Becoming Rain

  I can’t help but stare into her light blue eyes. They’re lined with dark bags, telling me she didn’t sleep much. “Was that in my file, too?”

  She smiles and her gaze drags over my body, stalling on the tent that my morning dick is making, before quickly turning away with a blush.

  Part of me wants to tease her, just like I used to do. “What’s he doing here? Does that mean we’re not keeping up pretenses anymore?” Disappointment stirs inside me.

  “I need a few hours of sleep. Otherwise, I may shoot you.” A sly grin touches her lips. “I don’t think you want that.”

  “No, that would suck after all this.” Rain, with a gun. Sure, I know she’s a cop. I know she has a gun, but actually seeing her pull it last night, right before ordering me to move, made it hit home.

  “What would have happened last night, if Vlad had showed up?” Vlad wasn’t waiting in the shadows to kill me. He probably hasn’t given me two seconds’ thought since the funeral. But for those five minutes between the phone call and getting home, all I could think about was keeping Rain safe. Ironic, considering she was the one with the gun, protecting me.

  I’m beginning to understand that she’s been protecting me for a lot longer than last night.

  “If he was armed, I would have shot him.” No hesitation.

  I believe her. Something’s shifted between us since last night. I think it has more to do with me than her. I spent hours lying in bed, trying to review every moment since the day I met her. All the ways she deceived me for her case.

  But doing that made me realize all the ways she also helped me. This mess with Vlad was going down one way or another. If Rain hadn’t been here, who knows where I would have ended up?

  Maybe in that SUV with Rust.

  In a sense, she saved me. So no, I don’t hate her.

  I miss her. She’s standing a foot away from me and I miss her so damn much.

  Her eyes flash. “What?”

  I reach out to graze her knuckles with mine. “Thank you. I know you’re doing it for the case, but . . . what’s gonna happen now?”

  With a sigh, she turns and sits down on the edge of my bed, her back to me. “They’re searching the cargo containers for any evidence. But we’re waiting on Sinclair to make the call. They may have enough to issue an arrest warrant for Vlad in Rust’s murder soon.”

  “So that asshole wasn’t bluffing when he told me they had something?”

  She chuckles softly. “No, he actually was. But the guy they brought in last night for the money exchange with Miller was more than happy to offer information on Rust’s murder. Apparently he knows exactly which Dumpster Vlad pitched the gun into.”

  That same chest pain that flares at mentions of Rust throbs again. “That was over a week ago. The Dumpsters would have been emptied.”

  “I know. The police are sifting through trash as we speak. They also have some surveillance video that they’re looking into.” She sighs. “It’s not over yet.”

  “But what about this case?”

  “Sometimes it takes months. Sometimes we get a lucky break.” She pauses. “And sometimes we have to just be happy with scaring people into stopping without ever being punished. There are a lot of cars on that ship and we’ve gathered a lot of names. We’ll get some arrest warrants out of this and do more surveillance, which will lead to more arrests. It’s a long process.”

  “So . . . does that mean you’re going to be here until it’s all wrapped up?” Hell, three days ago I couldn’t even look at her. Now I don’t want her to leave.

  “The case is going to go on for months. Maybe years. But for me . . .” She takes a deep breath. “Yeah. My part’s pretty much done.”

  She’ll go back to her life as a cop. Or not, if the way she’s helped me gets her into trouble. “What’s going to happen for you?”

  “I don’t know yet. They’ll send me back to D.C., for sure. Then . . . I don’t know.”

  No more Rain.

  My fingers curl around the hem of her T-shirt, reveling in its softness, her slender figure now striking me as so much stronger than it ever did before. “You wore this that night on the yacht.”

  Her profile is so beautiful when she smiles. “You remember.”

  “Of course I do.” With only slight hesitation, I slip a hand under to graze her back, letting my finger trail up along her spine, all the way up to see that she’s not wearing anything underneath. She shivers but doesn’t stop me, doesn’t say a word when I slide my hand around, letting her right breast fill it.

  “Rain?”

  She turns to look at me, her lips parted, her eyes burning. “Yeah?”

  The front door slams shut and the sound of paws on the hardwood announce Warner’s return.

  I hear a soft “shit” escape Rain’s mouth as her eyes close, her frustration so obvious it makes me chuckle. She stands, moving away from my touch. “I’ll see you in a few hours, okay? I need to sleep.” She can’t peel her eyes off me.

  Fucking Warner. “Okay.” I know I shouldn’t, but I’m running out of time with her. I can’t help myself. I toss my bedsheet off and stand, earning her wide-eyed stare, before I head for my bathroom, feeling her gaze on me the entire time.

  ■ ■ ■

  “Do you always watch this much baseball?”

  “Yep.”

  One-word answers. That’s what I’ve been getting out of Warner for the past four hours, when he isn’t answering calls. Sometimes he wanders off to the other side of the condo while he’s talking, but he holds onto the damn remote so I can’t change the channel.

  I could just go back to my bedroom and watch TV there—and that’s likely his aim by being such a dick—but I feel caged in there.

  Plus, truth be told, I’m just waiting for Rain to wake up.

  With a sigh, I head over to the fridge and crack open a beer.

  “That better not be my IPA!” he barks.

  I pour half of it down my throat before I hold up the can. “You mean this one?”

  He glares at me.

  “Want one?”

  “Can’t. I might accidently shoot you if I’m drinking,” he mutters, eyes back on the screen.

  “Everyone’s talking about shooting me today.” He’s in a pissy mood. I wonder if it’s because of me or because of losing Vlad. Either way, with a gun holstered to his side, I probably shouldn’t irritate him. “When do you think Rain’s going to wake up?”

  “You mean Clara? I think I heard her shower running, actually.”

  I frown. I didn’t hear a damn thing.

  “You know that whatever you two had is over, right?” He watches me through those dark, shrewd eyes, like he can read my every thought. “She’s a good cop and she’s got a big future ahead of her, as long as no one drags her down.”

  “I’m sure she’ll figure out what she wants.” I take another sip.

  And silently hope that what she wants involves me.

  “She wants to make a difference in the world. She’s not the kind of girl to play house. She wouldn’t be happy.”

  “What are you two talking about?” We both turn in time so see Rain step out of her bedroom in those yoga pants that she knows I love, her hair dark and wet from a shower. Eyes still weary but more rested than before. And not carrying a gun, to my relief.

  “Did Sinclair get hold of you?” Warner asks. There’s excitement in his voice.

  She frowns slightly. “Yeah. He did.”

  “Good news, right?”

  She takes a deep breath and then nods. I could be wrong, but it doesn’t seem like good news.

  “What’s going on?” I blurt out. “Is this about the case?”

  “Sort of. Clara’s heading home and you’re free to go. Your Russian friend is no doubt aware of the investigation by now, so you two don’t have to k
eep faking your romance.”

  My stomach sinks with his words. That’s it? Just like that?

  Rain takes a deep breath. Is it one of relief? Frustration? Does she feel any of the sadness that just washed over me? Stanley trots over to climb her leg. She picks him up and hugs him. “You ready to fly to your new home?”

  He snorts in answer.

  “Did someone book my flight already?” she asks, her eyes not leaving his bug eyes.

  “Ten a.m. tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow?

  “Okay.” There’s a long pause. “So I’m officially off this case and Luke is officially free?”

  “Yup.”

  She takes a deep breath. “I want the cameras shut down.” Warner opens his mouth but she cuts him off. “Please, Warner. Make it happen.”

  His jaw tenses as his gaze flickers between me and Rain. Finally, he nods. “I’ll take you to the airport in the morning.”

  “Sounds great. Thanks, Warner.”

  Heading for the door, he stops a foot away from me. “I don’t want to ever see your fucking face again, so stay away from trouble.”

  With that, he’s gone.

  “So . . .” Rain tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers trembling slightly. “You’re free to go home anytime you want.” Wandering over to the counter, her back to me, she unscrews a fresh a bottle of wine and pours herself a glass. I watch in silence as she takes a long, slow sip of her glass. An agonizingly slow sip.

  Where do we go from here?

  I don’t want her to leave. That’s all I know.

  “Do you remember when I told you that I didn’t like the idea of looking out my window and you not being there anymore?”

  Her head bobs up and down.

  I step forward, resting my hands on her shoulders, able to see the tears sliding down her cheeks. “I’m dreading tomorrow.”

  “Me too.” She leans back and turns her face to rest against my chest, her eyes closed. This is the real girl. And I’ve seen her before. Rain may not have been real, but this person right here is, and I know her. I’ve known her this whole time.

  “Can I show you something?”

  Glossy eyes open to stare up at me. “Please.”

  Curling her fingers into mine, I lead her toward my bedroom.

  Chapter 64

  ■ ■ ■

  CLARA

  When I answered the call from Sinclair, my stomach instantly clenched, dreading what he was going to demand from me now. The conversation was brief, and he did all the talking, telling me that the death of Rust Markov caused considerable challenges in this case but we still managed to get some impressive results. That line sounded like a formal statement to quash internal politics. Then he announced that my role in this case was finished and that I would be going home to resume my previous job on the MCU, but that I should fill out another application to join the FBI.

  Apparently Sinclair is impressed by my tenacity, my intelligence, and most of all, my resourcefulness. He will make sure that my name rises to the top of the list.

  I should be ecstatic. This is everything I wanted. And this could have—and by all rights should have—gone an entirely different way, ending with me working as a rent-a-cop, chasing twelve-year-old shoplifters at the local mall.

  But the entire time he was talking, all I was thinking about was Luke. About how I went to sleep after our midnight run thinking that maybe there was a chance to salvage something here. That if I was going to lose my job anyway, then maybe we could make this work.

  My career hasn’t ended. I’m getting what I’ve worked so hard for.

  Which means that I can’t carry on a real relationship with my former target. I wouldn’t get past the first levels of applicant vetting without raising major flags.

  So this, right here, is everything I’m ever going to have with Luke.

  He kicks the door shut before the dogs have a chance to join us, and then he doesn’t waste a second, pulling me into a long kiss that has me finally breaking for air.

  We become a tangled mess of limbs as our clothes fall to the floor, until there’s nothing between us but skin and this mass of emotions that have somehow survived such a violent storm.

  “Hold on a sec.” He leaves me stretched out onto the bed to fish something from his duffel bag. I assume it’s a condom, so when the first sparkles of diamonds catch my eye, I frown.

  “I know you can’t keep this,” he starts, kneeling on the bed, his perfect naked form almost as overwhelming as the necklace in his hands. “But can you please just wear it for tonight?” He clasps it behind my neck and then straightens all the long strands, his fingers skating all over my breasts as he positions the diamond raindrops. “When I saw it, I knew it would be perfect for you.”

  I simply lie there, letting his eyes roam over me, letting my eyes roam over him. Drinking him up for the last time.

  Until it’s just too much to bear.

  I wrap my legs around his hips, knowing he’ll get the message.

  His Adam’s apple bobs with his hard swallow. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

  So are you. That mess of wavy brown hair that somehow looks perfect, even though I know he didn’t do anything to it today. That jawline that I remember staring up at the night I threw a drink at him. It feels like an eternity ago. Those full lips that are almost too pretty to be on a man.

  Those sincere blue eyes that have never lied to me.

  I give his hips a gentle tug toward me with my legs but he resists. “Is something wrong?”

  He blinks several times, as if fighting tears. “You’re never coming back, are you?”

  I grit my teeth to fight my own tears as I climb to my knees, until my chest is pressed against his and my arms coil around his head.

  Holding him tight to me.

  I can feel his heart hammering against my chest. I wonder if it’s hurting as much as mine is. I coax his lips with my own. And then he’s stealing the air in my lungs with his mouth, consuming my body with such palpable emotion, it’s almost suffocating.

  I absorb all of it.

  Reveling in the feel of being with Luke one last time.

  No guilt.

  No lies.

  Telling myself that I can never forget what this feels like.

  ■ ■ ■

  Tangled with Luke’s body, I’m so comfortable that Stanley and Licks’ howls don’t register immediately. It’s not until I feel Luke’s body stiffen, and I know he’s awake too, that it clicks.

  I’m on my feet in seconds and peering around the door frame to see the dogs standing in front of the door, growling.

  Luke’s up and pulling on track pants. I run into my room to throw on the first pair of pants and T-shirt that I can find. And then my fingers make fast work of the safe so I can get to my gun. I check my phone for any calls from Warner, wondering if it could be him.

  No missed calls.

  This isn’t him.

  A knock sounds.

  I punch Warner’s number in and toss the phone to Luke. “Tell him what’s going on.” Right about now, I’m really wishing I didn’t demand that they shut off the cameras. Tiptoeing toward the door, I flick the safety off my gun. I shoo the dogs away with a gentle nudge of my foot, and then call out, “Who is it?”

  “Delivery.” A deep, male voice. Not Russian, but still . . .

  “At three a.m.?”

  “It’s special.”

  “Special my ass. The cops are on their way.”

  There’s a long pause, and I hold my breath, listening for the cock of a gun. When he speaks again, it’s with less confidence. “I was told that you needed to receive this now, or it will be too late.”

  “What will be too late?” Dammit. How do I ignore that?

  “I don’t know, Miss. It’s . . . hel
p.”

  For all I know, the guy could have a gun aimed at the door, waiting for a shadow to pass over the peephole. I wave my hand several times, holding my breath. No shots fired.

  I know what the protocol is here: wait for backup.

  As quietly as possible, I unlatch the locks.

  And then I throw open the door, gun aimed and ready.

  A middle-aged man in a baseball cap that hides half of his face lets out a yelp of surprise, holding the flimsy white envelope tight against his chest as if it can somehow protect him from a bullet.

  “Who sent you?” I demand to know.

  He swallows and, instead of answering, he slowly extends his arms.

  I’m torn between refusing it and grabbing it. Until I see the small emblem in the top right-hand corner of the envelope.

  A black orchid.

  I snatch it out of his hand. “You need to stay—”

  The deliveryman turns and bolts, leaving me with no option but to either shoot him or let him go.

  “Yeah . . . An envelope . . . He’s gone . . .” Luke is telling Warner. I didn’t notice he had stepped up beside me. To me he says, “Warner says not to open it until he gets here.”

  I tear the seal open and pull several slips of paper out.

  “Tell him he’s going to have to reschedule my flight.”

  ■ ■ ■

  “Ready?” Warner calls from the black agency sedan he’s using to get me to the airport. My things—a suitcase stuffed with clothes I accumulated while undercover that they can’t possibly use on another case, and Stanley—are already packed in the backseat.

  “Yeah, give me a minute?”

  “We’ve already rescheduled the flight once . . .”

  “And remind me why again?”

  Warner slides his aviator glasses on and smirks at me. “Because you’re a superstar, Bertelli.” He rolls the window up, giving Luke and me some privacy as we say our goodbyes outside my building.

  Except it’s not my building anymore.

  I’m going home today.

  Luke peers down at me with big blue eyes. “You seriously don’t know who sent you that envelope?”

  To everyone else, including Sinclair and Warner, my official answer all morning has been “I have no clue.”