The liar, p.16
The Liar, page 16
“No.” The denial escaped before I could think through whether it was the right course of action. Perhaps it was better for Hanson to think West worked for Ortez than for him to know he was investigating the police force itself. “I mean, I don’t understand. How could you possibly know that West has been associating with criminals?”
Hanson’s cheeks turned splotchy and red, and he scratched the back of his head. “I’ve, uh, been surveilling him on and off since you said you were working things out. I didn’t want him messing around on you.”
My heart swelled. I’d never have expected him to care about me so much. “Thank you. That’s very sweet.”
I just hoped he hadn’t seen me and West speaking with Portia.
“Yeah. Well.” He cleared his throat. “You’re my partner.”
“That means a lot, Denny.”
The blush deepened. “You don’t seem as upset as I thought you’d be.”
I stayed quiet for a moment, debating how much to share with him. He’d already put a lot of it together himself, and while I was on the fence about his involvement with Ortez, the fact he’d come to me with this rather than using it against West went a long way toward assuring me of his innocence.
“Damn.” Hanson stilled. “Did you know all of this already? Are you in on it with him?”
My breathing stuttered. He thought I was the dirty cop?
Incredible.
“No,” I told him. “I’m not. But West isn’t who you think he is either. Yes, he lied about his identity, and I didn’t know that when we met, but I do now. I just can’t tell you the details.”
He looked confused. “The guy pretended to be someone he’s not and you stayed married to him?”
I groaned. Of course he’d question that. My low tolerance for deception was well known. “I left for a couple of nights to get some perspective, but once I had all of the information, things changed.”
His jaw jutted out, bulldog-like. “But you won’t tell me what’s going on?”
“Not won’t,” I corrected. “Can’t. I’m sorry.”
His nostrils flared, but he managed to keep his temper in check. Considering how he’d gone out on a limb for me and in return, I was keeping him in the dark, I was impressed by his self-control.
“Just be careful,” he warned. “Maybe you think you know what he’s up to, but you can’t be certain you aren’t being played.”
I didn’t reply to that because honestly, however much I might believe West’s claims, Hanson had a point. The only other person I’d dealt with directly who was associated with West’s cover was Portia, and she had all sorts of reasons to lie if West asked her to. No matter how much I might want to, I couldn’t trust anyone.
WEST
My phone rang as I stirred the beetroot risotto that was simmering on the stove. The savory aroma of herbs and cheese wafted through the apartment, and my mouth watered. I leaned over the counter to check my phone. My heart lurched at the sight of a familiar number in the center of the screen.
I raised the phone to my ear. “Mamma? How did you get this number?”
“You’re not the only one who has law enforcement contacts,” she reminded me. “It’s been too long since I heard from my son. Is it safe to talk?”
I glanced around. I was alone in the apartment, and it was clear of electronic listening devices. The phone was a burner and I’d swap the number tomorrow. Perhaps Adam would frown on me accepting the call, but Mamma mattered more to me than placating my boss.
“Yes, Mamma. It’s so good to hear from you. I missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too,” she wailed. “It’s been too long. Here I am, never knowing if you’re alive or dead, and I’m sure you’ve been fading away with no one there to feed you properly.”
Guilt sank its claws into me.
“I’m sorry, Mamma. I wish there was a better way to keep you up to date, but it’s too dangerous to talk regularly or to send messages. My boss would let you know if anything happened to me though, I promise.”
“They had better.” She huffed. “Tell me. Have you been eating? And I mean real food. Not those awful prepackaged, just-add-water monstrosities.”
I laughed. Mamma was an excellent cook, but because of that, she was also quite a food snob. “You know I can cook for myself quite well.”
“Well, yes,” she agreed reluctantly. “I did teach you.”
“And I listened to every word,” I promised.
She grudgingly accepted this but moved onto the next topic of questioning. “Aren’t you terribly lonely, cucciolo?”
“Actually…” I hesitated, unsure how much to share. But I was in a pickle, romantically speaking, and my parents had enjoyed a long and happy marriage. “There’s a woman.”
Mamma gasped. “Who is she?”
I stirred the risotto again, noting that the water was evaporating, and it would soon be done. “I can’t tell you her name, but I love her.”
“You do?” She squealed, but then got a hold of herself. “Does this woman love you too?”
Suddenly, my limbs felt heavy. My heart sank as I realized… I really didn’t know.
“She used to.” My eyes pricked, and I tried to tell myself it was from the onions in the risotto, but the lie wasn’t fooling anyone. “I deceived her. I’m not sure if we’ll be able to move past it.”
“You did it for your job?” she asked, no judgment in her voice.
“Yeah.” I ran my hand through my hair and tugged at the ends as frustration crept over me. “She’s well within her rights to be mad.”
She scoffed. “I’m sure she is, cucciolo. Tell me more about her. I know, I know, you can’t give me her name, but I want to know what kind of person my son fell for.”
I grinned despite my heavy heart. “She’s amazing. Strong, smart. She seems sharp on the surface, but beneath that, she’s so many other things.”
“Ah.” Her tone was knowing. “She has needed to protect herself before.”
“In her line of work, she’s something of an outsider. I guess that made her tough.”
Fiorella paused. “Is your lady a criminal, Weston? I don’t judge. I’d just like to know so I can be prepared.”
I snorted, amused by her willingness to accept anyone into her family. “No, Mamma. She isn’t a criminal.”
Her sigh of relief was audible. “Then you’d best grovel. If this woman deserves you, and you’ve hurt her, she needs to see you take responsibility for that and do better. Get on your knees if that’s what it takes. I want to meet her. I need someone else to spoil. Don’t mess it up.”
“I’ll do my best not to.”
Metal scraped on metal. I glanced at the door in time to see the lock turn.
“I’ve got to go,” I whispered. “We’ll talk soon, but don’t try this number again. I love you.”
“Goodbye, darling. Love you.”
I ended the call, quickly removed the sim card from the phone and snapped it.
Joanna stepped inside and immediately narrowed her eyes. If she’d been a cat, her tail would have been swishing. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing.” I discreetly slid the broken sim card into my pocket. “Cooking dinner.”
“Which is it?” she asked, shutting the door. Nothing, or cooking?”
“You’ll regret making fun of me if I don’t let you eat any risotto,” I teased.
She laughed. “Please don’t. It smells great.”
“I suppose I’ll let you have some. It’ll be ready in a few minutes. Would you like a glass of wine?”
She considered for a moment, then shook her head. “I’d better not yet.”
Something in her tone was off.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I’m going to change, and then we can talk.” She stalked past me and out of sight.
To distract myself from worry, I sliced crusty bread and placed a slice on each of two plates, then checked the risotto and, satisfied it was done, turned off the stove and scooped the delicious creamy meal alongside the bread.
I carried the plates to the table and poured a glass of water for each of us, then gathered cutlery and waited for her to return. When she did, she came straight to the table and sat.
She inhaled, a smile on her lips. “Mm. I love your beetroot risotto.”
My gut heated as my libido mistook her interest in dinner for something else. Determined not to let her notice my reaction, I enjoyed my first mouthful of risotto, silently congratulating myself on getting it just right. Of course, Mamma could do it better, but it was still excellent.
“Hanson suspects you,” Joanna said.
The creamy rice turned to ash in my mouth.
“Excuse me?”
She nodded, yet to start eating herself. “He presented me with evidence that you aren’t who you say you are and warned me to be wary of you. Obviously, I didn’t tell him the truth, but if he mentions his concerns to others, it could be bad for your investigation.”
“It could be lethal, if he mentioned something to the wrong person.” We still didn’t know exactly who was involved. The chances were that Hanson had already alerted someone that he’d been digging into my cover. He wasn’t the most subtle guy. “Do you trust him?”
With long fingers, Joanna began shredding her slice of bread, breaking it into smaller and smaller pieces. “I’d like to. He accused me of being in on your activities when I wasn’t as surprised as I should have been about your alter ego, and I doubt a dirty cop would do that, but I’m not certain. I wouldn’t stake your life on it.”
“I’m guessing you have thoughts about what we should do.”
She wasn’t the type to raise a problem without having at least idly considered potential solutions.
She dunked a piece of bread into the risotto and popped it into her mouth. “Have you thought about reading Thackery into the operation?”
“We can’t.” The denial burst from my lips automatically.
She frowned, taken aback. “Why not?”
“I don’t know.” I wished I had a concrete answer for her. “Something about him just doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Thackery pushes people’s boundaries, and he may be more of a politician than I’d like, but he’s always been a solid cop,” she protested.
I forced myself to eat another spoonful of risotto and mull over my response before speaking. I had to keep in mind the fact that she’d worked under Thackery for years and believed him to be an upright policeman, whereas she’d known me for less than six months and I’d proven myself a liar.
“It’s not always the bad cops that turn,” I said mildly. “It wouldn’t be much use to crime bosses if their pet policemen were useless at their jobs.”
She inclined her head. “I take your point. What did Thackery do or say to earn your distrust?”
“According to Beth, he frequented Neal’s poker evenings.”
“Ah.” She ate another piece of bread. “We have no evidence linking the poker games to Ortez’s illegal activity, but I can understand your hesitation.”
I continued my meal, trying not to let on how much I appreciated the fact that she’d listened to me rather than immediately jumping to Thackery’s defense.
She sighed, her palms flat on the table. “So, we don’t tell either Hanson or Thackery. We continue to trust only each other.”
My heart stuttered. She trusted me?
Her expression grew wary, as if she realized what she’d said, but she didn’t take it back. Perhaps she trusted me in a professional capacity but not a personal one. Even if that was the case, I’d accept it. When it came to Joanna, I’d gladly take whatever I could get.
I stood, rounded the table, and held my hands out to her. Hesitantly, she took them. I pulled her to her feet.
“Thank you.” My voice was thick with emotion. “It means more than you know that you’re allowing me even the slightest bit of trust. I won’t let you down.”
To my surprise, she didn’t snatch her hands back or glower. If anything, her lips curved slightly upward.
“You’d better not.”
My smile grew. “I spoke to Mamma earlier tonight. I’m under orders to make things right with you and take you to meet her.”
Her lips parted, and she didn’t seem to know what to say.
My heart pounded out her name. God, she was so beautiful.
I cupped her cheek. “May I kiss you? I understand if the answer is no, but—”
Her lips pressed to mine, stealing the last of my words.
19
JOANNA
I moaned against West’s mouth, breathing in his familiar minty scent.
The way he’d been looking at me…
Holy crap, the way he’d been gazing at me as if I’d handed him the world made me believe—finally—that not everything between us was a lie. He really did have feelings for me. He cared. And while I was absolutely the wronged party in this scenario, he’d been hurting too.
I relaxed into his embrace, and when his tongue traced the seam of my lips, I parted them and shivered as he deepened the kiss.
West consumed me. His kiss, his scent, his possessive grip on my hips. He surrounded me. I couldn’t breathe without sharing his air. I couldn’t move without savoring the delicious friction between our bodies.
However hard I may have tried to keep a distance between us, it was time to admit the truth. My stupid heart belonged to West. Whether his name was Gallo, Conti, or something else.
I was his.
But then, just as I was sinking into the moment, he pulled back.
“Don’t,” I murmured, tugging him closer. If he gave me time to think, I might decide that this was all too much, too soon after his betrayal. Better not to take the chance. “I want you.”
He kept his lips off mine. The inches separating us felt like miles. “Are you sure? There’s no hurry. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
“I’m sure.” I pressed myself against him, urging him to continue.
Please don’t make me stop and think this through. For once, I don’t want to be sensible.
“What do you want?” he asked quietly.
“For you to take control the way you used to.” I couldn’t imagine anything better. I had a submissive streak in bed. I wasn’t a submissive in terms of enjoying a BDSM lifestyle, but I’d spent so much of my working life fighting for respect that it was nice to be able to stop taking charge and let someone else call the shots for a while.
West’s lips curved wickedly. “Then that’s what you’ll get, sweetheart. How far do you want this to go?”
I huffed in frustration, ready for the conversation to be over. “I want you naked and inside me.”
His eyes shone with pleasure, and for a moment, he was the charming bartender I’d met in that train station in Canada, but then any trace of lighthearted emotion vanished, and he became the commanding lover who’d always driven me out of my mind.
The man, I suppose, he truly was.
Dangerous. Thrilling. Competent in the sexiest possible way.
“Wait here for a full minute, then come to the bedroom. Our bedroom.” His strong hand wrapped around one side of my throat. “What do you say if you need to stop?”
“Red.”
“And if you want to pause?”
“Orange.”
“Good, baby.” His voice was a low purr that hummed through my core. “What are you right now?”
“Green.”
“Perfect.” He released me and stalked toward the bedroom. My gaze traveled down his powerful frame, noting the bulge of his erection struggling to break free of his jeans.
Fuck, he was sexy.
And once again, he was mine.
I counted to sixty in my head, then followed him to the bedroom. I gasped, my mouth falling open, and my brain almost short-circuited. The room was dark, except for a glow cast by a lamp on the nightstand. It cast shadows over the gorgeous planes of West’s naked form.
He lay in the center of the bed, propped up against the pillows, his legs stretched out and his hard cock resting on the corrugated muscles of his abdomen. My gaze traced the contours of his body, the bulges of his muscles emphasized by the play of dark and light.
“Strip,” he rasped. “Make it slow. I want to be teased. It’s been too long since I saw you.”
My breath caught. He wanted me to put on a strip show for him?
Heat blossomed at the apex of my thighs. Perhaps I should have been put off by the demand, but I couldn’t think of anything sexier than showing West everything he’d been missing out on. Maybe then he’d know better than to betray me again.
I unbuttoned my shirt, allowing the two sides to fall open to reveal my breasts and stomach. West’s hands fisted and he slowly opened them and propped them behind his head. I shrugged the shirt off. It landed on the floor with a rustle. West’s strong thighs strained, as if it was a struggle for him to remain where he was.
I turned away from him so he could only see my back as I undid the clasp of my bra and allowed it to fall. It was plain black, nothing fancy, but the silken glide of the cups over my skin as they dropped made it feel sexy. I covered my breasts with my hands and turned back to West.
He groaned. “I said tease, not torture.”
I smirked at the gravelly roughness of his voice. Yeah, he knew he’d messed up. He was lucky I was allowing him to touch me again.
I released my breasts, relishing the hitch in his breathing as I bared them to him. I bent, angling myself so he could see both my ass and my chest as I pulled my socks off one by one. Not an inherently sexy act, but the way his emerald eyes watched my every movement told me he found it enticing anyway.
I undid the button at the top of my pants and wriggled my hips back and forth as I slid them down.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Good girl. Naked except for your panties. Take them off too. I want to see all of you.”
I plucked the fabric at the edges of my panties, acting like I was about to remove them before pausing.
