The Perfect Stroke (48 page)

“The next time you decide to text me at six in the morning and ask me to meet you in thirty minutes, the least you could do is be on time, Ana,” Paul says, his gravelly voice ringing out in the empty warehouse. We’re meeting in an abandoned warehouse about three blocks from the apartment I’m renting. I think it used to be an old dog food factory. Now it’s just empty cement that smells musty, dirty, and—just to add spice—seems to have a faint smell of urine. Whether it’s human or animal, I couldn’t begin to know, and don’t care to find out.

“It’s just ten minutes. Stop whining, Paul. You sound like an old mother hen,” I tell him, grabbing the coffee he’s handing me.
Coffee, sweet nectar of the gods.
It’s the only thing that keeps me going these days.

“Someone needs to worry about shit around here. You sure aren’t. What the hell do you think you’re doing, Ana?”

I freeze with my lips against the plastic lid on the container and close my eyes. Shit. Fuck. Damn.
He knows
. “I don’t know what you mean,” I bluff.  “I don’t have much time though, so give me what you guys got at the raid yesterday.”

“What are you doing, Ana?” he repeats, but his voice is softer this time, the type of voice I imagine a father using on his daughter. Well, a good one. I never had one of those, but I can imagine it. And Paul is everything I wish my father had been. At fifty-two, he’s stern but caring, and has been a great role model. He’s helped me turn my life around. So, it’s not easy seeing the disappointment in his eyes right now.

“Please, Paul, let it go. Brass told me they wanted me to get close to Roman.”

“They didn’t mean his bed.”

“That’s not the first time a UC went beyond for a case. Don’t try to convince me I’m wrong.”

“It’s not, but that doesn’t make it right, and those guys have been with the DEA for fucking years; they’re one step away from going vigilante. That’s not who you want to model your career after. Shit, girl. You’re a fucking beat cop. The higher-ups only put you in this position because it involved your brother.”

“And it’s working, right?”

“Ana.”

“Paul, I have to try and get my brother out of this mess alive. If I can do that, that’s all that matters.”

“And kiss your career goodbye?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“That’s crazy talk, kid. You don’t want to ruin your career over this. It doesn’t matter what you do, your brother’s still going to prison. You have to know that.”

“Maybe that’s the best thing for him. He can get clean behind bars,” I argue. He gives me
that
look. The one that says I’m being naïve. Maybe I am. I know drugs are thick in the prisons too, but he stands a chance of getting clean there. If he stays free, he’s going to die.

If he’s not already dead.

“Ana, you need to face facts.”

“Can you please just let this drop and tell me what they found in the raid?”

Paul sighs, but thankfully he lets it go. I know it’s just a temporary reprieve, but still I’m grateful.

“Nothing, kid. Much like we thought. We only did it to distract him and try to rescue you without closing down the investigation. That obviously didn’t work.”

I concentrate on my coffee and ignore the heat in my face.

“You’re having me tailed.”

“You had to know that. You might be deep undercover, but there’s no way they’re going to trust you not to fuck shit up—and not just because you’re Allen’s sister.”

“Because I’m a rookie.”

“Because you’re not even DEA. There’s too much invested to rest it on an unknown.”

“So there’s someone else undercover besides me?”

Paul’s silence speaks volumes.
Shit. Fuck. Damn
. I finish off the last of my coffee, going over the people I’m in contact with, trying to figure out who the fuck the other agent is. I sure as fuck don’t need someone getting me pulled from this case. Shit, I don’t want them to decide to close it down and bring Roman in either. Their first priority will
not
be my brother.

“We need you to take these and plant them in Roman’s bedroom. It’s the only room we’ve been unable to get a device in, undetected,” Paul says, handing me a small white envelope.

“Same drill as before?” I ask, stuffing the paper into the front pocket of my jeans.

“Yeah, try to keep them as close to the bed as you can, or the desk in his room.”

“Got it,” I tell him, trying to ignore the way I feel guilt at doing my job. I didn’t choose the life Roman has. I should have nothing to feel guilty about.
Nothing.

“Try to remember that they’re there, will you? The last fucking thing you need to do is have Brass hear you taking it up the ass by one of their most-wanted kingpins.” I grow pale at his words. He’s upset, I get that. I didn’t expect
that
from him, however.

“I’ll just be going, now,” I tell him, turning away to leave.

He grabs my arm to stop me. “Ana, listen…”

I turn slightly so I can see him. “I think you’ve said enough. I appreciate the advice and concern, but at twenty-six, I will make my own decisions and live with the consequences. I don’t need anyone talking down to me.”

“Ana, you don’t understand…”

“I’ll check in tomorrow, Paul,” I interrupt him and walk out with him saying my name to my back. I’m not mad, not really. He’s right. I did let it go too far. He’s also wrong because I didn’t do it for Allen. I’m not about to tell him that, however. It’s too late to go back and I don’t want to. It’s a moot point because as I jog around the corner heading towards my apartment, I see Roman standing on my doorstep, in his suit, coat, and gloves. He’s angry, I can tell that even from this distance. What I notice most, however, is the way my pussy clenches and the butterflies in my stomach when he turns his gaze on me.

It’s much too late to change anything.

I watch her jogging up to me like she doesn’t have a care in the world. As beautiful as she is right now in her jeans and pale blue tank with her hair pulled up on top of her head, I want to spank her ass. She stops two steps down from where I’m perched by the door to her brownstone apartment.

“Where have you been, pet?”

“Running,” she says, her voice breathless.

“Most people run in exercise clothes.”

“Seemed like an expense I didn’t need to worry about. I don’t get to run that often.” She shrugs.

It bothers me. Has she been going without to cover for her damned brother? She can’t run in jeans. It will chaff the inside of her thighs, and since I now have plans for those beauties, that is unacceptable.

“You ran from my bed this morning.”

“You were sleeping. It didn’t seem right to wake you. I needed to get back to my apartment and start my day.”

“You could have started it in my bed.”

“I’m not sure that would have been a good idea.”

“I’m positive it would have been,” I tell her, sliding my fingers along the base of her neck and cupping the side of her face. “Because then I could have started my day
in
you.” I watch as her eyes dilate as I bring her closer to my lips.

“I can see how that might have been … preferable,” she whispers. Our lips are almost touching and her tongue darts out to lick against my bottom lip. I capture it, bringing it into my mouth. Somehow, her taste is even better this morning. I could be in trouble with this girl because just this has calmed the anger I had building inside me upon finding her gone. I deepen the kiss, letting my tongue play and becoming familiar with her again.

“That’s better,” I tell her when our lips break apart.

“Good morning to you, too,” she tells me.

“You sneaking out on me is unacceptable, pet.”

“I needed to get back to my world and find my brother,” she says.

Her words put me on edge. “I told you I would help you do that.”

“I know, but we kind of got distracted, and I know you just agreed to help me to—” 

“To what?”

“Get in my pants.”

“And you figure now that I’ve achieved that, I won’t worry about your brother?”

“Something like that,” she admits. I let my thumb move back and forth over her cheek, studying her. With any other woman, she’d be right.

“You gave yourself to me, pet. I’ll take care of you, and that means helping you find your brother.”

Her eyes study me and I can see distrust in her eyes. She has good reason to feel like that. It doesn’t mean I like it, however.

“I’ll trust you.”
Why does it feel like she’s telling much more than what her words are saying? What is this woman doing to me?
“Where do we start?” she asks.

“Breakfast, pet. Then we’ll discuss business.”

For a second I think I see disappointment in her eyes, but she nods her agreement. I take a step away from her, which isn’t easy. I hold out my hand, and something shifts inside of me when she places her small hand in mine and squeezes it.

“Roman, people are staring,” Ana complains.

We’re sitting in the middle of a breakfast chain restaurant. A type of place I can’t say I’ve stepped foot in for years. I let Ana pick where we went and from the look in her eyes, I know she thought she would shake me with her choice. What she doesn’t realize is that things like this might be one of the reasons she appeals to me so deeply. According to the menu, our entire meal will probably be covered with twenty bucks. The women before her would have picked a place where twenty dollars wouldn’t have covered the tip.

“You’re imagining it, pet.”

“Not hardly, Anthes. Is there a reason you always insist I sit in your lap?”

“Anthes?”

She smirks, putting a forkful of pancakes in my mouth. The blueberry and sugary syrup combine in my mouth, and though it’s good, it’s not even a comparison to the taste of Ana. “If it bothers you, imagine I’m calling you Daddy. Or do you prefer Master?”

The little minx. She’s full of sass and I apparently love it because my dick is demanding its turn at training her. My lips find her ear and she giggles, pulling her head down to try and halfheartedly get away. My fingers dig into her thigh at the same time that my teeth bite into her earlobe. She gasps from the small dose of pain, and I feel a gentle shudder travel through her body.