Jude Devine Mystery Series (111 page)

Lone removed the glass she’d cut, rested the rocket launcher on the window sill, and waited for the motorcade. She didn’t care which car she hit. If she got lucky, it would be his. If not, there was still enough time to get down onto the street. In her uniform, carrying a gun and looking like she was in an official capacity, who would stop her?

Like long black bullets, the armored limos glided along the artery below. They halted to a crawl as protestors poured into the security zone. City, county, and state police pounded down the streets, trying to drag people out of the melee. But they were far outnumbered and the situation went crazily out of control.

Lone checked her earplugs and took aim. She heard the whoosh and thunder as she fired. She scored a direct hit. Not waiting around to watch, she crammed her gear in a trash bag and headed for the fire exit. She took the stairs at a fierce run, making it out onto the street in less than ninety seconds. She dropped the trash bag and joined everyone else rushing toward the cars.

Members of the security detail had converged on one limo alone, their brief to guard the man inside. Lone lifted her MP5, but people scrambled in front of her, pounding the windows and yelling abuse. She ran to the front of the car and lifted the submachine gun again. But her arms were jolted and her aim went wild. Bullets sprayed. People shrieked.

Something hit her with tremendous force and she was down. Blood fountained from her neck. She felt no pain. She heard sirens. She tried to move but couldn’t. Debbie’s face passed across her mind, then everything collapsed into a dark spiraling abyss. She felt a hand stroke her cheek like a farewell caress. She sensed Madeline and Brandon close to her, talking to her. The noise and smells receded. The light behind her eyelids faded. And she surrendered to a stillness so blissfully peaceful she smiled.

*

Debbie stared at CNN. Breaking news. There had been an assassination attempt on the vice president’s life in Denver where he was at a fund-raising dinner for Marilyn Musgrave. Just looking at the screen, it was hard to tell what was going on, except that he’d survived. Thank God for that, Debbie thought.

The reporter was standing on the street with lights flashing all around him. Protestors with placards were milling round noisily. He described how the Secret Service had to chase the shooter across rooftops before

They switched to Wolf Blitzer in the Situation Room and he announced the story all over again. Her cell phone rang and Debbie snatched it up, expecting another update from Lone about the movers and the cats. She still couldn’t believe Lone had just deposited her by the lake and left almost immediately, promising to return in a few days.

“Debbie?”

“Jude, did you get my message?”

“No, I lost my cell phone.” Jude sounded tightly wound.

“Is everything okay?” Debbie asked.

“Are you watching TV?”

“Yes, isn’t it terrible?”

Jude was quiet for a long time, then she said, “Debbie, I’m sorry to have to tell you this. There’s been a serious incident involving Lone.”

Debbie sat very still, her blood pumping like ice in her veins. “Is she all right?”

“No.” Jude was having trouble speaking. “I’m so sorry. She’s dead.”

Debbie got up. She dropped the phone and staggered to the bathroom, cold sweat running off her face and down her back. She threw up into the toilet, then sat down on the cold tile floor, shaking violently. She had no idea how long she stayed there. When she crawled back into the living room on her hands and knees and picked up the phone, Jude had hung up and a text message was waiting.

It read
You’re not alone. Come back to Paradox
.

Chapter Twenty

“What are you doing here?” Jude asked.

Mercy’s expression was one Jude couldn’t remember seeing before, a mixture of naked desire, tender amusement, and sadness so profound it silenced her.

“I’ve been waiting for you. I heard about your hairdresser’s girlfriend.”

Jude’s head pounded. Words floated just out of reach, tantalizing her with their potential. If she could just summon the right sentence, she would be completely in control. Staunch. Stoic in her sense of duty. Untroubled by doubt.

“Invite me in,” Mercy said.

Jude released her hold on the door and marveled that she could stand upright without its support. She stepped to one side. Mercy walked past her, smelling of damp mountain air and beautiful skin.

“Where’s Elspeth?” Jude asked.

“Don’t.” Mercy slid her jacket off and dropped it over the back of a chair. “Pour me a Scotch, Jude.”

“You could have just left me a note.” Jude took two glasses from the sideboard and poured a shot of Talisker and a dash of water into each.

“A note. Yes, very appropriate,” Mercy said with cool irony.

Jude tapped their glasses. “Here’s looking at you.”

They both drank. Mercy sat down at one end of the sofa and crossed her long slender legs. She was dressed for work in a plain coffee-colored shirt and dark brown tailored pants.

“Did you come straight from the office?” Jude asked inanely, like this was just another day and they were going to chat politely for a few minutes, then Mercy would leave.

“When I heard the name announced, I had a feeling you might need me..”

Jude finished her drink and set the glass down on the sideboard. “Thanks for coming.” She pretended to be preoccupied, putting the bottle away. “I don’t want to seem rude, but I’d rather be alone.”

“Liar,” Mercy said softly.

“Let me rephrase. I’d rather not be with a married woman.”

Mercy placed her glass on the coffee table on front of the sofa and said, “What if it was over?”

“You looked very married the last time I saw you.”

“Appearances can be deceptive. We both know that.”

Too drained to stay standing, Jude sank down at the other end of the sofa. “I don’t have the energy for this. Please, just go.”

Mercy removed the bobby pins from her hair and shook it out of its tight chignon. She sagged back against the deep cushions, eyes closed. “Here’s what I’m thinking. When Elspeth gets back from Poland, I’ll tell her things have to change.”

“She’s in Poland?” The pieces fell into place.

“They needed to capture the pathos of an Eastern European village for her new film, but they didn’t want to be too far from a decent hotel.”

Jude propped her head in her hands. “Pathos? I could show her pathos, right here in Colorado.” Her shoulders shook. She started laughing and couldn’t stop. “What do you think? Too real?”

“Jude.” Mercy reached out, then let her hand fall.

Jude gazed down at the curl of her fingers, the soft hollow of her palm. Anger dragged at her heart like an anchor.

“Is that what you saw in her?” she demanded. “The safety of illusion? Is that what you need—an exile from death and ugliness?”

Jude could almost understand. Like her, Mercy needed to escape. For a while they’d escaped together, into one another. But Jude had always wanted something more real. Was that why Mercy rejected her?

Jude lifted her gaze at the sound of a strangled breath.

“Stop.” Tears shimmered in Mercy’s eyes. “You win, okay?”

“It’s not a competition.” Jude stood up. She didn’t know what to do with herself. Pacing to the window, she said, “You really hurt me.”

“I know.” Mercy got up and joined her.

They stared out into the black oblivion for a while.

“I wish it was snowing,” Jude said.

“Yes. Everything is new. Starting over clean.” Mercy slipped her hand into Jude’s. “I’m sorry.” She drew closer, insistently lifting Jude’s hand to the home between her gossamer breasts. “I love you.”

She seemed vulnerable. Younger. Her eyes were bright with emotion. Her mouth parted and the wet pink line beyond her faded lipstick emerged just enough to draw Jude closer.

“I love you, too,” Jude murmured. Their lips brushed with each word.

Mercy’s heart accelerated beneath her hand. She said, “I missed you so much I thought I would die.”

Jude slid her tongue delicately beneath Mercy’s upper lip. As their mouths flirted, she said, “Stay with me.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

Jude walked her backward across the living room and into the hallway, helplessly kissing her. Tugging at her clothes. Aching for her with a burning, gut-wrenching hunger like nothing she’d ever known. A wild creature strained inside her, the darker self Mercy had always invited.

As they stumbled toward the bedroom, they knocked over the file box she’d brought home from headquarters, spilling Fabian Maulle’s secrets all over the floor. Jude kicked the papers aside and carried Mercy the rest of the way. When she banged into the side of the bed, she dropped Mercy down onto the mattress and fumbled messily with her clothes, pushing her hands away when she tried to help. It wasn’t right to destroy a perfectly good shirt, but Jude ripped it open and pulled it away. The bra came with it. Jude dropped them on the floor.

“Leave her,” she said as she unzipped Mercy’s trousers and dragged them off, along with her panties. “She can’t touch you ever again.”

Mercy caught Jude’s face between her hands. Sweetly, she insisted, “No rules.”

A fiery thrill ran from Jude’s mouth to her groin. She knew that tone. “You don’t make the rules anymore,” she said, stepping back to remove her T-shirt.

With shaking hands, she unfastened her belt and jeans. The room was very dark.

When she reached for the light, Mercy said, “No. I don’t want to see anything. I just want to feel you.”

Which was perfect, Jude thought, because she wanted Mercy to feel her as she never had. She wanted to cradle Mercy’s heart and soul, not just her body. A tiny doubt gnawed at her, and she cupped Mercy between the thighs and squeezed.

“Are you with me now?” she asked. “Only me.”

“Yes.” Mercy gasped.

“Tell me again.”

“I’m with you. Only you.”

Mercy opened to her, and Jude sank her fingers deep inside. They rolled onto their sides, facing each other, legs scissored. For a long while, they lay still, lost in a kiss. Then Mercy whispered in Jude’s ear, “Make me come.”

“I will,” Jude promised.

“I love you,” Mercy told her again.

“Okay, now I’ll make you come.”

*

Hours later, as Mercy slept, Jude got tired of staring up at the ceiling wondering if she’d done the right thing. Mercy was
married
and Jude had steadfastly resisted her overtures for months. Now, in a moment of weakness, she’d broken the rule she made to protect her own heart. She desperately wanted to believe that Mercy meant what she said and her marriage was over, but she would believe it when she saw it.

Jude slipped out of bed, pausing for a moment to stare at the woman she’d made love with all night. Her heart quaked in her chest. What if Mercy left her again? She couldn’t stand to think about that possiblity.

Silently, she closed the door behind her and started along the hallway. She promptly fell over the file box. She shuddered as her bare feet connected with the contents. The thought of these photos and notebooks in her house, especially now, made her flesh crawl. The sooner she dispatched the evidence to the FBI, the better. Distracted, she hadn’t done her job. In the half-light of dawn, she gathered up every item and created stacks on the dining table. As she arranged the photographs according to size, something puzzled her and she turned on the light in her dining area so she could see more clearly.