Kerry

“You can’t go in there!”

The sound of voices approaching the bedroom door brings me fully awake.

I woke up a while ago, still wrapped tight in Damian’s arms, and I didn’t want to open my eyes yet. Instead, I snuggled a little deeper and relived every moment of last night in minute detail. The air had been rich with arousal and emotions, even though we barely exchanged a word. The slow pace of exploration made it feel like we’d been suspended in a time void. The usual rush to completion before reality knocked simply not there last night.

With Damian still on his knees, I’d slipped off the dress before I pulled him up by his hands. It surprised me, how easily he allowed me to undress him—let me take control. The only time I could see him struggle for control over his body was when I slowly stripped down his jeans and boxers, sinking on my haunches in front of him this time. I’d pulled off his boots so he could step out.

I remember being mesmerized by his beautifully erect cock, only a breath away from my face and stroking my index finger along its length, tracing the engorged veins. The drop of moisture slowly sliding down its flushed crown begged to be licked. With my hands bracing the backs of his thighs, I leaned in and lapped with the flat of my tongue. His loud groan and the clench of his muscles under my palms had me press my core on the heel of my foot.

His taste was rich on my tongue—all Damian—but when I went back for seconds, he stopped me.

“I don’t think I can stay standing,” he whispered, stroking my hair. He took a few steps back and sank down in the wing chair, slid his butt to the edge so he could spread his legs. Wide. He groaned when I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled to him. His hands were digging into the muscles of his leg. I might’ve been the one on the ground, but I felt no less powerful than before. Reaching up, I placed my hands over his, holding them pinned as I dropped my eyes to his cock. Nestled in short, dark, graying curls, it was curved up against his stomach, darkly flooded with blood and in sharp contrast with the olive tone of his skin.

I’d barely slid my mouth down his length when my control ended. Or maybe I should say his. Muttering expletives, he lifted me up by my armpits, turned me around and pulled me onto his lap. With his hands underneath my legs, he pulled up my knees and spread them over the armrests. I remember shivering when I felt his crown, wet from my mouth, skim across the puckered skin of my ass as I was pulled into position. He’d just growled in response, with the promise there was always more left to explore.

He fucked me right there in the chair, my body completely spread open and at his mercy as he sharply powered his hips up, hitting every active nerve. We were so primed, it had not taken much for me to roll my head back on his shoulder and bite down on his hand that had come up to cover my cries. I was still pulsing around him when he clamped his mouth in the crook of my exposed neck as his body shook and bucked inside and around me.

He’d carried me to the bed where we continued our explorations, finally falling asleep exhausted, but completely sated.

Damian is still asleep, at least he was, but Bella’s voice outside the door has him stirring behind me.

“What’s going on?” he asks, his croaked voice still heavy with sleep. He pushes his upper body off the mattress and looks down on me before casting his eye on the door. “Who is it?”

“Not sure,” I say, staying safely under the covers as another voice joins Bella’s in a discussion outside our door.

“Damian—Es su madre!”

I don’t speak much Spanish, but I clearly understand that.

“Fucking hell,” Damian swears in a low voice.

“Watch your mouth, mi hijo!”

Clearly not low enough for his mother. I hide further under the covers to stifle my giggles. I don’t know what seems so funny about this situation, which clearly spells disaster of massive proportions, but I seem to think it’s hilarious.

“Stop it,” Damian hisses, pulling the sheet off my head. It doesn’t help. It only makes me laugh harder.

“Gypsy...” he threatens, but the slight tugging at the corner of his mouth proves he’s having a hard time keeping a straight face, too. It is kind of a ridiculous situation. We’re not kids, for crying out loud.

Outside the door, I hear Bella herd their mother back down the hall.

This may not have been planned, and I’m pretty sure meeting his mother is not high on Damian’s list of priorities for me, but she’s here and we may as well deal with it. Resolved, I get out of bed, slip on yoga pants and a tank top, and grab last night’s kimono off the floor, tossing it on for extra coverage.

“Babe, seriously...” Damian scrambles to get out of bed and hops on one leg as he tries to get the other into his sweats. “Hold up.”

“Damian, really—she’s your mom. She’s just a little old lady. It doesn’t faze me.” A puzzling smirk settles on his face as he finally shrugs his shoulders and with dramatic flourish, opens the door for me.

He follows closely behind as I make my way downstairs and into the kitchen where I can hear activity. When I round the corner, I stop in my tracks, Damian bumping into my back and chuckling. “What I was trying to tell you,” he whispers, his mouth in my hair, “is that my mom never travels alone.”

“Clearly,” I choke out, taking in the kitchen full of women, all paused mid-motion and gawking at the picture I’m sure Damian and I make. Damian snickering over my shoulder as I stand with abject horror plastered on my face. Four heads turned our way. Bella seems moderately apologetic, but the other three are just blatantly curious. Two of the women are short and dark like Bella, maybe a bit older, but the third is different.

I had envisioned this sweet, gray-haired lady, wrinkled and stooped with age. Perhaps even smaller than her youngest daughter. But nothing prepared me for the tall, statuesque woman, whose gray-haired pixie cut only enhanced her youthful appearance. She has to be at least seventy-five, if not eighty, but you would never think it, looking at her straight shoulders and clear eyes.

Bella obviously doesn’t get her penchant for pretty things from any stranger. Before I have a chance to escape and get changed into something a little more fitting of the fashion display in Damian’s kitchen, he moves around me, grabs my hand, and tugs me toward his mother. To my surprise, she’s almost as tall as he is.

“Mama,” he says, as he leans in to kiss her cheek. “This is a surprise.” The tone is slightly scolding as he throws his youngest sister a look. Bella just sticks out her chin. In all honesty, I vaguely recall her trying to tell him something last night. I’m guessing this surprise visit may have been it.

“Your sister knew. She said she needed the rest of her stuff. We’re here to deliver her stuff. Left the house at six this morning and now we’re here.” The older woman’s voice is strong and firm and surprisingly holds no sign of an accent, although she did throw in some easy Spanish earlier. The moment she stops talking, her eyes come to rest on me. I feel like a bug tacked to the wall.

“Mama,” Damian says, putting his arm securely around my shoulders, probably still fearful I will run. “This is Kerry Emerson. Kerry, this is Carmella, my mother.”

“Pleased to meet you,” I mutter by rote, sticking my hand out, which makes her look but subsequently ignore completely, as she literally drags me toward her. Folded in some seriously strong arms, with my face buried in her ample bosom, I barely hear her speak well over the top of my head.

“Ahh, mi hijo. Preciosa. Obviously not Mexican, but lovely all the same.”

I’m forcefully pulled from her arms and just catch Damian rolling his eyes at his mother. “Knock it off, Ma. You’re about as Mexican as biscuits and gravy. What was it? Your great-great-grandmother? You are Texan, born and raised. Probably didn’t even speak Spanish until you met Papa.”

His sisters snicker behind their mom, who casually shrugs her shoulders before turning back to me. “My girls take after their father. Obviously.” She turns her head slightly to look at Bella. “You clearly know Isabella, she’s our baby and may or may not be disowned, depending on her excuse for keeping important information from her mother and sisters.” This time it’s Bella rolling her eyes. It must be a family thing. “And this is Francessca, she was number four,” she continues, casually pointing over her left shoulder. I wave at the woman who is smiling back broadly. I just now notice the little ring in her nose. Cool. “And next to her is Christina. She’s two years older than Damian.”

“Three,” a voice sounds behind the older woman before the face comes in sight. Also smiling. A striking lock of almost white-gray hair amid the dark brown hangs over her forehead.

“Whatever,” Carmella waves her hand in the air irreverently.

I feel like I’ve gotten stuck in a sitcom. A little disorienting, slightly overwhelming, but gradually becoming amusing comedy. Especially when I hear the sighs coming from Damian behind me.

“Damian, though? He’s always been the perfect mix. He’s got the best of both of us.” I chuckle when I hear the sisters collectively groan at that declaration.

Five minutes later, I find myself donned in an apron behind the stove. Since Bella thought it necessary to assure her mother I could cook, something she seemed dubious about, I was basically shoved in here. I’m throwing together stacks of banana-maple stuffed French toast with whipped, sweetened cream cheese at Damian’s request.

“Mama has a sweet tooth,” he whispers in my ear before heading upstairs to grab a quick shower. Leaving me to feed his family, their chatter a soothing sound in the background as my lips stretch into a smile.

DAMIAN

“How come you’re working on a Saturday?” Mom asks me.

I just dropped my plate and cup in the sink. Breakfast was a major score for Kerry, although I never had any doubts she’d quickly win them over—with or without kitchen prowess. I managed to whisper a quick apology to Bella earlier for not giving her the two seconds it would’ve taken her to warn me of their coming. The apology was for her sake, not mine. My night with Kerry would not have been the same with the knowledge of my family descending, in only a few hours, hanging over our heads.

I wrap my arms around Kerry from behind, as she puts some dishes back in the cupboard, and turn with her in front of me to look at my mother.

“Because I have an active case I’d like to see cleared up sooner than later,” I explain, giving Kerry a squeeze.

“You need to keep the weekends for your familia—tu novia.”

“Ma!” my sister Chrissy jumps in. “Don’t try to guilt him. You already succeeded in making me feel bad enough to take an unscheduled day off today, don’t make him do the same.”

It doesn’t surprise me, my mom is Catholic and a master at playing the guilt card. Not too subtly, either. Mama believes everything should be dropped for family—something I love about her—but isn’t always possible. Chrissy has a family and also has her own psychology practice. She tries hard to schedule her work around her kids. Their father has them on alternate weekends, and I’m sure her secretary is cursing her right now for having to reschedule her Saturday appointments. It doesn’t stop Ma.

“Still,” she persists. “We’re leaving again tomorrow.” I try to hide my flinch at that bit of news and looking at Bella’s shocked face, she had no idea, either. Giving Kerry another reassuring squeeze, secretly praying she doesn’t run from the house screaming before the weekend is over, I decide to just go with it.

“Okay, so I’ll make sure I’m home at a decent time. We’ll have a nice barbecue on the deck, and I’ll see if I can bring any work I have left home for tomorrow. In the meantime, you have a chance to get to know Kerry a bit better. How’s that?” Ma may be the master manipulator, but we kids have learned a thing or two from her over the years.

I feel a little guilty throwing Kerry under the bus like that, but if I thought my sisters wouldn’t stand up for her, Bella for sure, I wouldn’t leave her with Ma. My mother can be a little invasive, albeit loving. It’s not random that I chose a career that afforded me a lot of travel initially. And that when I was able to settle down, I did it close enough so I could get to my family when I wanted, but far enough that my mother wouldn’t come into my house and pick up my dirty socks every day.

I blame my dad. He is crazy for that woman and has allowed her to run roughshod over him their entire married life. Invited it, even. Personally, I grew out of enjoying being babied by the time I turned three. I had a doting mother and two older sisters, for fuck’s sake.

“Fine,” she reluctantly concedes—as if she had a choice. “We’ll go into town and get some proper food.”

“Ma,” I start, wanting to explain it wouldn’t be safe for Kerry, when Bella saves my butt. Explaining would’ve taken me another hour, if not more, and I’m already burning daylight here.

“Go,” she points at the front door. “I’ve got it.”

Blowing Bella a kiss, I pull Kerry with me to the porch out front.

“Holy shit,” she mutters drily, and I crack up.

“I know,” I snicker.

“That was intense. I feel like I’ve just been tossed around in a spin cycle. Is it always like this?” she asks, turning to me and putting her hand in the middle of my chest where I cover it with mine.

“No exceptions,” I admit, watching her eyes get big. “Scared?” I tease her, and she squints her eyes at me.

“I don’t scare that easily, but I can tell you this; I’ve always believed in small doses. Little bits at a time.” I tuck her hair behind her ear as she smiles up at me. “All kidding aside, though, I like your family. Your sisters are great, your mom is kinda hilarious, if she’s not being scary, and the dynamics between you all is a treat to watch. I’ll be fine. I may decide to make you pay me back for abandoning me with them, but I promise I won’t make it too painful.”

“Hmmmm,” I growl, pulling her close with a hand in her lower back and the other fisted in her hair. “Promises, promises.” I slant my mouth over hers and kiss her deeply.

Three words are on the tip of my tongue—and they’re not I am sorry.

“Be safe,” I say instead, even though I know she’ll be fine with my family. As long as she stays in the house. Papa would always say that the combination of my mother and my sisters could scare off the devil himself. He had a point.

“You, too,” she says sweetly against my lips.

“I...I’ll see you later.” I catch myself at the last minute. Not the time. Not when my family probably has their ears pressed up against the door on the other side and when I have this fucking case still open.

With a last press of my lips on hers, I reluctantly walk to my Expedition. I get in and wait until I see Kerry go safely inside before I start driving. I’ve barely left my drive when my phone rings.

“Yes, I set the alarm.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“Thanks, baby.”

I’m feeling pretty damn good, driving into town. All the way to the office, until I see all the cars in the parking lot. What now?

Luna is waiting at the top of the stairs, the only reminder of her encounter with Willoughs a slight yellowish tint along the side of her forehead.

“Bullshit, boss,” she says as I meet up with her. “We’ve got a tug-of-war going on over the damn evidence.”

“What evidence?” I hold her back when she starts walking ahead of me.

“The gun found at the murder scene, Sinclair’s phone, his body, the bugs, you name it—she wants it.” I assume Luna is talking about Ella Friesen, who already made a play for Sinclair’s body earlier.

“Is James here?” I want to know.

“Called in earlier on his way to the airport. He’s been called back to Denver. Said he’d call you as soon as he finds out ‘what the fuck is up.’ His words, not mine,” she clarifies with a raised eyebrow.

That’s all we need. We have an unsolved murder, a possible suspect on the run. We have a missing shipment worth twenty-six million bucks. We have electronic evidence we’ve not been able to explain, and now we have an interagency war on our hands and James is on a plane to Denver. Fucking fabulous.

When I walk into the boardroom, I find Jasper parked against the wall inside the door, shaking his head. All three, Boris, Keith, and Ella are leaning over the table yelling at each other. I almost miss Browns, who is sitting quietly with his chin down on his chest, carefully studying his folded hands. This is a fucking mess.

“Quiet!” I bark, but the three whose attention I’m trying to get just continue their bickering.

“Enough!” I pound my fist on the table three times, and this time the din stills. “Jesus Christ! What the hell is going on?”

All three start talking at the same time. I raise my hands to stop a repeat of what I just walked into. “One at a fucking time. We’re in pretty sad shape if we haven’t learned the art of communication yet.” I sit down heavily, a headache already forming. I notice that Keith follows suit first and the other two shortly after. “Since you can’t seem to talk to each other, I’ll talk first.” I take a deep breath and motion both Jasper and Luna to take a seat before I continue. “Here’s what I know. James is on his way to Denver as we speak, so he’s not here to help sort out this mess. I know there’s been discussion between you, Ella, and James about where the evidence belongs.” I look at her and watch a small muscle twitch in her cheek. “After James told me, I made sure to check up on my facts. And as I already knew—I’m sure you do, too—Interpol itself has no jurisdiction in any country. Now—” I lift my hand when she threatens to interrupt. “I know you are stuck in the middle between whomever your contact is in the UK and us, but let me remind you, you are part of this task force as liaison between agencies and for your expertise in this field. That’s where it ends. Even if we were to come to an agreement on the evidence between the agencies, which is unlikely since this is still very much an active case, it would be either accompanied by one of our agents to the UK or one of their agents would have to come and get it. There are protocols we need to follow. That said, if you feel you can contribute to any part of the investigation, if you think your expertise will be of use when we examine evidence that falls under your knowledge, you will be most welcome to do so. Just one last thing, though—I don’t appreciate it when our local police, our FBI field office, and my agents are being played for fools. Don’t underestimate us. That was a mistake.”

With a screech of her chair, Ella pushes back from the table and stands, her face beet red. “I’m flying to the UK this afternoon and I will file a report with my superiors.” Her jaw clenched tight, she tugs her briefcase under her arm and marches out of the office.

I bite my tongue on any retort I might want to throw out there and grab a bottle of water from the table, taking a deep tug before I turn to Blackfoot and Parnak. That was not pleasant. I will, however, enjoy this one.

“As for you two. This isn’t the first time, not even the first case, over which you guys have bumped horns. Worse than interagency politics are interdepartmental squabbles. You’re both on the city’s payroll, for fuck’s sake. I don’t care what beef you might think you have with each other, just get the fuck over it!”

This time, I push back my chair and get up. I turn back by the door. “I need to cool down. Give me five minutes, make sure you have cool heads and are focused, and let’s get this goddamn case solved.”

I close the door of my office behind me, pull my chair to the window, and look out at the Animas River. Almost instinctively, I reach for my phone and dial.

“Hey,” I hear Kerry’s voice on the other side. “Everything okay?”

“Better now,” I sigh, leaning back in my chair, one hand behind my neck. “Are you looking out at the river?”

“I wasn’t, but now I am. Why?”

“You know that the water that flows past you flows right to me.”

“I guess it does,” she says hesitantly. “Are you looking at the river, too?”

“I am. I like how it connects all the important parts of my life. My work, my house...and now you.”

“I like the thought of that.” I can hear the smile in her voice. For a minute, I just watch the river and listen to her soft breathing.

“Honey? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, Gypsy. Having a tough meeting and just needed to hear your voice.”

“Oh.” She pauses for a second before she continues, “That’s kind of sweet. I miss you, too.”

I chuckle softy, her admission sitting warmly in my chest.

“Bye...mi amór.”

A little hitch in her breath and then a gentle, “Bye, honey...”