Wicked Pleasures (13 page)

L
INC HATED BEING RIGHT
.
Seeing Johnson standing so near Regina, much less in the same room, made his gut wrench and his trigger finger itchier than he’d ever felt it. Blood rushed past his ears, making it nearly impossible to hear anything outside of it.

“I said get down! Now!” he repeated.

But Johnson wasn’t having any of it. He merely leered at him, his own gun solidly pointed at Regina where she stood near her bedroom door, her beautiful face a portrait in fear.

Linc took a step closer, then another. He was going to get this bastard, one way or another.

He made eye contact with Regina, holding her gaze until she finally seemed to see him. Then he nodded slightly toward her bedroom.

The instant she dived out of the line of fire, Linc jumped on Johnson, bringing his shooting arm down and aiming to knock his legs out from under him. But Johnson was ready, his legs squared, and while his gun was pointed toward the floor, he demonstrated the type of fight that had gotten him this far. Not only was he holding his own, he managed to turn toward Linc.

The side of Johnson’s gun connected with Linc’s jaw, a solid pistol whip that inspired stars that disappeared as quickly as they appeared. Focusing on keeping the firearm in question in no position to shoot Regina or him, he wrestled the convict upright.

“Ain’t no way you’re taking me again, Willams. Not a chance in hell.”

“Says who?” Linc worked on getting him to drop the gun.

“Says me. I’d rather die than go back to that rat hole.”

“Yes, well, the choice is yours.”

Finally, Johnson’s gun clanked to the floor as the result of Linc’s efforts and he quickly kicked it away so that it skidded short of the bedroom door. He couldn’t make out Regina; he guessed she was huddling around the corner out of range. Which left him free to do what he needed.

He brought his boot down hard against Johnson’s knee. The man groaned in pain. Linc moved his leg around and hit the back of the same joint, satisfied when he heard a sharp crack. Johnson dropped to all fours. Linc slammed his boot between the man’s shoulder blades, shoving him to lie flat on the floor.

“Your first mistake?” he said. “Breaking out of prison. Second? Coming after Regina.”

He positioned himself so he could lean back to look into the bedroom, finding Regina flat against the wall just inside.

Johnson struggled against his hold.

Linc brought his gun down until the barrel was lined up with the back of his head.

“What?” Johnson spat a mouthful of blood onto the rug. “You’re not going to shoot me.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because you can’t shoot without cause. You’re a goddamn government cop!”

“Not anymore I’m not. You should have been a little more thorough with your research, Johnson.”

“That Lazarus shit don’t meaning nothing. Once a cop, always a freakin’ cop, no matter if it’s federal. Your ass will be in a heap of trouble if you squeeze off a round.”

Linc’s finger itched so badly he rubbed it against the trigger.

Johnson was right in one aspect. As an FBI agent, he’d been trained to hold himself in check, to stop just short of what was essentially execution. However, Billy was overlooking the fact that assassination had essentially been his job in the service.

And it was that instinct, that desire to rid the world of an unredeemable son of a bitch who would not only not be missed, but whose death might be celebrated, that made his pulse beat even stronger.

If keeping the piece of shit away from Regina entered anywhere into the equation, he wasn’t going to address it just then.

“Linc…”

Jason said his name from the front doorway. Two other recruits were already inside the apartment, their guns drawn. Johnson wasn’t going anywhere.

“He’s not worth it, man. You know they’ll put him under extra security after this. He’ll never be free again.”

The part of Linc’s mind still working recognized the rational thought. The animal part wanted nothing more than to pull the trigger.

Damn.

He withdrew the gun and took a deep breath. Then another. Slowly, the world began to tilt right again.

He stepped over his prey…and Johnson wildly grabbed for his gun in a last-ditch effort for freedom.

A round went off and grazed one of the two guys in the room.

Another gunshot rang out. But this time, it hadn’t come from his gun. Linc looked behind him to see Regina had picked up Johnson’s firearm, holding it straight out in front of her, the barrel aimed toward her ex.

Linc was aware of Johnson going limp. His hand slipped away and dropped to the floor.

Linc recognized the lethal shot to the back of the head and dropped his guard.

Jason had been right: Billy “the Bank Robber” Johnson wouldn’t be free again…

H
OURS LATER
, R
EGINA
still shook, albeit more inside than out.

Linc had taken her to a downtown hotel after she’d refused to go back to his place. She now sat on the edge of the king-size bed wrapped in a white robe, her hair in a towel, even though she’d taken a shower nearly an hour ago.

Nearby, Linc was on the phone, presumably doing a follow-up report on what had gone down at her apartment, although she barely registered what was being said.

She closed her eyes and rubbed the heel of her hands against them, trying to scrub away the image of Billy lying lifeless on her living room floor.

Trying to erase the fact she was the responsible for his being that way.

She’d killed Billy…

She tried to work out what happened. One minute he’d been on the floor, immobilized; the next he was fighting Linc for his gun and a man was shot…

She’d acted on pure instinct when she’d picked up Billy’s gun and pulled the trigger. She’d only meant to disable him.

Instead, she’d killed him.

“Regina?”

It wasn’t until she heard Linc say her name that she realized he’d finished his phone conversation. There were no other sounds in the room outside the hum of the air conditioner. The television was off. The radio silent.

She felt him sit down next to her.

“You’re cold,” he remarked.

She was. But it wasn’t the type of cold a blanket or hot shower could banish.

He reached for where her hands were in her lap and rubbed them in his. She immediately felt better…warmer.

Still, something compelled her to tug her fingers out of his grip.

“The first time is always hard,” he said quietly.

She squinted at him. Who said words like that?

The realization that she knew very little about him rang like a bell in the back of her head. That flip side of her experiencing the sensation of being safe in his arms came with a price, as well as a story.

“Sounds like you’re suggesting there’s going to be a second,” she whispered.

He grimaced and ran his hands over his head. “Not unless Johnson finds a way to break out of hell.”

She winced.

“Damn. I’m sorry. That was wrong of me to say.”

She shook her head. “That’s okay.”

Billy Johnson may have been hell-worthy, but she’d loved him once. Or at least, she’d thought she had. He’d been her first date. Her first kiss. Her first time. She’d believed he deserved punishment for his many crimes. But she never would have imagined it would have been death at her own hands.

“I guess my shooting at the range wasn’t a fluke,” she whispered, hot tears scorching her cheeks.

Linc placed his hand against her back.

“I only wanted to stop him…” She swallowed hard. “No, that’s not right. I wasn’t thinking anything. I only reacted.”

“That’s right. Remember that—you didn’t do it on purpose.”

She stared at him. “But that doesn’t change what happened.”

He didn’t say anything for a long time, then he shook his head. “No, it doesn’t.”

The numbness surrounding her dissolved and she felt as if her insides collapsed. Linc folded her into his big arms and she let him, glad for the support while gusts of grief blew through her.

She’d taken care of Billy for so long, she’d had to physically remove herself from his immediate vicinity to put a halt to it. How did one go from being a nurturer to being a killer, seemingly within the blink of an eye?

Justifiable homicide. Self-defense. It didn’t matter what everyone else labeled her actions; she knew what she was.

“You don’t blame yourself for his crimes?” Linc asked after she’d calmed down enough to hear him over her sobs, but not enough to move away from him. If anything, she burrowed farther into his chest, clutching the soft cotton of his black T-shirt in her fist.

She shook her head. “No. I may have years ago. I’d thought there was something I was doing wrong, some way I could make life better for him, prevent him from making the choices he did. But that was a long time ago…”

Then it occurred to her: What would happen to Billy now?

She drew back and wiped her cheeks first with her hands and then with the sleeve of her robe.

“What’s going to happen to his body?”

Linc blinked. “I don’t know. I suppose since he was still officially a prisoner of the state, they’ll see to his remains.”

“His family?”

“I thought you said he didn’t have anyone outside of his father?”

She looked down into her lap. “He doesn’t.”

“I guess his family could petition for…custody…” He offered up an apologetic smile. “Sorry, that’s not my area of expertise.”

“And what is, exactly?”

He didn’t respond.

“I mean, I know you were a Marine. And an FBI agent. But…” She shivered. “I saw something today that scared me. For a moment, it was like I didn’t know you.” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “Then again, I don’t, do I? Not really.”

“You know what matters.”

“Do I?” She shook her head. “Because right now I don’t think I do.”

She began to get up.

“Where are you going?”

“I…I need to see what’s going to happen to Billy’s body. I think it appropriate he be buried at home.”

“You’re not thinking about handling it?”

She frowned at him. “Why not?”

“Haven’t you done enough for him?”

“What? By killing him?”

“By protecting yourself. And everyone else in the room.”

“By killing him.”

Silence fell between them.

“I don’t expect you to understand, Linc.”

“I understand you’re feeling guilty.”

“No.” She stared at the open windows and the building across the street. “Yes. I suppose guilt is there somewhere. But that’s not what’s motivating me now.” She smiled at him, but he was little more than a blur through her tears. “It’s the last thing I’ll ever have to do for him. And I need to do it.”

He nodded, but his expression told her he didn’t understand at all.

It didn’t matter. She felt compelled to do it. She feared if she didn’t, she’d never find peace.

If there was any peace to be found.

“Regina?”

She turned back toward him, stopping just outside the bathroom where she’d been going to get dressed.

“You said you don’t know me. You’re right. I’m not…” He got up and paced in the opposite direction. “Voluntarily offering up information about myself is not something I’ve ever really done.”

She waited.

“But I think it’s important you know this…”

T
HAT WAS IT
.
The reason why he hadn’t wanted to tell Regina he was tailing Johnson. The way she looked at him now, as if he were a stranger, twisted like razor wire in his gut.

What he was about to tell her, he had told no one. Not even his aunt. But he needed to tell Regina now. Not toward any end; he feared it was already too late for that. But because he needed to share it with her.

He walked back to the bed and sat down on the foot, resting his head in his hands for a few moments before looking back up at her.

“My father was the guard Johnson shot during the bank robbery.”

There, he’d said it.

He hadn’t expected it to be easy. But he hadn’t expected to feel as if a hole had just been blown in his chest, either.

“I don’t understand…”

Regina’s words were soft, soothing the open wound.

“Trust me, at the time I didn’t, either.” He dropped his head back and closed his eyes, remembering the case. Reviewing security CDs. Witness reports. Trying to get a line on the bank robber’s identity. It had been just another run-of-the-mill case to him as an FBI agent—until the security man’s name jumped out at him. Looking closer, the man’s gestures and mannerisms looked far too familiar. “I didn’t know when it happened. He was just another victim when I started working the case. Hell, I never even knew my father. Never felt compelled to look for him. As far as I knew, he was still bouncing around New York somewhere. The last place I expected to encounter him was in Boston.”

In a morgue.

He didn’t say the words aloud. The stark memory of standing over Lincoln Williams Sr.’s motionless body that day was forever etched in his mind. The empty space inside him was filled with the ghostly image and unacknowledged emotions.

He hadn’t been aware Regina had joined him on the bed until he felt her hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry…”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah. Thanks.”

The words sounded casual, but they were anything but.

“I should have resigned the case on the spot, you know, at the moment of discovery. But…”

“But you couldn’t. You wanted to find your father’s killer.”

He nodded, although “wanted” fell far short of the mark. He
needed
to find his father’s killer. And as earlier in the day, had he been alone, he would have killed Billy Johnson with little remorse.

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded, staring at his hands between his knees.

She squeezed his arm.

“I’m sorry Billy robbed you of any chance you might have had of meeting your father when he was still alive.”

He looked at her and suddenly that gaping hole pulsed and began to fill with everything that was her.

He wanted to kiss her. To give the wild and tangled emotions within him a physical release. To demonstrate his gratitude for her warmth and understanding.

To show her he loved her.

He dipped his head down, paused, hesitant. He didn’t know if she’d welcome his kiss.

She tilted her chin upward, meeting his lips softly.

Linc groaned deep in his stomach and caressed her cheek, deepening the kiss.

He was coming to need this woman in a way that frightened him more than facing any ten enemies.

He slid his hand down her neck and then inside the front of her robe, seeking and finding her breasts.

Her soft gasp wrapped itself around him.

He began pushing the robe from her shoulders…

And she gently grasped his arms and pulled back from their kiss.

The sober shadow in her eyes hit him like a fist to the stomach.

“I…I can’t,” she whispered.

As she got up and hurried toward the bathroom, he knew a fear that he might never be with her again…

W
HEN
R
EGINA EMERGED
from the bathroom a half hour later, dressed and looking somewhat more human—if not quite anywhere near feeling that way—she was alone. She looked for a note, but didn’t find one.

For a long time, she stood in front of the windows staring out at nothing, thinking about the man who had managed to become such an integral part of her life over the past couple weeks.

She had never thought of herself as lonely until she met him. Now…

She hugged herself tightly.

Now, she needed to focus on what needed to be done.