A Fine Specimen (23 page)

Her eyelids fluttered as
his fingers began a slow exploration of her labia, lingering over her clitoris.
For such a hard man, Alex’s touch was so very soft. Perfect. The exact right
amount of pressure moving gently over her most sensitive flesh, not sawing at
her as most men did, thinking the harder they rubbed, the more excited she’d
get.

They were wrong.

This
excited her, so much she had to work not to arch
her back, move her hips in the rhythm of his finger. Around and around the
finger swirled, slowly, delicately, his touch electric. Caitlin bit her bottom
lip to keep from crying out.

Her breath left her
chest in a long whoosh when a finger dipped inside her, in and out, imitating
his cock at the beginning of their lovemaking. Just the memory made her vagina
clench and a rush of wetness drench her sex.

He felt it. His finger
paused for a second then another finger penetrated her, delved deeply. He
spread his fingers, opening her up.

A second later she felt
his cock, right there at the opening, the huge head hard and hot. He moved his
penis up and down along her labia, nearly causing a heart attack when he rubbed
the head over her clitoris. It was as if she’d been jolted by an electric prod.

She held herself as
still as she could. Though the sky was lightening up by the minute, it was as
if they were strangers, making love in the dark. He touched her only in two
places, his big hand—now back on her hip—and his cock, barely inside the
entrance to her vagina.

He didn’t move, staying
perfectly still. She burned and fisted her hands in the sheets. She knew
precisely what they looked like together. Though she was staring at the wall
and the window, she could imagine perfectly the image they presented, as if
there were a camera in the ceiling.

His head was above hers
on the pillow, long, muscled legs continuing way past her feet. The long, thick
shaft of his sex between them, connecting them. Tall, small, dark, pale, broad,
slender—a study in contrasts.

Then all thoughts flew
from her head as his hand on her hip tightened, holding her still as he thrust
slowly into her, stopping when he could go no farther, rough pubic hairs thick
and scratchy against her bottom.

She stopped breathing,
every sense concentrated between her legs, feeling every inch of the hot, hard
column of flesh inside her. He’d slid smoothly in without any difficulty,
testimony to how often they’d made love and to how much he excited her.

Even men much smaller had
sometimes hurt her, just a little upon first entering, but not Alex. He was
huge, but she was always ready for him, as if she’d been designed for him. All
he had to do was touch her and she opened to him, completely and totally, like
now.

Her head knew that they
were…estranged, for want of a better word. It knew perfectly well that she was
leaving his house today and that it was very possible they’d never see each
other again, but something had intercepted this message from her brain to her
body. Her body didn’t get the memo. It was open for him, always and—probably—forever.

She closed her eyes at
the thought just as he started moving, deep, powerful thrusts that touched all
the hot, secret places inside her that had never been touched before. That
seemingly only Alex could touch.

The feeling was
electric, so arousing it was almost painful.

Alex’s hand slid down
from her hip to her thigh, pulling her leg higher and even farther back so
that, impossibly, he could plunge even more deeply inside her.

The room wasn’t silent
anymore. The bed creaked rhythmically, the headboard banging against the wall,
Alex’s breathing harsh, almost grunting in time with the heavy thrusts. The
sounds filled the room.

Quickly, so quickly, she
felt that slippery, hot slide. He was already bringing her to orgasm, an
unstoppable tide, a wave poised to crash over her. She hung right there on the
brink, shaking.

He thrusts grew heavier,
irregular, and he swelled inside her, growing impossibly larger. He was close
too, so close.

She held her breath, her
vagina fluttering, heat prickling in her veins. He was pounding into her now,
faster, harder…

Caitlin opened her eyes
and stretched her neck to finally look at him. She loved the look on Alex’s
face as he was nearing orgasm. His face flushed under that golden-olive skin,
making him almost glow, the sweat of exertion and excitement dotting his
forehead. His mouth became red, suffused with blood, sensual as hell. His eyes
narrowed into black slits, staring intently, hypnotically into hers, as if he
could walk around inside her head while she came.

Maybe he could.

Alex was a powerful man
in every way and, particularly in the last moments of lovemaking, she felt all
that male power concentrated on her, like a sexy and powerful laser beam. The
world narrowed to the two of them, so close they could feel each other’s heartbeats.

It was her greatest joy,
making love to Alex, and her heart soared as she glanced over her shoulder to
see him—and froze.

He always had his eyes
on her,
always
, as they made love, never looking away. She’d never had a
moment’s doubt that he was with her every step of the way.

But now his eyes were
closed, his head and torso reared back, as far away from her as he could get
and yet still be connected to her by his cock.

He wasn’t touching her
anywhere at all, except for the hand holding her still and the penis in her. He
wasn’t flushed, he was pale, his mouth set in a thin, hard slash, deep brackets
lining his mouth. He didn’t look overwhelmed with pleasure as he usually did,
he looked cold and remote. Utterly separate from her, except that he was making
love to her.

No. No, he wasn’t making
love to her. They weren’t even having sex.
Use the correct term
, old
Mrs. Robinson, her high school English teacher, used to say.

Okay.

They were fucking.

Alex was fucking a
woman. He’d woken up with his usual morning erection and had found a warm
female body with the right plumbing. She could be anyone. He wasn’t with
Caitlin Summers, he was fucking Anonymous Woman. He didn’t even want to touch
her more than was necessary. He was holding himself as far away from her as he
could and still fuck her.

The thought pierced her
heart just as her body—her oh-so-treacherous body—betrayed her. One more heavy
thrust of Alex’s hips, a flash of intense heat and she erupted, muscles contracting
around him as he continued thrusting heavily. She stifled a moan with her hand,
suddenly ashamed of reacting so strongly to what was just an anonymous fuck.
Her body went haywire, as it always did with Alex.

His thrusts were growing
shorter, harder, faster, the bed slamming rhythmically into the wall as a
counterpoint to her drumming heart. The hand on her thigh grew sweaty and he
had to tighten his grip. Later she’d have bruises but she didn’t care because
her whole body was caught up in an orgasm so intense she thought she’d faint.

She trembled and shook,
her vagina clenching hard around Alex’s shaft, so incredibly drenched that he
was making wet sounds as he pounded in and out of her. Heat bloomed between her
legs, bright and electric, the sharp, hot pleasure overpowering.

It broke her heart.

While her body was
convulsing, sweat broke out all over, her entire body wet, as if everything
inside her had to come out. Tears sprang out of her eyes, wetting her cheeks.

Alex followed a second
later. A thrust so heavy it almost shoved her off the bed and, buried deep
inside her, he swelled and started coming inside her, grunting heavily. She
heard the beginning of a shout, instantly stifled. He wasn’t allowing himself
anything but the sheer sex act. Putting his penis in an available vagina and
getting his rocks off.

That’s all it was.
Thinking it was anything else was insane.

Her body didn’t really
care. It had its orgasm without her, a white-hot rush of incredible pleasure so
strong she shook with it.

She was still convulsing
when he pulled out of her. Feeling his cock slide out of her was shocking. Like
a plug being pulled. The white heat disappeared instantly and the orgasm
stopped, as suddenly as if she’d been doused with ice water. Usually, making love
with Alex was like this huge high that gently dissipated. At times, even half
an hour after coming, she was still holding him, smiling, as her body rocked to
earth.

This was instant chill.

He let go of her leg and
the bed shifted as he turned away from her.

While they’d been making
love—no,
fucking
—the sun had come up completely, bathing the room in a
warm, buttery light that didn’t warm her at all. She felt frozen, chilled from
the inside. Her wet groin was cold in the morning air.

The room was silent,
still, as if empty. You’d never know two lovers had just joined.

The smell of their sex
was unusually sharp in the air. She’d loved that smell, but now it made her
nauseous. Her stomach clenched sharply as bile rose in her throat. Saliva
filled her mouth and she swallowed it down. Though her stomach was empty, it
was bathroom time, fast, because something was coming up.

Caitlin rolled out of
bed, knees nearly buckling. Her stomach clenched again and she knew if she
didn’t make it to the bathroom right now she’d humiliate herself in front of
Alex.

She stumbled across the
room on legs that felt too weak to walk, banging her hip against the dresser,
pushing uselessly, desperately at the bathroom door until she remembered that
it opened outward.

She finally wrenched it
open. Turning, she saw him on the bed. He was lying on his back, one arm across
his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at her. On his thigh, his semi-erect penis
glistened with her juices and his semen. He lay utterly motionless, as if dead.
Only the slight rise and fall of his broad chest showed that he was breathing.
Sex with her normally left him breathless, chest moving like a bellows to pull
in air as he kissed her neck and breasts in a post-coital cuddle.

His body was closed to
her. They could have been a prostitute and her john in a hotel room, for all
his reaction.

Her stomach clenched
once again and she barely had time to pull the door closed, turn on the faucets
full blast to hide any sounds and bend over the toilet. A jet of green bile splashed
against the white porcelain, then another.

Her knees shook and she
had to stiffen them not to fall in a heap over the toilet bowl. Though her
stomach kept convulsing, there was nothing else to bring up.

Finally, Caitlin rested,
head bowed, one hand holding on to the wall, until she felt steady enough to
move away.

The reflection in the
mirror over the basin made her wince. Snow had more color than her skin, and
the sleepless night showed in the purple bruises under her eyes. She looked
like the survivor of a bad accident.

Well, that was okay
because in a very real sense, she was.

Switching on the hot
water in the shower, Caitlin stepped under the fancy modern showerhead, lifting
her face into the steamy stream, letting her tears meld into the water.

“Well, fuck a duck,” Ben
said, eyes wide, jaw dropping. “Woudja take a look at
that
?”

One of the female
officers gave a loud wolf whistle as Alex walked through the squad room on
Sunday afternoon. Fuck this. He didn’t have time for this shit. He threw her a
dirty look but she only grinned, just one more sign that he’d been way too lax
lately. Another officer took up the whistle and the other officers stood up,
cheering and clapping.

A grinning Ben got up
from his desk to follow Alex into his office. Alex turned at the threshold and
looked out at his officers, unleashing his Death Glare, waiting until the
commotion died down. “Settle down out here. I mean it. Back to work or I swear
to God I’ll have you all reassigned to Stolen Vehicles.”

If they thought he was
going soft because, well, he’d been in a good mood these past few days—okay
yeah, he’d admit it, he’d done a lot of smiling lately—then they were in a
shitload of trouble, because Hard-ass was back. Big time.

His officers were
nothing if not smart. A dozen heads suddenly bent over forms and keyboards.
Alex waited a minute then nodded grimly. He’d been getting this goddamn
reputation as a wimpy good guy. Candyass was gone, history. Starting now.

Alex walked into his
office and sat down behind his desk. Ben stood in front of him, a wide, sloppy
grin on his face. Alex stared at him through narrowed eyes. “That goes for you
too, Ben. Don’t you have some work to do? Or are you dying to explore the finer
points of chop shops?”

“Hey, what’s going on?”
Kathy stuck her head through Alex’s door and her eyes widened. “Yowzer.”

She walked in, holding a
sheaf of papers. After staring at him for a moment across his desk, she walked
around to look Alex up and down and shook her head. She hitched a hip on a
corner of his desk. “Does Armani know about this?”

“Not you too,” Alex
said, transferring his fierce, forbidding gaze to Kathy. He liked her, she was
a good cop, but right now he hated her.

Her eyebrows lifted,
face bland. “I can’t believe this. Blue blazer, gray slacks, dark gray shoes.
Alex’s wearing
colors
. What happened?” She turned to Ben. “I don’t think
a living soul has ever seen him in anything but black and white. It’s like a
cult with him.” She frowned. “Do you think he’s an imposter? Some alien Alex
Cruz lookalike?”

Ben fondled his own
brightly colored tie and straightened his lime-green jacket. “Nah. He’s just
finally developed a fashion sense, probably from hanging out with me.”

“My fashion sense is
just fine, thank you very much,” Alex said with a frown. “As a matter of fact,
my fashion sense is so keen I think you should turn down the batteries in that
tie of yours.”

“Aw, you’re just
jealous,” Ben replied, shaking his head sorrowfully. “It’s ’cause
you’d
like to have my tie on.”

“On what?” Alex asked
acidly. “Fire?”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Ben wagged
his finger at Alex, still grinning widely. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Cut it out, you two,”
Kathy said. She leaned closer and put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Alex,” she
said earnestly, looking him in the eyes. “I want you to know that I think this
is great. Just great. I think it’s the best thing that ever happened to you.
And I’m really, really happy for you.”

Alex didn’t know what
the fuck she was talking about, and anyway, whatever she was talking about, it
was over. He tried to hide the spurt of panic that jolted him at the thought.

She had walked. Caitlin
had turned her back on a perfectly nice situation, completely of her own
accord. They’d been having a really good time and then pow! It was over and she’d
signed the lease on a new apartment without even asking him for advice.

Well, she was a big
girl. She wanted to walk, she’d walk. What the fuck did he care? And if the
thought of going back to his empty house tonight gave him a slippery, sliding
spurt of panic, well what the hell. He’d get over it. It’s not like they were
married or anything.

“Thanks for sharing,
Kathy,” Alex growled. “Now go away.” Kathy squeezed his shoulder, looked
meaningfully at him then turned and walked out.

Ben was watching him
carefully, smile gone. Alex slanted him a glance. “What?”

“You fucked it up,” Ben
said quietly. He rarely turned serious but when he did, his entire face
changed. “God dammit, Alex, you had the best thing in the world going for you and
you fucked it up!”

Alex’s jaws clenched—hard.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, and anyway, it wasn’t me, it
was
her
.” He hated how childish that sounded.

Ben didn’t move, just
stared, grim-faced and somber. “You dumb asshole,” he said slowly and shook his
head. “You might as well shoot yourself in the head right now because—”

One swift knock and
young Roscoe, their newest recruit, stuck his head in the door. Usually Alex
steered clear of excitable rookies, but this was a welcome distraction. He knew
Ben and he knew he was about to ream him a new one. “What?”

Roscoe’s cheeks were red
with excitement. “Lieutenant, Sergeant! Great news! Sorensen and DeWitt have
apprehended Ratso Colby! He’s on his way. They’re bringing him in now!”

* * * * *

Staring at the backs of two cops as big as sides of beef,
Ratso Colby sat sweating in the backseat of a black and white.
Shit
! Ratso
thought as the police car took a tight turn. He
hated
cops, hated
everything about them. Cops had sent him to jail years back and he’d nearly
died there. He still had the scars. Now they were trying to send him back. No
fucking way. Ratso was
not
going back to County. Whatever it took to
stay out, he’d do it.

Except he knew what it would take—staying out meant he had
to rat on Lopez and go into Witness Protection. Lopez made him shit-scared. Ratso
knew what Lopez would be willing to do to find out where he was hiding. Lopez
wouldn’t rest until he got him. Word on the street was, Lopez took traitors out
to an abandoned warehouse he owned and watched as it took days for the poor
fucks to die. Ratso’s heart trip-hammered at the thought. They were still
finding pieces of the last guy who’d turned on Lopez.

But on the other hand, to be back in a prison system that
was home to an entire branch of the Aryan Nation… A fresh torrent of sweat
broke out. One of the cops sniffed suspiciously then looked back at him with a
sneer.

The badges had caught him. It was his fault. He’d been
making some bad decisions lately, starting with the decision to work for Lopez.
He shouldn’t have accepted Lopez’s offer but shit, Lopez was offering almost three-hundred
large. He thought he’d be able to keep it a secret but one of Lopez’s men had
dropped a dime on him. With the cops on his tail, he’d had to run.

He should have just hopped on a bus to Mexico and taken a
flight out to Rio from there. A man he’d met in stir could have gotten him a
new passport that would definitely have been good enough to get out of the
country and fly from a foreign city. First to Aruba, where he had money he’d
salted away over the years, then from there to Rio, where no one could ever
force him back. But spending the rest of his life in a foreign country required
more money than he had, so he’d waited until he could cash in the extra couple hundred
thou he was owed here and there, not to mention cashing in on his stocks. Even
in the bear market, he’d been making money.

He’d been on his way to meet his broker when the cops nabbed
him.

He should have skipped town two weeks ago.

He was so fucked. Massively fucked. Ratso hadn’t had much
education, but he had always been good at odds and numbers. And right now, the
odds were against him and his number was up.

Christ, another day and he’d have been home free, with a new
passport, new identity, sipping caipirinhas on Copacabana.

No more dirty work. No more collecting blood money for
Angelo Lopez, no more scurrying along with thick-necked goons to terrorize a
shopkeeper or entering protection money into a Palm Pilot to stash away in Switzerland
for Lopez.

Another day! All it would have taken was one more
day
.
Now there was no way he could convince Lopez he hadn’t talked. Ratso was sure
Angelo would get him one way or another. And if he didn’t talk, the cops would
put him in stir.

Talk about your lose-lose situation.

Ratso’s brain worked feverishly as the black and white
pulled up in front of the station house. He had to get away. He had to. He
had
to.

Because otherwise, whether in prison or in Lopez’s
warehouse, his life was over.

* * * * *

“We’re really sorry to see you go,” Kathy said. “We’re all
going to miss you.”

Caitlin nodded as she put her papers away, looking around
the squad room where she’d spent so many intense hours.

She had to clear her throat to get it to work. It felt
tight, hot, incapable of uttering a sound. She studiously avoided looking at
Alex’s closed door but it was next to impossible, there every time she turned
around. He was behind it and staying there. If there was even a tiny hope left
in her that there might still be something between them after this morning,
there was her answer.

It was definitely over, whatever “it” had been, and Alex was
going to ignore her until she left. But professional and personal pride
wouldn’t allow her to let Kathy see how upset she was. She turned, pasting a
big smile on her face. “I’ll miss you guys too.”

“Give me a call when you get settled into your new job,”
Kathy said, picking up a few stray papers which had fallen to the floor and
handing them to Caitlin. “We’ll get together for some coffee that doesn’t
belong in Dr. Kevorkian’s IV line.”

Well, that was something. Life would go on. She knew that,
intellectually. She’d go to work at the Frederiksson, maybe write a book, decorate
her new apartment. Have dinner with Kathy occasionally. Maybe Kathy would keep
her up to date on what was going on with Alex—

Whoa. Caitlin nipped that thought in the bud. It was too
pathetic. There had to be a clean break. She couldn’t pine forever. “Yeah, that
would be nice.”

“Count me in,” another officer, Sally Devoe, chimed in.
Sally had been a fun interview. She’d been delighted when Caitlin had told her
that in the wild, lionesses did all the hunting in the pride. Sally now gave
her male colleagues a mock roar every time she walked by.

Caitlin had interviewed her extensively and found her to be
smart and funny, just like Kathy. That was two possible new friends.

“Me too.” Tom Roscoe, a new recruit from the academy, picked
up a book Caitlin had left on a chair. “You can’t make it a chicks-only
gathering,” he said, grinning as he handed her the book. “That would be
discrimination.”

“Here.” Kathy walked over to the soda pop dispenser and put
in some change. When nothing came out, she kicked it in the side and two cans
of Diet Coke popped out. She walked back smiling and thrust a can into
Caitlin’s hands. “There you are, it just needed a little percussive
maintenance. So, Caitlin, before you go, I propose a toast.”

She raised her can high and her voice took on the solemn
tones of a toastmaster. “To Caitlin Summers, the woman who did the
impossible—she singlehandedly turned Lieutenant Alex Cruz into a human being.”
She opened her can with a flourish.

“I second the motion.” Sally put change in the machine,
kicked it viciously and brought back a can. “Alex actually smiled the other
day. I’ve been here ten years and I can’t recall him ever smiling. And damned
if he didn’t!
Twice
, if I’m not mistaken.” Her brow furrowed. “
Trés
weird.”

“And a few days ago I caught him
humming
,” Tom added.
“‘Memory’.” He shook his head. “Can you imagine? In the academy, the older
officers used to joke about him being immortal. To kill him you’d have to put a
wooden stake through his heart.”

“And we owe it all to you,” Kathy said, slapping Caitlin on
the back. Caitlin staggered and coughed. Officers were drifting over, sensing
the opportunity to rag one of their own. Kathy raised her can again and looked
around at her colleagues. “Another toast. To Belle! Who tamed the Beast!”

“We talking about Alex?” someone asked.

“Who else?” someone else called out.

“No, really,” Caitlin said, looking around at the grinning
faces. This was too horrible. No way could she announce that their relationship—or
whatever it was—was over. Not here, not now. Later, maybe, she’d confide in
Kathy. Much later, when she could talk about it. In the meantime, though the
dog didn’t deserve it, she felt Alex needed a little defending. “I didn’t do
anything. And come on now. Alex couldn’t have been all
that
bad-tempered.”

There was a polite silence.

Caitlin remembered what Alex had been like on that first
day.

Okay. She’d done the adult thing and now she’d shut up.

“So,” Kathy said, slinging a friendly arm around Caitlin’s
shoulders, “we can now rest easy in the Baylorville PD and come to work with a
smile on our lips. We really owe you a lot.”

“Who owes who a lot?” The desk sergeant walked by and Kathy
put a can of pop in his hands. “We do,” she said and pointed her own can at
Caitlin. “Her. We owe Caitlin. For taming Alex.”

* * * * *

With every step he took, Ratso’s terror grew until he was
shaking and trembling. He was sweating so badly the booking officer had to
throw away the first set of prints in disgust and take another set.