Spy Catcher: The J.J. McCall Novels (Books 1-3) (The FBI Espionage Series) (38 page)

Chapter 17

Friday Night—J.J.’s Place

J.J. stepped into her condo, exhausted from the day's emotional roller coaster and ready to lick her wounds. She’d lost Tony to Gia and wanted a drink more than sleep, food, or anything else really. Pouring out the entire contents of her elixir bottle in a rare fit of sanity now seemed a bit hasty in hindsight. Yet, she was too tired to make a liquor store run. So, she decided a warm bath, hot tea, and Star Wars would suffice.

As she looked around her empty space, she remembered how differently day was supposed to proceed and her night was meant to end. In the version she'd envisioned, she stumbled through the door attached semi-permanently to Tony's lips while they stripped bare and released a year of pent-up passion in a perspiration-filled body rock. They'd both prepared to face society, their families, their friends, but neither were ready for the walking nightmare that was Six.

Schlepping into her bedroom to change into her pity pajamas, her cell phone rang. Her heart leapt at the misplaced thought that Tony might have come to his senses. She practically dived toward her purse and began an ungraceful scramble to answer the phone. When she finally fixed her eyes on the caller ID, to her disappointment, a headquarters number flashed. She started to ignore it, but if the search for Lana had yielded some results, she wanted to know before crazy showed up on her doorstep.

It was John Nixon, the next worst thing to Jack Sabinski even though Freeman kept him in check…mostly. And the conversation didn’t last long. With barely concealed disdain, he delivered three sucker punches to the gut and left J.J. not only impotent but drowning with regret. J.J. didn’t know what axe Nixon had to grind with her, most likely the sudden unemployment of his good-ole-boy buddy Jack Sabinski. But she was thankful Freeman directly led the charge. God forbid she should ever have to answer to Nixon—he would make her life hell.

“So let me get this straight. We’re standing down all Russian operations indefinitely; I’m off Lana’s investigation, Task Force Phantom Hunter is now an analytical group; and you’ve ordered the Gs to watch me like a Secret Service detail on the President’s grandmother while I serve as bait for a bat-shit crazy woman hell-bent on revenge. Does that about sum it up?”

“Uhhh...”

“I should’ve quit today while I had the chance.”

“Maybe you should’ve.”

“Gee, thanks. Now if you’ll excuse me. I need a cup of tea, preferably with hemlock in it.” Her mouth salivated for the heat of vodka but tea, minus the hemlock, would have to do. It was all she had in the house, and she was too exhausted or depressed to leave her condo.

Everything she longed for—Tony, the task force—had slipped in and out of her hands so fast she hardly had time to form a memory. She resolved then to quench her thirst Saturday if it lasted through the night. She had nothing else to lose.

After hanging up the phone, J.J. walked out onto her patio, tightening her robe around her neck to fend off the chill. She looked down on the street, spotted the familiar silver Malibu, and waved.

Money T.

He flashed his high beam to acknowledge her greeting before she returned inside and secured the lock on the patio door.

She dawdled around the room, trying to focus her mind on the drama that lay ahead in the week to come. She paced the floor trying to think of something else she could do to appeal to the adoring man she'd fallen for, but the stubborn ass side of him ruled supreme and her hopes of reconciling faded by the second.

She hated the sense of powerlessness, defenselessness, the inability to force her enemy’s hand…or even her own. For once in a long time she’d been forced to accept that every person and event threatening to impact her life over the coming weeks lie outside of her control.

To escape the pain and frustration, she sought consolation from the remote control. No sooner than she flipped to the Spike network and scooped up enough M&Ms to soothe her alcohol cravings, she caught one of her favorite scenes in
The Empire Strikes Back
.

Yoda asked Luke Skywalker, “Why wish you become Jedi?” And Luke replied, “Well, mostly because of my father, I guess.” 

The words struck her like a hammer to the head of a nail. She repeated the words out loud, except one. “Well, mostly because of my…mother, I guess.” J.J. questioned whether choosing to join the FBI was ever what she wanted for herself—or some misguided attempt to keep a piece of her mother alive. At that moment, she realized she had only made one decision in the last thirty years that was uninfluenced by anything except the desires of her own heart—her choice to love Tony.

A hard, rapid knock at the door made J.J.'s heart beat wildly. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Although she hoped Tony had come to his good senses and had arrived to kiss and make up, her enemy was on the move. She grabbed her gun from the holster, then jetted to the bathroom, checked herself in the mirror, and did a ten-second primp before bounding for the door.

Steps away, she yelled, “Just a minute!” before pressing her eye to the peephole and her finger firmly against the trigger. A coif of spiked blond hair barely reached her line of sight. Definitely wasn't Tony. She latched the chain for added security and pulled the door slightly ajar.

“Yes? Who is it?” she asked with a quizzical tone in her voice.

“Ma'am, I have a delivery,” he said, holding two large shopping bags with Maggiano’s printed on the front of the peephole, “for a… J.J. McCall?”

“Uhhh…that's me,” she said, confused and excited, her earlier troubles disappearing into the night. She tucked her gun in the small of her back, opened the door, and eyed the load of foil containers sealed with thin white cardboard lids. “What's this?”

“Judging from the smell, I'd guess dinner.”

J.J. smiled. “But who sent—”

The courier threw his hand up to stop J.J. mid-sentence and handed her the gift.

“Give me a second to put these down and I'll get you a tip.”

“No, thank you, ma'am,” he replied. “Already taken care of. Enjoy your meal.”

The grand gesture had Six written all over it, although a poisoning would be a smart move on Lana’s part. In a different time and state of mind she would’ve tossed the food in the trash at the mere possibility of Six’s involvement, but this night she welcomed the distractions. J.J. rushed off to wash her hands before sampling the delights. Spinach and cheese manicotti, artichoke dip, gnocchi, spaghetti, an entire family-style meal with all the trimmings—and every sweet treat from cheesecake to cannoli. She’d decided to sample the desserts first when there came another knock at the door.

She paused and smiled, anticipating yet dreading the presence on the other side. She looked out the peep hole hoping beyond hope to see curly black locks. Instead she saw a tall black man…of the non-Six variety. He delivered a bottle of wine, a 2008 Spottswoode Cabernet Sauvignon, and refused the tip.

“Now what did I do with the corkscrew?” she asked herself aloud, admiring the Napa Valley bungalow gracing the label. Whoever sent the hundred dollar bottle of wine was trying to make a lasting impression. By the time she poured out enough to fill two bowls half way, the doorbell rang once more.

She began the routine again, hoping the admirer would reveal himself this time. When she cracked open the door, two black, beady little eyes met hers...and a round stomach with plush, brown fur. Judging by the hands, a gentleman was concealed behind the top-shelf, carnival-sized teddy bear. In a not quite familiar voice, he said, “Delivery for J.J. McCall!”

J.J. laughed when she finally noticed the red T-shirt covering the midsection of the enormous furry creature. “Kiss me I'm Italian” was written in the colors of the Italian flag. The delivery man lowered the bear from his face and her heart melted the way it had every day since she met him.

“So,
you're
the guilty party.” She grabbed the bear from his arms and backed up to allow Tony inside. “Thought you had an engagement after work this evening.”

“I do. That’s why I’m here with you.” He stepped in and glanced at the dining room table, noticing the two full glasses of wine waiting on the table. “You were expecting someone?” 

“As a matter of fact, I was.” J.J. grabbed his hand and led him to his offering. “Denzel is on his way and likes his wine pre-poured.” She turned sharply toward him and peered into his smiling eyes. “You, Mr. Donato, better make this quick. Now, to what do I owe this honor?”

Tony laughed and shook his head. “I got your message...and couldn't stay away.”

“So it would seem,” J.J. replied, beaming as she handed him his wine glass. “How about a toast? To new beginnings.”

He raised his hand. “Salut.”

J.J. nodded, tilted the glass back, and let the Cabernet Sauvignon slip down her throat and smooth the jagged edges off of her day.

“Listen, sorry about earlier. It's just…when I saw
him
there...with
you
... Well, let's say he'd better thank his lucky stars I'm not in my family’s business.”

“I know that's right,” she said. “Trust me, I put him in his place. But I will warn you now, he isn't one to give up easily.”

“Can't blame the guy, I guess. I wouldn't give up on you either,” he said. “But don't worry, I can handle
Three
. He's not a problem for me.”

J.J. sighed in relief. “Thank you...for all of this,” she said as she reached for his shoulders, ready to pull him into her embrace. “Didn't know you had it in you.”

“Is 'at right?” he said, as he lowered his voice to a low, throaty rumble and cupped her face in his hands. “Well, I’m planning to let you see a lot of stuff inside me.”

“Is that a threat...or a promise?” she asked.

Before he could answer, his mouth covered hers and together they dissolved into a sensuous kiss.

For so long she'd hoped for this moment. J.J. could finally release all the passion she'd repressed. She craved him, hungered for him, needed him. And there he was, in her arms. Home.

As their lips intertwined, J.J.'s fingers crawled around Tony's waist, up the firmness of his back, and down again. She wanted to feel him, all of him. Outside her, inside her, everywhere his touch could reach. The warmth of his firm embrace enveloped her as they shuffled across the floor toward the bedroom, connected and caressed the entire way. He lifted her at the threshold as if she weighed no more than a feather and carried her inside until he laid her on the bed. The moon was their only light.

J.J.'s desire had swelled, bubbling to the point of explosion; she wanted to rush and devour him in one delicious bite. But Tony shook his head no, demonstrating with his slow measured pace that he wanted to take his time and savor every second. Each caress, each touch, slow, purposeful, and mind-bending. She loved the way he looked at her, studying her frame as a connoisseur of beautiful art would a Rodin, Bernini, or Michelangelo. His hands roamed the breadth of his newfound territory. He allowed his fingertips to help him memorize the softness of every bend and curve until they were engrained in his mind beyond forever.

He gently slipped off the clothing from her longing body, layer by layer, until she was down to her stark glory, kissing every inch of her natural form in a delicate appreciation. After removing his clothes and protecting himself, he eased beside her, then inside her. As their eyes locked, he whispered, “I love you.”

Then love had its way.

As their mouths met, their bodies joined together as one, rocking in the sweetest rhythmic dance, her penetrating moans driving the force of his intensity. The ebb and flow of their figures swayed faster and faster, each delicious stroke lengthened and strengthened until their souls trembled and both cried out in a satisfied song.

Face to face, J.J. held Tony, pressed herself against him until she caught her lost breath, until her frame descended from his heavenly command. Their damp bodies glistened in the moonlight filtered into the blinds covering the window. J.J. exhaled and smiled as she traced her fingers through the strands of curly black hair on his chest and admired the beauty in the contrast of his skin against hers.

She clamped her eyes shut and shook her head before turning onto her back as the beauty of their evening slowly succumbed to the burgeoning reality. “I hope you realize what we've gotten ourselves into.”

Tony purred and nuzzled his lips in the crevice between her shoulder and neck. “I sure do,” Tony said. “And I'm hoping to get into it again in another fifteen minutes.”

J.J. chuckled and turned to look him in the eye. “I'm serious, Tony.”

“So am I,” he said, caressing her cheek.

She gave him the stink eye and turned her back to him, this time in frustration. She understood the black and white of their new reality in a way he never would.

“Oh, don’t be mad,” Tony said. “Listen, I hear what you're saying, babe, but trust me when I say my understanding is deeper than you might think. You know my father is a boss in the Bonanno Family. La Cosa Nostra. How do you think he reacted when I told him I was accepted to Quantico?”

She snickered and faced him once more. “Really, Tony? You know my father is an ex-Black Panther…which is kind of like being an ex-Marine; there’s really no such thing. How could you think I wouldn't understand?” she said. “But let me guess...he congratulated you on your noble choice of profession and threw a party?”