FF V.K. Powell - Exit Wounds

Police officer Loane Landry gives up professionally and emotionally when gunrunners kill her lover in an explosion. She blames herself and vows to seek answers and revenge—in or outside the law. Good guys never win, and bad guys never pay. But when the woman she loved returns very much alive and in desperate need of help, Loane must decide if she can endure the pain and memories of deceit in order to keep them both alive.

ATF confidential informant Abigail Mancuso is charged with gathering information on a gunrunning syndicate camouflaged as a gentlemen’s entertainment business. Before arrests are made, something goes terribly wrong, and Abby is forced into a deep cover assignment for which she is unprepared. The only person she trusts is the woman she lied to about everything. How can she put Loane’s life at risk by asking for her help?

264 Pages - August 2.013

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Sample

Chapter One

“Do you want to talk about tonight?” Loane Landry tugged on a tangle of wavy chestnut hair wrapped around the wireless receiver and tried to concentrate on the task instead of the sexy informant.

“Ouch. That is attached.” Abby’s husky voice reminded Loane of Melissa Etheridge’s, reverberating deep in her soul and stirring yearnings.

“You’re telling me. How the hell did you get hair this long twisted around something so small and tied in a knot?”

The corners of Abby Mancuso’s pouty lips curled upward and her brown eyes sparkled with innocence. “I twiddle.” She twirled the tip of her pale-pink fingernail around the shirt button between Loane’s breasts. “Like this.”

Loane’s nipples tingled and her skin flushed. “I see how that could create a problem.” She glanced around the dark, deserted shopping strip where they’d parked as if they were suddenly in a spotlight. “Is this thing,” she waved toward the hair-entangled device, “still on?”

“Of course not.”

“Good, because I doubt that Special Agent Dan Bowman of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives would approve of your twiddling demonstration.” Abby laughed when Loane lowered her voice and produced an exaggerated imitation of the uptight agent.

“I’m sure my handler wouldn’t approve of a lot of things we’ve done, but I’m not telling.” Abby’s mouth opened slightly as she moved toward her.

Loane wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. She felt hot and damp. “Abby—”

“I know what you’re about to say. You’re a Greensboro Police officer. I’m an informant. This is wrong.”

“It is.” Saying the words aloud didn’t convince her any more than repeating them mentally for three months had. Logically, professionally she knew she’d gone too far. Sexually, hormonally—whatever drove her physical craving for this woman—she hadn’t gone far enough. “I think—”

“Landry, do you copy?” Bowman’s voice barked over the ATF radio hidden under the driver’s seat of her Jeep. Loane jerked away from Abby, her fingers still coiled in hair. The hint of arousal dispersed like smoke in a stiff wind.

Abby pulled the knotted mass from Loane’s hand and deftly unwrapped the tiny earpiece. “If you twiddle, you must learn to un-twiddle. Guess we better get to the office for the debriefing. Bowman’s anal about procedure. Maybe we could stop at a drive-thru. You probably haven’t eaten, have you?”

“I’m fine.” Loane was anything but. The interruption had been like a sharp slap across the face, reminding her of the real reason she and Abby were together—to conduct surveillance and gather intelligence on an illegal weapons ring. The chief of police, her father’s old partner, had given her the opportunity to work on the task force and possibly get a promotion out of it.

Looking straight ahead as she drove, Loane recalled the heavy sigh and quiet tone of her father’s voice when he disagreed with something she’d done. She and her brother had followed in his footsteps, hoping to prove they were good enough to bear the family name. Her unprofessional behavior with Abby would appall her father and her brother. Guilt clung to the back of her throat like a bad taste.

“Loane, you wanted to talk about tonight. Did I do something wrong?”

“No. You covered well when Sylvia found you snooping in the basement. Taking the kid’s toy down there with you was smart. You think fast under pressure and adapt quickly.”

“Thanks. I detect a but.”

“To find out about Simon Torre’s illegal operations, you might have to branch out. You’ve checked his house and haven’t found anything incriminating, not even records. Maybe he keeps home and business entirely separate, mistakenly thinking that if he’s caught, his family assets will be safe.”

Abby absently twirled a strand of her reddish-brown locks with her finger and a crease formed between her eyes. “You mean I need to get more involved in the business side of things?”

Loane nodded.

“Oh, joy. I danced in one of his gentlemen’s clubs when I first went to work for Simon. The pay was great, but the humiliation of prancing around half-naked for strangers…”

Abby shivered and Loane placed her hand on top of hers. “It might not come to that. Besides, it’s not my call. I’m just your cover officer.”

“Why are you so good to me?”

When she looked at Abby’s silky olive complexion, untamed hair, and cocoa eyes, warmth spread through her like hot coffee on a frosty morning, followed immediately by a twisting sensation in her gut. She was frolicking on a dangerous playground. She should have ignored her attraction to Abby when they met. She should have resisted the coaxing of her throaty voice and the temptation of that first searing kiss. But something about Abby Mancuso blasted the shoulds of proper conduct wide open.

“What do you mean? I like you, Abby.”

“But you treat me more like an equal than a criminal informant. You offer advice about what to look for in the case and how to keep my sanity while I pretend to be somebody else. Bowman never does that.”

“Bowman’s a tool.” She glanced at Abby as her smile turned to a grimace.

“You do know that being an informant isn’t my life’s goal, right? I mean, we’ve never talked about what happens after the case…or about…us.”

“Probably best.”

When they pulled into the ATF parking lot and stopped beside the only other car there, Abby turned to her. “I’d like to talk about us. Tonight after we debrief?”

Loane inched toward the car door and reached for the handle. “Okay, sure.” Past lovers had always wanted more than she was prepared to give, accused her of withholding emotionally, and eventually left her. Abby was different. She’d never asked for anything but what they had. Was that about to change?

Loane had been doing fine until Abby Mancuso entered her life, and she assumed nothing would change after their fling. She’d continue remodeling her parents’ home in the trendy Sunset Hills gayborhood, working as a beat cop and moving up the ladder in the police department. Having a tryst was nothing new. She always kept her feelings and casual sex separate, and if the affair proved problematic, she’d have to end it. She flinched at the unpleasant thought as she opened the door to the office and waited for Abby to enter.

Loane fidgeted in a leather swivel chair in the gray-walled conference room while Agent Bowman and Abby whispered in the corner. Her jaw tightened as Bowman invaded Abby’s body space and excluded her from the conversation. Note to self: never mix business with pleasure again.

Abby made eye contact and nodded for her to join them. Bowman continued to ignore her. She wanted to rattle the muscle-enhanced agent, but antagonizing him would only make her job and Abby’s more difficult. When the chief assigned her to the gunrunning case, he’d warned her to play nice with the feds. She was finding it more difficult than she’d imagined.

Bowman looped his arm around Abby’s back just above her cuppable ass, and Loane couldn’t contain her irritation. “Are we debriefing or what? I’d like to get out of here tonight.”

He pulled a bottle of water from a cooler-sized refrigerator and straddled a chair at the table. “Keep your pants on, Landry.” His green eyes twinkled and a blush crept toward his military-styled gray hair.

She mentally recited the chronological history of the Greensboro Police Department to halt a smart-ass response and focused on Abby. Her chestnut hair brushed the tops of her shoulders in waves as she stooped to grab another bottle of water. She offered one to Loane before joining them at the table. Always thoughtful, always taking care of others—that summed up Abby perfectly.

“What do you have for me, Abby?” Bowman asked.

Abby’s gaze lingered on Loane a moment longer before she answered his question. “Nothing interesting. I did get a look in the basement but didn’t find anything useful. Exciting night of family chitchat for Officer Landry.” Abby bit her bottom lip to suppress a smile, and Loane’s pulse quickened.

“Simon didn’t get any calls, make any contact, with anyone?” He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “I need actionable intelligence. We’ve been at this for three months. We need something.”

Abby glanced down at the table and Loane said, “Back off. She can’t fabricate evidence. I’ve heard every exchange too and there’s nothing incriminating.”

Straightening in her chair, Abby turned her full attention to Bowman. “I don’t know what you expect, Dan. You told me to observe and report. If you want me to do something else, you’ll have to be more specific. After all—”

“I know. You’re just an informant working off drug charges.”

Loane considered, not for the first time, if that was true. In field situations Abby performed like a fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants informant, doing as she was told, improvising when necessary, and enjoying the perks of her situation. But as she spoke to Bowman, her tone and the certainty of her statements made Loane wonder. Abby was different from other informants, and it bothered her that she hadn’t figured out how. She was usually a good judge of character and motivation, but their sexual liaison had clouded her ability in a rosy haze.

Opening herself emotionally, even a little, to a doomed situation also puzzled her. She was taking a giant gamble with this woman—exposing herself and risking her job.

Never show your hand. Her mother’s playbook of how to conceal feelings could’ve been a New York Times bestseller. Until now, she’d never challenged those lessons, much less ignored them. At least she hadn’t declared her love for Abby. They were having a fling. How could it be anything more? When playtime was over, it would end—Abby was a criminal and she was a cop.

“Sorry I can’t give you what you want, Dan. I’ll do whatever you think’s best,” Abby said. “I want this to be finished as much as you do.”

Abby’s sincerity tugged at her heart. How could she not be attracted to someone who wanted so desperately to please and didn’t ask for anything in return? But Loane still held back and refused to surrender emotionally. She’d tried to show Abby that she was important, but that was it. Maybe it was time to end this liaison before someone discovered them or one of them got hurt.

Bowman slapped the table and stood, startling Loane out of her mental Ping-Pong game about Abby. “Guess we’re done here,” he said. “Another wasted day at the office. You two pick up in the morning and I’ll see you back here for the debriefing.”

Abby waited until Bowman slammed the outside door before she reached across the table and took Loane’s hands. “Are you all right?”

Loane nodded.

Abby had seen how jealous, uncomfortable, and angry Loane had been when Bowman tried to provoke her. How had Loane restrained herself? Loane’s calm façade provided the grounding Abby needed. She could manage the uncertainty of her life with Loane in it. How had this woman invaded her every thought and action in the past few months? “Thank you for sticking up for me, but you didn’t have to. I’ve got to take care of myself.”

“He shouldn’t talk to you like that. Just because you’re not an agent doesn’t give him the right to be disrespectful.”

“You softy, but I promise not to tell.” Abby loved this part of Loane most—the tender, vulnerable side she never showed the rest of the world, and rarely to her. Abby felt privileged. “Can we go to your place?”

“Are you sure that’s smart?” Loane tried to withdraw, but Abby held firm.

Her feelings for Loane were the only thing she was sure about right now. But she didn’t have a right to them. Abby ignored her conscience, drinking in Loane’s gaze like a balm to her soul. Her eyes relayed the truth more fully than her words or actions, and Abby took her cues from them. Right now, Loane was obviously as conflicted about their situation as she was.

Loane pulled away and combed her fingers through her thick hair. The platinum tresses feathered back around her oval face in a simple motion that made Abby’s heart ache. Everything about Loane made Abby ache—the smoothness of her pale skin, the cool blue of her evocative eyes, the swollen fullness of her lips, her attempts to adhere to proper protocol, and even her pretense of emotional bravado. “Let’s just talk. Okay?”

When she’d met Loane, she’d sensed an immediate connection, and Loane’s aloofness fed into Abby’s need to please like gin calls for tonic. She had always been the bridge builder in her expressive Italian family, the conduit between three brothers and her parents. But she was also the focus of her family’s overprotectiveness, because she was small-framed and looked delicate. Even Agent Bowman often treated her as though she might break.

Loane had been different. Their first night on the job, she’d allowed Abby to decide when to contact their target and what listening devices would work best in the setting. She’d assumed Abby was competent and capable and hadn’t judged her as only an informant. Their working relationship gelled naturally and a sexual attraction soon followed.

She’d never experienced the clichéd fire and ice of a stare until the first time her eyes met Loane’s. Loane’s crystal gaze had assessed and consumed her, her platinum hair and telling eyes a sharp contrast to her unassuming nature. Loane alerted every nerve in Abby’s body on a visceral level. From the beginning she couldn’t resist and had struggled to focus and to keep her secrets.

When she was away from Loane, she became more rational and could plan her life more clearly. She’d come to Greensboro, North Carolina, by way of Miami, to finish something she’d started eighteen months earlier. Here she had a chance to break out of the only-girl-youngest-child role in her family, and her dream didn’t include love or lust or whatever she was feeling.

She wanted to tell Loane the truth, to ask her to wait, but she was still uncertain about too many things. Besides, she’d taken an oath of secrecy. Even Special Agent Dan Bowman wasn’t special enough to know anything substantial about her.

Abby had accepted a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity full of deceit and danger, but so far she’d been nothing but an informant.

She moved around the table and knelt between Loane’s legs. Don’t do it, Abby. She pushed the nagging voice to the back of her mind and surrendered to her gnawing need. Sliding her hands up Loane’s thighs, she felt the muscles tighten, and in that moment she wanted consummation instead of conversation. “So, your place?”

Loane nodded, her gaze fixed on Abby’s lips.

Abby wanted to share herself completely with Loane. After she’d realized her feelings were more than casual, she hadn’t had an orgasm during their lovemaking. She wanted to try again, but could she give everything while hiding so much? This might be her last chance.

*

When Abby walked into Loane’s bedroom, Loane was nude with a sheet pulled up to her waist. A dark ring on the pillow outlined the damp ends of her platinum hair, and the fresh scent of soap and toothpaste lingered in the adjoining bath.