Truth & Lies: A Queen City Justice Novel (12 page)

Mornings were a bitch. His leg hurt worse then than at any other time, except maybe the late evening when he’d been overtaxing it all day.

He hadn’t slept well the night before. Not like that was anything new. Though his nightmares had been interspersed with a few intensely erotic dreams about his new houseguest, so that was different.

He ground the coffee beans, used the sprayer from the sink to load the coffeemaker’s tank with water, and pushed the Start button. Hopefully after little caffeine, a horse tablet’s worth of ibuprofen, and some breakfast, he could face the day.

As the coffeemaker gurgled its finish, Dana wandered down in a pair of yoga pants and an oversized shirt. Her long chestnut hair was caught in a loose ponytail that had shifted off-center on the back of her head. She looked sleepy and adorable, and he had the intense desire to drag her into his arms and let her finish waking up there.

That kiss a couple of nights ago had put thoughts in his head that he was having a hard time getting rid of.

“Coffee?” he asked.

“Da,”
she said, nodding and yawning around the word.

“Not a morning person, are you?”

She gave him a look that he took to mean,
Ya think?

She shuffled over to him and took the mug he held out to her.
“Hvala.”
He could see pillow creases on her cheek and nearly reached out a finger to trace them before tucking his wayward fingers into the pocket of his cargo pants.

“Speaking of which, where’s the furball?”

She pointed with her thumb over her shoulder, and he saw a slowly swishing pom-pom just visible from behind the island.

She spooned some sugar into her coffee and stirred. Closing her eyes as she took the first sip, she murmured her approval. “This good,” she said.

Sitting down at the island, she waited until he took a seat as well before poking through the newspaper he’d brought in. A political cartoon caught her eye and caused her to grin as if she didn’t mean to, probably because it was in fairly poor taste.

“Can you read that?” he asked, curious about how good her English skills were.

Her eyes met his for a second, then shifted away. “Some,” she said. “Good practice.” Something about her expression gave him pause.

What did it mean?

God. He hated to doubt her. But something…something was up with that.

“What we do today?” she asked, sidetracking him for a moment.

“I have to go to the VA,” he said. “Physical therapy.”

“You don’t want to?”

How could he communicate his level of dread? “Not really.”

“It helps you get better, no?”

“Not lately.”

“Ahh,” she said. “You’re…” She took a moment to find the right word. “…frustrated?”

“Very.”

“What makes it better?” she asked.

He asked for clarification. “What would make physical therapy better?”

She nodded.

“If there was some reward, I guess. It doesn’t feel like it’s doing any good.”

“What kind of reward?” she asked with a grin and a sparkle in her eye.

He raised an eyebrow, knowing he shouldn’t be as intrigued as he was. “What did you have in mind?” he asked cautiously. She almost certainly wasn’t saying what his sex-starved brain wanted to believe she was saying.

“What if…” She paused as if she were uncertain. “What if I come with you?”

“Why?” His brain fast-forwarded to how she might be able to help him with some of the exercises he couldn’t do on his own from home. If the therapist taught her what she needed to know, he wouldn’t have to go to the VA as often. That place was depressing.

“You do good, I give kiss,” she said as an intense blush stole over her face.

Very interesting
. Both her suggestion and the blush. It was a little bolder than he thought she’d be, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. Nor should he really be that surprised after the kiss that had nearly napalmed them both in the laundry room. But that boldness was clearly a bit embarrassing to her.

Feeling the room heat up rather instantly, he leaned against the island with a degree of feigned casualness he was surprised he could pull off. “I think I need to have a sample of my reward. You know, to see if it’s worth my while.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, it is.” There was a definite challenge there.

He hadn’t had this much fun flirting since…

Hell
. Maybe he’d never had this much fun.

“Prove it.” He threw down the gauntlet and prayed she’d pick it up.

Dana didn’t disappoint. Sliding to her feet, she eased around the island until she stood right in front of his barstool. Deck didn’t move. Wasn’t sure he could, to be honest.

She met his eyes, placed her hands on his shoulders, and leaned forward until her lips passed over his in the slightest of brushes before she pulled back.

How could something so insignificant fill him with so much longing? He shook his head. “Nah. I don’t think that’s the kind of reward I’m looking for.”

Dana bit the corner of her mouth, he suspected to suppress a smile. “I try harder?” she asked, the sparkle that had been in her eyes earlier cranked up to the level of a full-blown fireworks show.

He shrugged as if nonchalant. However, his heart was beating about two hundred times per minute. “If you think you can.”

She leaned forward more slowly this time, drawing out the anticipation. She missed his mouth but scraped a kiss along the length of his jaw instead, leaning close enough that her breasts, unbound under her oversized shirt, brushed against his chest. The tip of her tongue touched his earlobe, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. “I can.” Her soft, whispered breath caught on every nerve ending in his body, just before she gently sucked his earlobe between her lips and nipped him with her teeth. It didn’t hurt, but it sent a lightning response crackling along his entire nervous system.

He exhaled on a moan. She leaned back enough that she could see his face before presenting
la piece de resistance
. It didn’t take more than the tip of her tongue running along the seam of his lips before he reached out and pulled her to him, crushing his mouth against hers. He lost his ability to be patient, to wait for her.

She smiled against his mouth, and he had a feeling she’d gotten exactly what she’d wanted. Her tongue met his without hesitation as her arms slid around his body. When she whimpered in the back of her throat, he found an answering groan in his.

After a long moment that could have been ten seconds or ten years, she pulled back out of his reach and leaned against the counter. She lifted her hand and pondered her nails for a moment, polished them against her shirt, and pondered them again with more detachment than he was capable of. “That good reward?” she asked with an angelic sort of innocence that was definitely at odds with her devilish intentions.

He shook his head and chuckled. “Uh,
yeah.
You can come with me to the VA.”



An hour later, Dana still couldn’t believe how bold she’d been with Deck in the kitchen, especially since as soon as Sherwood gave her the go-ahead, she was supposed to start winding this relationship down. She could feel a blush crawl up her neck at just the thought of the way she’d bitten his ear. That sort of behavior was so not her.

Not that it hadn’t been fun.

And she’d gotten the impression he’d thought so too.

She knew the feelings she was having for Deck were messing with her “as usual.” And she was self-aware enough to understand the whys of it as well. She wanted him to think well of her when this was all over. He’d hate her because she’d lied, but hopefully he’d be able to remember—eventually, at least—that she wasn’t a complete ogre.

So much so that she’d taken her coffee upstairs and immediately called Sherwood and asked to brief Deck on the situation. When he denied her request, she tried to reason with him.

“Deck Murphy is a decorated cop. There’s no reason not to include him.”

“Look. Someone from CPD named Murphy called DCT, and right after Michael Milton went on the lamb. We don’t know that it wasn’t Murphy. We’re pretty sure that the Murphy in question doesn’t have anything to do with the murders, but he could be an inside man for DCT.”

“Trust me. He’s not.”

“You don’t know that.” Sherwood sighed. “I know you’re anxious to get back to this case, but just be patient a little longer. Actually, what I want you to do is call DCT. Indicate there might be a problem. Find out what they want you to do and then call me back. But remember to do it from the landline.”

“And then what? I can sit here doing nothing for another couple of weeks until the next girl is found dead?”

“I know you’re frustrated, Yenichek, but you have to be patient.” There was a serious dose of
And stop arguing with my orders
in his voice.

She gritted her teeth. “Fine. I’ll let you know what DCT says.”

She waited until Deck was in the shower and called DCT. The receptionist, Sally, answered. Dana tried to explain. “Not sure this is good match.”

“Well, honey, sometimes, it’s hard to get to know someone. Maybe you should try a little harder.”

Sally spoke to someone—she thought it was a male voice, but she couldn’t tell if it was Guido’s—in the background and Dana tried to listen in, but she couldn’t understand what was being said. “If it’s really that bad, we
may
have another groom for you. But you’ll have to wait for at least another week before we can come get you. We’ll have housing for you then. Can you give it another week?”

She agreed and immediately called Sherwood back.

“That’s interesting timing. Just in time for the second Saturday.”

“That’s what I was thinking. So what should I do for the next week?” She prayed that Sherwood would change his mind and they could bring Deck in. Not just because lying to him was eating at her, and trying to stay in character was getting exponentially more difficult every time he kissed her, but because he could be a big asset to this investigation if he knew what was going on. Sherwood was unmoved, and Dana refused to tell him the real reason she wanted permission. Her private life was none of Sherwood’s business.

She hated being in wait mode, unable to do anything to make a difference except wait to become bait.

“You wait. You trust that your team is doing all the things that you would, because they
can,
and you learn everything you can, and you exercise patience, because you are the only one who we can send back to DCT as a mail-order bride.”

Dana sighed, agreed reluctantly, and signed off while trying to appreciate Sherwood’s methodology. The latter proved impossible.

And so instead of doing anything useful, a few minutes later she left for the VA with her “fiancé.”

As they settled into the car, she looked over at Deck behind the wheel. A muscle jumped in his jaw, and she suspected he dreaded this more than he let on. When he’d gone the week before, he’d come back completely demoralized and grumpy.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t today.

“Okay?” she asked.

He didn’t answer, his gaze fixed on the road.

She cleared her throat and touched the arm of his long-sleeved T-shirt.

“Hmm?” he asked, starting out of his reverie.

“You okay? You very quiet.”

“Yeah. Dana, I should probably prepare you. We’re going to the VA. That’s the veteran’s hospital. There are a lot of soldiers there who were hurt pretty bad. Worse than me. The place is…kinda grim. You should be aware that it’s going to be…difficult.”

From the outside, it looked like any ordinary hospital: multistoried red brick. As soon as they entered the automatic sliding glass doors, however, things took a radical turn from the ordinary. Several men in wheelchairs lined the hallway. One had only one arm, two leg stumps, and his face had been badly burned. She gave a faltering smile at him when he met her gaze and tried not to stare. Deck nodded as they passed.

They walked down a series of hallways until they entered a large open room filled with gym equipment and people doing physical therapy.

“Murphy, my man. How the hell’s it hangin’?” Dana caught Deck’s wince out of the corner of his eye as a whirlwind of energy in bright blue hospital scrubs came to hover in front of them. He came to a dead standstill as he realized that Dana was with Deck. “And who is this?”

“Ryan, this is my…” He looked over at Dana.

How would he finish that sentence?

“…uh, Dana.”

Ryan whistled between his teeth and gave Dana a long gander. “Your Dana, eh?” he said, barely glancing at Deck. “Darlin’, you sure you don’t want to dump this grump for a smiley guy like me?” he asked, the picture of harmless flirting.

She smiled up at Deck. “I think I keep the grump.”

Deck’s smile didn’t really touch his mouth, but it reached his eyes.

“Let me go get changed,” he said, indicating the locker room at the side of the room.

Dana sat down cross-legged on the floor where she could observe, and Deck came out in a pair of nylon shorts a few minutes later. Without looking at her, he lay down on a padded table on his back.

When Ryan moved, Dana caught the first glimpse she’d had of his leg. Three large and deep puckered scars pitted the skin along the outside of his calf. A network of smaller, shallower scars made the whole of his leg look like someone had sprayed him with glass.

“Not pretty, is it?”

She tried to shrug casually. God, she wished she could use her words. “Feel bad about hurt, not look,” she said finally.

His expression didn’t change. He didn’t say anything, he just blinked a couple of times in her direction until Ryan looked over his shoulder at Dana.

“If you’re going to be around this guy, you can probably help him with some of his exercises,” Ryan said. “There are two things you can help him out with. First are these stretches—especially before bed, and first thing in the morning if he’s stiff.”

Deck met her eyes again, but only for a second before his face turned a little pink and his eyes darted away. She wondered if he took the same meaning of morning stiffness that she did. All the extra hormones running through her system—thanks in no small part to Deck’s near-nuclear kisses—were turning her into a pervert.