fiber of her being feel alive. Not just alive, but hungry … ravenous even, for anything she could do in what might be her last minutes—to live her life to the fullest ... to love and be loved. Tenderly, he took her by the arm and walked her around to the front of the car. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’m ready.” DeStassio turned and waved at the editing room. “Okay. Here we go.” He faced her. “What seems to be the problem, young lady?” he asked in a stage voice, then gestured at her car—clearly trying to lighten the moment. She played along, taking a few steps and pointed at the hood. In a soft voice, one that only he could hear, she said, “My life seems to be hanging by a thread. Yours, too. But I’m hoping we can help each other.” He winked, showing some bravado. “Seems like the right thing to do, doesn’t it?” She managed a smile, ignoring the creeps in the editing room. “Absolutely.” “So what we need,” he said, “is an excuse for you to reach that phone.” She bit her lip, while holding his gaze. “Because we don’t know how much time we have and since they’re watching on the cameras….” “Yes?” She could see the concern in the depths of his eyes, and felt the tenderness of his touch as he brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. “I’d like this to be genuine,” she said, “since….” She kissed him softly, feeling the warmth of his lips. “Well,” she added, “since we don’t know how this is going to end …. I really want you to know….” “Yes?” He gently blew in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

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She slipped her hands around his waist. “I want you to know,” she said, “that what happened when we went to bed at the crime conference … I don’t want that to be the end of it. Nor the end of us.” She pulled him close and kissed him fiercely. When she finished, he drew back slightly, breathing harder. “That makes two of us.” “Since this might be our last chance, together,” she said, “if we think of it that way, it won’t get to me, with them watching. Can you help me with that?” “I wish we could go slow,” he said, “and savor every moment.” “Knowing you want that makes this easier … what we have to do. So don’t worry about slow.” She smiled. “Just give me a Roman candle.” “Okay.” He brushed her lips with his. “Come here,” she said, her voice turning sexy, “and I’ll light your fuse.” She nibbled his ear as she put a hand on his crotch, finding his cock, and gave it a squeeze. As she massaged his cock, she felt it thicken and heard him draw a sharp breath. He responded by removing his hands from her waist and slipping them through the deep v-neck of her dress, where he cupped her breasts. He gave them a gentle squeeze that made the breath catch in her throat. “More,” she whispered, then kissed him. She slid her other hand down his back, feeling the ridges of muscle as her hand settled lower, found his ass and pulled him closer. The sweet taste of her kiss and her breath made him dizzy as his hands held the lush warmth of her breasts. With her urging him on, probing his tongue with hers, he used his fingertips to find her nipples then gently squeezed them. She groaned with pleasure, arching her back. Still kissing her, he lay her down on the hood, with her glorious red hair fanned out behind her. He pulled back a little, watching her chest heave as he slipped her shoulder straps off and bared her breasts. At the sight of her nipples, distended and rigid, he felt his cock grow harder. “Keep going,” she whispered, closing her eyes, wanting no reminder of where they were, wanting only the sensations of his touch, and the fiery ribbon of desire he had awakened within her. He leaned forward, using his tongue to lick a nipple. She moaned as he flicked her nipple with his tongue. Immediately, her back arched and he took her nipple and as much of her breast as he could into his mouth, sucking hard, while his left hand found her other breast and teased its nipple. Waves of pleasure engulfed her as he sucked one breast and kneaded the other. She wanted this to build slowly between them, and to last forever, but part of her knew time was running out. “Get me ready,” she said. “Get me so hot that I’ll want you, no matter who’s watching.” He hated the idea that this had to be rushed, but she was right. Sergov might be warned at any moment.

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Chapter Seven With the movie cameras still recording their performance, and him leaning forward against the front of the sports car, DeStassio pulled Kyla toward him, further down the hood, with her red hair streaming out behind her. Since she was on her back, with her shoulder straps peeled off, his pulling her closer caused her luscious breasts to quiver and her short dress to ride up, revealing her thighs and green lace panties. Do it, he told himself. Take off her panties and do it. Don’t hesitate, or she’ll remember where she is and who’s watching. He reached into his pocket, grasped the screwdriver, and slipped it under the side panel of her panties. He pulled, breaking the delicate lace, then did the same on the other side. Spearing her delicate lace panties with the screwdriver, he tossed them and the screwdriver into the front seat, where she would be able to retrieve the screwdriver. Then he looked at her delicious mound, with a swirl of red hair against her pale skin, and a trace of pink where her pussy lips pressed together. Leaning forward, he kissed the inside of her thigh, as he used one hand to caress her mound, letting his thumb trail down to her pussy. She moaned softly as he kissed her other thigh and his thumb found her dampness. He didn’t want it to hurt when he took her from behind, so he nudged her with the tip of his thumb, finding the crease between her pussy lips, where she was warm and wet. Eyes closed, she reveled in DeStassio’s kisses to her thighs, and his caresses of her mound were stirring her at the core, causing her to flush with heat as his touch fueled her desire. She quivered with anticipation as his thumb traced her pussy lips, then felt him take both hands and spread her lips. “Yes,” she whispered. “Hurry.” When he blew warm air across her clit, her hips lifted involuntarily, and a wave of pleasure rose within her. With her eyes still closed, she reached out, found his head and laced her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. She felt a jolt of pleasure as his tongue pressed against her clit. She groaned, and felt his mouth envelope her clit, even as his tongue began a slow, circular torture. Her breathing grew ragged and she gripped his hair tighter. “More. Faster.” As he tasted her tangy nectar, she began to squirm, moaning as he tongued her, flicking her clit harder, faster. As she arched her back, he kept her clit in his mouth while he slipped a finger inside her sopping wet pussy. “Yes,” she moaned. “Yes.” He sucked harder on her clit. As he began to slide his finger back and forth, riding the wet channel of her pussy, he felt the walls of her vagina begin to quiver, then clench, tugging at

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his finger. Quickly he added a second finger and kept working his tongue against her clit, fighting not to lose her as she twisted and squirmed, groaning now, gripping his hair. Kyla felt on fire with pleasure as she drew ragged breaths, unable to hold still, hungry to feel his cock inside her. “Now,” she said. “Fuck me.” Breathing hard, he stood and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her to her feet as he stepped back. Her eyes, half-closed, were dulled with pleasure as picked her up, carried her to the side of the car and set her down, facing him. She knelt, keeping her eyes only on him--on the bulge in his coveralls as she quickly found the zipper. She pulled it down and reached in, finding his cock, fully erect. She pulled it out and saw a drop of pre-cum, dotting the slit. Licking her lips, she encircled his shaft with her thumb and forefinger, just beneath the head, and sucked out the drop of pre-cum. Then she raised his cock and licked its underside. Nick already felt like he was going to explode when she reached into his coveralls and grabbed his cock. As she pulled it out of the overalls, he felt the cold air against it, then the warmth of her touch. Then the sudden rush of pleasure as she sucked the head of his cock, then licked its underside, making him shudder with pleasure. “I’m ready,” he said, knowing they had to hurry. Quickly, he kicked off his shoes and stripped off his coveralls. As he stood there nude, his muscular body revealing his longing with his big, hard cock, she moved forward on her knees and slipped her arms around him, taking hold of his ass. Unable to resist, she parted her mouth and slid forward, plunging his cock into her mouth as she squeezed his ass. He groaned, and she felt his knees start to buckle. “Into the car,” he pleaded, “or I’m going to explode right now.” She pulled back, letting his stiff cock bob in the air, then stood and turned, putting her back to him. She bent over, getting her arms and head into the front seat, as he grabbed the edge of her short skirt and raised it, flipping it up, onto her back, exposing the cheeks of her beautiful ass. Kyla was so damned arousing, and had made him so hot, that for a second DeStassio forgot where they were as he guided the head of his cock into her pussy. As she felt him press forward, starting to enter her, she thrust with her ass, pushing herself onto his cock, sliding him inside her as she trembled with pleasure, feeling him fill her. The slick, hot embrace of her pussy took him over the edge. He’d wanted to start slow, but couldn’t help himself. He started thrusting hard, using his hips, going so deep that his balls slapped against her ass. Stunned, engulfed in pleasure, she moaned and met his thrust with one of her own. “Give me the number,” she gasped, fumbling for the cell phone, picking it up. Eyes closed, he began to slide his cock out, leaving just the head in, reciting the phone number to her. He heard her clicking buttons on the phone then speaking in a whisper as he eased forward, sliding back into her. She gasped, then said a few more words he couldn’t hear. He wanted this to last, knew it had to last. If it didn’t, their movie careers were over and Sergov would have Kyla killed.

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He pushed forward, more slowly this time, burying himself inside her, then slowly ground his pelvis against her ass. She gasped as his cock filled her. “The phone is still on,” she said, “they’re triangulating the signal.” He grunted an acknowledgement, but was almost too overcome with pleasure to answer. He plunged into her and started a harder rhythm. “Be noisy,” he said, “or they might suspect something.” “That’s it,” she begged. “Don’t stop. Keep going.” Bending forward at the waist, with her hands, arms and head in the front seat, she balanced on her stiletto heels, thrusting with her ass. He pulled out, leaving just the head of his cock in her dripping wet pussy, then gripped his shaft and moved the head of his cock in a circle, stretching the walls of her pussy. Slowly, he pushed just the head of his cock back and forth, rubbing against her clit. As he moved his cock in a circle, she felt a pulse of pleasure, then another, and felt herself trembling, on the verge of cumming. When he shoved the head of his cock against her clit, she bit her lip, feeling the rolling surge, rising within her—a wave of pleasure so intense that it caused the walls of her pussy to clench as she began to move her ass in a frenzy, pushing against him. “Now,” she cried. “Give it to me and don’t stop!” As his cock began to pulse, he knew he was about to cum. He thrust hard now, pumping as fast as he could, slamming into her, riding the slick, tight embrace of her pussy as they worked each other into a frenzy, fucking for all they were worth. She felt the head of his cock, pounding against her cervix, filling her with waves of pleasure as she felt a quivering, then a rapture began deep within her, spreading quickly, so intense that she arched her back, letting out a scream as she bucked beneath him. He drove as deep as he could, grinding against her as she convulsed in pleasure, her pussy walls clenching his cock with a steaming heat that triggered him, so that now his jism shot out, the ragged pleasure of it ripping through him, so intense that his legs trembled. She collapsed, still bent over the car door, and he leaned forward, lowering his chest to her back. Still trembling with pleasure, she felt the warmth and weight of him resting on her, felt him nuzzling the nape of her neck with his lips. “Damn,” she said, breathing hard. “That’s almost worth dying for.” He chuckled in spite of their circumstances, then heard a sharp clicking on the warehouse floor coming toward them. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Elena smiling, walking their way in her peek-a-boo blouse, red tights and stiletto heels. “Stop filming,” Elena called back to Pavel. “We’ve got to stand up,” he whispered to Kyla, “so she won’t look in the car and see the phone.” Quickly, Kyla straightened up with DeStassio and turned around. As DeStassio put the mechanics coveralls back on, she stepped away from the car. Facing Elena, she smoothed her dress down over her thighs, then slipped her arms back through her shoulder straps, so that her breasts were covered.

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“Great work,” said Elena. “That was really hot.” DeStassio said nothing as he put his shoes back on. Kyla resisted the urge to punch her out for having the nerve to even comment on something so private and personal. “You can rest a few minutes,” Elena added, “then we’re going to use the office set.” Behind Elena, at the doors to the loading dock, DeStassio saw a man come in pushing a rolling metal cart of what had to be packages of food, because he could smell the aroma—he swore—of bacon. Elena glanced at her watch, then looked at him with a grin. “I imagine you worked up an appetite doing that little number. Better than Dimitri would have, I might add.” She said the last with a smirk and DeStassio resisted the impulse to strangle her. “Hey,” Elena called to the man with the food cart. “Bring a box over here.” The man stopped, pulled one box off the cart and jogged over, handing it to Elena. She said to him, “Don’t worry, you won’t be short a meal.” Kyla suddenly realized that Elena was referring to the women hostages. The cart had to hold food for the women Sergov had kidnapped, which meant they were right here. She nudged DeStassio as Elena handed him the box. DeStassio opened it, revealing a plastic plate that held a helping of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, along with a sleeve of plastic utensils. “Go on,” said Elena. “The two of you can share.” She stepped closer to Kyla and looked her up and down, her eyes pausing on the deep vneck of her dress, where most of her breasts were exposed. “Keep it up,” she told Kyla, “and you’ll have a better future than most.” DeStassio saw the muscles tense in Kyla’s shoulders and quickly stepped between them. To Elena, he said, “Trust me. We’ll put on a show in the next film. Better than the one we just shot.” Elena licked her lips and smiled. “I’m looking forward to that.” She motioned for the worker to follow her and walked him to the food cart. Kyla leaned on DeStassio, putting her arms around his waist. “The women are here. That’s their food.” DeStassio nodded. “Keep an eye on which direction he takes the cart.” “We should follow him,” Kyla urged. “Not now.” He opened the sleeve of plastic utensils and handed her a fork. “We don’t have guns and some of the guards carry Uzis. Better to wait for the rescue team.” She spooned up some eggs and swallowed them, realizing she was ravenous. He took sticks of bacon with his fingers and quickly ate them then saw someone else enter the warehouse, the man who had removed the ramp from the semi, after he and Kyla were aboard. “Shit,” he told Kyla. “That’s the thug I beat up to get the cell phone. I thought I’d killed the bastard.” He turned so that his back was to the man. “Then we’ve got to get guns,” she said, “right now. Once Sergov is warned, we’re dead.” “If we could lure Reznik over …. He packs a pistol.” “I’ve got an idea,” she said. “Play along.” He nodded.

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“Reznik,” she called out. “Reznik?” From the editing room, Reznik stuck his head out. Kyla elbowed DeStassio. “All at once,” she called out, “this guy’s got a limp dick. Maybe it’s your turn to be a star?” Grinning, Reznik started over. “Come on, DeStassio,” whispered Kyla, “help me out.” “You bitch,” hollered DeStassio. “Just because I need a minute to get it up.” He shoved her, taking care to send her toward the car, where the screwdriver was still on the front seat. “Ease up,” yelled Reznik, breaking into a run. “Stop it, both of you,” cried Elena. She was heading their way at a trot, gripping a small revolver. “You’ll do what I say, or else.” Reznik had reached them and seemed to feed off Elena’s anger. Pulling his own gun, a semiautomatic, he grinned and pointed it at DeStassio. “Go ahead, big man,” Reznik taunted. “Give me an excuse.” Ignoring Reznik, Kyla watched the thug DeStassio had injured. He was walking toward the editing room. Kyla backed up to the car, against the door. She reached inside without looking, feeling around until she grabbed the screwdriver. “Forget him, Reznik,” she urged. “It’s you I want to fuck.” Jogging now, Elena reached their side and stood between Reznik and Kyla, pointing her pistol at Kyla. “I’m in charge,” she said. “Not you.” Behind them, they heard Sergov yell. “Kill them. Then kill all the women.” As Elena looked toward the editing room, Kyla stabbed overhand with the screwdriver. She struck the center of Elena’s chest, burying the shaft of the screwdriver. Stunned, Elena staggered, staring at the protruding handle of the screwdriver as blood ran down her blouse. Wide-eyed, she collapsed and Kyla dove for her gun. When Sergov yelled, Reznik didn’t make the mistake Elena had of looking back. Immediately, he stepped away, raising his gun, but DeStassio was ready for him. He had taken the crescent wrench from his coverall pocket, which he now swung, smacking Reznik’s wrist. Reznik howled in pain, dropping the gun, but used his other hand, reaching inside his coat for another weapon. Three blasts from Elena’s revolver, with Kyla pulling the trigger, hit Reznik in the chest. He dropped like a stone. DeStassio scooped up Reznik’s gun. A burst of automatic gunfire ricocheted off the concrete floor, just to his right. He and Kyla dove behind the car. DeStassio peeked, seeing two men with Uzi’s and pulled back, keeping low. “Kyla, I think Sergov’s gone for the women.” “Then I’ve got to get there first.” She looked behind them and saw a door. “Cover me,” she said. DeStassio eased around the corner of the car and started shooting as she scrambled for the door. One of the guards with Uzi’s stood, ready to catch her with a burst of fire, but DeStassio’s shot caught him dead center in the chest, knocking him off his feet.

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The other man sent at burst at DeStassio, forcing him to duck. Behind the car, DeStassio saw Kyla open the door and escape as a burst of bullets hammered the sports car. DeStassio stayed low, using the car for cover as he checked the clip of the gun he’d taken from Reznik. Only one bullet left. Suddenly, large volleys of gunfire sounded, coming from more than one direction. DeStassio peeked, seeing his hostage rescue team, all wearing black flack jackets, strafing the Uzi-packing guard, shredding him with bullets. DeStassio stood and shouted, “Agent DeStassio, FBI undercover. Officer Cusack went after Sergov. Some of you come with me.” Without waiting for an answer, DeStassio sprinted through the open doorway into a darkened hallway. Ahead of him, he heard gunfire, then a scream.

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Chapter Eight DeStassio sprinted down the darkened hall, clutching Reznik’s semi-automatic pistol as he ran, knowing he only had one bullet left. He heard more shots and screams, then rounded the corner, seeing a dead guard in the hallway, face down in a pool of blood, clutching a shotgun. Beyond the guard, he saw where the hall opened up to a large metal cage with vertical bars, holding a dozen nude young women. He came to an abrupt halt as some of the women screamed and pointed toward a juncture of the hall he couldn’t see. He reached for the dead guard’s shotgun, wanting more firepower as Sergov stepped into view, using Kyla as a shield. He had one arm cinched around her neck, a pistol to her head. “Stop,” Sergov warned, “or she dies.” The caged women fell silent and DeStassio pulled up, pointing his gun at Sergov, but he didn’t have much of a shot. Sergov had Kyla directly in front of him so that his chest was protected. He had hunched down so that only the top corner of his head and one eye was visible. DeStassio seethed with anger, seeing blood seeped from a bullet wound high on Kyla’s shoulder, near her collarbone. “Let her go, Sergov, if you want to live.” Sergov smiled, clearly relishing his advantage, having Kyla as his hostage. “I’ll make you a deal. Let me take her, as protection, and you can have the other women.” “Please,” called one of the prisoners. “Let us out.” “You see,” said Sergov, “one hostage for all of these fifteen women. Otherwise, I’ll use the grenade in my pocket, and they’ll all be blown to shreds.” Behind Sergov and Kyla, some women began to cry. A few dropped to their knees and prayed. DeStassio saw blood seeping from Kyla’s wound, and she was turning pale. Soon, he realized she’d slip into shock. “Take the deal,” Kyla urged. “Save the women.” “Yes,” said Sergov. “Be smart. I’ll let this one go, once I get away.” DeStassio knew better. If Kyla left with Sergov, she was as good as dead. And he didn’t intend to lose her again. “Take the deal,” Kyla insisted. DeStassio smiled, amazed by her courage, by what she’d do to protect the innocent. He made a minute adjustment to the way he was aiming the gun and cleared his mind, saw nothing but the small target he had available to him … Sergov’s right eye. If he made the perfect shot, Sergov would be brain-dead before he knew it. He wouldn’t be able to think, or to send any message from his brain to his hand to pull the trigger, but DeStassio knew he only had one bullet. If it wasn’t the perfect shot, Sergov might spasm and pull the trigger, killing Kyla. “Do we have a deal?” asked Sergov.

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DeStassio exhaled and held his breath, so that the gun wouldn’t rise and fall from his breathing. He concentrated, ignored Kyla, saw nothing but his target, then squeezed the trigger. So great was DeStassio’s concentration that the blast from his pistol surprised him, just as much as it would have surprised Sergov—if he’d been aware of it. But Sergov fell backward, limp as a rag, shot through the eye—leaving Kyla to stand on her own. Her knees buckled and she collapsed DeStassio dropped Reznik’s gun and ran down the hall, reaching her side. He grabbed the bottom of her skirt and pressed it to her wound to stop the bleeding. “Medic,” he yelled. “Officer down!” Her eyes were half-closed as he leaned over her. She reached out with one hand and touched his cheek. A moment later, members of the rescue team rounded the corner behind him, a medic among them with a red cross on his flack jacket. Other FBI agents pulled DeStassio aside so the medic could work on Kyla. He started to resist, then realized she needed the medic’s aid if she was going to survive. Behind him, another agent broke the lock on the cage and the women poured out, weeping, crying out their gratitude as other agents brought them blankets to cover themselves. DeStassio stood aside to let the women pass then saw Kyla put on a stretcher. The lead agent on the rescue team approached DeStassio. “Let’s go. You need to be debriefed.” DeStassio shoved him away. “Right now, the only place I’m going is with her.” DeStassio followed Kyla as she was moved to the parking lot where a Medivac helicopter was landing, blowing dust in all directions. The medics carrying Kyla on the stretcher ducked their heads and ran, heading for the helicopter. DeStassio climbed into the helicopter, strapped himself into the seat next to where Kyla was anchored in the stretcher. The pilot nodded, then throttled up. DeStassio held Kyla’s hand while the thwacking sound of the rotors rose in pitch to a high whine and they lifted off. **** When Kyla came to, laying in a hospital bed with an IV dripping into her arm, she only remembered part of what had happened. She recalled Sergov taking her by surprise and shooting her as she tried to free the women, then DeStassio shooting Sergov, but after that, everything else was pretty much a blur. She thought she remembered DeStassio holding her hand, kissing her fingers on the helicopter ride …. But that might have been a dream, or the drugs affecting her from the painkillers she’d received at the scene of the shooting. She closed her eyes to think, to try and sort everything out as she listened to the beep of her monitors. But the sound quickly faded as she fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. The next thing she knew, a doctor was leaning over her, peeling one eye open then the other, shining a penlight at her pupils. She tried to sit up, but was told, “Easy now. Just rest.”

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After the doctor took her vital signs and backed away, Captain Williams, in uniform, stepped forward. “Great job, Cusack. You freed the hostages. There’s a gold shield waiting for you.” “Thank you,” she managed. “And … what about Agent DeStassio? Is he ....” “He’s being debriefed. His agency has to make sure it was a righteous shooting, so they’re having him walk them through every step of what happened when he was undercover.” She blushed, wondering how much detail DeStassio was going to give about what they’d done to stay alive until the hostage rescue team had shown up. “You’ll have to do the same thing, I’m afraid, as soon as you’re up to it.” She nodded. “You rest now.” Captain Williams started to leave, then said, “Wait. There was a message for you from DeStassio.” “Sir?” “He said to tell you a grenade went off in the editing room, where all the cameras and gear had been stored, destroying all of it.” She fought off a smile, realizing DeStassio had done that, to save her any embarrassment. “Don’t you worry,” said the captain. “All of the hostages testified and we have plenty of evidence, even losing whatever those cameras recorded.” **** A week later, Kyla was released from the hospital and things never seemed to slow down after that. First, there was her debriefing and interviews by internal affairs. Then a joint-press conference between the police and the FBI, at the police chief’s insistence, since it was seldom that they got such good press. She had hoped to see DeStassio at the press conference when she was awarded her Gold Shield, but that never happened. The FBI wouldn’t even identify him by name because he was still operating as an undercover officer on other, unnamed cases. So she was the one to receive all the personal thanks from the women who had been saved and from their families—even though DeStassio had done just as much as she had, risking his life to save them. The only word from him was brief. First, she heard a short eulogy he had written, that another FBI agent read for the woman decoy who died while working undercover with DeStassio. Then there was the three-word note from DeStassio, passed to Kyla by one of his colleagues, who apologized for not being able to say any more. The note simply read, job well done. Now she couldn’t find any phone number listed for him and had been unable to reach him through the FBI, despite leaving several messages. She regretted never getting his phone number. Following six weeks of aggressive physical rehabilitation, her shoulder was pretty much recuperated, thanks to the gym she’d installed in the guest bedroom in her condo using the raise she’d gotten with her promotion. The only other change had been the captain taking her off sex-decoy assignment, insisting that she now work at the police academy, instructing officers in the art of decoy work, because she had proven herself so capable in that regard.

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So she should have been happy, but wasn’t. In fact, she found herself depressed, wondering if DeStassio had even cared for her in the way she had grown to feel for him. Finally, she took a week off from work, deciding to get buff in her new home gym, while trying to put thoughts of DeStassio behind her. But on her first day off, decked out in the sweatpants and sweatshirt she planned to exercise in, the phone rang as she finished eating toast and granola at her kitchen table. The caller immediately identified himself as Captain Williams and said, “I have some great news for you. Are you sitting down?” She felt unsettled, but curious. “What’s the news?” “Your half-sister’s murderer has been apprehended and gave a full confession.” She heard herself breathing faster and struggled to speak. “Are you sure? Are you positive?” “Yes. I’ve seen the evidence and his confession. It’s irrefutable, an ironclad case.” She felt tears streaming down her cheeks. “Thank you, sir. Thank you for telling me.” “I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t been contacted by the arresting officer. He wanted you to know all this before you saw it on the news. He didn’t want you taken by surprise.” “Who?” she said. “Who broke the case?” “I’m not at liberty to say. But if you want to meet him, he said to tell you he’d be at the Woodland Zoo this morning until noon. He said to wait for him on the bench near the den for the snow leopard. “The snow leopard,” she said. That had been Anna’s favorite animal in the zoo. “I’ve got to go, Cusack. Come back soon. We miss you.” She hung up the phone and looked across to her living room. She stood and walked to the corner where she had her photo shrine to Anna, surrounded by the little nubs of clay she used to hold the lemon-grass incense she burned. “Anna,” she whispered, reaching out, touching the photo of her half-sister, in which Anna smiled as she sat on the bench by the snow leopard’s den. “Finally, Anna, there’s justice for you. The bastard’s been caught.” She cried tears of happiness and relief, clutching her half-sister’s photo to her chest. Then more tears of grief. But a different kind of grief, a letting go she had never experienced until now. Finally, when her tears stopped, she put the photo back. Adding a fanny pack to her sweatshirt and sweatpants, she tucked her gun and badge into the fanny pack, then set out to the zoo, hoping it was DeStassio who had given her this great gift. **** A half hour later, beneath a gray sky, Kyla sat on the bench near the snow leopard’s den, her eyes scanning the path in both directions, waiting, anxious to meet the officer who had cracked the case, while reminding herself it could be any officer, not necessarily DeStassio. It was chilly. Condensation from her breath hung in the air. As the breeze picked up, she heard footsteps to her left and looked that way. She had to look twice, because of the mustache and long hair, but it was DeStassio, coming up the path, wearing a motorcycle jacket and leather pants, with black boots that had silver buckles. He appeared rough and windswept, like a hardened biker who’d been on the road a long time.

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She blinked, not quite believing her eyes. Then she told herself to be quiet. To hear whatever he had to say. As he drew closer, the thing that gripped her was his gaze. Riveting, his eyes locked on hers, but with a tenderness that seemed at odds with his rough-hewn look, his chiseled features and the strength of his shoulders. He sat on the bench, keeping a little distance between them. “I’m expecting someone,” she said, feeling the sting of her pride, wondering why he had never called. “Then I’ll make it short,” he said. She felt a flood of disappointment. He wasn’t the one who’d found her sister’s killer. He dipped his head, as if in apology, then said, “I’ve missed you. Missed you terribly….” “But,” she offered, wanting him to explain his absence. That and whatever else he felt about her. “But I had a chance to crack this case … one I needed, I felt, to redeem myself.” All at once, she understood. Straightening up, she said, “DeStassio … you were the one.” He reached out, taking her hand. “Actually,” he said, “you provided the key … the missing piece to the puzzle.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand.” “When we were in the helicopter, flying to the hospital ….” His eyes watered up for a moment, and he looked away. “I didn’t know,” he admitted, “if you were going to make it. And you were delirious—on morphine for the pain. You kept talking wanted justice for your halfsister.” “For Anna.” “Yes. Because of that, I swore to myself I’d do whatever I could to find her killer. So, during the helicopter ride, while you where shot up with morphine, I grilled you with questions about the last week before your sister’s death. I asked about any new people you had met. And you mentioned this worker at the zoo who fed the big cats. A worker you had met at the snow leopard’s den.” She blinked in surprise as a wave of nausea overtook her. “Him? She remembered the lanky, middle-aged man with his face pitted from acne. “He was the one?” DeStassio nodded. “I made friends with him, hung out with him. Eventually, he started talking about animals, how predators can’t be blamed for following their natural instincts. Then I got him to go drinking. Got him so looped, he started talking about trophies while I wore a wire. What he said was enough for probable cause and a judge issued a search warrant.” He paused. “We found video tapes he’d taken of each murder—a dozen in all—and strands of hair from each victim that he’d kept in his basement.” She felt like she was floating away from herself, then heard herself crying, then sobbing as DeStassio put his arms around her. She clung to him until all the tears were gone and then for a bit longer. Exhausted, she pushed back from him, looking at him, holding his gaze with her own. “One more thing,” she said softly, her words almost carried away by the breeze. “Do you want to spend time with me?”

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He pulled her to him, tucking her head against his shoulder, hugging her and sheltering her, as whispered his answer. “Yes. More than anything, I want that … for us to have time together.” As he held her, she felt tempted to have him come home with her, right then. She realized how fiercely she missed him. But she also knew that she couldn’t bear it if he disappeared afterward. So she gathered her courage, straightened up on the bench and spoke her mind. “I want that, too,” she said. “But I want you to give me a day to get ready. And I want to know you’ll spend the night. Otherwise, the answer is no.” Her heart beat faster, waiting for his answer, but after a moment, he nodded. “That’s more than fair, after what I’ve put you through. More than fair.” She smiled and forced herself to hold back. Despite the hunger she felt for him, she stood quietly and blew him a kiss. “My address is in the book. See you at my place, tomorrow night, seven-thirty.” He smiled. “Until then.” While she still had the courage, she turned and walked back to her car.

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Chapter Nine Kyla stirred the white sauce on her stove, trying to concentrate. She had just grilled the steaks, tossed a fresh salad, and was steaming a mix of sliced zucchini, carrots, and peas. She glanced at the clock. 7:15 p.m. DeStassio was supposed to arrive in fifteen minutes. Glancing at the stainless steel refrigerator, she saw a dulled reflection of herself, with her red hair hanging to her shoulders, in contrast to the plain blue pullover and skirt she had chosen—simple clothes that didn’t carry the sex appeal of the nightclub outfit DeStassio had seen her wear on their undercover assignment. She had also decided to go light on the makeup—a hint of blush, pink lip-gloss and mascara. Between her casual wardrobe and makeup, she hoped he’d see the real her, not the tough-as-nails sex decoy he had met on the Sergov assignment. Her hands began to shake as she wondered whether he would show and whether he would like what he saw. The day before when she’d met DeStassio at the zoo, her world had been turned upside down … in a good way. Her half-sister’s killer had been arrested and brought to justice by DeStassio. And DeStassio had insisted that he wanted to see her and be with her. This, after he’d sworn the only reason he had disappeared after accompanying her to the hospital was to catch Anna’s killer. But she still had questions. Sure, she wanted to have sex with him again—to feel that same searing passion he’d brought to a boil inside her both times they’d made love. But she also wondered, if they weren’t surrounded by danger, would they still feel the same passion? Most of all, she wanted to know if they had a future together, if they could find a way to live like a normal couple, with the ups and downs of ordinary life, where every moment couldn’t be full of passion and glamour or laced with danger. Her doorbell rang. Trying to shake off her nervousness, she turned off the burners on the stove, then went to the door. She gripped the doorknob, took a deep breath, and opened it. DeStassio stood there, smiling, dressed in white chinos, a green polo shirt, and a brown leather jacket that matched his loafers. He’d trimmed his hair and shaved his mustache since the day before. He seemed a bit tentative, holding a bottle of white wine in one hand, and a bouquet of red roses in the other. She smiled and waved him in. “Dinner’s almost ready.” He walked in, looking around, not at all like the cocky agent she’d shot against in the pistol competition, or the sexy swinger she’d met on Sergov’s dance floor, or the hardened biker he’d seemed to be when he’d met her at the zoo. This was closer to how she remembered him from the crime conference, when he had comforted her at the shock she’d felt over seeing the crime scene photos of Anna. “You look very nice,” he said, his voice soft, but lacking in confidence.

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Nervously, she transferred the roses to a vase, as he asked, “Do you have a corkscrew for the wine?” She pulled a drawer open and let him find it while she put the roses on the dinette table. He pulled the cork and found two glasses, while peeking at what she had on the stove. “Smells great,” he said, but his eyes were on her as he spoke, as if waiting for a cue from her, some signal as to what she expected. She wanted to get past the small talk, but no words came to her. She started to reach for the food, to serve it then stopped. “I think a drink would help, don’t you?” He nodded, relief in his eyes. He poured them each some wine then wet his lips. Handing her a glass, he asked, “What shall we toast?” She felt her heart pounding as she said it, a single word. “Honesty.” He nodded, then looked away. After a moment, he whispered, “I hid from you.” He looked back at her, pain in his eyes. “Is that a start?” She nodded, unsure what was coming, but wanting to hear the rest of it. “Let’s go in the living room.” They walked to the couch and sat, a little bit apart, with the end table lamps dimmed to a low light. Facing him, she took a sip of wine. He did the same, then set his glass on the coffee table. “After I made sure you were all right, coming out of surgery, I wanted to see you.” He hung his head and shook it slowly. “But I couldn’t face up to you.” “Why not?” He blushed, but managed to meet her gaze. “After everything you had to go through back at the warehouse, making love with monsters like Sergov and Elena looking on ….” He took a breath. “I thought you might want to put everything behind you that reminded you of that night, including me.” She interrupted, taking his hand. “You didn’t force me to do anything.” She paused. “Certainly, having sex in front of them wasn’t anything I wanted to do, but those women’s lives were at stake. And I told you before we got to the warehouse that I’d do whatever it took to rescue the women.” “Yes, and you did save them. But that doesn’t lessen the degradation you had to suffer, putting on a show for those bastards.” She set down her wineglass. “First of all, we saved them … both of us. And I know you care about everything I went through for three reasons.” He looked at her intently, a bit of hope in his eyes. “First,” she said, “you made it so intense, that I mostly forgot about them. What I thought about was us.” She squeezed his hand. “Second, you wouldn’t have tossed a grenade in the editing room if you didn’t want to spare me from having Sergov’s movies of us be part of the case evidence, or something that could end up being distributed on the net, or whatever happens when people make unauthorized use of explicit material.” He nodded. “And then … you brought Anna’s killer to justice.” She felt her eyes begin to brim. Then a single tear rolled down her cheek. He reached out, wiping the tear away. “My one hope,” he said, “at redeeming myself in your eyes.”

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“You’ve gone beyond hope,” she said. “You’ve convinced me that you care. And now I want to give something back … and to find out about us.” His gaze searched hers. “Find out?” “Whether we can start over.” He nodded. “Things are so different now. I’ve made changes in my life.” “Like what?” “I swore that catching your half-sister’s killer would be my last undercover assignment. I won’t walk that tightrope anymore.” “Same for me,” she said. “I’m teaching at the police academy now. No more decoy work.” “Good for you.” “So what will you do?” “I’ve been offered a slot instructing in combat shooting.” She smiled. “I’m glad you’re done with undercover. I want you safe.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And I want to find out if there’s still something between us … something that isn’t driven by danger or necessity … just by desire.” “Desire.” He said the word as softly as she did, but drew it out. He moved closer on the sofa, so that they were only inches apart. “Then know this. I have never,” he said, “wanted you more than I do in this moment.” She felt the heat of the blush on her face and neck as she leaned in and met his lips. It was a kiss that began tenderly, but soon shifted to a probing of tongues as they embraced, holding each other tight. He pulled back, his eyes searching hers and said, “Can we … do you mind if we skip ...?” “Dinner?” she said, laughing. “Just what I was thinking.” She stood, held out her hand and pulled him to his feet. Smiling, she added, “Now’s not the time to be shy.” He watched as she turned and started down a hall, biting her lip as she looked over her shoulder. As he followed, she slipped her top off, over her head. At the end of the hall, she pulled off her shoes and stepped out of her skirt. Grinning now, eager to make love to her, he shucked his jacket and peeled off his shirt. As he kicked off his shoes, she stepped into the bedroom, clad only in pale blue lace panties and a matching bra. Behind her, a double bed with a brass headboard and footboard was covered with a white comforter. He stepped closer as she told him, “Don’t move. Just give me a minute.” “Okay.” She ducked into a bathroom off her bedroom and shut the door. He heard running water for a moment. Then she came out, wearing a gold terrycloth robe that matched the highlights in her red hair. In her hand were the panties and bra, which she tossed aside. “Won’t be needing these.” He smiled, so grateful to have another chance with her. But that didn’t ease his nervousness. Ever since their separation after taking her to the hospital, he had missed her, yearned for the intensity he’d felt with her. And all that waiting had increased his hunger for her. “This time,” she said, stepping closer, taking hold of his belt buckle, “we won’t have to rush.”

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Without even having touched her, he felt his erection growing, just being this close to her, catching the sweet scent of her perfume, knowing that he longed to prove his love to her. She knelt to pull his pants to his ankles and her robe parted. Seeing the swell of her breasts then the trace of red hair where her legs met, he groaned in anticipation. She glanced up, catching the look in his eye as he stepped from his pants. Smiling, she asked, “Do you like what you see?” She pulled her robe open wider then glanced at his boxer shorts, where his cock was pushing outward, tenting the material. “Can’t you tell?” he said. “Better to be sure,” she said in a teasing tone. He started to slip his boxers off, but she grabbed his hands. “Keep those hands where I can see them, mister.” Smiling, he stopped, playing along. “What seems to be the problem, officer?” “I think you’re packing … carrying a concealed weapon without a permit.” As she said that, she reached up to her breasts, cupped them, and squeezed her nipples, making them hard, distended. He stifled a moan as the tent in his boxers grew more pronounced. “I think we better see what you’re packing.” With that, she pulled his boxers to his ankles, freeing his swollen cock, which jutted forward, pointed at her chest. She looked from his ‘weapon’ to his eyes, which were dark with desire. “Don’t think about rushing,” she warned. “In fact, don’t lift a hand. That’s an order.” “But ....” “No but’s mister. Last time around, you set the pace, keeping me hot enough that I actually forgot where we were.” She grinned, scooting closer on her knees. “Now it’s my turn to get you in the mood. So don’t move, not a muscle, not unless I tell you to. Understood?” “Loud and clear, officer.” “Good.” Still on her knees, she noted that his cock was at just the right height for what she had in mind. With one hand, she cupped his balls. With her other hand, she traced her index finger and thumb along the top and underside of his shaft and watched his cock thicken in response. Gently, she took his cock by the head and raised it up against his body, so that it stood upright. Then she bent forward and licked his balls, tracing her tongue in slow, wet circles. This time, he didn’t stifle the groan. “Mmmm,” she responded. As she ran her tongue along the underside of his cock, he felt his balls tighten with a delicious ache. She released his cock and it bobbed forward, so stiff that it stood out at a right angle to his body, with a drop of pre-cum forming at its slit. She blew on his cock where she’d licked it and saw him clench his fists at his sides. Excited by his reaction, she couldn’t help taking his cock in her mouth. As her lips slid around the head of his cock, it took all his willpower not to thrust with his hips, so that the slick warmth of her mouth would take the rest of him. What he wanted was to cup the back of her head in his hands and pull her forward, to slide his cock down her throat.

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Sensing what he wanted, she pulled at the back of his thighs, drawing him closer as she opened wide and pushed her head forward, sliding her lips over his shaft, taking in half of his cock. He shuddered with pleasure, then whispered, “That feels so good.” She felt the heat of his thick cock in her mouth and struggled for a second to breathe through her nose. She relaxed her jaw, making more room for him, then started a slow, tantalizing rhythm, sliding him in and out of her mouth. Unable to help himself, he groaned. Clenching his buttocks, he started thrusting, eager to feel the slick warmth of her mouth gliding back and forth on his cock. She felt him get a rhythm going as he pumped in and out, and she caressed the underside of his balls. She looked up. His eyes were closed and sweat dotted his forehead as he strained not to cum … to make himself last as he kept thrusting. To help him, she grabbed his shaft, then pulled her mouth off, exposing the head of his cock. Then she swirled her tongue around it as she heard his breathing become deep and ragged. Turned on by his reaction, she opened wide and took him deep, grabbing his butt, pulling him toward her, letting him know that she was ready, willing, and just as hot as he was. Immediately, he stroked harder and faster. His excitement was contagious, causing a slick warmth between her legs. She stayed on him, taking the rapid pumping of his cock and felt his legs tremble as he groaned and dipped his knees. “I’m about to cum,” he said. “I’m going to ….” She felt the hot spurt of his jism, hitting the back of her throat and she sucked hard. Keeping him inside her mouth, she pulled him toward her, wanting to get every drop of cum before she released him. Finally, she felt his legs sag a little as his muscles relaxed. Gently, she cupped his balls, then eased him out of her mouth as she swallowed the salty taste of him, savoring his essence. His cock began to soften, but she could see a bit more cum oozing from the slit in his cock. She couldn’t resist taking his shaft in her hand and stroking him as she squeezed his cock, making him groan while she milked the last of his cum, which spurted softly, splashing on her breasts. “Fuck,” he said, still breathing hard, his chest glistening with sweat. “That was unbelievable.” Smiling at him, joyful for the pleasure she’d given him, she massaged her breasts, working in the last few drops of his cum into her skin. “I loved it, too.” He reached down and took her hands, pulling her to her feet, then embraced her, cupping her head to his chest, where he gently stroked her hair. After a moment, he leaned down and kissed her gently, enjoying the taste of cum in her mouth. Then he held her close as his breathing returned to normal. Her bathrobe was parted and Kyla felt the warmth of his chest against her breasts and the head of his limp cock pressed against her belly. His hands glided over her bare skin, along her shoulders, under the robe, peeling it off as he went.

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As Nick leaned in gently kissing her mouth, then her throat, his gaze drifted to the top of her collarbone, where he saw the angry white pucker of flesh—the scar where Sergov had shot her. Kyla felt him go still. “What is it?” she asked. “What’s the matter?” He stepped back. “Your wound. I forget about that. Are you ...?” She laughed. “If I work out a lot, it gets a bit tender. Other than that ….” Gently, he traced around the edge of the scar with his fingertip. “Still, we ought to be careful.” She took his hand and moved it, pushing it down between her legs so he could feel how damp she’d become. “Enthusiastic,” she said, “is what I had in mind. Not careful.” Smiling, he traced a finger along the divide of her pussy lips, causing her to draw a sharp breath. “Maybe so,” he said. “Maybe that’s the best cure.” Before she could answer, he swept her off her feet, raising her to his chest. She loved feeling his strength as he carried her to the bed, gently laying her down. Patting the edge of the bed, he said, “Scoot around here, so your feet are on the carpet. Enjoying the hungry look in his eye, she did what he asked. Licking his lips, he knelt, facing her, then placed his hands on her knees and deliberately spread her legs, then scooted forward so that his belly pressed up against the bed. Gently, he lifted her legs, setting one on each of his shoulders, so that her pussy was fully exposed. Blushing, she eased back, resting her weight on her elbows. “Quite the view,” he said, grinning. “Very tempting.” She gave a little wiggle with her butt. “I should hope so.” He reached for a pillow and handed it to her. “Put this behind you, so you can be comfortable when you lay back.” She looked at him, with his big shoulders holding up her legs, his expression rather mischievous. “You make it sound like I’m going to get pampered … get the royal treatment.” “Indeed you are,” he promised.

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Chapter Ten DeStassio felt that he’d been blessed. More than just her beauty, he was taken by Kyla’s generosity as a lover. By how much she gave. And if they were to have the chance he wanted to be together and stay together, she had to know how much she meant to him. Absolutely, he had to convey his devotion to her in a way that couldn’t be mistaken. So now, as he knelt before her, with her legs hooked over his shoulders, he swore to give her every bit of pleasure he could summon from her body. Kyla blushed as she reclined on the pillow, her pussy fully exposed while he gazed at her with those deep brown eyes of his, flecked with gold. “I really want to indulge you,” he said. She smiled. “And you think I’m going to resist?” “No. But … sometimes, I think we take less pleasure than we deserve.” As he reached out and brushed the faint nest of red hair at the top of her mound, she tingled with anticipation. “Why do you think that is?” she asked. “Sometimes it’s hard to believe we deserve more. Or it could be from habit. Maybe we rush to accept whatever affection or pleasure offered, instead of ….” “Instead of what?” “Why not let it build and become everything it can?” “Is that what you want?” she asked. “Yes … especially for you.” He pressed his palm to her pussy, holding it there, and she felt a small bloom of pleasure. “So I’m going to take my time,” he said, “and not let you off the hook.” She smiled. “The hook?” He nodded. “Exactly … the hook of pleasure … of desire.” With that he made a small circular motion with his palm, still pressed against her pussy, and she felt a yearning to be touched along with a deeper urge—almost of hunger—that began to rise from her core. Nick watched her, lying on her back, propped up on her elbows, as her eyes slowly closed. “That’s it,” he whispered. “Let yourself feel.” Using both hands, with his thumbs, he traced the ridges of her pussy lips, and heard her breath catch. Again, he stroked them, opening them a bit, and saw the glisten of her juices, which told him she was ready. “Keep your eyes closed,” he urged, “and answer each question that I ask.” Again, he stroked her pussy lips. “Will you do that for me?” “Yes,” she whispered, feeling herself tremble at his touch, eager for more. He took his index finger and slipped it between her pussy lips, easing it into her as she arched her back. Then he held his finger perfectly still. “Is that good?” he asked.

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She smiled, mischievously, answering by contracting her pussy, gripping his finger. Involuntarily, his cock began to thicken as he imagined thrusting it into the slick channel of her pussy. “And how about this?” he asked, slowly working his finger in a circle, stretching the walls of her pussy. She moaned, letting her head fall back, her eyes still closed. He thought of slipping in another finger, but his eyes drifted upward, to the soft rise and fall of her abdomen then to her lush, wonderful breasts. He was drawn to the pebbled beauty of her areoles. As he fingered her pussy, he watched the nub of her nipple harden, so that it protruded and felt his own hunger intensify. He told himself, yes. Do it now, while she isn’t expecting it. Slowly, he leaned forward over her breast. With her eyes closed, Kyla was savoring the sensation of his finger in her pussy and the waves of pleasure caused by his little rolling, circular motion. Then she felt the faint trace of his breath against her right breast, followed by the sudden warmth of his mouth engulfing her nipple, and his hand, cupping her breast. She moaned, caught between the surge of sensations at her pussy and her breast. As he sucked hard and tongued her nipple, she felt a spike of pleasure and arched her back. Nick released her nipple, savoring the tension in her body, sensing that her hunger, like his, was growing. With his tongue, he flicked the nub of her nipple, causing her to whimper. Then he took in as much of her breast as he could inside his mouth, just as he began to thrust his finger in and out of her pussy. “My other breast,” she urged in a raw whisper. “You’re sure?” he asked, teasing. “You want that?” Unable to hold back, she began to roll her pelvis upward, meeting the thrust of his finger, even as she hungered for him to suck her other breast. “Keep your eyes closed,” he insisted, “and show me what you want.” She cupped her left breast, lifting it toward him, and was rewarded by his mouth, covering her nipple as he swirled his tongue around it. As she thrust with her pelvis, pushing against his finger, he pulled it out. “No,” she whimpered. “Stay inside of me. I want your fingers, your cock .... “Or this?” he asked and dipped his head, licking the lips of her pussy. Kyla felt her hips buck upward, involuntarily, wanting more, but he grabbed her hips and held her still. “Don’t stop,” she said. “Or what about this?” Using his thumbs, he spread her pussy lips then shoved his tongue inside her. Ohhh,” she cried, pressing up against him. “More … more of that.” She felt him tighten his grip on her hips and his tongue began to slide in and out. She thrust back at him, wanting him to go deeper. He feasted on the tang of her pussy juices, loving her steamy warmth as he fucked her with his tongue.

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The heat rose within her, spiraling outward, and Kyla began to move in a frenzy, her hips fighting the strength of his grip as her pussy began to quiver with pleasure. He pulled back, licking his lips and saw her sit up, her eyes wide open. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded. “What if you like this better?” he said, and leaned forward. With his thumbs, he spread the hood of her pussy then gently tongued her clit. “Yes,” she urged. “Suck my clit.” The warmth of his mouth covered her, and as he tongued her clit, which by now was throbbing with pleasure. She bucked in place, pressing against his tongue. Suddenly, he sucked her clit, causing a wave of pleasure so intense that she gasped. Before she could recover, he again sucked on her clit as he shoved two fingers inside her. She groaned as he worked them back and forth, slowly at first then faster, harder. “Yes, oh fuck yes,” she urged. He sucked with more force, matching the rhythm of his lips and the pumping of his fingers. “Fuck, yes,” she screamed, bucking in place, arching her back, barely able to stand the pleasure that engulfed her. He pulled back, removing his lips and fingers. Immediately she tried to rise up, reaching for him, eager to pull him back to her pussy, but he pushed her down. “What about this?” he asked. “Can you hold still for what’s next?” She lay back, breathing hard. “Try me.” “Close your eyes,” he insisted. She did and felt him spread the lips of her pussy. She shivered, waiting … on fire with anticipation. He saw that her clit was swollen, stiff with pleasure. Taking a finger, he flicked it. She bucked, overwhelmed by a jagged sense of pleasure that bordered on pain. Watching her, he felt his cock thicken. Again, he flicked her clit. She twisted in place. “That’s too much.” Gently, with his thumb, he pressed down on her clit, and began to move it in a circle, first one way, then the other. When she cried out, arching her back, he removed his hand. She was on the verge of cumming, crazy with desire. With a surge of strength, she sat up, pushing him away from the edge of the bed. “Right now,” she insisted. “If you love me, fuck me as hard as you can.” He smiled, his cock ramrod straight as he stood up, watching her move to the center of the bed. “If you want that,” he said, “stay on your back and scoot to the edge of the bed. “Put your feet flat on the bed, with your heels up against your ass.” Wild with desire, she scooted over, getting her pussy almost to the edge of the bed, leaving just enough room to keep her feet on the bed. It was a high bed, so he only had to dip his knees a little to get his cock level with her pussy. Then he rubbed the lips of her pussy with the head of his cock. “Fuck me,” she insisted, her eyes wild with desire. “Fuck me now.”

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He cupped her thighs with his hands, bracing himself, and drove into her as hard as he could. She nearly came on the first thrust, but held on, wanting more. He pumped hard and fast, watching her body shudder with every thrust, seeing the luscious globes of her breasts shimmy each time he drove his cock home. Her voice was hoarse, shouting ‘more’ as he felt the delicious ache, building in his balls, and kept pounding with his cock, gripping her legs as he hammered her. “Now,” she urged, bucking and twisting in place. “Cum with me” He drove, one last time, burying himself to the balls as he felt the explosion of pleasure. As his hot jism shot inside her, Kyla was gripped by an orgasm so intense that she nearly passed out, barely aware of her body as she ground her pelvis against his and thrashed in place, crying out, letting it all go. After a bit, the pleasure subsided and she collapsed, grateful for the warmth of him still inside her, and the weight of him, leaning against her legs. She felt her face, wet from tears as she opened her eyes and saw him standing there, his chest heaving, still gripping her thighs. “God, you are wonderful,” he said. “Lay beside me,” she whispered, “and hold me.” He withdrew from her, turned the covers down, and they climbed into bed, the both of them slick with sweat. Carefully, he pulled the covers up over them, and she turned on her side, putting her back to him, and they spooned like that, with him reaching around her waist, pulling her closer so that they shared each other’s warmth. Kyla felt his breath against her neck as his hand cupped her breast, his broad chest against her back. As she started to drift off, he said, “Tell me a few of your favorite things.” On the verge of sleep, she said, “Bagels and coffee, or having a poem read to me.” Then she drifted off into a sweet, dreamless sleep. When she awoke, sunlight backlit her closed window shades. She still felt the delicious afterglow that came with great sex. Smiling, she reached back, expecting to feel DeStassio’s warm body in bed beside her. But she felt only empty sheets and a cover, thrown back. She glanced toward the bathroom, but the door was open and it was empty. Hoping he was in the kitchen, she pulled a blanket around her and started down the hallway. The kitchen was empty, the window curtains pulled back, giving her a second-story view of her front lawn beneath a blue sky. He was gone. Fighting off tears, she sat at the kitchen table. After all his promises and overtures, she thought, how could he do this to me? He hadn’t even left a note. Then she heard the doorknob turn, the front door clicking open. She stood, suddenly selfconscious that she’d be naked if not for the blanket wrapped around her. With a sheepish grin, DeStassio stepped inside, two paper bags clutched to his chest, her keychain dangling from one hand. “Hope you don’t mind,” he said, “but I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

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Surprised, unsure of what he meant, she stalled, asking, “What’s in the bags?” “Fresh coffee and bagels in this one,” he said, hefting the larger bag. She smiled, her trust returning. “And the other bag?” He blushed. “Something I’m less familiar with, but willing to learn.” He pulled out three slim volumes of poetry. Filled with happiness, she wiped tears from her eyes. “I was hoping,” he added, “that we could read them to each other … taking turns.” “Oh, yes,” she said. “We’ll read aloud to each other, but all the turns we take won’t be with reading.” He grinned and started unbuttoning his shirt. “Which comes first?” he asked. “Coffee or poetry?” In a seductive voice, she said, “I had something else in mind.” With that, she loosened the blanket that was wrapped around her and watched him smile as she let it fall to the floor.

THE END