Re/Paired (Doms of the FBI Book 2) (23 page)

He plunged inside, fucking her hard to an impossibly fast rhythm. The sane part of his brain remembered her nipple clamps. Taking them off too soon would chase away her orgasm. He waited until she begged once again for permission. As he consented, he released both clamps.

She buried her scream in the sofa cushion, her vaginal muscles sucking him deeper as they spasmed around his aching cock, and he pounded into her until he fell over that precipice too.

What a change one week could make. When Aaron set a cup of coffee on her desk Monday morning, Katrina felt worlds better than the last time he’d opened the workweek with a caffeinated gift.

Keith had used his powers of persuasion to make her stay the night, and in the morning he’d ordered her to masturbate in the shower. This time he joined her, watching at first and then treating her to the sight of his fist pumping along his shaft.

They came together, by the power of their hands, in each other’s arms.

She gave Aaron a brilliant smile. “Good morning, counselor. How was your weekend?”

He lifted a pale brow. “Okay. This is weird. I heard you picked up a stalker, and here you are, beaming like you just won the lottery.”

And giggling like an idiot because she’d just come from a weekend-long sexual marathon. It took a few seconds for her to regain her composure. “Unfortunately, I did pick up one of those nasty things. But I’m surrounded by family and friends, and that can make all the difference.”

A look of admiration came into his eyes, and he returned her smile. “Good for you, not being intimidated. You can’t let this chase you away from your home or work, or make you afraid to live your life.”

Keith hadn’t left her alone all weekend, so technically she wasn’t being all that brave. She shrugged. “The FBI is on it. Malcolm and Keith set cameras up all over, and they haven’t left me alone yet. It’s easy to be brave when I have such strong support.”

Aaron nodded slowly, almost as if his head was already inside his next case. “Well, if you need anything, I’m here for you too.”

She squeezed his hand. “Thanks. Your friendship means a lot to me.”

“Really?” He looked down at her hand. Then he put his other hand over it and squeezed back. “Do you maybe have a minute to read over a brief for me before I file it?” A teasing grin accompanied his request.

She swallowed her groan. As much as she loved Aaron, his briefs were often a mess, frequently with incorrect citations and faulty logic. But he was her friend, always there for her when she needed him. “I’ve got about fifteen minutes. I’ll look it over, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be as thorough as I usually am.”

Sitting in lingerie with Keith inches away hadn’t been conducive to work. While she had been able to get some things done, she had a lot left to do.

Leaning down, he brushed a kiss on her cheek. “You’re the best, Katrina. Thanks.”

Five minutes later, she sipped her coffee and shook her head at the mess of words on the computer in front of her. The names of both the judge and the defense attorney were spelled wrong, and those were the small issues. Aaron would never earn a seat on a prominent case until he learned to take more time with things. She sent it back to him with a note to have him recheck some of his facts.

The day flew by, but reality intruded when she went to her car after work to find Keith standing next to it in the parking garage. She wanted to sprint the distance between them and throw her arms around him, but he wore his special-agent look. It sent her stomach plummeting.

“What’s wrong?”

He frowned and shook his head. “I wanted to make sure it was safe for you to get into your car.”

They could have driven to work together. He worked two blocks away, and they’d both come from his house. However, Katrina knew how unlikely it would be for them to both leave at the same time. She often had to go to court or visit a witness or suspect. He drove all over the east side of the state during the course of his regular duties. One of them would have ended up stranded, so he’d taken her home to retrieve her car this morning.

She swallowed and nodded. The fear she’d denied all day came to the fore. While she’d been stuck in the office, her stalker could have broken into her car.

He handed her a set of keys. “I had the locks on your condo changed. You have a set, I have a set, and I’ve already delivered a set to your parents. I made an appointment to take your car in tomorrow to get those locks changed. I need you to go with me and sign off on it.”

Feelings lodged in her throat. She might call them words, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. Malcolm and Keith installing cameras had made her feel secure, but she recognized now that the cameras weren’t an early warning system. They might or might not act as a deterrent. If her stalker came for her when she was alone, the cameras would only offer evidence after the fact.

Keith closed the distance. His strong arms provided physical support for her emotional upheaval. “Breathe, Kat. I’ve got you. I’m going to follow you home. I’ve already been to your place today, and I’ve reviewed the tapes. Nothing’s happened.”

He was, she realized, just as terrified of leaving her alone as she was of being alone. He sought to reassure her and to convince himself that she would be safe there without him. Because his schedule wasn’t regular, he’d eventually have to work late, which would leave her on her own for the evening.

“I’m okay.” She mumbled the reassurance into his shirt. “What time tomorrow?”

“We’ll go on the way home from work. Can you pop your trunk?” He released her enough that she could fumble with her keys and push the right button.

He lifted the lid, revealing the industrial-sized first-aid kit her father insisted she always carry. Ever the thorough agent, he also checked inside the zippered case. “Looks good.” He slammed the trunk of her sedan shut. “Okay, go ahead and get in. I’ll meet you at your house. There’s a one-hundred-percent chance that your parents are going to be stopping by for dinner and an eighty-percent chance that your mother made orange marmalade ice cream.”

That was a new flavor for her mother, but the woman constantly added to her repertoire. “Where did she come up with that one?”

Keith grinned. Most men would have come off as smug, but he managed to look sinfully handsome. “We might have discussed it earlier today.”

From his tone, she assumed they’d be the ones cooking dinner and her parents were bringing dessert. “I’m not cooking naked tonight.”

That grin didn’t diminish.

__________

Keith managed to meet her at her car every day after work that week. Tuesday, after taking her to have her car rekeyed, he ran her through a review of basic kickboxing moves at the FBI’s indoor training facility. In college, she’d dutifully learned how to kickbox and how to use a variety of firearms as an excuse to get closer to Keith. All those lessons, and he’d never once tried anything. That, and Malcolm had frequently joined them.

This time proved no different, at least until they arrived back at her place.

Wednesday night at his house, she spent the majority of the time naked. They played in the dungeon. He sent her to subspace and let her stay there for a little while before he took her to his bedroom and made love to her.

Thursday she was scheduled at the courthouse. After an exhausting day arguing motions and going through the motions to hear pleas, she was ready to spend some serious downtime kneeling at Keith’s feet. In all the years she’d lusted after his body and pined for his affection, she never thought she’d look forward to being naked—or nearly so—and on her knees. She didn’t even particularly like feet.

She did like the way it made her feel. When she sat on that oversize pillow and rested her cheek just above his knee, she felt protected, cherished, appreciated, and even loved. She felt whole and happy. He gave her permission not to think about anything but being there with him.

Exiting the building at five always proved to be a slow process. It seemed like a million people were trying to get out at the same time. She knew about half the people flowing in her direction, so she didn’t lack for company or conversation.

As freedom came closer, she ran through her mental checklist to make sure she had everything. Now that she was keeping her purse and keys in her briefcase—and her briefcase was in her possession at all times—she was developing a habit of forgetting other things. The day before, she’d forgotten several important files on her desk. She’d left them lying out in the open, which wasn’t the custom. Files were supposed to be kept under lock and key. If she wasn’t going to take them home, she needed to return them to the records room.

Aaron had shaken his head at her mistake, but he hadn’t commented on it as she returned them the next morning. She liked that he wasn’t the kind of person to rib her for it or make a big deal out of the lapse.

Once she made it outside, the August heat hit her like a brick wall in the face. Her colleagues scattered in all directions, and someone tapped on her shoulder.

She turned on the wide sidewalk to find a rough-looking woman with her face twisted in a half sneer. The odor of stale cigarettes hung in the vicinity like a disgusting cloud. The woman pointed her finger at Katrina. “I thought you looked familiar. You’re my boy’s girlfriend?”

Recognition wafted into Katrina’s brain on a nicotine courier. “Mrs. Rossetti?”

The sneer melted, and the woman nodded. “You can call me Starr. I knew you was special when he got pissed about me calling you a whore. He don’t usually care. Didn’t think Keith would ever settle down with one woman. But you’re classy, ain’tcha? A lawyer. Not the type he usually dates.” Her voice was deep and throaty with the kind of huskiness that came from years of smoking.

Katrina had no idea how to respond to that. She opted for offering a friendly smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Starr. I’m Katrina Legato.”

Her face scrunched up again. “You related to Malcolm?”

“He’s my brother.” She didn’t know what Starr Rossetti was doing at the courthouse. And then she wondered if Keith’s sister, Savannah, was inside one of the holding cells in the basement.

“Look, I know Keith don’t want nothin’ to do with me. He always wanted a different kind of mother, probably one that liked kids. I don’t apologize, cuz it seems to me he turned out just fine. Those other two, though.” She shook her head. Strands of pink and gray gleamed from her brassy hair. The ponytail in the back showed evidence the ends had recently been dipped in red. “The one’s a lazy, good-for-nothin’ drunk. The other just got eight years. Manslaughter, I think. Something like that.”

Katrina wondered how in the world Savannah’s mother could fail to even know what the charges had been, but she knew better than to ask. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Keith don’t talk about us none, does he?” Her tone was neither angry nor regretful. It was a fact she had already accepted.

That didn’t stop Katrina from feeling sympathetic toward the woman. Despite what she said, she was his mother. “No. I’m sorry.”

Starr batted her hand as if waving away a bad odor. The stench of cigarettes stirred, but it didn’t diminish. “Whatever. You tell him those kids are in the system. I think they go up for adoption next week. I don’t want ’em, and Savannah knows she ain’t gonna be any good for those kids. Anyway, the state won’t let her keep ’em. If he don’t want ’em, I guess they can just as well find a new family. He wouldn’t listen to me. I’m only telling you because I thought he should know.”

With that, Starr Rossetti turned around to leave.

Katrina reached out and snagged Starr by her shoulder. “Wait. What kids? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She sighed as if to say she’d washed her hands of the topic and didn’t care to revisit it. “Savannah had two kids. I think they’re something like four and two, or maybe four and one, or three and one. I don’t know. They’re little, and the one don’t use the toilet. I don’t do diapers. Keith’s dad dealt with the crap.” She paused to laugh at her joke. “But he don’t want no kids around neither. We raised ours. We ain’t raisin’ more.”

If Savannah couldn’t find a place for them, the state would put them into the foster care system, but it couldn’t force her to relinquish her rights. That was a voluntary action.

Katrina played a hunch. “Were they taken away? Has the state terminated her parental rights?”

“I lose track of all her trials. They’re living with some family in Roseville, but it’s just supposed to be temporary. I don’t know. I don’t go visit. You gotta ask the social worker.” She stabbed a final finger at Katrina. “You tell Keith.”

Starr jerked her shoulder from Katrina’s grasp and walked away, setting a fast pace that signaled the end of the conversation. Something in the stiffness of her back warned Katrina not to follow.

Keith was likely waiting at her car. She texted him a quick message to let him know she’d been held up, and then she headed back into the courthouse. He might be unwilling to listen to his mother, but Katrina understood the woman’s underlying concern. Though Starr wasn’t prepared to take them on, she didn’t want to see her grandchildren end up with strangers.

The least Katrina could do was look into the matter.

A brief foray into records turned up nothing, mostly because everyone was heading home for the day. Savannah Rossetti’s name wasn’t in the system. Downstairs in the jail, she searched the sign-in sheets to see who Starr had visited. She’d just found the name Savannah Shaw when she felt the prickle of eyes boring into the back of her head.

Whirling to face the threat, she found Dustin leaning against the far wall. Though it was the end of what had to have been a long day for him too, he managed to look fresh. He smiled and waved.