Point of No Return (14 page)

"Kira, please…"

"No, Matt. No," he spat out. He was so fucking mad. I was certain he was about to tell me we were over—

and it paralyzed me. I stood there at his mercy, waiting for his words to wound me. "So is that how I'll find out?" His jaw was clenched, his tone softening as his anger gave way to hurt. "Am I gonna read about you getting shot or stabbed? Or will I see it on the six o'clock news?"

My mouth opened. I tried to speak, but I couldn't make the sounds. I wasn't even sure what I'd say if I could.

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He swallowed thickly. "So if you don't come home one night, do I assume the worst? Am I gonna read about the man I love being gunned down on some derelict dock in the morning paper?"

"I'm sorry," I told him, though it sounded hugely inadequate. Even to me. "Baby, what can I do? You name it, I'll do it. Just please don't leave me."

He blinked, and his mouth fell open. "What?"

"I just found you," I blurted out, not making a great deal of sense. "I'm not sure what I'd do if I lost you."

He stood in the middle of the room as open and vulnerable as me. "Then you know how I felt this morning when I read about you in the paper."

I nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," he said quietly.

"What else can I do?" I asked again. "Tell me."

"Talk to me!" he said with his hand to his chest. "So at least I know where you'll be."

"There is stuff I can't tell you," I told him exasperated. "I'm not allowed to tell you, and you wouldn't want to know half of it. I know you worry about the psycho drug dealers out there." I pulled at my hair in frustration.

"And they
are
psycho, Kira. They'd sooner shoot me than talk to me. I don't like it any more than you, but it's my job.

It's what I do."

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I walked up to him and took his hand. "I understand what you're saying… and you're absolutely right." I looked at him so he could see the seriousness in my eyes. If something were to happen to me, he shouldn't have to read about it in the morning paper. "I need to tell Mitch about us."

His brow creased, and his shoulders fell. "Matt—"

"Babe, I want to tell him. I want to tell someone how happy I am. Not only that," I told him quietly, "but if something were to happen to me, Mitch could tell you. You wouldn't need to read about it in the paper, or see it on the news."

He sighed and gave me a small smile. "Did you honestly think I was going to break up with you?"

I huffed out a breath. "Yes. It scared the shit out of me."

He slid his hands around my jaw, and right there in the middle of the boxing room, he kissed me. When his lips stilled, he rested his forehead on mine. "Did you honestly think taking your shirt off on the treadmill, showing me your hot and sweaty torso would distract me?"

I smiled. "Did it work?"

He grinned. "Maybe."

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I pecked him on the lips again. Then a thought occurred to me, and I looked around. "Um, are there security cameras in here?"

Kira laughed. "No, not in here. In the main gym floor there is. Why, did you think we could give Chris some
interesting
footage?" he joked suggestively, all seriousness gone.

I chuckled at the thought of what we could do on the floor mats. "Maybe another time."

Kira's eyebrows shot up. "Did you actually want your kickboxing lesson?"

I laughed, shaking my head. "No. I want you to take me home."

"Now that I can do," he said.

When we got back to his place, we barely made it to the couch. I sheathed him in a condom and lube, then straddled him, rubbing shamelessly against his hard-on while I kissed every inch of skin I could reach.

"I need you," I told him as I licked the shell of his ear. "I need you now."

"You're not ready," he panted.

I shook my head. "Now. I need to feel you. In two days' time, I still want to be able to feel you."

He gasped in my ear, and his whole body shuddered as I impaled myself on him. It stung and burned as his thick

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cock stretched me, filled me, centered me. There was nothing else but me and him. It was exactly what I needed.

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Chapter 14

The next morning, Kira ate his usual mix of health grains, fruit, and yogurt as I sipped my coffee standing at the kitchen counter. I took out my phone and pressed Mitch's number. It went straight to voicemail, so I told him I needed to catch up with him. I had something to tell him, but not over the phone.

When I clicked off the phone, Kira walked up

behind me and kissed the back of my neck. I turned to face him, kissed his lips and, taking his hand, led him to the sofa. "You wanted to know about the type of bad guys we track down," I said, and he nodded, a little unsure.

"First of all, Kira, you have to understand what I'm about to tell you could get me into trouble. It could jeopardize the case or I could be fired—"

"I don't want you to lose your job!" Kira countered quickly, alarmed.

"And I don't want to lose you," I replied simply. "I love my job, I do. But I love you too, and I trust you. I
know
I can trust you, I can feel it in my bones. I've never broken protocol before," I told him honestly, "but I've never had a reason to. I want to tell you this, not just so you understand, but because I want to prove to you how much you mean to me."

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Kira squeezed my hand, and nodded.

So even though I shouldn't have, I took a deep breath and told him everything I knew about Pavao Tomic.

I told him of the crimes he was accused of, how we tracked him for months, how we had witnesses, surveillance, intel, and that we even had DNA. So even though every shred of evidence we had pointed to Tomic and Tomic alone, I wasn't sold.

I told him how I spent hours going through reports and case files, finally convincing Mitch that Tomic couldn't have worked alone. I just knew it, and as cliché as it sounded, my gut instinct was never wrong.

I explained how the profiler agreed with me and how my boss, Berkman, ordered the case reopened. We were on a deadline because the court case started next week, and we needed it to be watertight or the bastard could walk.

"What makes you so unsure?" Kira asked thoughtfully. "What makes you doubt the evidence?"

I ran my hands through my hair. "Something I can't put my finger on. Like how one personality trait contradicts the other, how it's like he's two people in one. Like somehow he can be in two places at once."

Kira nodded. "Like he has a twin."

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It was a moment of absolute clarity, as though a light was switched on over my head. My heart stopped, and I could feel the realization trickle down my spine. "Oh my God. It's
exactly
like he has a twin."

I jumped to my feet, and one second later, I was on the phone to HQ demanding information be sought from the Croatian consulate on all known relatives and birth records of Pavao Tomic.

They told me they'd phone me right back, so I hit Mitch's number again. When it went straight to voicemail, the only thing I said was, "Call me. Now."

Kira was looking at me, a little bewildered. So I grabbed his face and kissed him. "You're a genius." I couldn't help but laugh, half from relief, half from disbelief.

"Of
course
he has a twin. It makes perfect sense." I shook my head, still trying to get my brain around it. "I can't believe I never saw that!" I cried, running my free hand through my hair. "For
months
we've followed him, watched his every move. We only ever saw one guy. It was only ever Tomic, on his own." I held up one finger. "One man.

One set of partials, one match of DNA, one any-
fucking
-

thing."

Before I could get truly angry with myself for being so blind to what now seemed so obvious, my phone rang in my hand. I was directed through HQ switchboard to speak

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to an official with access to consulate records. And in one phone call, the final piece of the puzzle fit into place.

Pavao Tomic was born five minutes before his

identical twin, Rajko. Pavao came to the US six years ago.

Two years ago, Rajko came to the US to visit his brother for three months and went back to Croatia but hadn't been seen or heard of since. He just disappeared.

The consulate official told me they have records of Rajko re-entering Croatia but have no record of him being there since.

"Because he's still in America," I told him.

I was met with silence as the official tried to understand something that didn't make sense.

"Are there any other relatives?" I asked.

"There's a cousin, Boris, who immigrated to the US

four years ago."

"It wasn't Rajko who went home," I told him. "It was Boris." I could hear the rustling of paper and the clicking of a keyboard, but for right now, I had all I needed.

"Please forward all information to Ross Berkman, Narcotics Division. Mark it urgent."

I hung up and walked back to Kira. He was looking at me like I was something fascinating to watch, so I kissed him with a grin, just as my phone rang. It was Mitch.

"What the hell is so damn important?"

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"It's Tomic," I started. "I know why it never made sense. I know why we couldn't find the second person, Mitch. Because we weren't looking for two of the same guy."

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Tomic has a twin, Mitch," I told him. "An identical twin. Rajko Tomic is in the country illegally. He's been here for two years. And the reason why we had no record of him is because technically, he's not here."

I could hear what sounded like a car door shut in the background, and his response was short. "I'll be at the office in ten."

* * * *

Not even an hour later, I was in the office with Mitch, Kurt, Tony, and Berkman, explaining the whole development when my phone rang.

I didn't recognize the number. "Hello?"

"Detective Elliott?"

"Yes. Speaking."

"Did you get my message?" The accent was European.

"What message?"

"Mm," the voice mused. "Check with reception."

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"Tomic?" I asked into the phone, and all eyes in the room stared at me. I had no idea how he got this number or what message he was talking about. "We're on to you. We know about your brother."

The voice laughed. "I'm on to you too, Detective Elliot."

The line clicked dead, and I looked at the silent men watching me, waiting. "He sent us a message. He said to check with reception."

As quick as I said the words, Berkman was on the landline, speaking with reception on the ground floor.

"What else did he say?" Mitch asked.

"He said he was onto me, too."

"What does that mean?" Tony fired back, looking at everyone.

I answered him honestly with a shake of my head.

"I don't know."

Berkman put the phone down. "There's a box at reception. It's been x-rayed," he said. All mail was. "It looks like a jacket?" His tone was disbelieving.

"A jacket?" Kurt quipped. "What the hell kind of message is a jacket?"

"Is it a brown jacket?" Mitch asked quietly, and when his eyes landed on me, I understood. The only person we'd seen wearing a brown jacket was our snitch.

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"Ferret," I told them.

Berkman was back on the phone, ordering patrols to scour the docks in search of Ferret. The package was cleared, and when it was sitting on our desk, with gloved hands, I pulled out the familiar brown jacket. It was riddled with bullet holes and stained red with blood. Too much blood.

There was no note. There was no need for one.

We got the message loud and clear.

Not long after that, a uniformed officer arrived to tell us they just pulled a bullet-riddled body out of the water near the docks, matching Ferret's description.

Berkman was all action, giving orders, taking

charge. "We can expect him to request the release of his brother, but what he wants to wager for that is anyone's guess."

Berkman ordered Kurt and Tony to speak to Pavao Tomic in his cell, to see if there were any clues about Rajko; what he was capable of, what he might do to up the ante.

"What are we doing, boss?" Mitch asked.

"Nothing." Then he turned to me. "Under no circumstances, are you to leave the building. Tomic's words

'I'm on to you too' are a direct threat." And my boss looked worried. Then he pointed his finger at me. "It's a personal

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message to you, Elliott. For some reason he's singled you out. You're not to do anything, or go any-fucking-where."

"It's because the media flags me as the leader," I bit back at him. "I'm the mouthpiece, so I'm the target. That's all." Realizing Berkman wasn't going to sway, I tried to reason. "We won't know what he wants until he contacts us again. It's not me."

Berkman's jaw bulged, and his temples swelled.

"Elliott, don't argue with me," my boss barked at me. "You may as well get comfortable. Safest place for you is to be right here in this building."