A Deadly Game Page 6

  Nick’s own orgasm gathered in his balls. He buried his face in the hollow of Eric’s neck as his body suddenly stilled, every muscle stiff with tension, then he arched, plunged even deeper until, with a muffled cry, he exploded inside Eric. Stars spun in front of his eyes, dizzying in their blinding intensity.

  “You are incredible…” Nick stretched his body slowly over Eric’s, covering his jaw, his throat, his chest with kisses.

  Eric stirred in his arms, his lips brushing Nick’s. “I love you,” he whispered.

  Chapter Five

  Nick figured Garcia would not waste any time in trying to track him down. Early next morning, he went to the office and had all calls transferred to his cell phone. He had already called Monica, his secretary, and told her not to go anywhere near the office until he contacted her again.

  “I’ll check in with you every day on your cell,” he told her. “If by any chance you hear from Jeff, don’t put up any red flags. Okay?”

  “Okay, Nick. D’you want to tell me what this is all about?”

  “No. Not until it’s over. The less you know right now the better, believe me.”

  He called Joe French at the Los Angeles Police Department and apprised him of the situation. It wouldn’t hurt to have some official backup. Joe was a close friend of Jeff’s and ready to do as much as he could to help.

  “Why’d you figure Garcia was on his way to California?” he asked Nick, surprised at the news.

  “I’m next in line, Joe.” Nick was blunt in his explanation. “Andy Hawkins was my partner. I’m the only one still alive that Garcia swore to kill. He’s not going to be easy to find. He’s disguised and carrying fake ID. I don’t know if I’d know him right now.”

  “Jeez,” Joe muttered. “Maybe you should talk to the OC Police Department and get some protection?”

  “Uh, uh…that didn’t do Andy any good. Garcia got to him in a room crowded with cops. I’m better off covering my own back.”

  “Well, good luck Nick. Meanwhile, I’ll alert security at LAX.”

  Before he left the office, Nick checked LAX and San Diego Airport for arrivals from Pittsburgh. If Garcia was using a commercial flight, United had one arriving at 8:35am and American at 9:20am at LAX. It was still more likely though, Nick thought, that he would use a private plane and some out of the way airfield to avoid any chance of being spotted. Whatever method he used, it didn’t really matter. His arrival was inevitable and Nick knew he had better be prepared for it if he was going to survive the next couple of days. He drove from the office, through downtown Laguna and along Forest, checking out Peter’s gallery. He was gratified to see the door was open and the lights were on. Though sorely tempted, Nick did not stop to say hello to Eric. In his mind, it was imperative for the time being to keep as much distance between the two of them as he could. Garcia must not see that connection.

  He drove down to Dana Point, parked the car, then walked at a leisurely pace through the Marina. This was one of his most favorite places. Soon after he and Eric had moved to Laguna, Nick had found this spot to be a salve to his soul. Whenever things got problematic at the office, some case was proving to be particularly troublesome, he would drive down here by himself and spend time watching the boats or wandering through the small shops, stopping to have a coffee, and just generally chill out. Here, he found it easier to think things through. Eric and he had often talked of getting a boat and renting a slip so that they could take it out at weekends or whenever they had the time. Thus far, they had got no further than looking at ads in the Sundays.

  “Maybe when this is over,” he muttered to himself, sitting down on a wooden bench near the fish restaurant he and Eric liked. He had a sudden mental picture of himself at the helm of their sailboat, and Eric, looking really cute in white shorts, running up the rigging. Eric. God, but he had missed him last night.

  “Damn,” he said aloud, startling a young woman pushing a stroller in front of him. She gave him a wary glance and picked up a little speed in order to distance herself from him. He gave himself a shake and tried to focus on what he was going to do if and when Garcia confronted him. Chances are there would be no confrontation. Garcia’s modus operandi was to shoot and disappear, not giving the other guy the opportunity to defend himself. Still, he had a sneaking feeling that because he was the last remaining target, Garcia might just want to take a deal of pleasure in his execution. That was why it had been so important to get Eric out of the way.

  There was no doubt in his mind that Garcia knew how to find him. He wasn’t about to fly three thousand miles and then look in a phone book. He would also, no doubt, know of Nick’s association with Jeff Stevens. For all Nick knew, he could have already checked out both the office and the apartment. Instinctively, he reached inside his bomber jacket, finding comfort in the feel of his gun resting in its shoulder holster. Time to go, he thought. Time to find out if his worst fears were to be realized. Time to face the devil. High noon—except it was closer to three in the afternoon. He stood, then sat down again as his cell phone rang.

  “Nick Fallon.”

  “Nick…” The woman’s voice was filled with pain.

  “Margo? I’m sorry. I meant to call you soon as I heard the news.”

  “How could it happen, Nick? How could he get past all those people and manage to kill Andy?” Her voice was thick with her tears. “I just don’t understand it, Nick.”

  He had no answers and gave none. “I’m so sorry, Margo. How’re you holding up?” he asked awkwardly.

  “Not so good. The kids are devastated. His mother is screaming. God, Nick, I always thought I was prepared for this—being a cop’s wife. It was always there on the cards, but when it happens—” She broke off and he could hear her muffled sobs, then she asked, “You comin’ out? The funeral’s Friday.”

  Nick bowed his head, feeling slightly ashamed. “Yeah, I’ll be there. I’ll call you from Doreen’s.”

  “Thanks Nick. I’ll see you then.”

  “Yeah. Bye, Margo.”

  He closed his cell phone and leaned against the bench’s hard wooden back. He had not made any plans to fly to Pittsburgh for the funeral. Had he been trying to avoid it? Or had he just been too caught up in trying to protect Eric and figure out Garcia’s next move? But, of course, this would be his next move. He’d be waiting for Nick to show at the funeral. He didn’t have to fly to California to finish what he had started. He’d simply wait.

  This is what Garcia would want. Nick, back on his old turf—the last sacrifice to complete his son’s revenge. Well, if that’s what he wants, that’s what he’ll get, Nick thought, his jaw set in a grim line. At least this way, he won’t be coming near Eric.

  As he drove north on Coast Highway, his cell phone rang again.

  “Nick Fallon.”

  “Nick, it’s Tom. So, the news is, it looks like our friend has dropped outta sight.”

  Nick slowed as he neared the congested intersection with Crown Valley Parkway. “What do you mean?”

  “No one seems to know his whereabouts. I’ve checked every reliable source and come up with nothing. Maybe he’s lying low?”

  “That doesn’t sound like Garcia. He doesn’t care if he’s caught after he gets what he wants—namely getting rid of Andy and me.”

  “Well, I tend to agree, but maybe after three years in the slammer he’s not anxious to go back. Could be he’s heading for Puerto Rico.”

  “I’d like to believe that,” Nick said, easing his car through the press of traffic.

  “Word is, he won’t be happy till his son, Alfredo, is free. He might be working on that.”

  “Mmm…” Nick wasn’t convinced.

  “You comin’ out for Andy’s funeral?”

  “Yeah. I talked to Margo and told her I’d be there.”

  A pause. “Right. Okay, take it easy, Nick.”

  “Will do.”

  A car he didn’t recognize was parked in Eric’s space outside their apartment. Parking w
as always a headache round the area they lived in, but it still pissed Nick off that someone would just blatantly park in a designated space. He looked with disgust at the beat-up Volkswagen as he climbed the stairs to their apartment, then froze as he saw the front door was slightly open.

  Had he been wrong in assuming Garcia wouldn’t come to California? Had Tom given him bad information? Had Garcia perhaps sent someone else to make the hit? All his police training kicked in as he stepped back from the door and pulled his gun from its shoulder holster. Taking a deep breath and pushing the door open, the gun held in front of him, he quickly entered the apartment. It took him a few seconds for his eyes to become accustomed to the half-light that filtered through the living room window blinds, but as he crouched low, scouring the room, his gun at the ready, he could see no sign of an intruder. He breathed just a little more easily as he stood upright and walked down the hall toward the bedroom. Had he forgotten to close and lock the door when he left that morning? Entirely possible, his mind had been filled with so much.

  Then he heard it. A soft noise from the bedroom—the sound of a drawer being opened. Shit, he thought. He’s in there. Every muscle in his body coiled and sprang to attention as he kicked the bedroom door open.

  “Freeze!” he yelled.

  The startled yelp that answered him was not at all what he had expected. “Nick, it’s me!”

  “Eric—for fuck’s sake. I almost killed you. What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I live here, remember?”

  “You’re supposed to be at Andrew’s.” Nick realized he was trembling. Jesus, he’d come so close…

  “I needed some clean underwear.” Eric stared at Nick, his eyes widening as he became aware of what had almost happened. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.”

  “Why didn’t you call and tell me?”

  “I tried, but your cell was busy.”

  “Where’s your car?”

  “I walked up from the gallery.”

  Nick nodded, holstering his gun, feeling drained and vaguely foolish.

  “I’m sorry, Nick,” Eric said again, seeing his lover’s obvious distress.

  “No, don’t be. You didn’t know.” Nick sat down on the bed. “I was just on the phone with Tom—”

  “Tom?”

  “Yeah. He’s a guy I knew in Pittsburgh, helped me out a few times. Anyway, he seems to think Garcia might be headed for Puerto Rico.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it?” Eric sat beside him on the bed.

  “If it’s a fact.” Nick put his hand on the back of Eric’s neck and caressed it gently. “I’m flying to Pittsburgh tonight for Andy’s funeral. I’ll be back in a couple of days.”

  Eric leaned his head on Nick’s shoulder. “Please be careful,” he whispered. “I should come with you.”

  “You can’t leave the gallery. I don’t want the guys to know something’s wrong. I told Monica just to tell them I’d be out of town on business for a couple of days. If they knew there was a problem, they’d cut their trip short and—”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

  “There’s nothing they could do, anyway. The ball is in Garcia’s court. I just have to play the waiting game.”

  “But if he’s still in Pittsburgh—” Eric looked at him with sudden alarm. “He might figure you’d come for the funeral.”

  “There’ll be a hundred cops at that funeral, Eric. Garcia would need an army to get to me there.” He drew Eric into his arms. “Please stay with Andrew and David until I get back. It’ll be easier for me, while I’m gone, if I know you’re there with them.”

  “Okay…”

  Nick smiled and kissed Eric’s lips. “I missed you last night.”

  “Missed you too,” Eric murmured, unbuttoning Nick’s shirt and peeling it back over his shoulders. He lowered his head to Nick’s chest, his lips fastening on a nipple, sucking gently, his tongue swirling round the small stiffening point.

  Nick shuddered as he gave in to the sensation that flooded over him like hot fire. Aching with desire, he fell back on the bed, pulling Eric on top of him. Their mouths met in a hot and hungry kiss. Feverish hands tugged at each other’s clothing, lips and tongues laving each other’s skin.

  “Oh my God, Nick—” Eric’s voice was filled with love and fear. “I would die if anything happened to you.”

  “Sssh…” Nick soothed him, holding him in a fierce embrace. “Nothing’s gonna happen, I promise.” His mouth found Eric’s again, his tongue sliding between his lover’s parted lips, into his moist, welcoming warmth. Their lovemaking was bittersweet, for even as they consummated that love for one another, neither of them could completely erase the feeling of the inherent danger that surrounded them.

  § § § §

  Andrew and David were just finishing dinner when Eric returned after taking Nick to the airport. “Hey guys,” he muttered, dropping down into a chair at the table. He looked across at his two friends, who stared back at him, their expressions filled with concern. Eric felt a surge of affection for them, knowing that they truly cared for his and Nick’s well being.

  Early on in their friendship, Eric had felt a strong bond with Andrew and David. To him, they were role models. As disparate as they appeared to be physically, being at either end of the ethnic gene pool, Andrew with his corn-fed wholesomeness and David darkly Italian, they nevertheless looked like they belonged together. After almost ten years, they still remained affectionate and loving toward one another. He had never heard either one criticize the other, except in jest, and Eric had been extremely impressed with David when he gave up a lucrative job in New York on discovering that Andrew truly hated it there. Eric had determined that his relationship with Nick would be as strong and loving as theirs.

  “There’s some leftovers in the oven, if you’re hungry,” Andrew said, touching his hand.

  “No thanks. What I’d really like is a beer.”

  “Things still rough with you and Nick?” David asked, getting up from the table.

  “No, actually everything’s fine.” Eric smiled, remembering what had passed between them only hours before. “Uh, no, it’s just that I’m really worried about this Garcia character.” He paused as David handed him a beer. “Thanks, Dave. Nick’s gone to Pittsburgh for his friend’s funeral and I have a bad feeling about it. Garcia seems to be capable of just about anything. Being able to walk into a crowded police station, gun down a cop and then just vanish, is just plain scary. Nick says there’ll be hundreds of cops at the Andy’s funeral, but that didn’t stop Garcia before.”

  As Eric chugged his beer down, Andrew and David exchanged worried glances, then Andrew said, “You know Nick can take care of himself. He’s been in tight spots before…”

  “I know, and we’ve been there with him in some of them. But this feels different. Garcia is a lethal killer on a vendetta.”

  “What does he have against Nick?” David asked.

  “He blames him for the death of his son. The kid was caught in the crossfire of a shootout. According to Nick, the son was having an affair with one of the cops involved in the raid.”

  “Wow,” Andrew murmured. “Did the father know that?”

  “Apparently not.” Eric frowned as he thought that over. “Jeez, if he ever found that out, he’d probably go even more ballistic. He sounds deranged, but Nick says he’s clever—and to me, that sounds like an even more dangerous combination.”

  David’s dark, brooding eyes were filled with concern as he looked at Eric. “No wonder you’re worried. I wish there was something we could do to help.”

  “Just being here for us means a lot, David.” Eric smiled at them both. “Peter always says you’re the best friends anyone could have. He was right about that.”

  “We’re just glad you and Nick decided to move out here,” Andrew said. “When we all met in New York I wanted us to become good friends, and we would have even if you’d stayed there—but having you both here just makes it so much eas
ier.”

  David nodded in agreement. “And we know it’s easy for us to tell you not to worry, but believe me, we know that if either one of us was in that same predicament we’d be just where you are now—and you’d be trying to console us.”

  “When does Nick get back?” Andrew asked.

  “Saturday, I think. He’s going to call. I hope you don’t mind my staying till then. He said he’d feel easier knowing I’m with you guys.”

  “Stay as long as you like,” David told him.

  “We’ll feel easier, too,” Andrew said. “There’s just one condition,” he added, getting up from the table and heading for the kitchen.

  “What’s that?”