Doing It Right (17 page)

“I don’t suppose we can renegotiate,” he whispered, and tongued her ear. “Are you
suuuuure
you insist on keeping your appointment tomorrow?”

She groaned. “Don’t do that.”

“I was only kidding,” he said, not sure if he was telling the truth. “I—Whoa!” She’d bucked, reared up on her hip, and tumbled him onto his side. They faced each other and she reached for him, her fingers closing around him with care, with love.

“No, you weren’t. But I don’t blame you.” She wriggled closer to him; her eyes were enormous. Her face was flushed, her forehead shining with sweat. She raised her leg and scooted still closer. Unbelieving, he moved to meet her.

He watched her face while he slowly penetrated her. Her eyes widened, her breath caught, her gaze bored into his. If he hadn’t come earlier, he surely would have at that exact moment; the intimacy was incredible, like nothing he’d felt before.
Jesus
, he thought, thrusting slowly, mesmerized by her face,
the eyes really are the windows of the soul and hers is … so beautiful …

He kissed her softly and she cried out into his mouth, then he felt her tighten around him, felt her press herself as closely as she could. He reached out, found her breasts, stroked her nipples while he thrust against her, and she had barely stopped shuddering from one orgasm when another was on her.

“Oh, Kara,” he groaned while she shivered and bucked against him, while her eyes closed and she dug her nails into his back, “I think I’m just about done. I think this is … is …” Abruptly, shockingly,
she jerked away. He was now thrusting into air. “What the
hell
?”

“Serves you right,” she gasped, “for trying to use sex to get me to blow off the D.A.” Then, incredibly, she shoved her hair off her damp forehead and stuck her tongue out at him. “So
phhhhhbbbtttt!
”

He yowled and grabbed for her. She tussled with him briefly, then let him roll her onto her back and enter her again. Her legs came up, wrapped around his waist, and she thrust back at him, grinning at him the whole time. He didn’t know whether to laugh, too, or throttle her.

He came instead, so hard and long he felt his eyes roll back. Then collapsed over her.

“You screamed like a girlie girl when you thought we were done,” she whispered into his ear.

“As soon as I get my strength back, I’m going to kick your ass,” he growled.

“Sweetie, you couldn’t kick a hole through a paper sack.” She giggled. “But because you’re so good in bed, I think I’ll keep you.” She stopped laughing, probably remembering she was in no position to keep anybody.

He finally broke the silence. “Let me rest. But only for a little bit. I’m not wasting one minute of tonight sleeping.”

“Agreed,” she said, and put her head down on his shoulder.

“I had the oddest dream about you,” he said, much later. Early morning sunlight was slanting
across his bed. Contrary to their best intentions, they had indeed dozed off for a few hours. He had been thrilled to wake up beside her. And nearly cried when he remembered he likely never would again. “The first night you stayed over. Remember? You slept on the couch.”

“I remember.” How could she forget? “I had a strange dream that night, too.”

“In yours, did I dress in an armadillo suit, throw pickles at you, and then hump you like a monkey?”

She shook so hard with laughter she nearly fell off the bed. “No! Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re sort of a freak sometimes.”

“Says the compulsive thief. What happened in your dream?”

“You raped me, then disappeared.”

He looked appalled. “I don’t know which idea is worse.”

“Well,” she teased, “I
did
have an orgasm. So it wasn’t all bad.”

“Did you now?” His hand closed over her breast. “Let’s see if you can have another one. Where were we, er, getting busy? In your dream?”

His palm was rubbing lazily across her nipple, and she was a bit breathless when she replied. “Your couch. You bent me over the arm rest and did as you liked.”

“Mmm. Too bad I don’t have any condoms. How often can we keep playing baby roulette?”

“Baby?”

“Don’t yell, I’m right next to you. Don’t you want my baby?”

She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. “Jared, I’m leaving for prison.”

He sighed. “Call me a dreamer. I can’t help wishing you were ovulating.”

“You sure seem to know a lot about it,” she said tartly.

He smiled lazily. “Well, I
am
a doctor.” His hands were busy between her legs. “Oooh, God, that’s nice … you’re still slippery from last night.”

“I was too tired to get up and wash,” she said, almost groaned; his fingers—two, then three—dipped inside her with no resistance at all. “And then we … we fell asleep.”

“Turn over for me.” His fingers were busy, busy.

“No fair disappearing when we’re done,” she said, and was instantly sorry. Why remind him that their time was so desperately short?

“No chance,” he said firmly, easing her over on her hands and knees. She felt his fingers, slick from their juices, stretching her, teasing her.

“God, that’s nice,” she moaned.

“Wait,” he panted, and then she felt his engorged tip against her.

“Push hard. Really hard.”

“I’ll hurt you.”

She bit back a laugh. “I want it to hurt. I want to have a sore pussy for a while.”
Something to remember you by when I’m by myself in a cell tonight.

“Kara … “

“
Shove
.”

He was reluctant, she knew, but also excited. The word was barely out of her mouth when he
obliged with a grunt. And she had been wrong; it didn’t hurt. She gasped harshly as he shoved again, his balls slapping against her.

“You’re—” She gulped and tried again. “Don’t stop.”

He thrust, thrust, thrust into her. “Not a chance … ah,
Jesus
!”

“Don’t stop.”

“Thank God.” His hands found her breasts, squeezed hard, marked her flesh. His thighs slammed against her. Unlike her dream, she had not the slightest sensation an orgasm was anywhere near. Still, the feel of his cock digging into her, opening her, was strangely exciting. So were his thrusts; they were wild, almost out of control; his arousal was total, it had dominated him completely.

And that was most exciting of all.

“Kara …” A strangled groan.

“I love you,” she said in reply, and that was it, that finished it for him. He collapsed behind her, breathing harshly. She felt him slip out of her and had time for a quick, amused thought:
Nothing is keeping me from the shower this time
. Then he flipped her over, spread her legs, opened her wide with his thumbs.

His head dipped and she felt his tongue flick across her clit. She squirmed and his mouth followed her. His tongue and lips were delicate, a direct contrast to the pounding he had just given her.

His tongue eased inside her with sweet slowness,
then retreated, then eased back in. She could hear someone whimpering softly and realized she was the one making the sound.

He pulled back a bit and lapped at her, then started licking her the way a child licks a popsicle in July, slowly and enthusiastically. Savoring it. And like a popsicle, she melted.

She brought her legs up and locked her ankles behind his neck. Now he was sucking on her clit, teasing the aching bud with swirls and sweeps of his tongue, and she began to scream. Sort of. In truth she was too tired to scream; what left her throat were shrill, desperate whimpers.

Her hips bucked against his mouth once. Twice. Then she was coming, coming and melting, straining toward him.

They held each other until their breathing slowed.

After a long moment, she said, “We
really
need a shower.”

“And a transfusion. Kara, I’m pretty sure you’ve killed me. I just haven’t caught on yet.”

She giggled tiredly. “Shall I roll you toward the bathroom?”

“Bathroom later. Snuggle now.” So saying, he tucked her head into his shoulder and tossed the sheet over them. “I love you.”

She smiled against his flesh. “I love you, too.”

“Y
ou look almost as bad as I feel,” he lied. Kara looked beautiful, as usual, but she
did
have dark circles under her eyes. “And I feel like shit.”

“You should have stayed home.”

“Don’t start up with that crap again.”

“But you should have,” she said, blatantly ignoring his command. “They’ll take me away after the meeting and I don’t—I don’t want you to see that.”

“Hello!” he shouted, startling several courthouse staff. Kara was leading them straight to the D.A., like the demented homing pigeon she had turned into. “I saw you clapped in irons and hauled away not even twenty-four hours ago.” He looked at his watch. “Not even fifteen hours ago.”

“Still,” she said stubbornly. “This is no place for you.”

“That makes two of us.”

In another circumstance, he could have appreciated the grandeur and majesty of the old courthouse.
The architecture spoke of a love of design, the mellow wood spoke of a love of caretaking. The building had to be a hundred years old and was magnificent. Unfortunately, right now it was a symbol of everything that was about to go wrong with his life, so he could have gouged holes in the banisters and taken pleasure in it.

“Shouldn’t you be bringing a lawyer to this meeting?”

“I waived my right to counsel,” she said, not looking at him.

“Cripes! Aren’t you taking this throw-the-book-at-me bullshit a little too far?”

She didn’t answer him and, disgusted, he quit bugging her.

When they reached the correct floor, there was no one sitting at the secretary’s desk, but a man popped out of the small adjoining office and approached them, hand out. “Hi,” said the guy who was going to clap his Kara in chains for the next thirty years. “I’m Tom Wechter.”

Tom Wechter was the youngest D.A. in the history of the tristate area. The state was proud of him, with good reason. He had an astonishing conviction rate and was boyishly handsome, with dark blond hair cropped short, an athletic frame, a firm handshake. Jared hated him on sight.

He shook their hands. “Why don’t we go into my office and have a seat?”

They wordlessly followed him in. He shut the door behind them and the sound reminded Jared of a closing casket.

“Well,” Wechter said, sitting behind his desk. His suit jacket was hanging over the back of his desk chair; his sleeves were rolled up, exposing smooth forearms lightly sprinkled with blond hair. His tie was a nightmare—dark green with orange dots. Like a car accident, Jared had trouble looking away from it. “First things first. Dr. Dean, your name is not unknown to me. You made quite an impression on the desk sergeant—Officer Ristau.”

“Ah, Officer Ristau,” he said fondly, ignoring Kara’s raised eyebrow.

“And Ms. Jones, you’ve also got some fans in the police department. It was suggested to me by several detectives—many who had worked the Freibur case—that I cut you a deal, reduced sentencing in return for your testimony against Anthony Edis Carlotti.”

“Edis?” Jared couldn’t help asking.

Wechter never blinked. “Family name. However,” he continued, “we’ve had an undercover cop in Carlotti’s gang for some time. The officer in question—who had a hell of a headache last night, thanks to you, Ms. Jones—”

Kara moved her foot on top of Jared’s and pressed, hard. Jared gritted his teeth and remained silent.

“—has, in the past thirteen months, gathered so much evidence of murder, assault, prostitution, fraud, rape and blackmail—most of it on tape, no less—that Carlotti and his associates have been advised by counsel to plead man one—”

“Manslaughter in the first degree,” Kara muttered to Jared.

“Hey, I watch
Law and Order
.”

“—and, it must be said,” Wechter-the-robot continued, “Carlotti practically ruptured something agreeing to a plea. So that takes care of him.”

“So …” Jared hoped he hadn’t guessed incorrectly. “You don’t need Kara’s testimony?”

“No. The better news, Dr. Dean, is because Carlotti has been jailed for reasons that have nothing to do with you, there’s no longer a hit on your life.”

“Goody,” he said dryly. “But Kara is still screwed, right?”

“That’s not a legal term I’m familiar with.”

Jared stared. The guy was either the biggest stiff in the world, or just dim.

“The Avenging Angel,” Wechter said after a short silence. “I’ve been looking for you for a long time. I’ve dreamed of getting you in this office.”

“I know,” Kara said quietly. Her expression was serene, almost bored. Jared swelled with pride. Her life was shattering, imploding, but to look at Kara you might have thought she was waiting for a bus. Or thinking about stealing one. “I’ve been trying to keep out of your way.”

“You’ve been at this for years, haven’t you? The vigilante stuff?”

Kara opened her mouth, but Jared cut her off. “You don’t have to answer that, Kara.”

“It’s a little late to play coy now, Dr. Dean. Haven’t you?” he asked Kara.

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“How long have I been breaking the law, or how long have I been pulling jobs like the Freibur house?”

“At least fifteen years, I’d say.”

Kara nodded.

“Well.”

Another silence. Jared was ready to scream from the tension. Not that Wechter or Kara were exhibiting any. That was all right. He was sweating enough for all three of them.

“Well,” Wechter said again. “I have a sister.”

Kara made a polite noise. Jared considered putting his fist through a wall and bellowing something along the lines of,
Can we just get on with it
?

“Yes,” Wechter continued. “She ran into some trouble a few years ago, when she was a freshman in college, when I was the assistant D.A. for this county. She believed a new gentleman friend when he said he was a nice guy, followed him out the back door of the restaurant, went for a walk with him in the park. Ran into three of his friends,” Wechter continued coolly, as if reading a weather report.