Allegiance, page 16
His voice is husky, sending ripples of intense need to every sensitive nerve ending in my body. When I gaze into his eyes, I see a soul smoky with desire.
I try to catch my breath, to form a simple sentence, but fail. A little moan is all I can manage.
His hand slips between my legs and a brief smile of pride flashes across his face. He whispers, “Da, you’re hot. And ready. Very good, malysh. No longer afraid of big, bad Homeland Security man?”
“No fear,” I manage to whisper. As I speak the words, I’m pretty sure they are true. Still, some doubt remains.
He lifts me onto the bathroom counter. I open my legs and wrap them around his body, pressing my heated center against him. His lips are alternately soft and demanding as he trails kisses along my neck until he reaches my mouth. His tongue slides across my lower lip and I shiver. It’s not enough. I pull him closer, inviting him in until our lips, our breaths and our bodies strain together, hungry for completion. His tongue sweeps across mine while his hands slip beneath my shirt. In a flash, my bra is undone and his fingers are caressing my breasts.
When he reaches for the fastener on my jeans, I manage to push him away and gasp, “Not in the bathroom.”
He carries me to the bed, a bed still occupied by Thunder Paws who doesn’t look willing to share.
“Well, shit,” I mumble. “I can’t do it if the cat’s watching.”
“I’ll put him out.” Mick sets me down and grabs the cat, who yowls in protest.
“It’s too cold. Lock him in the bathroom.”
Mick hastens to the task, tosses the offended cat into the bathroom, and closes the door. I hear throaty growls and wonder about our safety when the cat is released from his porcelain prison.
Vicious cat attacks disappear from my mind when Mick returns. He reaches in a pocket, pulls out a six-pack box of condoms and sets it on the bedside table.
“Six?”
He pulls off his shirt and unbuttons his jeans, staring down at me. “I find it best to be prepared.”
This strikes me funny, and I lapse into a fit of giggles. Stop it, Mel! Why do you always do this when things get intense?
Mick sits on the edge of the bed and strokes my hair. “Beautiful girl. My malysh, do not be nervous. I will make you very happy. I promise.”
I sober quickly and reach for him. Clothes tossed hastily to the floor, we come together, exploring each other’s bodies, whispering our need. His tongue touches each of my breasts, igniting a path of fire before sliding to my belly and then, oh my God, even lower.
He lifts his head. “Did I mention, I will also make you scream?”
****
The next morning, I’m deep in dreamland. My mother is trying to teach me to use her sewing machine, and I’m a reluctant, not to mention, extremely disinterested student.
“Look,” she cajoles, “It’s fun.
She hits the foot pedal. The machine growls and whirs. I watch, fascinated as the needle bounces up and down at warp speed on a white dishtowel, my practice piece.
She vacates the chair and guides me into it. “Think of all the cute outfits we can make.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter.
“Just depress the pedal gently, at first, until you get the hang of it.”
Never one to heed my mother’s advice, I stomp down on the pedal. My hands are on either side of the racing needle, holding down the dishtowel.
She screams, “Stop!”
I take a peek at her terrified face and the needle goes off course and pierces my thumb.
“Ouch, dammit, ouch!”
I lift my foot from the pedal, but the motor is still racing and my thumb is still impaled. Weird. So weird, it wakes me up. I open one eye and discover I’m sprawled on my back with my arms spread wide. I turn my head and see Thunder Paws on Mick’s pillow. The cat is purring loudly and digging his claws into my outstretched hand.
I snatch my hand away and glare at Thunder Paws. “Why are you here?”
I get my answer when I hear the shower running in the bathroom. A glance at the bedside table tells me there are only three condoms left in the six-pack. With a satisfied smile, I yawn, stretchm and curl up on my side. The cat takes it as invitation to come closer. Still purring, he winds himself into a ball and snuggles into my abdomen. The purring and warmth of his body make my eyelids droop, and I doze off.
The aroma of fresh coffee and freshly-shaven man rouses me. I open my eyes and gaze into a soul as blue as the fiords in Norway.
Mick’s lips brush across mine. “Good morning, malysh.”
He slips a hand beneath the covers and manages to hit all the right places. “Wish I didn’t have to go to work.”
I catch my breath and gasp, “Me too.”
He gives me a look of regret and straightens. “Unfortunately, I have to be in Portland by noon and the roads are icy. If you have someplace to go, don’t drive. The tires on that thing you call an automobile are bald.”
“Hey, don’t dis Buttercup. She might get mad and refuse to run.”
“No driving. Not unless it melts. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
He tucks the covers around me and drops a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll set up your meeting with Myron and call you tonight.”
“I’m back to work today.”
He nods and heads for the door. With one hand on the doorknob, he turns. “Do you still love my soul?”
I smile. “Yes, among other things.”
After Mick leaves, the cat stalks to the door and thumps it with his front paws.
“Yeah, I get it. You want out.”
I open the door a crack. He slides through and bounds through the snow to the back of the restaurant where he uses his paw pounding technique to make his presence known. Nick emerges and sets a plate of food next to the door. Thunder Paws has us well trained.
Minutes later, a pick-up truck equipped with a blade appears in the parking lot and begins scraping snow, depositing it in a pile next to the curb. Fascinated, I watch through the window.
I hear a familiar squeak and glance to the right. Consuela (Connie, Queen of the Motel Maids) is guiding her cart down the newly cleared parking lot. My first instinct is to duck and hide. Then, I remember I am no longer required to clean rooms to pay for my lodging and remain at the window.
Connie spots me and stops her cart in front of my door. I panic for a moment. Has Nick decided I’m not paying enough rent since I’ve been on medical leave? Surely, he’d have let me know.
Connie pounds on the door, screeching, “I know you there. I saw you peeking out of window.”
Busted. I decide to face the music. Better now than later.
I open the door a crack. Connie peers in, her gaze gravitating toward the rumpled bed.
An avid gleam appears in her eyes. “Hah, what I thought. Melanie has a new, hot man. Connie is right. Si?”
“Um, well,” I begin, feeling resentful. It’s not like I sleep with a different guy every night.
“Billy the Keed is now available?”
I stifle a grin. “I believe Billy the Keed has a new girlfriend. Sorry.”
She emits a little snort of disgust. “I guess Connie is too late for Billy. What about big Mexican man?”
“Paco?”
“Si, Paco.” She flutters her lashes, heavy with mascara. “Tell Paco, Connie thinks about him when she is all alone at night.”
I decide to withhold the information about Paco and Aida’s upcoming nuptials. “Sure will, Connie. You have a good day.”
I close and lock the door, wondering if the course of true love ever runs smoothly.
Before I step into the shower, the man himself calls. Before I can convey Connie’s message, Paco says, “I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes. You, me, and Louise Goodhart are going to figure out how to nail Rebecca Porter and her girlfriend.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It’s two days later and time for the Big Sting. We have a plan. Yes, it’s convoluted and quite possibly dangerous. There are a lot of moving parts, and it might not work, but what the heck? So many unanswered questions. Other than the obvious—Cypress Inn—what is the connection between Rebecca Porter and Noelle Hoffman? What do they hope to accomplish by ruining Dr. Dirk? Why did Hoffman try to kill me?
Figuring out the best way to make it work took several hours. We kept running into a brick wall. We wanted to confront the women together, but Rebecca doesn’t know we know about Noelle Hoffman. Paco thought Louise should set up a time to meet Rebecca, after which he would kidnap Noelle and drag her sorry ass to Goodhart’s office. Louise was horrified. Me, not so much.
Louise managed to dig up information about the Hoffman’s finances, though she was reluctant to share her sources. Paco and I figured Louise had crossed the line into the shadowy world of bribery. All for the greater good, of course. She’d discovered Noelle, as the second wife of Dr. Dirk, signed a pre-nuptial agreement and would receive next to nothing if they divorced.
As Paco says, “It’s always about the money.”
After hashing it over, we decided the direct approach was the best course of action. When Louise set up the appointment with Rebecca, Paco and I listened in via speakerphone.
Louise skipped the pleasantries and went right for the jugular. I swear, a little smile of pleasure bloomed on her narrow face. “Hi Rebecca. We need to set up a time to meet. I think you’ll be interested in an item I have in my possession. Bring Noelle Hoffman with you.”
Rebecca gasped. After a long, stunned silence, she said, “That’s crazy. Why would I bring Dr. Dirk’s wife with me?”
“I think you know why. Does the name Cypress Inn mean anything to you?”
We heard the sound of ragged breathing and a choked sob. Then, Rebecca screamed into the phone. “What the hell is your deal?”
“Calm yourself, dear,” Goodhart soothed. “I’m sure we can work together so we all end up satisfied. Don’t you?”
Now it’s Wednesday, and Louise and I are ready when the women show up five minutes early for the two o’clock appointment. Clad in pressed jeans, a striped blue and white boat-neck tee topped with a navy blazer, Louise is positioned behind her desk. She looks ready to commandeer a Navy ship and sail across the Pacific. I’m seated to her right. In front of the desk, two empty chairs await our clients.
Louise gives me a timely reminder. “Remember, you’re still Marilyn, my colleague.”
Rebecca Porter doesn’t bother knocking. She pushes the door open and steps through. She’s wearing a flowery, loose-fitting top over tapered black jeans and stilettos. My gaze is drawn to her red, dagger-like fingernails. Ready for a catfight?
Close on her heels is Noelle Hoffman. Her hair is black. She’s clad, head to toe, in body-hugging spandex, a Nike jacket, and expensive running shoes. Her eyes burn with fury, and she looks ready to kick somebody into next week. Warning bells clang in my head. It’s the first time I’ve seen the woman who tried to kill me with a six thousand pound automobile. Had it not been for the spirit of my twin sister, she probably would have succeeded.
Louise rises and waves them into the chairs in front of her desk. Before she sits, Rebecca turns toward me and stabs the air between us with her sharpened pointer finger. “What’s she doing here?”
Louise reclaims her seat. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
The two women pointedly ignore me as they settle into their chairs. Because I can’t look into their evil souls, I’m left with only their body language to analyze. It’s obvious Rebecca is tense. She grips the chair arms so tightly her knuckles turn blue-white.
Noelle, on the other hand, looks a bit too chill. She’s sprawled in the chair, legs outstretched, hands folded in her lap, a smirk on her artificially tanned face.
She speaks first. “Let’s hear what you have to say, Goodhart. Just remember, you’re as vulnerable as we are. Whatever you think you can do to us will come back on you, twice as hard.”
Louise is the very image of the three C’s. Calm. Cool. Collected. Wish I could say the same. Being in the same room with my would-be murderer has done a number on my nerves. My heart feels like it’s trying to hammer its way out of my chest.
Louise leans across her desk and gives the women a frosty smile. “You’re not exactly in a position of strength here, Noelle. It would behoove you to keep this in mind instead of making threats.”
Hoffman lifts her shoulders in a shrug, as if she couldn’t care less. She waves a hand. “Get on with it then. Show us what you’ve got. Obviously, you want money, which means you’re crooked as a dog’s hind leg. Like I said before, you hurt us, we hurt you.”
Rebecca Porter turns her head and gazes into my eyes. The hatred in her soul burns with sooty smoke. “Are you listening, Marilyn, or whatever your name is? The hurt goes both ways.”
I’ve had enough of their threats and bullshit. I rise from the chair. “The hurt has already come my way.” I tip my head forward, parting the hair with my fingers. “Would you like to know how I got this scar, Rebecca? Ask your friend, Noelle. She chased me down a sidewalk and tried to kill me with her car. After she hit me, I flew through the air and hit a cement retaining wall. I barely escaped with my life, and spent time in the hospital.”
I’m so angry, I have to stop and gulp in air before I continue. “All I want to know is why? What did I ever do to either of you?”
Rebecca and Noelle exchange a glance, but remain silent.
I take a step toward the women and wrap my fingers around the open-heart pendant. Help me, Hope. Since my near-death experience when I clearly heard her voice, I’ve come to believe Steve is right. My unwillingness to think about Hope has kept her spirit at bay. And, maybe she needs to know the story as much as I do.
Finally, Hoffman does what I’d been waiting for. Her gaze meets mine. Her dark eyes still burn with fury. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve never laid eyes on you until today.”
She looks away quickly, but not before I see the telltale sign, a flash streaking across her soul, surefire proof she’s not telling the truth.
I glance over at Louise. “She’s lying. No doubt in my mind.”
Noelle sneers, “So, what are you? A human lie detector?”
I see no reason to hide my light under a bushel. “Actually, I am, and I know you’re lying your ass off.”
She springs from her chair. “We’re done here. Let’s go, Becky.”
Louise smacks her desk with an open hand. “Sit. We’re far from done. Walk away now, I’ll call the cops and tell them to pick you up for attempted murder. Don’t you get it, Noelle?” Louise points at me. “She saw you. If you stick around, and we finish our business, there’s a chance there will be no repercussions.”
Louise is totally bluffing. I was so busy running, I didn’t get a look at the driver. We have no proof other than my description of the Lincoln Navigator’s grill. Probably wouldn’t hold up in court.
Noelle looks pouty, but grits her teeth and sits. So do I.
Louise lets the tension build before reaching into a desk drawer. She pulls out a pinhole camera the size of a cigarette pack and a thumb drive. She sets them on top of her desk.
“What we have here, ladies, is proof of your relationship, which, by the way, is totally your own business.”
Rebecca says, “We know you want to shake us down. How much do you want?”
“Actually,” Louise says, “I don’t want money. I want the truth. The whole story. Then, I’ll give you the camera and the thumb drive, no strings attached. Hopefully, we’ll never cross paths again.” She pauses and nods in my direction. “Bear in mind, my colleague can tell if you’re lying.”
“Oh, right.” Noelle’s voice is dripping with sarcasm.
“Careful,” Louis warns. “I may withdraw my offer.”
“Give us a minute,” Noelle says.
The two women step to the back of the office and hold a whispered conference. Rebecca is agitated, hands on hips, chin jutting out. Noelle is nodding and staring at the floor.
Louise lowers her voice and tells me, “Sit where you can look into their eyes.”
I plant one bun on the front of her desk and, once again, clutch the pendant and invoke the spirit of my sister.
The women return to their chairs. Rebecca rakes me with a malignant glare. Noelle perches on the edge of her chair, right hand in her pocket. Neither of them speaks.
Louise says, “Here’s a wild guess. You two are planning to run away together and need money. Noelle, you signed a prenup; so if you leave the marriage, you’re pretty much broke, and that’s not how you like to live. How am I doing do far?”
Hoffman shrugs. Porter is motionless in her chair.
“So,” Louise continues. “You figured you’d get proof of Dr. Hoffman’s, um, sexual advances to patients, threaten him with the evidence, and force him to pay you off.”
Hoffman scowls. “It’s not like we made it up. He loves to get up close and personal with women patients. Oh, he pretends it’s an accident when he touches a boob or wheels his chair up between a woman’s legs. It’s not. It’s a power trip. He needs to be stopped.”
“But, you weren’t going to stop him,” I chime in. “You were going to shake him down for money.”
Rebecca reaches over and takes Hoffman’s hand. “He can afford it. Noelle’s put up with him long enough. Don’t we deserve happiness?”
Louise says, “Not if it includes blackmail and attempted murder. If you really want to put him out of business, make a complaint to the AMA or law enforcement.”
Noelle snaps, “You were going to blackmail us.”
“I needed to hear the truth,” Louise says. “And, I’m still waiting to hear why Noelle tried to kill Marilyn.”
Me too.
Noelle stares at the floor.
Rebecca lifts her gaze to mine. Her soul is a kaleidoscope of pulsating colors, a soul lost in confusion and turmoil. She mutters, “Too bad she didn’t succeed.”
The viciousness of her words steals my breath away.
Louise pushes the camera and thumb drive to the front edge of the desk. “If you want these items, Noelle, you’d better start talking.”
