Secrets (12 page)

She pulled at him, coaxing him up, and pushed him on his back so she could pleasure him. Her mouth did to him things she didn't know she knew. A moan escaped from his lips, and she thought she heard a low rumble in his chest. It sounded primal and uncensored, and something in her responded, wanting more of him, wanting all of him.

Directing steamy eyes at her, Casey pulled her face to his and placed a sensuous kiss to her lips, while he flipped her onto her back. “I love you, Michelle.” His voice came out gravelly and gruff. “I know I'm not supposed to but I do.”

Michelle stared up into his face with tear-blurred eyes. His tender words drifted to her and filled her heart with joy.

She had to have him, now. She whimpered, “Please.”

He paused for protection, but Michelle's yearning for him intensified. “Casey.”

Instantly, Casey filled her longing, aching center. A gasp escaped her lips and she loved him right back with all of her body, all of her being. They rocked together, her heart beating with the pulse of life, as she let ecstasy wrap around her and sparkle through her. When she climaxed, he came with her, and she understood why people called out to God during these moments of bliss.

Exhausted and euphoric, Michelle watched him move off her and snuggle up close.

Almost in synchrony, their breathing slowed as they relaxed side by side. She traced the lines of his muscles. His arms, his chest, while he shined glittering, adoring eyes at her.

She couldn't help herself. Michelle's laughter effervesced out of her, unbidden.

“Hey, what's so funny?” Casey shoved her playfully.

“Nothing, actually. I'm just so happy.” She leaned toward him and placed one, soft kiss to his chest.

Casey kissed the top of her head and sighed. “Thank you. For sharing with me.”

“Sharing with you?”

He tweaked a lock of her hair. “Yes. You know what I mean.”

A soft smile came to her lips. She did know.

Michelle offered to make lunch, but Casey got up from her bed with a thrumming in his gut. He needed to square away her safety, then talk to Jackson.

He lingered as long as he could at her door as they lavished each other with kisses. He didn't want to leave her. Being close to Michelle, tasting of her and expressing his feelings, lingered inside him in a very pleasant way. He stood close to her, close enough to enjoy the soothing blue of her eyes, and stroked her sweet lips.

“Do you really have to go?” Her sweet breath wafted over his skin and incited a riot of clearly inappropriate thoughts.

“I do.” He pulled her close, so close her heartbeat drummed intoxicating beats against his chest. More than wanting to be around her for the pleasure of it, he didn't want her to be alone. She wasn't safe. And she'd just shared with him her dark secret as well as herself. It hadn't escaped his notice that she'd failed to return his spoken love for her. But what she'd done was a huge step and he didn't want to leave her alone in that. But he had to pull everything together to make sure Carter would never bother Michelle again, and needed to do that now. “Promise you'll stay inside. I'll be back, but in the meantime, stay inside, please. Don't leave for anything or anyone.”

She promised him she'd stay home and before he drove away he instructed Quinn to keep watch at her home during the rest of the day. As a contractor, Quinn could leave a jobsite whenever he chose and his workers would keep working, so Casey didn't feel too guilty about giving him the protection duty for the day. Tonight would be something to deal with later.

Traffic on his way to his office slowed him enough to make his muscles tense. He was used to juggling multiple projects, but Michelle was no mere project. Her position in William Carter's crosshairs put her at the top of his list of priorities. Trouble was, the threads of the Pretid case and Michelle's problems with her home and Carter all twisted together. He had to push himself to his limits to get each element under the microscope before any more drug trial participants were hurt and Michelle came to real harm. Just thinking of all the harm already done to her by Carter and the Doboskies pushed his pulse higher.

But first he had to quiet his growling stomach. It'd been too many hours since his early breakfast. He needed to eat. He pulled into a parking space outside of a small coffee shop and rushed inside to grab a chicken sandwich with coffee. On the way out his eyes locked with what looked like a businessman—short haircut, trench coat, and underneath, a suit—sitting near the door. The look the man gave him made Casey's gut clench. He breezed past and out the door, hoping his instincts were wrong.

A few steps to his car, Casey saw a reflection of the man in his car window. Annoyance creeping up his neck, he turned to face him. “Can I help you, sir?”

The man walked closer, stopping an arm's length away. “Beautiful afternoon, isn't?” The man glanced at the sky, then landed a penetrating gaze on Casey.

“Excuse me, I don't know you, and I'll have to beg off. I'm in a hurry.” Casey stepped away and headed to the driver's side of his car, the man right behind him. “Look, I asked you if I could help you. I don't want to discuss the weather. If you've got something to say, spill it or walk away.” His demand elicited a sweaty scent from the other man, but he didn't move away.

“My name is Agent Doug Callahan. I do need to talk to you, Mr. Mitchell. It's urgent.” With that declaration he opened his jacket just enough to reveal a badge attached to his belt. “Could you take your food across the street to that plaza? You can eat while I tell you what I want.” The man looked over his left shoulder, then his right, then back at Casey.

The man gave Casey an agitated, scratchy sense of ill ease, but it seemed he had no choice but to hear him out.
What could the FBI possibly want with me?

He took a seat on a stone bench in the city plaza and bit into his sandwich. He never felt an awkward silence when conversations went nowhere, but if there were to be a time when the phrase would fit, this was it. Casey had downed some coffee and half of his sandwich before Callahan finally spoke.

“Mr. Mitchell, I believe you've put yourself right smack dab in the middle of a very sticky situation.”

Casey knitted his brow. “Sticky situation? I assume you've done your homework, Agent Callahan, and know I'm a PI. Sticky situations are common for my line of work. Get to the point.” He drew in deep breaths to quiet the unease filtering through his body, putting him on edge, like a cat preparing to pounce.

Callahan shrugged his shoulders and squinted. “A bottom line man, huh?”

Swallowing his last bit of sandwich, Casey just stared at the man.
Do you have a point, man?

“You are in a particularly advantageous position to do your country a solid good deed.”

“Oh, not so much a sticky situation as a good position for you to use me, right?” As a lynx, Casey's perspective often stood a good distance from what normal humans considered an opportunity.

The man shoved a hand in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette package. He drew out a lighter from the other pocket and lit up his cigarette. A pull in and blow out and Casey felt sick to his stomach. “Do you mind putting that out? I'm allergic to toxins.”

A frown deepened the lines on Callahan's face, but he dropped it and rubbed it out with his foot. “Listen, you're right. The request I'm making is right up your area of expertise. I need you to get in good with William Carter. The FBI has been investigating his various businesses for months, heck, probably years. There's something big going on and we don't know what it is. I need you to find out. Since you've already taken on a client who has grabbed Carter's attention, you're the man for the job.”

Casey lowered his head and stared at him with his best menacing look. “Carter is involved with lots of people. Why me? What is my expertise you're referring to?”

Callahan leaned close, too close, considering the lingering stench of cigarette and fear on him. “You have a record, Mr. Mitchell. I know all about your skills set.”

A lump, large and hard, filled Casey's throat. “You mean my cat burglar skills. My former penchant for jewels and other expensive things.”

Callahan smiled, showing an uneven row of stained teeth. “Other people's jewels. You never did any time for those incidents of breaking and entering or thefts. But now is a good time to serve your country and help put a stop to Carter's criminal activity.”

“Whatever it is, because you don't know.” Why were his teeth grinding? This annoying man or the predicament he was proposing? “I think I'll pass.”

Callahan squared him with a glare. “I'm not asking. But all I need from you right now is reconnaissance.”

“You mean you want me to be stealthy, break into William Carter's company, and find out what's going on that's ‘really big.' That about right?”

“Exactly.”

“Or what?”

“Excuse me?” Callahan coughed, a very heavy, very wet cough.

“What happens if I decline?” Casey crossed his arms over his chest, still holding his coffee.

“Why, I revisit that record.”

“You can't just lock me in jail. I did my probation.” This guy was really making his gut burn.

“The FBI can make you do whatever we want. Don't you know that? Now, do the work, and report to me by calling this number.” He gave Casey a card with a name and number on it. “Then we'll go from there.”

Casey didn't like the never-ending sound of that. He shoved the card in a pocket, then headed across the street to his car.

Mid-way to his car, Callahan called to him. “Chilly out today.” He pulled his coat closed and waved to Casey.

“Yes, it's turned cold, all right,” he muttered to himself, and pulled into the street.

He clocked off in his mind the things required for him to comply with Callahan. The idea of being coerced to help the FBI tasted bad in his mouth. It wasn't that he was opposed to helping nail Carter, it was the principal of limiting his freedom of choice. He rolled his shoulders and contemplated the best way to handle this new situation with Jackson. Tell or not tell?

He pulled into his parking space at work and ambled inside to his office, still not knowing.

Casey printed the various documents he'd collected from Carter and laid them on his desk. Pretid. Carter. His own father. Expansion. Research. He stood above them, willing his mind to pull in all the unknown bits of information and build a complete picture. One he could judiciously act on, without causing harm with unexpected consequences.

“You look serious.” It was Jackson, standing in the doorway.

Casey didn't bother to cover up the information on his desk. A heavy sense of sorrow slowed his movements, as though he were walking in water over his head. He shot a glance at Jackson, wishing he didn't have to deliver the news. Jackson had already suffered too much hurt by his father.

“Come on in.” Casey beckoned him and pointed to a chair, as he closed the door.

Jackson knitted his brow. “What's up, Case?”

He sank into the chair at his desk and gathered his thoughts. “I've got information about the Pretid case.” He cleared his throat. “I've acquired documents from Carter Enterprises that tell a large part of the story.”

Jackson frowned. “You acquired?”

Casey stared at his questioning look. “Don't ask if you don't want to know the truth, boss.”

A little muscle in Jackson's cheek twitched. “Go on.”

“Unbeknownst to Pretid, Carter Enterprises has tampered with the electronic diary we helped them patent and are using the device to corrupt a trial of an insulin pump.”

Jackson dropped his head against the back of the chair, sighing heavily. “Do you know why?”

“Not yet. I think it's only the most noticeable part of your father's current plans.”

His eyes piercing Casey's, Jackson shook his head. “What else do you know?”

Casey shuffled the documents and pulled up the one about expansion and research, handing them across his desk to Jackson. “It appears that your father's research company is using the device in some kind of project. I don't know what that is, not yet. But something about the study has gone wrong. Notice on the page you're holding the words ‘unexpected side effects,' ‘collateral damage,' and ‘property acquisition.' That research facility is being run by a shell company for Carter Enterprises. It is located a few blocks from Michelle's property. I'm only speculating, but I think whatever research is being pursued there has dangerous elements. The swift zone change, Michelle's deed problems, and the Pretid device malfunctions are all a part of a big plan. I think the plan includes hurting Michelle, specifically, but not as a primary goal, just a plus for your father. He's using the need for more room and more privacy as a way to exact revenge on Michelle. She was raped by one of his cronies' sons and Michelle pressed charges. The rapist was acquitted but apparently Carter is still angry at Michelle's audacity for accusing the young man.”

Jackson leaped to his feet. “Will it never end?” He paced from one side of Casey's office to the other, back and forth.

“There's one more thing, Jake.”

Jackson stopped midstep and turned a glare on Casey.

“Don't hate the messenger, man.”

A deep sigh escaped from Jackson. “Sorry. What more?”

“I've been recruited by the FBI to get close enough to your father to get information that would give them something to charge him with. The agent, who not-so-nicely engaged my services, said there's something big in the works and I'm to find out what. Apparently your father's been in the FBI's scrutiny for years, but they've never been able to get anything of substance on him.”

“You said recruited.” Jackson rubbed his chin. “Have your breaking and entering skills come to their attention? Let me guess, probation be damned, they're putting the screws to you.”