Silent Deceit (8 page)

  N
atasha stood in the freezer room
watching Skip pry open lids on caskets. A forensic photographer stood with him,
snapping photos of each occupant. Six wooden boxes. Six men dead. Skip's head
dropped when he removed the nails on the last coffin. He turned to her, shaking his head.

  "It's Zach, baby." He came
forward and tugged her toward him. She took a deep breath, drawing him in to
steady herself. "I'm so sorry."

  "Did he suffer?" she asked,
wishing she hadn't, and yet needing to know the truth.

  "No." He held her close;
probably afraid she would fly to the casket to see for herself. "One shot
to the head. He died instantly."

  Oh,
Zach!
Tears pooled in her
eyes, wanting to fall. Screams clogged her throat, making it hard to breathe.
She held it all back but couldn't stop the tremors.  Each one rattled her
bones, shaking her limbs. God, she couldn't fall apart now. She was a cop and
needed to stay strong. Skip backed her out of the room, closing the door behind
them. And the damn broke, her sobs muffled by his chest. He didn't say
anything, just let her cry, telling other cops to "move along" when
the curious asked questions.

  How long she cried, she didn't know. But
it helped to get it out, especially with Skip surrounding her with his strength
and support.

  "Sorry for
the meltdown. I’m okay now." She swiped her tears and looked at him. She'd mourn her
brother later, after she identified his remains at the
morgue, and when she had more privacy. Right now, she
was on the clock. "Where's Blue?"

  "The last I saw, he was headed to
Rena's apartment." Skip squeezed her nape and headed back into
Trailblazer's.
"Let's find them."

  As he opened the outer
door to the back lot, the glare of searchlights almost blinded her.  Holding a hand up, she shielded her eyes, watching Galloway's team tromp
through the woods edging the bar. Natasha could hear dogs out there with their
handlers and wondered if Tigz's scent would throw them off.

  She climbed the stairs to Rena's
apartment. "I hope her
cat won't be upset by all the action."

  "Don't worry." Skip's arm
circled her shoulders as he stepped onto the landing beside her. "It's
more like the cat will scare the crap out of those hounds."

  "Oh, God!" Natasha stared
through the door. Rena's apartment was trashed. She clutched her stomach,
afraid she'd be sick. The coffee table was smashed, broken dishes and
glass lying on the carpet. Blinds torn from the windows.
"What happened?"

  Blue sat on the bed, his head in his
hands. "I should never have left her alone."

  "Where is she?"  Skip scanned
the room as if searching for her body. "Blue, talk to us."

  "She's nowhere." Blue raised
his head, his face white as a sheet. "I think Deuce took her with
him."

  "It can't be." And yet, what
else could have happened to her? Natasha was about to sit on the bed to comfort
Blue when Tigz flew through the door. He hopped up beside her CO and lay down
beside him.

  Blue gazed at the cat, stroked his fur,
and stopped dead. "Jesus...blood...it's all over him."

  Skip closed the door to keep the cat
inside. "What do you need, Blue?"

  He stared at both of them, a murderous
glint in his eyes. He spoke slowly, his words measured and quiet, a lethal
combination when it came to Falcone. "First, find me a crate big enough to
put him in. Tigz is a material witness to whatever happened to Rena. He goes
with me."

  "Consider it done." Skip nodded
to her across the small space. "What else?"

  "Get the forensics team in here from the bar. You stay on top of
them. I want this place torn apart until we find evidence. I wanted Deuce
Kingman before, but he's just raised the stakes. Now I want him
bad
. And
trust me on this, I will find Rena, if it's the last goddamn thing I do!"

  Skip grabbed Natasha's hand and pulled
her out of the apartment. He paused for a minute to kiss her on the stairs.
"You holding up okay?"

  "Now that I have you? Yes." She
buried her face in his neck, snuggling into his arms. "I think I already knew Zach was dead. And
while I'll grieve for him, I know it wasn't my fault."

  "I'm here for you. I hope you know
that." Skip cupped her face in his hands. "I'll always be here for
you."

  "Same goes," she said.
"But first things first. We have to get Rena back.

  "We will, Tas." Skip wrapped an
arm around her waist as they headed inside
Trailblazer's
. "For
Blue's sake, as well as hers."

One Month Later

  "Quick! Close the blinds!"
Natasha shed her coat and hung it on a hook by the door.

  "Do you mind if I drop the luggage
first?" Skip set the bags on the floor and made quick work of the windows.

  She began to pace their hotel room like a
fugitive. Not that he blamed her. Hell, He had a few
heart palpitations of his own. Finally, a day off together and they'd spend it
in bed. Making love and ordering room service. 

  "Did you remember to pay in
cash?" She whirled on him, her eyes filled with desperation. "You
didn't use a credit card, did you?"

  That did it. He pulled her into him and
planted a kiss on her lips before she came up with any more orders. "I
paid cash. He won't find us."

  "The phones! I forgot about the
phones!" Natasha grabbed her purse and rummaged through it. Pulled out her
cell phone, popped off the back and removed the battery. Skip did the same to
his.

  "Okay, babe. We're officially on
lockdown." He caught her by the wrist and tossed her on the bed, landing
beside her. Taking her mouth with his, he lost himself in her taste, in her
moaning response. He opened her blouse one button at a time. Unhooked her bra
clasp with his teeth, laved and nipped her budded breasts like a starving man.
The silky feel of her skin as his hands travelled south electrified him. She
arched her hips as he slipped her jeans down her legs.
A thong! By God,
she's wearing a thong!

  "Now, Skip. Please. I can't wait!"

  To hell with foreplay, this required
action. Slipping a finger under the satin, he ripped it off her body. Shed his
pants, suited up, and was inside her in under a minute. Another minute and they
had hot, sweaty lift off.

  “That was a fabulous entrée, bluebird, but
how about we have the main course in the shower?”

  “Honey, I thought you’d never ask!”
Natasha wrapped her arms around his neck as he scooped her off the bed and
headed for the bathroom.  

  Later, Natasha curled into his shoulder, stretching up to kiss the underside of his
chin. "I'm sorry I hurried things. I was afraid if we didn't make love, we
might not get the chance. Blue's out of control."

  "I hear you." Smoothing his
hands in her hair, he kissed her nose. "But who can blame him, Tas? It's
been a month with no leads. If you were missing instead of Rena, I'd be
freaking insane by now."

  "I know. Still, he's pushing the
team too hard." She leaned up on an elbow, rubbing a hand over his chest.
"What does it say when we have to hide our tracks to spend a day
together?"

  He waggled his eyebrows. "It says
we'd better make the most of it. Now, where were we?"

  Natasha giggled and dangled a condom
packet between her fingers. "It's time to get busy again. And this time,
we won't rush it."

  The bedside phone rang and Skip answered.
Listened for a minute and disconnected.

  "Who was that?" Natasha asked.
"No one knows we're here."

  "That was Blue." Skip sighed,
moving to the side of the bed to drag on his pants. "Seems I forgot to disconnect the GPS on the
car."

  Natasha looked shocked at first, and then
she laughed. "Time to pack up, big guy. Looks like we're headed home. But
after we find Rena, we're flying nonstop to Maui!

One Month Ago

  Blue Falcone loomed in Rena's apartment,
taking up all the space between her and the door. A righteous pain in the butt,
he ticked off the reasons on one hand—all the whys she must stay hidden until
he and his undercover cops took down the gang at
Trailblazer's
tonight.

  He treated her to a steely stare. "I
need eyes on Deuce Kingman, Rena, and you're the logical choice. The club isn't
open for business while the roof is being repaired, but you live here,
compliments of Kingman. He won't suspect you're keeping tabs on him."

  "And how do I do that while locked
up in my apartment?" Rena tossed the phone he handed her on the couch,
crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at him. Not that he took her
seriously.  She looked like a train wreck, hair tousled, still sleepy-eyed
from a nap, and in rumpled pajamas that had seen better days.
Not her best look for an argument with a warrior, but he'd caught her off
guard. "I thought we worked well together, and now you're giving me the
brush off."

  "You're a confidential informant,
Ms. O'Mally, and I need you to do your job. That's what you get paid for."
He stepped closer, and she could smell him. His own masculine scent mixed with
high-end aftershave. His clothes said biker, but his demeanor right now
screamed cop on a mission. He wanted her away from the action, plain and
simple. "I'll call you when we're in position. All I want you to do is
look out your window. See how many cars are in the parking lot and report
anything unusual."

  "Such as a bunch of bad guys running
around with guns?" She laughed bitterly. "I should be down there
keeping Deuce busy. It's a much better use of my time."

  Falcone grabbed her shoulders and reeled
her in, his light blue gaze turning to ice chips. "Don't mess with me,
Rena. Kingman is a stone cold killer. He'll slit your throat if he thinks you
have anything to do with this. Do what I tell you."

  Releasing her, he strode across the room,
opened the door, and stepped over the threshold.  As he started down the
outside stairs, he shot a no nonsense look over his shoulder. "Lock up.
Shove a bureau in front of the door, and stay safe."

  She watched him vanish into the trees.
Stared at the smoky ridge of mountains in the distance and acknowledged the
isolation of the place. The perfect location for a high-class biker bar dealing
drugs and firearms. But she had never been afraid here before and that wouldn't
change, no matter what Falcone said. She knew how to control Kingman.

  Locking up, she moved to the tiny
kitchenette to brew a pot of coffee. She might as well stay up, since Blue had wrecked her beauty sleep. Grabbing a quick shower,
she toweled off and pulled on sweat pants and a T-shirt, still grumbling about
his highhanded tactics. She wasn't on his squad, and she'd do as she damn well
pleased.

  A knock sounded at the door.
Ah-ha
,
that's Blue back with an apology.
She moved toward it and turned
the handle. Kingman and some of his goons stood on the other side. A chill
settled over her skin as Falcone's warning rang in her ears.    

  "Deuce? What's going on?" He
looked like hell, as if he hadn't been to bed in a while. Probably too many
'shrooms in his salad last night. Or too many lines of coke this morning.

  "Who's in there with you?"

  "N-nobody." She lowered her
eyes and stared down at her feet. "It's just me and my cat."

  "I think you're lying, O'Mally. One
of my guards saw a man sneak in here a while ago." He dragged her out the
doorway by an arm, snapping his fingers at his men. "Get in there and look
around."

  "Will do, boss." Moshpit pulled
his H & K, ducked inside her flat and came out a minute later. "She's
telling the truth, Deuce. There's nothing in there but a cat. The biggest
freaking cat I ever saw."

  "Huh, maybe Jimbo needs his goddamn
eyes examined." Kingman gazed down at her, noticing the bandage on her
hand. He smoothed the gauze with a thumb. "What happened here?"

  "It's nothing." She held her
ground, but knew her eyes widened when he touched the burn. He couldn't find
out she was with Blue at the fire last night.  Especially since she suspected Deuce
had torched the barn to kill a witness. "I cut myself picking up broken
glass in the bar yesterday during the clean up."

  "Poor baby." He lifted her hand
to his mouth and kissed it. She tugged it away, hiding it behind her back.

  "Don't do that." Toying with a
strand of hair, Rena tucked it behind her ear. "You're making me
nervous."

  "Don't
ever
pull away from me
again." She could see the urge to slap her surged through his veins.
"Have you forgotten that I protect you? Keep your old gang away from
you?"

  "N-no, I haven't forgotten, and I
appreciate it." Her chin tipped up, her inner strength fighting a battle
she knew she'd never win if she didn't stop him before things got out of hand.
Old habits—such as being a punching bag for losers—gave men like Deuce the idea
they could continue the abuse. "But I've told you before...I'm not ready
for a relationship."

  "Well, listen to the high class
sorority girl. Honey, you may have forgotten your roots, but I haven't. I know
exactly
what you did for a living." Deuce shoved her into the apartment and
slammed the door behind them. "I want what you owe me."