Committed (12 page)

He grabbed the cart and held it.

“Will you leave me alone, please?” She didn’t want to do this here; she’d have no excuse she could share for why he upset her.

His breath blew across her cheek as he spoke quietly next to her ear. “Just so we’re clear, I did not leave you willingly. I am a DEA agent and I had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to apprehend a criminal and two major players in the drug trade. One of those men is personally responsible for the death of several of my fellow agents. They were my friends.”

The hard, steely quality of his voice had her heart stuttering, the beat faltering. She couldn’t doubt what he said. Hell, she’d watched the news a week and a half ago, cheering on the police talking about taking down some big drug kingpin. Had he been in on that?

His involvement didn’t excuse the way he’d handled the situation, though. Maybe it was selfish of her, but if it happened once, it would happen again.

Poppy knew in her heart that she’d forgive him, but she didn’t want to see him ever again.

She tilted her head to the side. “If that were the case, and I do believe you, you could have explained it. You know, use your adult words?”

Again the muscle in his jaw jumped. “If I’d gone back in there, I would have fucked you for hours, lost all self-control, and allowed an operation I’ve been personally invested in for months go to hell. Maybe I could have handled the situation better, but I had moments to make a decision, and I made it. It was the wrong one, and I’m sorry that I let you down, but I did what I thought was best at that moment.”

Shame and embarrassment warred with Poppy’s bruised feelings. But how dare he use his job to emotionally manipulate her into forgiving him?

“I understand your duty. I even respect it. But you’re right, you screwed up. Good-bye, Officer.” Poppy turned and walked away, pushing the cart ahead of her. Amazingly, he let her go.

“You can say that all you want, but I see the way you look at me. We aren’t done, Poppy. Not by a long shot.”

Poppy’s spine straightened hearing her name on his lips. She turned, but he was gone. A moment later, the library door banged shut, leaving her alone in her domain. She hobbled to the nearest study desk and sank into a chair, her knees rubbery, her head hurting, and her heart not sure which way to beat.

Poppy peeked through the peephole. A large, brown eye stared back at her. She snorted and flipped the deadbolt, whisking the door open.

“I’d know that eye anywhere.” Poppy leaned her head against the frame and smiled at her two friends.

“You called, we came.” Nikki batted her lashes at Poppy. The five foot ten transgender Asian was a better girl than Poppy half the time, now included.

“There’s coming involved? Damn, and I left my Hitachi at home. How you doing, girl? I’m still not used to those bangs.” Kyle flipped her hair over her shoulder, pushed past Nikki, and gave Poppy a quick hug.

“Come in, dinner’s almost ready.” Poppy stood back and her guests filed past.

“Where are your shoes?” Nikki scolded, stopping in the middle of the short hallway pointing at Poppy’s naked feet.

“I had a rough day,” she snapped back.

“A good pair of heels makes any day better. Come here, honey.” Nikki wrapped her arms around Poppy and squeezed her tight. “What happened?”

Kyle leaned against the wall. “Yeah, you weren’t very forthcoming in your texts.”

“All this
coming
, I might need a rag,” Nikki said, and snickered.

Poppy rolled her eyes and hugged Nikki harder.

She needed her friends tonight.

“Thank you, guys, for coming over.” Only when the words were out of her mouth did Poppy realize what she’d said.

The three of them were seized by a fit of laughter.

“What are you making? Anything I can do to help?” Kyle asked, following her across the open kitchen.

“Just some pasta.” Poppy swirled the noodles in the pot as something soft and furry brushed against her calf. She glanced down and smiled at the brown-and-black-striped cat. “Hi, Yoshi.”

The Maine coon stared up at her with limpid green eyes. Yoshi was the more sensitive of her two felines, and had been sticking close to her since she’d arrived home from work and
huddled on the couch.

“That cat is so fucking big. I will never get used to her.” Nikki settled in on one of the two barstools at the portable island in the middle of the kitchen.

“Yoshi is a him,” Poppy corrected.

“I think he wants to be a her,” Nikki replied in a singsong voice.

“You know, not all men want to be women, just because you do.” Kyle wandered across the kitchen toward Nikki.

“They don’t know what they’re missing,” Nikki replied with a shake of her long, black wig. She was understated today, with natural makeup, if applied a little heavily, and wearing wedge heels, jeans, and a glittering, white tank top. A bra, presumably filled with gel breasts, completed the transformation. Considering that she often showed up for burgers in a ball gown, she was noticeably toned down.

“Okay, seriously. What the fuck is going on?” Kyle asked over her shoulder. Her rolled-up jeans and plaid button-down shirt over a tank top gave no indication of her creative, usually sadistic, mind.

Poppy bought time before she answered by draining the pasta in the sink.

How did she explain what was going on in her heart and in her mind? The two organs were in conflict.

“Hello, Mario,” Nikki purred.

Poppy glanced over her shoulder. Nikki was leaning down, rubbing the head of Poppy’s other Maine coon cat, the attention whore. He had his head held high, back arched, and tail flicking from side to side. His eyes were closed in feline bliss.

“I can never keep your cats straight,” Kyle said.

“Why they got to be straight?” Nikki retorted.

Poppy smiled, comforted by the banter and presence of her friends. They were the most unlikely people for her to bond with, but they got her. She placed the food into serving dishes, then pulled the garlic bread out of the oven.

“Are you ignoring my question or are you still thinking?” Kyle opened the cabinet and pulled down plates.

Poppy sighed and shrugged.

“What is it, honey?” Nikki leaned forward, elbows on the island.

“I ran into the dom I played with two weeks ago, today.” Poppy tucked her hair behind her ear as Yoshi curled around her legs again.

“That fucker who left you?” Kyle snapped.

“Where? How did that happen?” Nikki asked, rapid-fire.

“Turns out, he’s a cop. Food’s ready.” She picked up the pasta dish and carried it out of the kitchen to the small, four-person dining set.

Her apartment was, essentially, four cubes that formed a square. The kitchen and dining-living-room combo were on one side, her bedroom, bathroom, and closet on the other. It wasn’t a large space, but it was modern and nice, and the landlord took care of the building.

Nikki and Kyle followed, carrying plates, drinks, and the remainder of the food.

“Okay, you’ve got to stop with the silent shit and talk already.” Kyle plopped the sauce on the table and set the plates down with a clink.

“What is there to say?” Poppy spread her hands and rolled her eyes. “I saw him. He said it wasn’t personal, that he had this big case or bust or something to go to, and I get it. But, why not tell me yourself? Why send someone else to do your dirty work? That’s shady.”

Nikki’s face creased in thought, while Kyle pursed her lips in indignant rage on Poppy’s behalf.

“I’m going to play devil’s advocate,” Nikki announced.

“Oh Lord,” Kyle muttered, and began filling her plate.

“Okay.” Poppy handed the garlic bread around.

“He’s playing with you. From what you’ve told me, I know how you get when you’re in the zone, so things are hot and heavy, and if he’s good enough to get you tied in knots, you must have been in deep. So you guys are playing, he gets the call.” Nikki held her hand to her face, as if she were on the phone. “He has a choice. He can come bring you off that fevered point, which can take a while with anyone, or he can—save someone’s life. I’m not saying those were his choices, but …”

Poppy glared at Nikki. Damn her and her devil’s advocate for sucking out all her righteous anger. “That’s pretty much what happened. I searched for news articles from the time period after he left, and I’m guessing he was involved in that big drug bust that was all over the news.”

Nikki gasped. “You mean the one where that officer got shot?”

“I don’t know what the hell you two are talking about. Pass me the sauce, Nikki?” Kyle passed the pasta back to Poppy and ladled out sauce on her plate.

“That’s the one,” she replied to Nikki. Kyle might as well live under a rock for all the attention she paid to the news. Poppy pushed her food around her plate, not all that interested in
eating, even after she’d spent an hour making the sauce from scratch.

“What are you going to do about Dom Cop?” Kyle stabbed the pasta with her fork, popped it in her mouth, and moaned with pleasure.

Poppy couldn’t help but smile. She liked cooking for others, and it made it better when they enjoyed it. She sighed and rolled her thoughts about Dom Cop, as Kyle called him, around in her head.

“I think I forgive him. I get his sense of duty, and I respect what he does. But I don’t want any part of that.” She shook her head. “A man who is always running off to do God knows what, may or may not tell you anything, and could get killed to boot? No thanks.”

Nikki and Kyle both nodded, too busy chewing to reply.

A part of Poppy mourned shutting the door of possibility. The dom had rocked her world. He was everything she wanted in one package. Except she’d never allowed anyone to make her anything less than a priority when it came to relationships. She’d learned from watching her mother that there was never a guarantee that men would stick around, and the only ones worth fooling around with were the ones who put you first.

Poppy deserved to be a priority.

The dom would never put her first, so she had to let him go.

Damien’s eyes never left the run-down building across the street from his position. Drunks, and people looking for their fix or a cheap hooker, stumbled out to the street, shielding their eyes from the sun.

He’d love nothing more than to take a raid team through that place, clean it out and book the whole lot of them, but they’d never get approval. Special Agent Howard Cooper was nothing more than a suit looking to make his name with the blood of good agents and glowing press. Cleaning up a sin bin wouldn’t even make a blip on the nightly news, so this known crime spot went untouched.

The console between the car seats began to vibrate and buzz like an angry hornet. Damien glanced at the two phones and snatched up his personal cell. He caught an impression of the name before answering it.

“Poppy Mercer,” Damien said, instead of hello.

The person on the other end paused for several beats.

“You found her.” Yamamoto didn’t ask questions when there was no need.

“I did.” It still bothered Damien that his friend hadn’t given him the necessary details to
find Poppy sooner. The hurt in her gaze, and how she ran from him, made it clear that she was still just as tied up in what they’d shared as he was. He bet she hadn’t even played since then. He hadn’t.

“How?”

“She’s a librarian at a school. We ran into each other when I was assisting on a search and seizure.”

Tight skirt, a print top under a snug sweater, and those heels. He could remember every inch of her.

“What are you going to do?”

“Did you really call to talk to me about this?”

“No, but it’s more interesting. Your rope is ready.” One of Yamamoto’s many talents was spinning bondage-quality rope. Damien bought bundles from him every so often to replace his stash.

“Oh.” Damien’s mind raced through the possibilities, his gaze never leaving the doors of the building across the street.

“Damien?”

“Hold on. Something’s happening.” He watched one man meander out to the curb, glance up and down the street, and wait. “I got a lookout.”

“Do I want to know what you’re doing now?”

“Following up on that tip you gave me. Cooper has us buried in paperwork, so I’m looking for Emilio on my own time and dime.”

“Is that wise, Damien?”

“You tell me if it’s wise to let a known killer walk the streets without even doing a cursory search for him.” Damien balled his hand into a fist. He’d like nothing better than to punch Special fucking Agent Cooper in the nuts. If they were lucky, the Valdez sting would be enough to get the pain in the ass promoted and out of Damien’s hair.

“Fine. I suspect Xiaojian has set up shop in that building, as well, though I can’t be certain of it.”

Translation, Yamamoto hadn’t seen the man for himself, but probably knew one or two people who had. It was a solid enough lead by Damien’s standards, one which he appreciated. Yamamoto didn’t often do favors, no matter how friendly he was.

“Do you know Sanctuary’s rules?” Damien asked casually. The lookout gestured to someone inside the building. “Hold on.”

A car zipped up to the curb and a black man with swagger emerged from the building. He was a small-time dealer taking advantage of Emilio’s disappearance to widen his territory. He also knew who Damien was, so he’d have to lie low for a while longer. The dealer got into the car with his lookout and an enforcer before speeding off.

The coast was finally clear.

Damien shoved his other phone into his pocket and got out of his car in a hurry. He didn’t know what had spooked the dealer into leaving so suddenly, but he needed to take advantage of the window of opportunity.

What better place for one of the most wanted fugitives to hide out than a building the police didn’t have time to raid?

“Shouldn’t you call for backup?” Yamamoto asked in his calm, cool, and collected manner. Nothing seemed to rile the man.

“I’m not doing anything. Just looking for a friend.” Damien jogged across the street and headed down the sidewalk.

It seemed as though more people were leaving the building. Rats always knew when a ship was going down. What did they know that Damien didn’t?