Chapter 23 - Kiss and Tell

Gage cleaned the guns while Deira soaked in the tub. His thoughts kept going back to what Viktor had said about her. He was not inclined to take anything at face value. The background he had done on Deira had confirmed the basics of her story, but he could not confirm her drug use unless she had been arrested and there was no record of that.

He needed more information. He sent a message to Nicky, then secured the guns. Until he knew more, he was not giving Deira a gun. He went to his office and closed the door. There was no way Nicky would have been able to find anything in such a short time, but he called her anyway. She picked up on the third ring.

“We have a problem,” she said.

“Not your usual greeting, Nick.” He leaned back in his office chair and closed his eyes. “Tell me about the problem.”

“There’s something wrong with your girl.”

“Other than being battered, bruised and in my house?”

She snorted. “Yeah, besides that. Her story doesn’t pan out.”

“In what way?”

“Well, for one thing, she doesn’t have a sister.”

He went still, stifling the alarm bells in his head.

“I want everything you know. Now.”

“She’s mostly what she says. Middle class, college grad, two brothers, even the jobs match up. There’s a six month gap in her employment, variously explained as traveling abroad or going back to school or the ever popular family reasons. Whatever it was, she dropped out of sight for a little while, two years ago.”

“I found the same information.” Gage said.

“I’m sure you did. What you probably don’t know is that she did rehab. That’s the missing six months.”

“How do you get this information?” he asked.

“Do I ask you how you get your work? No. So don’t ask me how I do mine.”

“So she has no arrest record, but she does have addictions. That is not unusual. What about contacts on the other side?”

“I love how you think there are sides. It’s cute.”

“There are always sides. Mine and the target’s.”

“Other than the fact that she used drugs, I can’t find any connection to Cavuto, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.” She did not bother to say she would keep looking. It was what he would expect.

“Is she setting me up?”

“If I thought that, she’d be dead already.”

“You do care.” He never doubted it.

“Please. Let’s not go there. I just thought I should give you the heads up, since she’s already in your pocket. What you do with that is up to you, but I’m done.”

“With the job?” he asked.

“No, with spending time with her alone. I’ll finish my end of things. There wasn’t much more I could teach her anyway. If you trust her enough to do the job, fine. But she’s your problem now, and we’re square.”

“Fair enough. I will deal with this. You dug all this up before I asked for it. Why?”

“It’s what I do. I had a feeling that something wasn’t right so I followed the data.”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t do it for you. I’m in this, too.”

“I will find out what is going on and let you know if it means a change in plans.”

“Watch your back,” she said, then hung up.

He took several deep breaths. Nothing Deira had told him was true. If he had to, he would drop her and walk away. Would you? He did not want it to come to that. He wanted her to have a good reason for lying to him. For her sake, he hoped she did.

He was standing by the window when she came into his room, wrapped in a towel. She went to the corner where she had left her bag. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. She turned to look at him.

“We have unfinished business.”

“Does it involve killing me?”

“No.”

“Well, then, let’s get to it.” She held the towel with one hand, the other on her hip. She was expecting conversation.

He moved towards her with feral grace. Her eyes widened as she realized his intention. He stopped in front of her, just a little too close. She tentatively reached up to touch his face, faltering when the towel slipped. He removed it and threw it at the hamper, not looking to see where it landed. She took a deep breath.

Without a word, he picked her up and carried her to the bed. She watched him get undressed, eyes shining. She reached out for him when he got into bed, but he caught her hand, shaking his head. As he kissed her, he took her other hand. He pinned both wrists on the pillow above her head, holding them with one hand. His free hand slid across her hips, then up to her ribs. The bruises were healing, but she gave a sharp intake when he brushed them. His hand kept moving, palm gently sliding over her nipples, making them pucker.

“I want –” she started. He stopped her with a kiss.

“That is a good game to play, princess. Tell me what you want.”

“You.”

“Not specific enough. Tell me exactly what you want.”

“I want you to touch me more.”

His hand slid over her breasts, her stomach, her hip. Her breathing came faster as he stroked her thigh.

“Like this?” He slipped a finger inside her.

She arched her back. “Yes,” she groaned as he continued to explore, teasing her.

He knelt between her legs, still holding her wrists.

“What do you want?”

“I want to touch you.” She struggled to free her wrists.

“Not this time. What else do you want?”

“I want you inside me.”

“Are you sure?” He needed her to be sure. Say no.

She did not hesitate. “Yes.”

“Remember you said that,” he whispered. He slid inside of her as she arched to meet him. And then he did not move. She pushed against him.

“I want –”

“No, princess, it is not your turn.”

He supported his weight on the hand holding her wrists, satisfied by her reaction to the momentary pain. He opened a drawer on the nightstand and took out a small black case, flipping it open with his thumb. Inside was a syringe. Her eyes flicked from the box to his face.

“Do you know what that is?” he asked, beginning to move again.

She shook her head, confusion and fear warring with lust.

“That is an artificial adrenaline cocktail, hospital grade. No pump on the street is that strong.”

She licked her lips unconsciously.

“There is a part of you right now that would like nothing more than to throw me off of you and slam that needle into your arm.” He stopped moving, watching her eyes, not knowing if the need was for him or the drug.

“I told you…”

“You told me lies, princess. Many of them.” He began to move, slowly sliding in and out of her. “But not about this. This you were honest about.”

She tossed her head from side to side as she moved with him. He settled his weight on his hips, pinning her so she could not move. She tried again to free her hands.

“This is better than fighting, no?” He thrust hard.

A sound escaped her lips, half moan, half cry, all pleasure.

“Fighting me does not work out well for you. Lying to me will not either.” He stopped moving. “So now it is time for what I want. And I want the truth. Were you a junkie?”

“No,” she spat, not looking at him.

“Then why rehab?”

Shock combined with shame, then morphed into anger. “Because I didn’t want to become a junkie, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to be anyone’s whore.”

She turned her head, facing away from the needle. She was still. And furious.

“You were the one dosed in college.” It was a guess.

“Yes.”

He kissed her neck.

“That was not so hard to admit, was it?” he murmured in her ear.

She shook her head. “I didn’t want anyone to know,” she whispered. “My brothers got me into rehab. And while I was gone, Kara disappeared.”

“It was not your fault,” he said, slowly beginning to move again.

“Everything is my fault.”

“Not that.” He drove into her. “And not this. This was a choice. Tell me to stop and I will.”

“Interrogating me or fucking me?” She slammed her hips to meet his.

“I will have answers from you. The sex can stop at your request.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

He let her wrists go and braced himself for what she might do.

She reached over to the nightstand and shoved the case off of it, twisting to grind against him as she did. She grabbed his arm, pulled herself up as if to kiss him, then sunk her teeth into his shoulder.

He dropped onto her, grabbed her waist and rolled so she was on top of him. His shoulder throbbed but did not bleed. He slid his hands to her hips and thrust up. Then he took his hands off of her.

“Your choice, princess. What do you want?”

She slapped him hard. He caught her hand when she tried it again, locking his fingers with hers. She pushed backwards, using the resistance of his hold to push him deeper into her. He released her hand and held her hips as he rose to meet her. There were no more words. Her eyes glazed over as she rode him, taking out her fury on his body until she came, screaming. Then she laid her head on his shoulder and sobbed. He stroked her back, saying nothing.

A few moments later, she began to move again. He rolled her under him and stopped, waiting. She lifted her hips in assent. Her hands slid over his chest, his arms, his stomach. It was no longer a fight. She wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him deeper, moving with him. Then she dug her nails in and raked them down his back, and he exploded into her.

“That was not right,” she muttered a few minutes later. He was curled around her.

“Which, the interrogation or the sex?”

“Both. Couldn’t we have had that conversation at the dinner table?”

“We can have the rest of it there, if you would like. Or we could do this again.” He kissed the back of her neck.

“You think I’d want to do that again?” she snarled, moving away from him. He pulled her back to him, slipping his hand between her legs. She gasped when his fingers stroked her.

“You might. As torture goes, it is better than most.”

“You’re sick.”

“I am also right.” He continued to play with her.

“I hate you.”

“You want to, but you don’t.”

“I should.”

“Yes, you should,” he whispered as she came again. He held her until she fell asleep.

Gage leaned against the counter, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. He turned the black case over in his hands. The needle was full of saline solution. He took it out and depressed the plunger, watching the liquid shoot into the sink. He put the empty syringe back in the case and returned it to his first aid kit. Taking his coffee and a cup of tea, he went to get Deira up.

She was face down in the middle of his bed, her head resting on one arm. Her hair covered her face. The sheet had bunched at her waist. He set down the cups and reached out to stroke her back. She was so lovely. And he was an animal for what he had done. He sat down on the bed and rubbed his temples.

He turned his head when she stirred. She sat up, shoving her hair out of her face. It fell back again in a tangled mess. The sheet slipped off as she reached past him for the tea. She leaned back against the head board, knees drawn up.

“So, what do you have in store for me next? Waterboarding?” She sipped her tea.

“I hate mopping more than laundry. I would rather you volunteer the truth.”

“Would you? I thought you enjoyed that.” She waved her hand over the bed.

“We can continue this in the kitchen,” he said, rising.

“I think we should finish up here. No reason not to. Ask me whatever you want.”

“Are you setting me up?”

“Would I tell you if I was? Not likely, so there’s no point in answering that, but I will anyway. The truth is that I thought you were dead, just like everyone else did, so I couldn’t have been setting you up. Meeting you was a mistake.”

“You mean an accident.”

“That, too.”

“Why are you going after Cavuto’s men?”

“I told you the truth about that. They raped and killed my sister.” Her hand shook. She set down the cup.

“You don’t have a sister.”

“Not anymore. But I did.”

“Nicky found no record of her.”

“Ah, the information goddess stumbles. Nicky didn’t look at foster records, did she? Kara was my foster sister from the time she was three. Her crackhead mother wouldn’t release custody so my parents couldn’t adopt her. That didn’t make her any less my sister. I’ll give Nicky Kara’s information so she can confirm that if it will make you happy.”

“None of this makes me happy,” he said.

“Some of it did.” She stretched and got out of the bed. “Anything else you need to know, or can I get dressed now?”

“One more thing.” He waited until she turned to face him. “Did you attack one of Cavuto’s men in a bar several years ago?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because he was trying to whore me out. I would have happily killed him, but I didn’t know how. Now I do.” She pulled on a pair of jeans and raked her fingers through her hair.

“I should take you home,” he said, turning to leave.

“Because you’re afraid if I stay you’ll take me and mean it,” she said softly, leaning down to grab a bra and t-shirt.

He leaned against the door frame and closed his eyes. I am sorry. He could not say it. There had been enough lies between them.