Salvation in death

“Your boys don’t go to the youth center.”

“Mitch, he’s wild for airboarding. Doesn’t give a shit about team sports, at this stage anyway. The twins are only five and-” Whoops and shouts burst from the back of the apartment. Inez smiled grimly. “Right now, we’re keeping them on a short leash.”

“What about Pe

His eyes shifted, went cold. “She’s around the neighborhood, sure. We’ve got different lives now. I’ve got a family, a good job here. I stopped looking for trouble a long time ago.”

“What kind of trouble was Lino Martinez in when he took off?”

It was in his eyes again, a knowledge, a fear, a regret. “I can’t help you with that. Lino was always in trouble. Listen, I can’t leave those three back there by themselves. I don’t know anything about Flores, and as for Lino? This is the only thing we’ve had in common for a real long time.” He tapped the tattoo. “I gotta ask you to leave so I can keep my boys from beating on each other.”

Something there,” Eve said when they were outside. “Something went down, and the something is why Lino went rabbit all those years back.”

“But you don’t think he knew Lino was back.”

“No, didn’t buzz for me. He wants to be done with all that, gets pissed off when he’s not. Can’t blame him, really. He’s got a parallel going with Teresa. He built a new life, and he wants to keep it. But there’s Lino.”

She got in the car, sat back. “There’s Lino,” she repeated when Roarke slid behind the wheel. “An obstacle, a reminder, a weight, whatever you want to term it. And Lino is that element of the past, of the mistakes, of the trouble, of the hardship that shadows the new life. And his being dead, for these two? It doesn’t change that.”

He pulled out, headed toward home. “If whatever went down to send Lino ru

“Maybe. But you know, the mother didn’t get that look in her eyes. That ‘oh shit, here it comes again’ look Inez got. Why didn’t she know? Her take was he left to get rich and important, not because he was ru

“You’re learning who he was now.”

“Need the official ID to make that, well, official. But yeah, I’m getting a picture. Go

“I don’t suppose it counts against you as you’ll be skipping church to interview Soto, and identify your victim.”

“Hmm. Still want to hook López. Hit him at the rectory after Soto. Girlfriend,” she mused. “Childhood co

“That’s much too vague and open-ended a question for a definitive answer.”

“A friend from back in the old days did something, or didn’t do something, that caused a rift between you-something that you argued about, disagreed about. He takes off. Do you continue to protect him? Do you keep it zipped for all time because you were once, let’s say, part of the same team?”

“And now too black-and-white, Lieutenant. Some would depend on what he’d done, or hadn’t, and how-or if-it affects me and mine. Would unzipping it change what had happened, or balance some scale if I felt it needed to be balanced?”

“You’d keep it zipped,” she muttered. “It’s that pride again, as much as loyalty. I can get it out of Inez if I need to.”

“No doubt. He didn’t have the kill mark on his tattoo,” Roarke added.

“No, he didn’t. Unlike Lino and Chávez. His sheet had his identifying marks. But how do I find out who Lino killed when a bunch of snivelers crying ‘Oh, the poor misunderstood children’-who are killing, maiming, wreaking havoc-‘need a clean slate,’ wiped the records? If there was a record,” she added.

“Given a bit of time and the unregistered, I could get you that information-if Lino was charged, or arrested. Even questioned.”

She slanted him a look. She’d thought of that possibility already. “How much is a bit of time?”

“I can’t say until I get my hands in it.”

She blew out a breath. “I can’t make it work. As far as I know, there’s nobody’s life on the line, no imminent threat. It’s just the easy way to get around a block.”

“What’s that I hear?” He tapped his ear. “Ah yes, that would be your pride talking.”

“Shut up. It’s not pride, it’s procedure. I’m not going around the law just to shortcut procedure and satisfy my curiosity. And so what if it is pride?”

As they drove through the gates, he picked up her hand, tugged it over, and kissed her knuckles. “Here we are, two prideful people. That would be one of the seven deadlies. Want to explore any of the others? Lust would be my first choice.”

“Lust is always your first choice. And your second, and right down to your last choice.”

“Sometimes I like to combine it with greed.” Even before he stopped the car, he pressed the release for her seat belt, then gripped her shirt, pulled her over.

“Hey.”

“Maybe it’s all that talk about the old days, and youth.” Smooth and clever, he had his seat back and her straddling him. “Brings back fond memories of getting the girl naked in whatever vehicle I could… acquire at the time.”

“You had time for sex after grand theft auto?”

“Darling, there’s always time for sex.”

“Only on your clock. Jesus, how many hands do you have?” She bat-ted them away, but not before he’d managed to unbutton her shirt and stir her up. “Listen, if you need a bounce, there’s a perfectly good bed, probably about two dozen of them, in the house.”

“It’s not about the bounce, or not altogether.” He skimmed a finger down her throat. “It’s about the moment, and recapturing for that brief time, the foolishness of youth.”

“Speak for yourself. I didn’t have time for foolishness.” She started to reach for the door, with the intention of opening it and wiggling out, but he locked his arms around her, laughed.

“You never had sex in a car.”

“Yes, I have. You get ideas at least half the time whenever we’re in the back of one of your limos.”

“Not the same at all. That’s a grown-up venue, a limo is. It’s sophisticated sex. And here we are, crammed together in the front seat of a police issue, and the lieutenant is both aroused and mildly embarrassed.

“I am not. Either.” But her pulse jumped, and her breath hitched when his thumbs brushed over the thin cotton covering her breasts. “This is ridiculous. We’re adults, we’re married. The steering wheel is jammed into the base of my spine.”

“The first two are irrelevant, the last is part of the buzz. Music on, program five. Skyroof open.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s not going to work. It’s uncomfortable and it’s stupid. And I have to work in this vehicle.”

“I can make you come in ten seconds.”

She actually smirked at him. “Ten,” she said, “nine, eight, seven, six, five… oh shit.” She’d underestimated his quick hands, his skilled fingers. He had her trousers unhooked, had her wet and throbbing. And over.

“Go again,” he murmured, and yanking down her tank, took her breast in his mouth.

He drove her, hands and mouth, while the cool air washed over her face, while her cry of release echoed into the night.

Her hands flailed out for purchase as she heard the cotton rip. That cool night air flowed over her bare skin now, a thrilling counterpoint to the heat.

She let go, he could see it, feel it. Let go of the day, the work, the worry-and more, deliciously more-that odd and appealing line she carried inside her between the should and the shouldn’t.

Once she’d had no time for foolishness. Was it any wonder he was compelled to give that to her? And all the love that wound through it and made it real?