Body Of Truth (18 page)
Authors: Deirdre Savoy
She swept the covers aside. “Come back to bed, Jon,” she said in a solicitous voice.
He did as she asked, pushing away from the window. He left his gun on the nightstand and his jeans on the floor. As he slid in beside her, she drew the covers over them. His arms closed around her waist, bringing her down to him. She loved feeling his hard body, all sinew and muscle next to hers, under her fingertips.
The first time they'd come together had been about heat and passion, this second time was about exploring and discovering. Their hands, their mouths, touched, sampled, tasted, as if they had all the time in the world and nothing else mattered. All the while, the rain beat a steady tattoo against the windowpanes.
When finally, as they lay side by side, he entered her, she gasped, reveling in the feel of him inside her, filling her, only to retreat and fill her again just as slowly. She wrapped her leg around his back, pulling him in deeper, but she didn't urge him to go faster. She was enjoying the sweet torture of being almost at the brink but not toppling over.
But obviously, he grew impatient. His fingers grasped her buttocks as he thrust into her deeper and with more urgency. Her neck arched and she called his name, unable to hold back any longer. A bolt of pure pleasure sizzled through her as white hot and electric as the storm outside. An instant later, his grip on her tightened and his body spasmed against hers.
Dana buried her face against his neck as their breathing normalized and their damp bodies cooled. His hand stroked over her back in a soothing motion. It took her a few minutes to realize when it stopped and his breathing had evened out. She pulled back to look at him. Sleep softened his features and lent him the look of a little boy.
She pressed her lips to his. “Sweet dreams, Jonathan,” she whispered. She laid her cheek against his chest and slept, too.
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The next time Dana woke it was to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom at the corner of her room. Jonathan. Her first impulse was to go join him under the warm spray of the shower and see what developed. She quashed that idea almost immediately. Jumping into his shower uninvited would smack of an intimacy that wasn't there yet. They hadn't settled anything between them yet, including whether or not last night was a one shot deal. He'd even offered her the use of another bed while she was in his apartment, though, judging by his lovemaking last night, she'd be a fool to spend any time in any bed but his.
She sighed, sitting up and drawing her knees up. What was he doing up so early, anyway? It was still dark out and the bedside clock showed four thirty-five. He probably wanted to get to his apartment before the neighborhood started waking up. Whatever the reason, he'd probably be hungry. She knew she was. She put on her robe and headed down to the kitchen.
She'd already finished the bacon and was pouring eggs into a skillet when she heard Jonathan's footfalls on the stairs. He appeared a second later dressed in the clothes he'd worn last night. But he hadn't bothered to tuck in his shirt. That and his morning stubble lent him a rumpled look she found appealing.
He came up behind her, slid an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. “Morning.”
She chuckled. He sounded as sleepy as she felt. “I made coffee. Help yourself, if you don't mind. I'll have the rest of breakfast finished in a minute.”
“Thanks.” He released her and went to the counter where the coffeemaker stood.
Dana gave the eggs a last turn then flicked off the burner. “I hope you don't mind scrambled. I didn't know what kind of eggs you liked.”
“Scrambled is fine. I didn't intend to wake you up this early.”
She shrugged as she portioned out food onto two plates. “I'm a light sleeper. It comes with the territory.” She laid both plates on the table and sat.
He sat at the appropriate place and set his coffee cup on the table. “Being a nurse?”
“Raising a kid alone. Not to mention caring for my mother a number of years before that. She died of MS when I was seventeen.”
“Is that what made you want to become a nurse?”
“I guess it was a matter of getting paid for what I already knew how to do. It's amazing how much you learn about medicine when you are someone's care giver.” She forked up some eggs and brought them to her mouth.
“You raised your brother alone since then?”
“Me and the parochial school system.”
“Where was your father in all this?”
“If you find out, let me know.” For a long minute neither of them said anything. Dana focused on her food, contemplating how similar their lives were in this regard. Both of them had lost their parents at an early age, hers to illness and abandonment, his to a car accident and a heart attack. At least he'd had the support of his brothers and sister. She'd been alone.
“How long will it take you to get ready?”
She'd been so lost in her own thoughts his question startled her. “About ten minutes. I never unpacked my bag from this trip I was supposed to take.”
“Why didn't you go?”
She formed her hand into the shape of a gun and fired off a couple of mock rounds.
He let out a heavy breath. “Then we'd better get going. I'd prefer to get to my place while it's still dark.”
Dana sighed. Just what she needed. Another reminder that this wasn't about two lovers sharing a post-coital breakfast. This was about keeping her out of harm's way long enough for him to find out who wanted to harm her.
She'd eaten as much of her meal as she planned to. She stood and went to the trash to scrape her plate. “I won't be long.” She retreated to her room to shower and pack what few toiletries she needed to add to her suitcase.
Once they were in his car headed south on the Major Deegan, she asked, “Where is home for you, anyway?” She knew from Joanna that he lived somewhere in the Bronx, but exactly where she had no idea.
“One sixty-second off the Concourse.”
The fact that he lived within the boundaries of the precinct he'd once served didn't surprise her. “Part of your plan to serve the community?”
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “There's some merit to living in the community you police. You get to know the people, build a rapport in a way you don't get commuting from Westchester or Long Island. I can't tell you the number of times that I've cleared a case because someone sought me out to tell me what they saw, what they heard, who they know did what. It's a well-known cop axiom that the best cop is the one with the best snitches. But no one's going to open up to you if they don't trust you.”
He stole a glance at her and grinned. “Besides, where else in the city are you going to get a spacious two bedroom apartment for under six hundred bucks?”
She couldn't argue with him there. Many of those old buildings on the Concourse featured apartments with as much square footage as her entire house. Jonathan's apartment was the same, with a large kitchen, dining room, huge sunken living room, two bedrooms and two baths.
She gave herself the two-cent tour while he changed for work. It was a typical man's apartment complete with black leather sofa and manly-man big screen TV. But he had actual books on his bookshelf, mostly crime and horror fiction, and the artwork on his walls was a cut above what you could expect from most men. And the place was actually clean without him having time to neaten up before she arrived.
After peering in the second bedroom she understood why he'd put two beds in there instead of one. She recognized some of the toys in the room as belonging to Joanna's two boys. He must have decorated with them in mind.
If she wanted to know what the master bedroom looked like, she'd have to wait. After a brief stint in the bathroom to shave, he'd gone to the bedroom to dress. She started to head back to the living room when his bedroom door opened. She turned around to see him walking toward her dressed in a navy blue suit.
Something in his face or in his demeanor told her he was back to being a cop. Still, he laced his fingers with hers and led her toward the front door.
He stopped halfway down the hallway and pulled her to him. “I don't suppose I have to remind you not to go out. The whole point of you being here is for no one to know where you are.”
“No. You don't have to remind me. I'll probably spend the entire day sleeping, anyway.”
“You have my numbers. If you need anything, call.”
“I will,” she said, but she knew she wouldn'tânot unless someone was breaking down the door. He had a job to do and didn't need her distracting him. “Be careful, Jon.”
For a moment, he looked at her with an expression she didn't understand. Then he leaned down and claimed her mouth for a brief kiss. “I'll try to be home early.”
Since she had no idea what time early might be for him, she just said, “Okay.”
He opened the door and went through it. She closed it behind him and locked it.
Now all she had to do was find something to occupy her. Despite what she told Jonathan, she was too worked up to sleep. It was too early to call Joanna to tell her she wouldn't be coming to the house today to help her settle in with the new baby.
With a sigh she slumped onto the sofa that faced the TV and flicked it on using the remote. She found the local Bronx station, intent on listening to the news. After weather and traffic reports aired, the lead stories repeated. Only one of them held her attention. Apparently Reverend Robert Jones was set to hold a rally on the steps of the Bronx courthouse at ten o'clock.
Dana ground her teeth together. Who knew what that man was up to. But considering she could see the courthouse from the living room window, she'd probably hear every word.
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When Jonathan arrived at the stationhouse that morning, Mari was, as usual, already at her desk. For a change she seemed anxious to see him. Despite that, the first words out of her mouth after he sat down were, “You sure look like hell.”
He pulled his chair closer under his desk. “Thanks for reminding me.” After he'd brought Dana to his place, he'd had to shower and shave quickly in order to get there with some sort of punctuality. Combined with the lack of sleep from the night before, he was sure he looked like the devil. “What have you been up to?”
She grinned. “Since someone ruined my evening last night, I headed over to Jackson's watering hole. Folks there confirmed that our guy hadn't started the fight.”
Funny, no one had volunteered any information on who instigated what the first time they'd gone to the place. Most of the folks still around at that time claimed not to have seen a thing. But then everyone knew they were cops. Dressed as she was last night, he doubted anyone would have recognized her as the same policewoman who'd been there a few mornings before. No doubt there were plenty of things a man would tell a pretty girl he wouldn't tell a cop.
“Where did you leave it?”
“The A.D.A. is writing it up as self-defense.”
While he was glad the case was cleared, he doubted that's what had Mari so eager to see him. “What else have you been up to?”
She sighed dramatically. “Nothing important. I just figured out why Moretti has such a hard-on for you.”
“Why is that?” Not that he really cared, but he was curious as to both what she found out and why she'd bothered.
“Way back when Moretti had some ambition, he wanted to be seated where you are now. But he got on someone's shit list in the department, whose and how I'm not exactly sure. The powers that be made it clear that where he was was all he'd ever be.”
“And he blames me for that?”
“Probably not, but you have to admit it probably sticks in his craw that you came on after he did and he's still where he is. He must have been on the job a good decade before you ever showed up on the scene and you get bumped up, not him. And coming from the same squad . . .”
He shrugged as Mari's words trailed off. Neither Moretti's stalled career or his loss of faith were Jonathan's problems. But if what Mari said was true, that probably explained Moretti's dislike of her, too. She'd moved to homicide three years ago after some city report was released claiming a lack of diversity among the NYPD's special units.
The NYPD's response had been to reassign Mari, a self-described demographer's wet dream, as she was part black, part Latina, female and shortâthe whole crap shoot in one little bundle. There were those who still believed she hadn't earned her shot just because of the way she got it. Mari, of course, couldn't care less.
Considering her indifference he wondered why she'd bothered to investigate. He said as much.
She crossed her arms. “Never let it be said that I don't have my partner's back. And speaking of which, what did you do with our witness?”
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