fifteen
“Talk to me, sugar. I know you’re there.”
Talia wasn’t sure if it was wise to say anything. But she sure was tempted. Tucker’s smooth Southern drawl made her shiver inside with need. She longed to be in his warm embrace again, to hear his sweet words spoken in her ear, to feel his body against hers. More than anything, she craved being in his presence again. She might have been the one to leave, but he still meant everything to her.
Everything.
These phone calls of his were killing her though. Tiny slices, all perfectly made to cut deeper than the last, though she didn’t think he intended them that way.
He needed her as much as she needed him.
But it wasn’t time for that yet. This case was taking them exactly where they needed to go, and the bureau was pushing for results. They wanted to close the file on this by month’s end. Sooner if it could be managed. And it just might be feasible.
The girl they put undercover was doing her job and doing it well. As far as they could tell, the bait—her—had been taken. Now it was just a matter of digging for evidence then storming the castle and slapping on the cuffs.
Time was of the essence.
Still, it couldn’t happen fast enough for her liking. Yet, she knew, the very reason she had yet to try to work things out with Tucker was the same reason they might not be able to work anything out at all.
But this was going to be huge for her career. A career she’d completely derailed when she’d gotten in too deep with the Spartans during an undercover operation of her own a couple years ago. This was her chance—her only chance—to get back what she’d lost.
Would it be worth the risk? She couldn’t know for sure, but she hoped. Tucker had always been lenient with her, understanding and forgiving to a fault. She hoped his caring nature extended to this too.
“I’m here,” she finally said, aware that she was crossing a line she herself had put into place. She just couldn’t be quiet anymore.
Tucker sighed into the phone, his relief palpable despite the distance that divided them. “God, it’s good to hear your voice. How are you?”
“Fine,” she lied. Talia was anything but fine. She was overworked, stressed the hell out, lonely, and heartbroken. “Just been working a lot.”
She could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m glad to hear that, sugar. Sometimes work is all that keeps us going.”
“How are you?” she asked.
“Getting by day by day,” he said candidly. “Missing you like crazy.”
She knew she shouldn’t, but she did anyway. “I miss you too.”
“Then why don’t you come home. Whatever this is, we can work on it. I’ll do anything, sugar. Anything. It’s just not the same without you here. It’s all…pointless.”
Talia felt a stab of pain deep in her heart, regret filling her with guilt and despair for everything she was willingly putting them through. “I can’t right now. I have something important I’m working on here.”
“More important than us?” he asked, his tone changing. Tucker was upset, and rightfully so. She’d basically just told him that her work trumped all.
“There is no us,” she said, deliberately being cold. If he got too close now, if she allowed him to open the door and step through it, everything up till now would be for nothing.
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
“It’s not. I can’t be with you right now.”
“I know I screwed up, Talia. I’m man enough to admit that, and I want to make it up to you. We were happy, weren’t we?”
“Yes,” she admitted, unable to lie about that. She’d never felt more alive or had so much purpose than when she’d taken a chance on him. Her, an FBI detective, and him a biker with an ax to grind. Such an unlikely pair, and yet they’d fit together like puzzle pieces.
“Then why are you running from this? Come home and let’s fix it, together.”
“Like I said, I have to do something here, then…” She hesitated, not wanting to make promises she couldn’t keep. There was no telling how this case was going to go. There was still a very real possibility that she would lose him completely once everything came to light.
“Then what?” he asked hopefully.
“Then maybe,” she finished.
“Maybe…” he drawled, trying the word on for size. “I can work with maybe. At least it’s not no.”
Glancing at the clock, Talia realized she had less than an hour until she was supposed to meet with her partner and together they were to meet with their informant. Depending on what she had to say, they would decide how to move forward. She was praying for significant progress.
“Tucker, I have to go.”
“Have to or want to?”
“Have to,” she said, allowing the regret she felt to enter her voice. He needed to know that she was in pain too. She needed him to wait for her.
“Okay, sugar. You go handle your business. I got some of my own to tend to, too. But, darlin’? Next time I call, you better answer. No more silent treatment, hear?”
Talia couldn’t stop the spread of her smile. Had he been standing in front of her, she knew that warning would have come with the threat of a solid spanking, whether with his hand or a paddle or some other tool of his choosing, and it excited her. She missed everything about him—his rough hands, his strong, sure, confident touch, the way he commanded her body as if he alone knew the passcode. Please, God, let there still be a future for them.
“Okay, Tuck,” she promised, her voice soft. She needed to get off the phone before her emotions betrayed her. She refused to cry. Not today. Not tomorrow. Only when she was standing in front of him again would she allow herself to feel it all, to unleash it all. Only then would she allow herself to crumble, because Tucker Abrams would never let her fall.
“Love you, sugar,” he said, and before Talia had a second to consider whether or not she’d say it back, he ended the call.
Staring at the phone in her head, she allowed herself exactly one minute to breathe and calm her frayed nerves. Then Talia got up, put on her shoes, and walked out the door.
***
These meetings sucked, but when you got the kind of deal she was offered, you didn’t have a whole lot of choice in the matter.
Rena sat in the passenger seat of the blacked-out Cadillac, one agent on her left occupying the driver’s seat, and one in the back, hovering over her shoulder and hanging on every word. Both were armed, and she was certain they hadn’t come alone.
The Feds were sneaky like that. They always had a Plan B to a Plan A and a Plan C to a Plan B. The moment she’d signed on with them to do this gig, she’d basically signed her rights away.
Not that she was losing much. She wasn’t a free agent with or without them, but with any luck, after all was said and done, she would have a clean record and a clear path ahead. It would be the first time ever in her life that she wouldn’t have to look over her shoulder, worry about her next step, or have her past dogging her every move.
Being a felon had a way of ruining every good thing you tried to do in life. She couldn’t even get a decent job or apartment because she’d gotten into so much trouble.
It was just that trouble was so easy to find, and she enjoyed the adrenaline rush a little too much to quit.
But she was an adult now, and she wasn’t getting any younger. There came a point in everyone’s life that living off the land, constantly being on the move, and generally leading a nomadic life got old and tiring. It still made her shudder to think it, but she kinda wanted to be like her big sister, who had a stable life with actual things to her name—things that were worth something. Even if she didn’t have a lot, at least she had a little.
It was far more than Rena had to show for her years.
“I’ve spent countless hours with him, but he’s hard to pin down. He won’t let me get close enough to get anything solid.”
“Then you have to make him get closer,” the driver, Agent McKinnon she thought her name was, said with an edge to her voice that made Rena’s hackles flare.
“There is no making that man do anything. He’s a shot caller, not a pussy pushover,” Rena informed her, returning her ever-so-fake-polite attitude with a strained smile. “Manuel’s lips are sealed.”
“He’s a man. Use what God gave you. Given enough time, men always fold,” said the agent in the back who looked like she’d probably never even seen a man naked, let alone wanted to.
“I have. He’s not much of a talker if you know what I mean.” Manuel was a fucker. He opened his pants and his bed, but those delicious lips were sealed tight as a bank vault. Rena knew instinctively that he would never reveal his hand, not even to his closest confidants, of which she was almost certain didn’t exist.
“Look, Miss Grace, the deal is you get us what we need to take this guy down, and we scrub your record clean. He spends the rest of his life behind bars, and you spend yours doing whatever the hell you want not behind bars. Need I remind you what will happen if you don’t follow through—”
“You don’t have to remind me of shit,” Rena cut her off, then added respectfully, “Agent McKinnon. But you also can’t expect miracles. You’re asking me to do the impossible, so unless God himself comes down here and shines a golden light on the answers, I can’t promise you a damn thing.”
“I don’t see you putting in the effort—”
“I don’t see either of you fucking a goddamn murderer!” she bellowed. Realizing she was losing her cool, Rena closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Look, I’m doing what I can, what you asked, and what your people have been unable to pull off, and might I remind you that you all have access to a shit load more resources than I do. I’m not a freakin’ miracle worker, but I am doing my best.”
All she knew was they had better not even think about not delivering on their promises after she put her very life in danger—results or not.
“You’re right, Miss Grace,” McKinnon agreed. Her partner in the back gasped, then shut her trap, clearly not agreeing but refraining from laying out her reservations in front of the client.
Rena wanted to laugh.
“As long as you continue to do what we ask and show up to these meetings, the deal is still on. But I have to stress to you the importance of this investigation. Manuel Contreras is as dangerous as they come. He’s a viper ready to strike. All he needs is a target.”
Rena nodded. She’d heard all of this before. Manuel was some big-time arms dealer. He’d killed people. He was looking to expand. He had deep ties with some mafia south of the border. She had to admit, she wasn’t feeling the scary vibes they wanted her to. Manuel was just a man with a lot of money and power, from what she could tell. If he was into some crazy shit, he was keeping a tight lid on it. And she had the notion that he wouldn’t allow any of his business to pour over into his personal life.
“I get it, I get it,” she said, not caring to hear the same diatribe again. “He’s a bad guy.”
McKinnon’s expression pinched as she regarded Rena. “This is serious. I’ve been where you’re at, and it didn’t go as planned. Luckily for me, things turned out okay. This situation you’re in now is similar, but the dangers are far greater. You have to protect yourself. Make sure that you don’t get attached. I know we’re asking a lot, but it’s imperative that you keep that dividing line in your head intact.”
“I won’t have any trouble with that,” she assured her. It might sound cocky, but Rena wasn’t easily influenced. She’d always been in control of her own mind, never doing anything that she didn’t want to do. Manuel was bad news, yes, but he was also fun to hang with. She’d have a little fun while she conducted her business, then she would be on her merry way.
What could go wrong?