Brazen Virtue (28 page)

The women would come begging, pleading for the son of the president of the United States to pay attention to them. Mary Beth would be sorry, so sorry she’d rejected him. Almost lovingly, he ran his fingers over the scratches on his face. She’d fall on her knees and beg him to forgive her. But he wouldn’t forgive. True power didn’t forgive. It punished. He’d punish Mary Beth and all the other sluts who’d made promises they didn’t intend to keep.

And no one could touch him because he’d gone beyond their pitiful scope of understanding. He could still feel pain. Even now the gashes in his leg throbbed. Soon there wouldn’t even be that. He knew the secret, and the secret was all in the mind. He’d been born for greatness. Just as his father had always told him. That’s why none of the small-minded wimps who went to school with him ever came close to being his friends. The truly great, the truly powerful were never understood. But they were admired. They were revered. The time would come when he had the world in his two palms, like his father. He’d have the power to reshape it. Or to crush it.

He gave a quick giggle, then dug into his stash. Jerald never smoked at home. He knew the sweet smell of pot was easily detected and would be reported to his parents. When he had a yen for a joint, he took it outside. He eschewed cigarettes. Both of his parents were very active in nonsmokers’ rights. Any trace of smoke, tobacco or otherwise, would besmirch the purity of Hayden air. Jerald giggled again as he pulled out a prime joint laced with flake. PCP. Angel
dust. He smiled as he ran his fingers down it. A few tokes of this and you could feel like an angel. Or Satan himself.

His parents would be gone for hours. The servants were all tucked away in their wing of the house. He needed a lift. No, not needed, he corrected. Needs were for ordinary people. He wanted a lift. He wanted to fly sky-high while he listened for the next one. Because the next one was going to suffer. Jerald took out his father’s service revolver, the one Captain Charlton P. Hayden had shot so many geeks with in good old Nam. His father had won medals for shooting strangers. There was something glorious about that.

Jerald didn’t want any medals, he just wanted a kick. The big kick. The teenager in him opened the window before he lit the joint. The madman booted up the computer to search.

G
RACE SPENT HER FIRST
night on call torn between amusement and amazement. She was glad that she could still be surprised. Working in the arts and living in New York didn’t mean she’d seen and heard everything. Not by a long shot. She took calls from whiners, from dreamers, from the bizarre and the mundane. For a woman who considered herself sophisticated and sexually savvy, she found herself stumbling more than once. One man calling from rural West Virginia recognized her as a novice.

“Don’t worry, honey,” he’d told her. “I’ll talk you through it.”

She worked three hours, a light load, and had to fight back giggles, simple shock, and the lingering discomfort that Ed was waiting downstairs.

At eleven, she took her last call. Tucking away her notes—you never knew what you could use—she walked downstairs. She spotted Ed first, then his partner.

“Hello, Ben. I didn’t know you were here.”

“You get the whole team.” As he checked his watch he noted they were well past the latest time their man had struck. Still, he’d give it another half hour. “So how’d it go?”

Grace settled on the arm of a chair. She shot Ed a look, then shrugged. “It’s different. You ever get turned on listening to a woman sneeze? Never mind.”

As she spoke, Ed watched her. He’d have sworn she looked embarrassed. “Anyone make you uneasy, suspicious?”

“Uh-uh. For the most part you’ve got guys who are looking for a little companionship, some sympathy, and I guess in an odd sense a way to be faithful to their wives. Talking on the phone’s a lot safer, and less drastic, than paying for a prostitute.” But it wasn’t anything to get on a soapbox about either, she reminded herself. “You’re getting it all on tape anyway, right?”

“That’s right.” Ed lifted a brow. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

“Maybe.” She fiddled with the hem of her sleeve. “It feels odd knowing the boys at the station are going to be playing back what I said.” Always resilient, she shook it off. “I can’t believe what I said myself. I had this one guy who does bonsai trees, you know those little Japanese things? He spent most of the call telling me how much he loves them.”

“Takes all kinds.” Ben passed her a cigarette. “Did any of them ask to meet you?”

“I got some hints, nothing hard-line. Anyway, in my orientation session this afternoon I got some tips on how to handle that, and a lot of other things.” She was relaxed again, even amused. “I spent the afternoon with Jezebel. She’s been doing this for five years. After listening to her take calls for a few hours, I got the drift. Then there’s this.” She lifted a blue binder from the coffee table. “My training manual.”

“No shit?” Delighted, Ben took it from her.

“It lists sexual penchants, the usual and a few I’ve never heard of.”

“Me either,” Ben murmured as he flipped a page.

“It also gives you different ways to say the same things. Like a thesaurus.” She blew out smoke, then chuckled. “Do you know how many ways there are to say …” She trailed off when she looked at Ed. It only took her a moment to decide he wouldn’t care for a rundown. “Well, it’s handy. Let me tell you, it’s a lot easier to have sex than to talk about it. Anybody want some stale chocolate-chip cookies?”

Ed shook his head, but all she got from Ben was a grunt as he leafed through the manual. “You’ll grow hair on your palms,” Ed said mildly when Grace left the room.

“Could be worth it.” With a grin, Ben glanced up. “You wouldn’t believe some of this. How come we’re not working Vice?”

“Your wife’s a shrink,” Ed reminded him. “Nothing you could come up with in there’s going to surprise her.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” Ben set the manual aside. “Sounds to me like Grace handled herself all right.”

“Looks like.”

“Give her a break, Ed. She needs to do this. And she might just help bust things open.”

“When they bust, they could fall all over her.”

“We’re here to see that doesn’t happen.” He paused a moment. He knew what it was to want to kick something, but not to have anything around big enough. “Do you remember how I felt when Tess was involved last winter?”

“I remember.”

“I’m on your side, buddy. I always am.”

Ed stopped pacing to just look at the room. It was funny how quickly it had become Grace’s. Kathleen was gone; perhaps Grace didn’t realize it yet, but she’d nudged her sister out with opened magazines and discarded shoes. There were wilting flowers in an old jar and dust on the
furniture. In days, without even intending to, she’d made a home.

“I want her to marry me.”

Ben stared at his partner a minute, then slowly sat back. “I’ll be damned. Looks like Doc hit the bull’s-eye again. Did you ask her?”

“Yeah, I asked her.”

“And?”

“She needs some time.”

Ben only nodded. He understood perfectly. She needed time. Ed didn’t. “Want some advice?”

“Why not?”

“Don’t let her think too long. She might find out what an asshole you are.” When Ed grinned, Ben rose and reached for his jacket. “Wouldn’t hurt to look over that training manual either. Page six looks like a winner.”

“You leaving?” Grace walked back in with a tray of cookies and three beers.

“Jackson should be able to handle the night shift.” Ben picked up a cookie and bit in. “These are terrible.”

“I know.” She laughed when he picked up another. “Got time for a beer?”

“I’ll take it with me.” Ben slipped the bottle into his pocket. “You did good, sugar.” Because she looked like she could use it, Ben leaned over the tray to kiss her. “See you.”

“Thanks.” Grace waited until she heard the front door shut before she set down the tray. “He’s quite a guy.”

“The best.”

And as long as he’d been there, they hadn’t had to talk too directly to each other. Taking the end of the sofa, Grace began to nibble on a cookie. “I guess you’ve known him a long time.”

“Long enough. Ben’s got the best instincts in the department.”

“Yours don’t seem too shabby.”

Ed watched her as he picked up his beer. “Mine tell me to shove you on the shuttle back to New York.”

Grace lifted a brow. Apparently they were finished circling each other. “Are you still upset with me?”

“Worried about you.”

“I don’t want you to be.” Then she smiled and held out a hand. “Yes, I do.” When his fingers linked with hers, she brought them to her lips. “I have a feeling you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m sorry I can’t make things easier.”

“You screwed up my plans, Grace.”

There was a half smile on her face as she tilted her head. “I did?”

“Come here.”

Obliging, she wriggled along the sofa until she was cuddled against him. “When I bought the place next door, I had it all worked out. I was going to fix it up, just right, just the way I’d always imagined a house should be. When it was done, I was going to find the right woman. I didn’t know what she’d look like, but that wasn’t so important. She’d be sweet and patient and want me to take care of her. She’d never have to work the way my mother did. She’d stay home and take care of the house, the garden, the kids. She’d like to cook, and iron my shirts.”

Grace wrinkled her nose. “She’d have to like doing that?”

“She’d love doing that.”

“Sounds like you’d have to find some nice Nebraskan farm girl who’d been out of touch the last ten years.”

“This is my fantasy, remember?”

Her lips curved again. “Sorry. Go on.”

“Every night when I got home, she’d be waiting. We’d sit down, put our feet up, and talk. Not about my work. I wouldn’t want that to touch her. She’d be too fragile. When it was time for me to retire, we’d just putter around the house together.” He stroked a hand down her hair, then
cupped it under her chin. As the seconds passed he simply studied her, the strong bones, the big eyes and flyaway hair. “You’re not that woman, Grace.”

She felt one very strong, very sharp moment of regret. “No, I’m not.”

“But you’re the only one I want.” He touched his lips to hers in the soft, gentle way that made her pulse flutter. “You see, you screwed up my plans. I’ve got to thank you.”

She wrapped her arms around him and settled in.

G
RACE AWOKE IN ED’S
arms at dawn. The sheets were up to her nose and her head was nestled against his chest. The first thing she heard was the slow, steady beat of his heart. It made her smile. Soft and hazy, the light trickled in the windows, sweetened by the first birdcalls of morning. Her legs were tangled with his so that the warmth and security reached all the way to her toes.

Turning her head, she pressed a kiss to his chest. She wondered if there were a woman in the world who wouldn’t want to wake this way, content and secure in her lover’s arms.

He stirred and drew her a bit closer. His body was so hard, the power so controlled. Where her flesh rested against his it was hot and damp and sensitized. Before the last mists of sleep had cleared, she was aroused.

On a sigh, she ran her hands over him, exploring, testing, enjoying. Still lazy, she let her lips skim over his flesh. When she felt his heartbeat accelerate, she murmured in satisfaction. With a half smile, she turned her head to look at him.

His eyes were intense, dark, then everything blurred when he pulled her up to cover her mouth with his. No gentleness this time; only demand and desperation. The strength was as raw as the need. Grace was swept away on a wave of panicky excitement.

The control he had always relied upon was gone. He was a man who moved carefully, all too aware of his own size and strength. But not now. They rolled over the bed as if chained together and he took exactly what he wanted.

She was trembling, but not weak. With each second that passed, her passion grew, so that she met demand with demand. He’d shown her tenderness and a deep-seated respect she could only marvel at. Now he showed her the dark and dangerous side of his love.

With his arms braced on either side of her head, he drove himself into her. Her fingers, slick with sweat, slipped down him, then found purchase and dug in. In the end they found more than release. They found deliverance.

She was still gasping when he lowered himself to her. His head nestled between her breasts, her hands tangled in his hair. “I think I found the substitute for coffee,” she managed to say, then began to laugh.

“Nothing funny about caffeine,” he muttered. “It’ll kill you.”

“No, I was just thinking if this keeps up I could write my own training manual.” Stretching her arms over her head, she yawned. “I wonder if my agent could market it.”

He lifted his head so that the tip of his beard tickled her skin. “Stick to mysteries.” He started to say something else, when the radio beside the bed went on with a blast of rock. “Christ, how can you wake up to that?”

“No one gets the blood moving like Tina Turner.”

Ed picked her up, turned her around, and laid her against the pillows. “Why don’t you get some more sleep? I’ve got to get ready for work.”

She kept her arms around his neck. He was so cute when he tried to pamper. “I’d rather take a shower with you.”

Ed switched Tina off in midhowl, then carried Grace into the bath.

♦  ♦  ♦

A
HALF HOUR LATER
, she was sitting at the kitchen table going through yesterday’s mail while Ed made oatmeal. “Sure I can’t talk you into a moldy Danish?”

“Not a chance. I threw them out.”

Grace glanced up. “They only had green stuff on one corner.” With a shrug, she went back to the mail. “Ah, looks like royalties. It’s that time of the year again.” She slit open the envelope, set the check aside, and studied the forms. “Thank God old G. B.’s still pulling through. How about some cookies?”

“Grace, one of these days we’re going to have a serious talk about your diet.”