Sweet Dreams Boxed Set (23 page)

She was trapped not only by the car, but in the silt. Slowly, far too slowly, he was pulling her out. He planted his feet; they sank deep into the silt but he now had leverage. He pulled harder and suddenly she slid free.

Her face was swollen, her eyes closed, her mouth open. She wasn’t breathing.

“No, dammit!” He fought the mud and weeds and current. He carried her to the edge of the water where he put her down. He didn’t hear her breathing and checked her pulse. Nothing. How much time had passed? Seconds? Minutes? “Come on, Alex.” He performed CPR. Thirty rapid chest compressions. He counted in his head. Then he tilted her head, held her nose, and blew two breaths into her mouth.

Waited. Counted again, willing Alex to breathe.

He wasn’t going to lose her now that they’d found each other.

His eyes burned and his chest tightened. This could not be happening. Matt was about to compress her chest again when she coughed up water. He turned her to her side as she coughed more water and breathed erratically.

But she was breathing.

Alex was alive. She was safe. His heart still pounded as he held her close to his chest.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he whispered. “Ever.”

Matt looked up at Jim. He should thank him, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. If it weren’t for Jim Perry, Alex wouldn’t have been trapped under that car in the first place.

Dean motioned for Jim to walk up the embankment. He did, silently. Dean handcuffed him and read him his rights.

Matt held Alex. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered. “I want you, Alex. I need you.” He pushed back her hair and kissed her forehead. “I love you, Alex. I think I’ve loved you for the last year and a half, but I couldn’t tell you. But now I can. Now I know.”

He leaned in, wanting to hear her speak.

She put her hands on his face and opened her eyes. “Matt,” she said, her voice rough.

“When you disappeared under water—“

“Shh. I’m okay.”

“I know.” But he held her tight. “I know.”

“I’m sorry I doubted you yesterday, even for a minute.”

“Don’t go there. It’s forgotten.”

“All I have to do is look at you to see you are noble and trustworthy.”

“I will do whatever it takes to prove how much I love you. To earn your love in return.”

She leaned up and kissed him. “You already have.”

Chapter Eighteen

One Week Later

Alex walked into FBI headquarters on crutches. Her ankle was a mess, but after surgery and pins and a ridiculous cast that she hated, she was finally able to move around with crutches.

She’d taken a taxi because her dad and grandmother had been doting on her all week and she was going crazy. Her dad—who never postponed a trial—had put everything on hold for the week. Today was the first day he’d gone back to the courthouse.

Dean Hooper had called her last night and asked if she wanted to observe Jim Perry’s interview. His lawyer and the Assistant US Attorney had worked out a plea agreement. “I’m not completely happy about it,” Dean had said, “but I can live with it, and I hope you can, too.”

She could live with anything because she was alive.

Matt had seen her every day, first at the hospital then at her dad’s house, where she’d moved after she was released. They didn’t talk about what he’d said to her at the river, and she wondered if he’d forgotten.

Of course he hadn’t. He was just waiting for her.

So much had happened so fast ... and she didn’t know which end was up. She’d trusted Jim, and he was not only a corrupt cop, but ran Sergei Rykov’s operation. He’d wouldn’t admit it, just like he denied that Sergei was with him on the road after she went into the river.

The police hadn’t found Sergei Rykov, and they likely wouldn’t unless Jim cooperated. And the plea deal was for one thing:

Travis Hart.

Matt was in the observation room when Dean entered with Alex.

He frowned. “I would have picked you up.” He moved a chair over so she could sit.

“The Marshals are bringing Perry in now,” Dean said. “Five minutes.” He left.

“Stop waiting on me like a child,” she said, though gratefully sat in the chair. The crutches were extremely frustrating for her, when she was used to being so active. “I need to learn to get around on my own.”

“Why can’t you let me help you?”

“You’re spoiling me.”

“Never.”

She kissed him. “Let me start doing things for myself.”

“Maybe I enjoy taking care of you.” He played with her hair. “I’m glad you’re feeling yourself.”

He still looked worried.

She almost smiled because he was so adorable. But this was hard for her, and she didn’t know why. “Stop walking on eggshells around me. I’m not going to break. I’m not going to run away. I’ve been thinking about me, about the men in my life and why I made so many mistakes. I didn’t know about Jim, and that bothers me more than anything else. Even when the pieces were all there in front of me, I couldn’t even imagine that he was in Rykov’s operation. That he was Rykov’s
equal.
In fact, there would be no Sergei Rykov without Jim Perry.

“Yesterday, I was furious that the FBI was cutting Jim a deal. That he would be walking free and not even have to turn over the person who we were trying to get in the first place. Jim was party to human trafficking, prostitution, and money laundering. And there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s killed in cold blood. He’s a sociopath. He would have killed me if no one else knew about his involvement.”

Matt tensed, and she grabbed his hands. “But he didn’t. I just need to make peace with the fact that we’re getting a killer and Rykov has lost his partner. I have faith that the FBI, that Dean Hooper, will get him some day. I just hope it’s sooner rather than later.”

“I didn’t like the deal either, Alex. Not after what that bastard did to you.”

“I’m a big girl, Matt. I’m not a victim here. I walked away from Jim that night after he accused me of having an affair with Tommy because I was having an affair.” She touched him. “An affair of the heart,” she added. “I never understood why you’d never asked me out, and assumed you didn’t date cops or colleagues, or maybe you were gay.”

Matt’s eyes widened and she couldn’t help but laugh. “A girl has to stroke her ego, you know. Cute guy not interested? Married or gay. But when we started working together eighteen months ago, and I saw you every week, I started to look forward to our hour together. I wanted it to be more. I wanted to spend more time with you. And before I even moved out of Jim’s house, I knew I didn’t love him, and I was falling in love with you.

“After Tommy shot me and everything came crashing down, I think I blamed you when it was really no one’s fault. No one except Tommy, and me. I didn’t see the signs that Tommy thought I was a snitch, and I walked into a situation I wasn’t prepared for. But I was angry, and hurt, and bitter, and embarrassed. If I had let you in then, I would never have trusted my feelings, or yours, because I would have thought it was you pitying me, when really it was just me feeling sorry for everything I lost.”

“I’ve never pitied you, Alex. Sympathy isn’t pity.”

“You’re right, but when you’ve been through the emotional wringer, everything is skewed. But now I can tell you the truth.” She leaned forward and looked into his eyes. “Matt Elliott, I love you. I trust you. And I want to see where this relationship goes. I’m not an easy person to love. I’m prickly. I’m sarcastic. I’m nearly as judgmental as my dad. I don’t know that you’ll want to—”

Matt put his fingers to her lips. “Say the first part again.”

“The first part?”

“I love you. Say it.”

“I love you?”

“That’s it. Nothing else matters. I love you, Alexandra Morgan. Just as you are.
Because
of who you are. We’ll figure the rest out as we go along.”

She smiled. “Okay.”

Matt leaned in and kissed her. Slow. Sweet. With promises of more to come.

There was a knock on the door, then Dean popped his head in. “Show time.”

Jim Perry was led into the adjoining room, along with several lawyers for both the government and Jim. Dean Hooper led the questioning. The preliminary paperwork and agreement had been hashed out with the attorneys. Jim would be given ten years strict probation but no jail time. He would not be allowed to possess a firearm. He would lose his pension. He had to forfeit his passport and if he left Sacramento County, he had to inform the FBI and AUSA of his travel plans.

Jim didn’t seem particularly disturbed by the restrictions. Alex wondered how much money he had squirreled away. It could be substantial.

Or he might have enough money to disappear like Rykov appeared to have done.

He would not testify against Sergei Rykov, but one condition of his deal was that he would give the names of any law enforcement official—local, state or federal—who he knew to be engaged in illegal activities, and he would agree to testify against former Detective Tommy Cordell. He identified four individuals: two in Sac PD, one in the Sheriff’s department, and one DEA agent that he had evidence were taking kickbacks from organized crime. Alex hoped that was it—that Jim wasn’t holding back. He was only required to give names of those he could document, and he turned over a box of evidence which Dean ordered two agents to review in another room.

Once that was done, Dean moved the conversation to Travis Hart.

“Mr. Perry, as part of your plea agreement, you agreed to testify to serious felonies committed by an elected official, Lieutenant Governor Travis Hart. You also indicated that you have evidence to support your accusation.”

“Yes, sir,” Jim said. He was serious, but there was a sparkle in his eye.

Alex whispered to Matt, “He’s enjoying this.”

Standing behind her, Matt squeezed her shoulders. “It appears so.”

“Please state your charges and evidence.”

“Travis Hart killed five women, all prostitutes, over the last five years. Sacramento PD knows about two of them.”

Alex leaned forward. She hadn’t been expecting that.

“Please explain how you came to know about these murders.”

“I became aware of Hart’s proclivities five years ago when he hired a prostitute and screwed her in the alley, leaving her beaten and bruised. That was the case that Detective Selena Black picked up. Selena is like a dog with a bone, she wouldn’t let it go. I didn’t know about all this until the girl, Daphne Vasin, OD’d at her apartment. I do not have any knowledge as to whether her OD was intentional or accidental. But I knew if Selena dug around, she’d find other girls who could identify Hart. I’d learned this wasn’t the first time he’d roughed up his whores.”

“Do you have any evidence that he attacked Ms. Vasin?” Dean asked.

“I have a copy of all the books. It’s my freebie for you, Agent Hooper. It includes some very interesting names and their particular fetishes. But Hart is the only one who turned his fetish into murder.”

“Go on.”

“Three years ago he killed Elsa Babnin. He’d made arrangements to have her all night, and when he called her manager to pick her up, she was in a bad way. Barely conscious. Cut and bruised. He called me. Her manager understood that having a prosecutor on the payroll, so-to-speak, would greatly assist the expansion of the organization. He didn’t know that Hart had been part of the organization for years. We had him on tape with several prostitutes, and used that to leverage certain outcomes for certain trials. Not many—only key situations.”

Jim smiled as if he was in on a joke. Dean didn’t say anything, but waited.

“Elsa was as good as dead,” Jim continued. “Broken ribs, punctured lung, cracked skull. I told the manager that Hart needed to take care of this one. I gave him the gun. The manager ordered Hart to put a bullet in her head or he would take her to the hospital. Hart balked, saying just let her die. He was given a count of ten. He killed her at seven. The manager then dumped her, but kept the gun. I don’t think Hart realized that we had enough evidence to bury him. He wasn’t thinking like a prosecutor. I believe that this was the first time he killed a woman, but certainly not the first time he’d raped someone. I was a cop long enough to know that the level of violence wasn’t a first offense. I did a little research and learned that there were a series of rapes at Hart’s college campus that fit his basic M.O.—take the women from behind, pushing their face down. Three had been reported, but you know that many of these crimes don’t get reported.

Jim paused a minute, sipped his water.

“I always thought that Hart became more violent after suffering a set back in his personal or professional life. Three years ago was a turning point for him.”

Matt tensed behind Alex. “He’s just saying that because he knows we’re listening,” Alex said.

“He’s not lying,” Matt said.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Matt.”

“I’m not—I’m just angry that Hart got away with this for so long.”

Me, too.

Alex looked at Jim through the window. On the surface, he looked like a nice guy. A handsome guy. A good cop. She’d been deceived. So had many other people. But she’d been the one who’d lived with him. Cared about him. Slept with him.

It would be a long time before she would find peace with that time in her life.

Jim continued.

“Eighteen month ago, Hart killed Mariska Tshvich while having sex. He contacted Mariska’s manager, who called me. Just one more in a long line of dead and damaged whores by the hand of Travis Hart. But what happened to Mariska ... it was a sign to watch him closely. I knew his days were numbered.”

Jim didn’t say anything for a long minute, and Dean prompted him. “Mariska Tshvich was the murder victim found in the river, correct?”

“Yes,” Jim said. “I suspect that as Hart grew increasingly violent, he started using prostitutes who were less likely to report. When Mariska’s manager contacted me, I went to the scene. Hart had already left. She was dead. Strangled. However, he’d left behind his condom in the motel trash can. Idiot,” Jim added with a sneer. Then he put on his game face again, all professional and smooth. “I preserved it as evidence—it has both Mariska’s DNA and Hart’s DNA on it.”