"I know it wasn't really an accident." He released my hand to take up his wine glass, swirling the contents and heightening my anticipation. "They called it that for the press, but I read the reports. Cars don't just blow up like that, and the FBI doesn't take a case on a whim. Probably precautionary after nine-eleven. They took particular interest in the source of explosives used. Unfortunately, that part of the report was redacted. Anyway, the files went the way of most cold cases: into a box in a storage room."
I pulled my hands below the table before he noticed my fingers trembling. Scenes flashed by: NYPD uniforms, then detectives, then a second round of suits, who'd identified themselves as Feds and then grilled me for hours on end. I'd been so drugged I could hardly spell my own name, let alone which branch of government they represented. On and on they'd needled me about a trigger device or trigger man—I couldn't remember which.
"Like I said, I'm sure I could solve the case," Stone continued. "My pop was the captain who punted your files to the Feds. His detectives were lazy, looking to the Bureau to do their jobs for them. That's not my style. I finish what I start."
Nodding, I took a swig of wine. My files. As in more than one. I rubbed my forehead, feeling the blood pulsing behind my eyes.
Stone leaned closer. "Did I say something wrong?"
"Guess I wasn't ready to talk about those memories."
Our waiter returned and cleared the table while rattling off more delights. I declined dessert or coffee, holding a hand to my stomach, and he huffed off, offended that I would appear sick in front of his patrons.
"Let me walk you home." Stone drained the last of his wine and signaled the grumpy waiter for the bill.
"Please don't be offended if I decline company. I just need to go clear my head. Sorry, I shouldn't have raised the subject. Real mood killer."
"Don't apologize. Mentioning the FBI does that for me, too. Am I offended? No. Thwarted, let down, disheartened? Maybe. Looking for a rain check? Definitely. Tell you what. You go home, get some sleep so you can catch your plane rested, and I'll see you when you get back. Then we can set new rules of engagement. No badges, no cold cases. And no bitchy waiters," he whispered at the last.
For a cop, Stone knew how to put a smile back on my face. My first date since Luke, and I'd ruined the night to discover more about an accident I wanted to forget.
"I'll make it up to you," I said.
"Yes, you will. By letting me take you to my favorite restaurant. We'll keep it simple. Dinner, good wine, but no business. Maybe even dessert."
"Deal."
When I stood, Stone echoed my movements and helped me on with my trench.
"Speaking of cases," he said, "we've got good leads on the park murder and Petosa's killer. But I'm keeping you under protective watch. At least while you're still in town."
For my protection or my supervision, I ruminated. "I don't see why that's necessary. Weeks have passed since the park incident."
"A mugging is an 'incident', Julie. You were held hostage at gunpoint."
I nodded, humbled.
Clasping my arm, he pulled me closer. "You're putting on a brave face, I can see that. But this is a multiple homicide case, Julie, so I need you to understand the importance of your testimony. There's nothing more dangerous than being a witness, especially in this case. And you're the only witness I have left."
People in line at the door watched, salivating for our seats. By now, even the waiter was staring, wondering why we were holding up his next tip.
"I'll have to insist you take a taxi home. A patrol car will be waiting at your building to make sure you get inside safely. Or, my offer to drive you home still stands."
"Think I'll visit the ladies room first. I'll call a taxi, I promise."
He pecked my lips and lingered, as if I might lean in for another kiss. My body warmed, but I could feel the room watching. Sam watching. Stone needed to know the date was over.
I set my hand on his chest. "Thank you for the gifts, and for understanding."
I stepped back and hurried down the hall, wishing I'd never asked about the accident, never allowed Stone to kiss me, never agreed to play this fool's game for Sam. I wanted to throw the pink phone in the toilet, pack up Max and drive where no one could find us. Yet no matter where I hid, Luke would be there to haunt me. And so would the FBI, seeking the justice Luke never got.
Inside the restroom, my hand scoured the wall for a light switch as the door slowly shut me into the dark.
Someone grabbed me, covered my mouth before I could even think to scream. A man, judging from his hand's size and strength. I reached for the door, praying Stone or Sam would hear me, but he yanked backwards, wrapping himself around me so my arms were trapped at my sides. I twisted and kicked, but his bear hug enveloped me.
My mind replayed Stone's words: I was the only witness left.
CHAPTER 17
The man groaned in pain as I scraped my heel down his shin, a self-defense move the major had taught me during my field training.
"Damn it, Jules, I said calm down."
With the sound of Sam's voice my body went slack. He then let go of my mouth and arms, allowing my feet to sink back to the ground. My back flattened against his chest, moving with his steady inhale, exhale. Despite Sam's crazy tactics, his arm felt like a safety belt at my waist now that I knew he wasn't Troy.
I reached for the light switch, but he held back my arm.
"Just wait," he whispered, his hand sliding down my arm. "Wait and watch."
Footsteps approached. Sam bent beside me, watching the shadow step into the strip of light under the door and reveal golden brown dress shoes. I didn't want to believe Stone had followed me, but those shoes were unmistakable. The door jarred, as if he'd leaned against it, listening. Sam held me still.
When the shoes clapped back to the restaurant, Sam loosened his hold. I leaned heavily against him, felt his breath at my cheek, his muscles at my back. He didn't break away like I expected, and his nearness sent me over the cliff.
I turned into his hold and pushed onto my toes, my fingers scaling the back of his neck, my mouth discovering his lips, enticing his response. He hesitated, mumbling my name, but I wouldn't relent, pulling his lip between my teeth. Without the Kevlar vest, he heaved against my breasts and his moans sank into my bones. Every taste and sound seemed heightened in the darkness.
Then he plunged. His head tilted into a penetrating kiss, his hands clutching my ribcage, pulling me higher against his torso. He patted my jeans, as if looking for a gun. "Dress," he mumbled. "Where's the dress?"
Damn me for not following his instructions, not that we planned a bathroom seduction. He lifted me onto the handicap rail and pulled my legs around him, cupping my behind and pressing harder in all the right places. Sam's mouth closed onto my shoulder, his hand searching up my sweater till his thumb alighted my nipple.
"Come home with me," I whispered.
Unbuttoning my sweater, I drew his kisses down my neck and across the crown of my breast. My breathing grew shallow, urgent, my fingers fisting his thick hair. My fingers crawled under his sweatshirt as he increased pressure to my groin and merged his rhythm with mine. My body readied for a release I'd longed to feel, longed to offer him. But he was pushing me toward an indiscreet climax I didn't want to experience in a bistro bathroom.
And in this position, my jeans weren't budging.
We were going nowhere fast.
"Sam, it's no good, not like this."
He grunted, nodding into my shoulder, one hand still groping my breast, his other holding up my thigh. I wrapped my arms around his neck, caressed his cheek with my lips, let his stubble chafe my skin.
"You could have stayed with me."
"I wanted to." He brushed his lips against mine. "God, I wanted so much from you."
His kisses came hard, his motor revving too high.
I pulled back. "Follow me home, Sam." My fingers lingered in his hair. "Be with me. Tonight, before I leave."
"We can't. It's too dangerous."
Sam bored his head into the wall, removed his other hand from my breast, and pulled my hands out of his hair. My toes were unexpectedly on the floor again. Not the response I'd expected.
Stepping back, Sam triggered the light. My hand jumped to shield my eyes, but he pulled my arm away, his weighted smile greeting me, his fingers following my jaw with a stroke that cooled me down when I was tense, heated me up when I was too cool.
"God, you look good," he said. "Feel good. Taste good."
Another sampling of my mouth. Another withdraw. He set his back against the rail, standing sideways to me as he watched me re-button my sweater, another opportunity lost.
"How'd dinner go with Stone?" he asked.
I shot him a look. From the dirt-laced floor I retrieved my trench and the broken dog treats and aimed for the door.
Sam kicked out his long leg to hold the door shut before I'd even touched the handle. He reached and flipped the lock. Anyone could have walked in on us. Including Stone.
"I need to know what you talked about." Sam's voice resumed that of the sturdy, hardball detective.
I crossed my arms. "Careers, sports, dogs. Nothing important." The FBI and my accident were beyond Sam's scope.
"Nothing about the investigation or about me."
"Besides the permanent cop at my building, no."
"Did he ask to see you again?"
I sighed. "Yes."
"And…"
Another beat, another guess as to where Sam was going with his inquisition. "And I accepted."
Sam's eyes fell to the dog treats. "Parting gift, I take it."
"A gift for Max, yes."
The grooves in his forehead reappeared. "Did he touch you?"
I shrugged.
"Casually, intimately, how?"
"He held my hand. But you could see that for yourself, since you were spying on us."
"Us." Sam grunted, studied the floor a while. "Did he kiss you?"
I bit my lip, realizing Sam had hidden in the bathroom by that time.
Sam glared at me, guessing the truth. "On the mouth?"
"This isn't a game, Sam. I'm not some chess piece for you to manipulate."
"Did he kiss you on the mouth?"
"You asked me to do this, remember. Your game, not mine."
"Yes or no," he snapped.
"Yes!"
Sam's gaze fell to the floor. Ask me, Sam, ask me if I kissed him back.
He leaned forward and unlocked the door.
"Isn't that what you wanted? To use me like bait. To whore me out to him. Or were you just testing your subject again?"
Sam faced the wall, grabbing the handrail with white knuckles. We were definitely going nowhere fast.
I slammed open the door and hurried down the hall, past all the lovers eating their cheap dinners, drinking their cheap wines over cheap conversations about unreliable futures, and I ran back to my safe four walls.
***
My trembling fingers couldn't manage the key into my building door. The walk home hadn't settled my nerves, nor had circling the block three times with a cop car following me. But I needed to stop struggling to make sense of the night. I could just as well go to bed and struggle for sleep instead.
What I should be worrying about was whether Stone or the FBI knew the truth, and if so, why they hadn't arrested me yet. I needed an exit plan, like Idaho, where I could skip the border to Canada. But my current plane ticket didn't include pets, which meant leaving Max behind. Not that jail time would keep me any closer to him.
A man's reflection in the glass startled me and I dropped my keys as I swung around.
"Didn't mean to frighten you, Julie." Stone swiped my keys off the ground and glanced to where the patrol car usually sat across the street, but it was gone. "Just making sure you got home safe and sound. Took a little longer than I expected for such a short trip. Thought I'd check on you in person after my officer called to say you were still on the street."
"Clearing my head of cobwebs, like I said." When I reached for my keys, he closed his fist on them.
"You also said you'd take a taxi. Go anywhere special, meet up with anyone?"
"I haven't been out drinking, if that's what you think. I just needed to walk." Thankfully, the low light hid my red eyes, my tousled hair, my raw lips chafed by Sam's stubble. The broken biscuits I kept hidden behind my back.
Stone took the next stair up, facing me within inches. "I didn't assume you were drinking. I'm just checking on a new friend, one who's had more than her share of troubles." His voice seemed cool, controlled. Professional. As his hand spread over my shoulder, then onto my neck, I tensed. "You seem more rattled than when I left you."
"Stressed about my flight, that's all. Small spaces. A good night's sleep will help."
"Sweet dreams then."
I tried to beg off, but he moved in fast. The kiss was light and steady, an open mouth but no tongue. An icebreaker kiss, the kind a man uses to test a woman's willingness for second base. Reserved, like the first kiss with Luke. Nothing like Sam's wild abandon—his kisses could call a volcano out of dormancy. My body definitely knew the difference.
"Call me when you get back." Stone stroked my chin, convinced that his schoolboy crush had bloomed into relationship status. "I'd like to secure those dinner reservations as soon as possible."
When he started to descended the stairs, I set upon opening my door.
Why did Sam distrust him so?
I imagined Stone turning, drawing his weapon, and shooting me in the back. He had dead-on aim from where he stood. Was he such a monster, this veteran cop who'd been intimidated by a puppy?
He swung around to the driver side of his car and nodded to my building when I didn't go in right away. "I'll feel better once you're inside."
When I waved from behind the glass door, he drove off.
Reservations?
Sure, I had plenty. Like where the hell was he taking me on a detective's salary?
Despite my cold skin, I bristled against the warmth of the stairwell, wishing for Sam's calming touch to steady my jittery nerves. The last thing I wanted was to return to my empty apartment, my empty bed, where Sam's face hung over me every time I closed my eyes. I hated that we'd ended on a bitter note, and that Stone had secured the last kiss. If I could just hear Sam's laughter once more, feel his body against mine, release the fury inside me, inside him.