Now and Always (17 page)

When she finally cleared her way from the jam caused by the fender bender, she glanced in the rear view mirror. Stone had managed to hang back and was now about three or four cars behind hers. As for Trevor Gordon, his black Miata was nowhere in sight.

Had she only imagined that he was following her? Could he just have been heading to South Beach for a night out or a visit to the gym?

Connie was beginning to wonder whether her profile had been dead wrong. Maybe Stone and she had been in error to concentrate all their efforts on Trevor Gordon and push for the confrontation. It was all too possible that Gordon was just a too-slick, too-sure of himself asshole and not their serial killer. Which meant the real killer was still out on the loose.

That thought worried her immensely. The serial killer was due to strike again soon. If she had been mistaken about her profile, she would be dead wrong and some other woman would pay the price.

She banged her steering wheel in frustration and looked behind her again as traffic stopped at the next light. Stone was no longer visible in her rear view mirror. As the light changed, she moved forward and crossed the last small bridge into the South Beach area.

Traffic cleared up a little as she drove onto Fifth Street and she scanned the streets for Stone again, but couldn’t make it too obvious that she was looking for him or for Gordon. She drove on, hopeful that she would be able to at least spot Stone once she was on Collins where the lighter traffic would make it easier to spot them. Turning onto Collins, she slowed in the hopes of reconnecting with Stone, but the driver behind her honked and edged up her tail. Unfortunately, all the parking spaces were filled along the street, so she couldn’t pull over to wait out the traffic.

Using the mike on her earpiece, she reached out to Jeff and Sanchez who should have been trailing way behind them in the surveillance van. “Any sign of either Stone or Gordon?” she asked.

“Negative. Thanks to the traffic, we lost sight of all of you on the causeway. We tried calling Stone, but he’s not answering,” Jeff replied.

She didn’t like that the simple tail was falling apart as it was, but couldn’t hesitate and break her routine. That might scare off the serial killer if he had in fact been following her. She continued onward and when she arrived at her condo’s parking lot, her space had been taken by someone. All the other spaces in the lot were filled.

She sat in the lot for a moment, hoping that someone might leave, but had no luck. Another unexpected event that was bound to cause problems tonight.

Connie snatched up her cell phone and tried to call Stone. The call went straight to voice mail. Either the phone was off, or he was in a dead zone, or he had hit the ignore button.

She didn’t want to imagine it was the latter. Stone had actually been helpful during the investigation despite their earlier differences at the academy.

She dialed Jeff. “I can’t reach Stone and the parking lot here is full. I’m headed to the Municipal Lot on Thirteenth.”

“Dave and I will be in that area shortly,” Jeff advised.

As she pulled out of her parking lot and back onto Collins, her phone rang. Static filled the line and the signal kept breaking up.

“Stone?” she asked, seeing from the caller ID that it was him.

“He’s … in … different ….” was all she could decipher as the call cut in and out.

“If you can hear me Stone, I’m heading to the Thirteenth Street lot,” she said slowly, hoping he would be able to make it out.

Connie turned onto Thirteenth and stopped at the entryway of the lot to pick up a ticket. As she fiddled with getting a ticket, she kept an eye out for Stone or her team’s van, suddenly uneasy. She wanted to wait for them to catch up, but someone pulled up behind her and tooted for her to move on, annoyed by her delay.

Patience was obviously not a virtue with South Beach drivers.

Once inside the parking structure, it took her eyes a second to adjust to the dimmer light of the interior. She wheeled up the first ramp and found no available spaces. The same thing happened on the second floor and she continued up the ramp.

Friday nights in South Beach were always tough.

By the fourth floor there were a few spots and she pulled into one and put the top up, all the time vigilant for signs of Stone, her team, or Gordon’s black Miata. She still hadn’t given up all hope that her profile was right.

When the top had dropped down, she latched it into place, and stepped out of the car.

Later she would ask herself how it happened. One second she had been alarming her car, the next second a cord was around her neck.

She managed to get one hand between the cord and her throat, pulling at it as she fought to free herself as someone almost lifted her off her feet with a sharp jerk of the cord.

The cord bit into her wrist as she fought for breath, but she somehow managed to look back at her attacker.

Trevor Gordon.

With his superior strength and the element of surprise, it was close to a losing battle. She heard herself choking, gasping for air, and tried to disconnect herself from the sounds as she wondered where her backup could be. As circles of light began to dance around in front of her eyes, she realized she couldn’t wait for assistance from the cavalry.

Connie dug her pointy heel into his instep and ground down.

Trevor cursed and loosened his grip enough that she was able to move the cord away form her throat with her one arm and elbow him in the stomach with the other.

She connected soundly and he grunted in pain and finally released her. Through the red haze in her brain, she stumbled away, turning to face him as she tried to draw a breath.

Her hesitation cost her dearly.

He backhanded her across the face and sent her flying against her car. The impact was hard enough to trigger her alarm and also knocked what little wind she had left out of her. She slipped to the ground, struggling for consciousness.

As she searched the ground for her purse and the gun tucked inside, the sirens on the car screeched and the head and tail lights flashed, but that wasn’t enough to deter Gordon. He came at her again, trying to grab hold of her, but she kicked at him, landing a solid blow to the side of his face which stunned him for a moment.

With that precious delay, she crawled away from between the cars, trying to reach the ramp in order to have space to maneuver and stay out of his grasp.

She had barely cleared the bumper of the car when Gordon grabbed her ankle and dragged her back between the cars and out of view. But as he hauled her back, she saw her purse lying by the rear wheel of her car.

She grabbed for her purse and tried to pull out the gun, but he pounced on her and had his latex-gloved hands around her throat before she extricated her weapon. So she used what weapons she had, clawing at his face, feeling momentary satisfaction as angry red streaks erupted across his cheek as her nails broke through skin.

He howled and backhanded her again, smashing her head against the cement floor. She kept clawing at him with one hand while trying to break his hold on her throat by digging her nails into his wrist.

As he shifted his legs to straddle her, she saw an opportunity and grabbed it.

She put all her failing energy into driving her knee upward and connected against his thigh. A second thrust upward managed to just graze his balls, but enough that the air left his lungs. With a mangled groan, he loosened his hold on her.

She repeated the action, landing an even more accurate knee to the groin, and he fell away from her and onto his back.

Crawling away from him, she made it to the ramp just as the screech of wheels sounded barely feet away.

Heavy footsteps came her way and were followed by the words she had hoped to hear a lot sooner.

“FBI. Put your hands up over your head,” Stone said as he moved in Gordon’s direction.

Gordon was still on the ground just feet away from her, in obvious pain. He grimaced and managed to raise his hands above his head as he said, “Bitch. I should have killed you way before now.”

She tried to sit up, but everything around her tilted crazily. She rolled onto her side until she could get a better view of what was happening.

Stone forced Gordon onto his stomach and cuffed his hands behind his back just as Jeff and Dave came running up the ramp. Dave exchanged places with Stone while Jeff called in the arrest to the local police department who would have to take care of processing Gordon.

Stone approached her, slipped his arm around her shoulders, and helped her sit. She grabbed hold of his suit, holding on as tight as she could to keep the world from whirling around and around in her vision.

“Stone,” she croaked, her throat sore from Gordon’s abuse.

“Take it easy, Connie. You’re going to be just fine, darlin’.”

“I need to stand up,” she said, not wanting to look defeated when the local law enforcement officers arrived.

He nodded, clearly understanding. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he embraced her tightly, and helped her to stand. Together they made their way over to the back of her car, where she leaned heavily against the trunk.

Her head was pounding in time to the blaring of the car alarm and she grimaced as the pain increased with every passing second.

Thankfully, Stone disarmed the alarm for some quiet.

Jeff finished his call to local law enforcement and hurried over. When he stood before her, he moved aside the collar of her shirt to check out her neck, and then tilted her head upright to examine the side of her face. “Christ. Are you okay?”

She nodded, but everything was still a little hazy and painful. Her head on her shoulders was as wobbly as that on a rag doll. It made her nauseous and she would have vomited if Stone hadn’t eased her head between her knees.

“Breathe, Connie. Deep. Steady,” he urged as he rubbed her back and maintained a hold on her arm to keep her steady.

She did as he instructed and sucked in a breath, then released it slowly. Shallow and unsteady at first, but growing deeper as the minutes passed. As she regained some control, her breathing became more and more regular. When her breathing was a metered inhale/exhale, she straightened.

The room tilted for a sickening second and she steadied herself by grabbing the arm of Stone’s jacket. After a second or two, everything cleared. The nausea of a moment earlier disappeared as her fear subsided.

“What happened, Stone?” Jeff asked angrily.

“Gordon peeled away when we came across the causeway. I followed him to another parking lot where he switched cars. I tried to reach Connie —”

Jeff shot Stone a hard glance to silence him. “Is that true?” he asked her.

Connie nodded and tried to defuse Jeff’s anger. “Stone tried to call. The signal kept breaking up. He did what he had to, Jeff,” she said, defending Stone which surprised both Jeff and herself. But if truth be told, Stone had proved to be an ally and a good sounding board during the investigation.

“Are you
really
okay?” Jeff questioned softly, as if wondering if the knocks she had taken were clouding her judgment.

“I’m fine. Honestly,” she responded and glanced at the suspect as Dave led him toward a Miami Beach Police Department squad car as it pulled up close to them.

She looked at both men then and managed a grin. “We did it.”

“Shit, Speedy, we sure did,” Stone said and gave her a hug.

Chapter 18

She held the bag of ice to the side of her face and paced expectantly across the floor of her apartment in the cropped T-shirt and low-rise yoga pants she had changed into to be more comfortable.

Victor would be there any minute now. She didn’t want to wait a moment longer to see him. For a moment she wondered if she should change into something different, something sexier, but then again, this was who she was. This is who she hoped he loved.

The doorbell rang and she nearly raced over to answer, but stopped to take a deep breath to contain herself before opening the door.

Victor stood there, looking tired, but relieved. “I came as soon as I could.”

He stepped inside and took her into his arms.

She went willingly, his body welcoming hers in so many ways. “I’m sorry to take you away from the hospital.”

“I had just finished up. Besides, you needed me.” He swept her up in his arms in a move worthy of Rhett Butler, walked over to the sofa, and settled her into his lap as he sat. Once she was comfortable, he pulled the ice bag away from the side of her face.

“Did they take you to the hospital?” he asked as he examined her injuries, his look grim.

“No need. I’m all right.” Her face was a little sore, she had a slight headache, and her throat was a little abraded from the cord, but that was it.

Victor was clearly not convinced. Turning her face, he noted the redness along her cheekbone that extended upward toward her temple. “Are you dizzy? Headache?”

Connie shook her head. She hadn’t been dizzy since the parking garage. “Just a little headache, but trust me, I’m fine,” she asserted again.

Victor dragged a hand through his hair and sighed harshly. “You should have gone to the hospital.”

“I didn’t ask you here to be my doctor.” She started to move off his lap, but Victor laid a hand on her shoulder, applying enough pressure to stop her and awakening an assortment of aches from being tossed around.

“The doctor part of me is hard to shut off when you’re clearly in pain. Especially when you’re trying to be just as stupid and macho as any man.”

Connie’s smile faded. “It’s not like that and you know it. If I really wasn’t feeling well, I would have gone. I’m just a little sore in spots.”

Victor realized he could keep pressing, but that would accomplish nothing but an argument. He didn’t want that, not after waiting so long to see her. He was here and if she did have any lingering effects, the doctor part of him could take care of her. Right now, the lover part of him had other things with which to deal.

He cupped her cheek and rubbed her lips with his thumb. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to waste any more time arguing. Not when we could be wasting our time like this,” he said and bent his head, took her lips in a soft tender kiss.

“Every day I imagined that you couldn’t taste as sweet as you do,” he said and swiped his tongue across her lips. “But you do.”

Hesitantly, he ran his hand across her cheekbone and cradled the side of her face. “I told myself your skin couldn’t be so soft.” He dropped his head to the juncture of her neck. “Or smell so good.”

“Victor,” Connie sighed and held his head to her. “I’ve dreamed about you holding me for weeks. I wondered myself if it was as good as I imagined.” She ran her fingers through his hair and met his gaze. “Can you hold me? Just hold me for now and let me know this is real? That we’re finally together after so long.”

There was something threaded beneath her words that made Victor believe she was still suffering the after-effects of her earlier shock. That she was still caught in the grip of the fear she had experienced. He held her tight and settled her against his chest. “I can hold you all night if that’s what you want. All day and all night,” he replied softly, stroking her arm.

Connie buried her head against his chest, raised the ice bag she had been holding all that time, and held it against her face. Her cheek was beginning to ache again, but being with him was comforting. The thrum of his heart beneath her ear was steady and sure, like the man who cradled her in his arms. His touch on her was gentling, soothing, and she closed her eyes, escaping into the peace of his embrace.

#

Sometime during the night, Victor moved them from the sofa to her bed, and stripped down to his underwear. Connie woke nestled against his front, her thigh tucked between his legs. His arms were wrapped around her waist, keeping her close. She smiled, content with just his nearness. They hadn’t made love last night, much as they may have wanted to satisfy the hunger which had been building for weeks. It was as if both had sensed they needed this more, the easy time together. The time of quiet talking and touching that healed whatever wasn’t quite right inside.

This was part of the magic they had discovered together. Part of what made being together so perfect.

He stirred against her and murmured a sleepy, “Good morning.”

She rubbed her hand across his chest and placed a kiss in the gap between his pectorals, right above his heart. “Good morning, love.”

Victor sighed, dropped a kiss on her forehead, and brought her tight against him. “I’ve held my pillow every night, trying to convince myself it was you, but somehow the reality is so much better.”

Connie smiled against his chest, shifting until she was even closer. She moved her hand downward, and was about to caress him when their peace was shattered by the insistent shrill of a cell phone.

Victor groaned, reached over, and grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand. He looked at the caller ID and muttered, “Damn.”

“Is it bad?” Connie asked.

“It’s the emergency room at the hospital.” He answered, spoke to someone there, and then hung up. He turned to her. “I have to go. They have a cop who’s been shot and the bullet has done some damage to his spine. They need me to assist.” He rubbed a hand across his face and cursed again. “I’m sorry, Con. I know how long we’ve waited for this.”

She placed her hand on his lips to quiet him. “You have to go. I understand.”

Victor shook his head. “But we were finally hoping for some time together.”

“How could I not understand what you have to do, Victor? You’ve waited for me for three weeks. I can wait a little longer because you’re worth it.” She rose up on her knees and kissed him tenderly.

“Can I come back later?” he asked, even as he turned away from her and began to dress.

She leaned against his back, wrapped her arms around, and gave him a hug. “I’ll be counting on it. Call to let me know when you’re on the way.”

Victor smiled and gave her a kiss that conveyed just how much he didn’t want to leave her. “Don’t bother getting up. You need to rest.”

Connie lay back down and listened to the front door open and close as he left. She hugged his pillow which still bore his scent.

Victor was right. It didn’t quite compare to reality.

#

Jeff called later that morning to advise that Gordon had lawyered up as soon as the police got him into custody. He was arranging to help out local law enforcement during the interrogation as soon as they could set it up. Luckily, that would not happen right away and since she had been injured during Gordon’s capture, Jeff had suggested she work from home.

In light of that, she spent the morning at work on her laptop, adding her notes to the report on the investigation. She hoped that a search of Gordon’s apartment would yield additional information which would confirm he had been responsible for the other killings. As it was, the manner he had attacked her was consistent with the way the other women had been assaulted, so she felt comfortable that they had the right man in custody.

She heard from Victor only briefly as he called to let her know he was still at the hospital, but hoped to be able to make it for dinner. She gave him the option of canceling, but he insisted and she was glad. She wanted to see him, no matter how late it got. They set a time for dinner and as he hung up, she hoped he would not be further delayed.

By lunch hour she had completed her report on the Trevor Gordon case and she started some chores which had lingered for the past week. A quick cleaning of her apartment followed by food shopping for what she would need for supper and the week to come. Not knowing how tired Victor would be, she decided to not press her luck and picked up a movie at Redbox.

Although she sincerely hoped they would find something better to do than watch a movie.

She returned to her apartment close to two hours later, put away the groceries, and changed into exercise clothes. She worked through her martial arts routine, then picked up some light free weights, working on her upper body. Next came crunches for her abdomen and when she was done, she left her apartment for a long jog.

Slipping on the headphones for her Ipod, she pulled up a playlist with some alternative rock. She ran down to Ocean Drive and then onto the beach, where she jogged for about three miles, turned around, and retraced her path back to her apartment. When she entered, winded and sweaty, the missed phone call icon on her cell phone caught her eye. She dreaded checking, hoping it wasn’t Victor calling to say he couldn’t make it. She was glad when he said he would be there by six.

Connie smiled and glanced at her watch. That left her plenty of time to shower and cook dinner.

She undressed, tossed her sweat-soaked clothes into the hamper, and ran the shower until the water steamed. Gratefully it fogged the mirrors in the bathroom so she didn’t have to look at the assorted bruises on her body from the night before. She lingered in the shower, letting the water ease away some of the aches from Gordon’s attack. She ran soapy hands over muscles that were pleasantly fatigued from her workout. Connie liked the lean feel of them beneath her hands and the latent strength of them. She hoped Victor did as well.

Driving that thought from her mind, she finished her shower, slipped on some yoga pants and a cropped t-shirt while she whipped up some chicken and rice. The dish would keep if Victor was running late. As the rice simmered on the stove, she peeled green plantains, did the first frying of the chunks which would later be flattened, fried again and end up as
tostones
. When she was done, she made a
mojo criollo
, smashing garlic in a mortar and pestle, adding olive oil, finely sliced onions and the juice of a sour Seville orange to balance the oil. She loved spreading the
mojo
on the
tostones
.

She washed her hands, scrubbing hard to remove any lingering traces of the garlic and onions. When she was satisfied she was odor-free, she went out to the living room, slipped her Ipod into her stereo and got it going with a playlist of classic pop. As she went around the room, she straightened the cushions on the sofa, and placed some flowers she had bought on an end table.

When she was done, Connie faced the hardest task of all — deciding what to wear. It was a new dilemma for her. She normally would have just tossed on jeans and a T-shirt and justified it by saying she didn’t need to please anyone but herself. Comfort was all that mattered. She wished she could convince herself of that now as she had done the night before, but she had to admit that there was a suddenly reawakened feminine side of her that wanted the appreciative looks Victor had given her in the past. The feminist side reared up though and as she scrounged through her closets, she managed a compromise. She tugged on a comfortable, but flattering, pair of black jeans, torn at one knee, and a loose, black linen shirt. Around her waist she pulled on a silver and turquoise belt and matched the outfit with butter-soft black boots.

As another compromise, she lightly brushed on some blush and pale lip gloss. Satisfied with her appearance, she returned to the kitchen where she laid out cheese and crackers as an appetizer. She was about to take the plate to the living room when the doorbell rang.

She placed the dish on the coffee table, walked to the door, and peered through the peep hole, smiling as she saw Victor’s distorted image. She opened the door and he gave her a tired grin. He looked like he hadn’t been able to get much rest. “Did you come straight from the hospital?”

Victor nodded, stepped close, and wrapped her in his arms. “We had a second problem while I was there. An SUV barreled into a bus. Five, or maybe six, people were mangled pretty badly. A few of us worked on them in shifts.”

Connie guided him to the sofa, where he plopped down, and leaned his head on the back of the couch. She sat next to him and applied a little pressure to move him forward. Slipping behind him, she kneeled on the sofa and massaged the tightness in his shoulders and the back of his neck. “Did you get a chance to rest?”

He groaned and rotated his neck to give her better access. “About half an hour this afternoon. That feel’s great.”

She continued with the massage, pleased when his muscles loosened beneath her hands. “Let me get you something to drink.”

He nodded. “Sounds good, but first ….”

Victor reached for her as she slipped around, grabbed her waist, and dragged her against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and the momentum tumbled him into the sofa cushions, Connie pressed against his chest. He kissed her, tasting her lips, and she answered him without hesitation, digging her fingers through his hair. “I kept on wishing I was here with you. I think just my wishing made those people stabilize so I could leave.”

She laughed huskily against his lips and said, “I’m glad you’re here. It would have been tough if you couldn’t make it.”

“Really?”

Connie felt his smile against her lips. His cockiness in the swell of his chest against hers. She pushed him down and stood up. “Of course it would be tough. I’d have enough leftovers for a week.”

He groaned and clapped his hands over his face. “You are hard-hearted.”

Connie chuckled and went to the kitchen for the drink she had promised him.

When she returned, they snacked on the cheese and crackers, and afterward, he helped her set the dining room table and prepare a quick salad while she finished the
tostones
. When they sat for the meal, Connie noticed with a hint of pride that Victor polished off his first serving in record time. She served him another helping which he ate more slowly.