Fatal Justice

Furious at being exiled, Freddie paced the sidewalk and waited for Elin to arrive. He hated being helpless and at the mercy of others. But since his car had a standard transmission, he couldn't drive until his shoulder healed. Right now, it hurt like a bastard, which meant he was due for another pain pill.

Elin pulled up in her sleek black Acura and leaned over to open the door for him.

"I can get it myself," he snapped.

"Yeah, nice to see you, too."

Freddie slammed the door and did his best to situate his injured arm. The pain left him feeling sweaty and sick.

"You look like shit."

"Thanks."

"The doctor told you to take it easy. It's too soon to be back at work."

"I've already got my mother and Sam bitching at me. I don't need it from you, too."

She abruptly pulled over. "Then why don't you get one of them to drive you home?"

Startled, he ventured a glance at her and was surprised to see that she was genuinely pissed.

"Yeah, I shut your phone off. Yeah, it's my fault you got shot. I get it. Now maybe you can get over it. If you can't, you'll have to find someone else to be your bitch. I've had enough."

"I don't blame getting shot on you," he said haltingly, stunned and unnerved by her outburst.

"Right."

"I '."

"You could've fooled me. I put up with your crankiness when you were in the hospital and when you got home because I blamed myself. But I figure my debt is about paid up at this point."

Suddenly, Freddie didn't want to lose her. He wasn't ready for this – whatever it was – to be over. "You're right. I've been a shit to you, and I'm sorry." He brushed at imaginary lint on his jeans. "I wasn't prepared for this to be more than just…"

"Sex?"

Shrugging, he said, "I thought we'd have some fun, and then go our separate ways."

"No reason we can't."

"I don't want that," he said, reaching for her hand. "We haven't had nearly enough fun yet."

"So you want more sex, and then you'll cut me loose?"

"I don't know what you want me to say, Elin. I like you. I like being with you. That's the part I wasn't expecting."

She stared out the windshield. "I like being with you, too."

"You sound surprised."

"I was in it for the sex, too," she confessed.

"So you're using me," he joked. "I see how it is."

"You were using me, too!"

His eyes met hers. "All I know is that from the first time I met you during the O'Connor investigation, I wanted you. I thought about you, and I wanted you."

"I wanted you, too. Just as much."

"So what do we do now?"

"You're really done being a shit?"

Freddie winced. "I'm done."

She replied with a coy grin. "Then you wanna go home and have some fun?"

He hesitated.

"What?"

"The last time I had that kind of fun, it didn't work out so well."

"It worked out  until you got pissed and left."

"Yeah. I guess."

"So what's the problem?"

"I want to tell you, but you might think I'm weird or something."

"Don't worry. I already do."

"Very funny. I'm trying to be serious."

She made a poor attempt at a solemn face. "Please. Proceed."

"You met my mom." His heart raced with nerves and anxiety. When Elin nodded, he said, "It was just the two of us when I was growing up. Our church and our faith were important." He let his eyes wander over to her, petrified by what he'd find. "They still are."

"Okay. That's no big deal to me."

"When I was fifteen, I took a vow of celibacy."

"Oh."

"It was voluntary, and I stuck to it for a long time – a really long time. In fact, I only just recently – "

"Oh my God! ''"

He looked down at his good hand, which had rolled into a fist in his lap. "That's what I'm saying."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I  telling you."

"I mean before."

"What difference would it have made?"

"It just would've been nice to know." She studied him for a long time before her eyes widened. "You sought me out with that in mind, didn't you? You figured I'd be easy."

"No," he said quickly. "I figured you'd be fun. And you were. We had a lot of fun before we ever had sex."

"That's true."

"Are you mad?"

"I never would've guessed," she said with a shy smile.

"Really?"

"It was amazing."

"Yeah." He shifted to accommodate his instant erection. "It was."

"Why do you think I've put up with your crap the last couple of days?"

Clearing his throat, he said, "Because you want more?"

She bit her lip and nodded.

A hot ball of lust surged through Freddie and landed in his lap. "Your place or mine?"

Sam and Malone arrived at Devon's Dupont Circle townhouse at the same time as the medical examiner.

"We meet again," Dr. Lindsey McNamara said. "What've you got?"

Sam filled her in on what they knew. "I'm looking for a connection between Julian Sinclair's shooting and this one."

"If there's a connection," Lindsey said, "I'll find it."

"That's what I'm counting on."

Inside, the place smelled of pizza and death. Sam nodded to the officers who had arrived first on the scene.

"Called in by the pizza delivery guy, Mac Healy, age twenty-three." The patrolman gestured to the living room sofa where Healy sat with his head in his hands. "Shook up."

"We'll talk to him," Sam said.

"Tucker Farrell, age twenty-seven, shacked up with Sinclair, who owns the place," the patrolman continued. "Farrell's next of kin are his parents in Wilmington, Delaware." He handed her a slip of paper with their phone number.

"I'll call them," Sam said, her stomach knotting. She hated making those phone calls. "What about Sinclair?"

"Bullet wound to the back of the head. Paramedics left with him about ten minutes ago. He was found over there." He pointed to a puddle of blood just short of the doorway to the kitchen. "They said his condition is grave."

"The shooter took out Farrell first," Malone observed. "Sinclair was running away when he was hit."

"That's how I see it, too," Sam said. To the officer who'd briefed them, she added, "Thanks, Peterson. Good work." She crouched down to take a closer look at Farrell's chest wound. "Looks like a direct hit to the heart."

Lindsey nodded in agreement. "He bled out fast."

"Might've confronted the shooter," Malone said.

"It was close range," Lindsey concurred.

Sam stood up and went over to talk to the pizza guy. "Mr. Healy, I'm Detective Lieutenant Holland, my partner, Detective Captain Malone. Can you tell us what happened?"

Healy's eyes, flat with shock, were rimmed with red. "I already told them."

"Do me a favor, and run through it one more time," Sam said.

"I brought the pie they ordered." Healy gestured to the red thermal bag sitting at his feet. "A large sausage and onion. Their usual."

"So they were frequent flyers?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, at least once, maybe twice a week. Anyway, I got here and the front door was wide open, which was weird this time of year. I rang the bell a couple of times, but no one answered. I stuck my head in and saw a foot on the floor." He zeroed in on Tucker's body. "I started to run away, but then I thought he might need help so I came in. That's when I saw the other guy, on the floor over there." Shaking his head, he took a couple of deep breaths. "I kinda freaked and went outside to call 911."

"When you arrived, did you see anyone leaving or running on the street?"

"No. I didn't think anything was weird until I noticed the door open."

Sam took down his contact info and released him.

"What's next, Lieutenant?" Malone asked as they watched Lindsey follow Tucker's body out of the house.

"A bit rusty, are you, sir?" she said, smiling at his scowl. "Now we knock on doors to see if we can narrow down when the shots were fired and whether anyone saw someone fleeing the scene."

"What're you thinking?"

Sam studied the two bloody areas on the wood floor. "Not sure yet. We've got an uncle and nephew, both of them gay, one still in the closet, shot in the span of a few days. If I hadn't had Diandra in interrogation when this went down, I'd be getting a warrant for her arrest."

"Who else is there?"

"Preston and Austin Sinclair, father and brother of Devon, brother and nephew of Julian."

"Any chance this is unrelated to Julian?"

"Sure, there's a chance." She took a good look around the latest crime scene. "But this doesn't feel random. It doesn't feel random at all."

"Not to me, either."

"We'll have to dig into Farrell's life to rule out anything there, but until we can talk to Devon Sinclair, we knock on doors."

"I'm following you," Malone said.

"I just don't get it," Freddie said, his heart racing. "This has never happened. Ever." He looked down at his limp penis and willed it to life. Not that he'd had much experience, but getting an erection had never been a problem. In fact, having too many of them in his sexually frustrated state had been more of an issue. He had no idea what the hell was wrong with him.

"Don't worry about it." Elin kissed and caressed his chest. "We can do other stuff."

"It's probably the pain drugs." However, it occurred to him that he'd been hard as stone in the car just a short time ago. Now here he was, naked and in a bed with the equally naked Elin, the subject of his most lurid fantasies, and  was happening?

"I'm sure that's all it is."

But in the back of his mind, Freddie suspected the guilt had gotten to him. It had eaten away at him until even his manhood was guilty.

Elin sat up, straddled him and ran her hands from his belly to his pecs. "Don't think. Just feel. Close your eyes."

He did what she said, trying to clear his mind of everything except for what was happening right in front of him – and on top of him. Imagining Elin's pierced nipples and the heart-shaped tattoo, Freddie felt a surge of desire.

"That's it," she whispered, her lips cruising from neck to chest to belly. "Just feel. No thinking."

"No thinking."

She massaged his thighs, first with her hands and then with her lips.

Freddie moaned.

Dragging her breasts over his penis, she continued to whisper soft words of encouragement.

He concentrated on putting aside the guilt and the conflict. Even the throbbing in his shoulder couldn't dampen the surge of lust. "Elin." With his good hand, he reached for a handful of soft breast and ran his thumb over her nipple.

She gasped. "Now we're getting somewhere," she said, stroking him until he was hard and throbbing.

"I'm glad it's not broken."

Laughing, she bent to take him into her mouth. "Definitely not broken."

His hips seemed to have a mind of their own. "Mmm," he sighed. "That's so good." The sweep of her tongue, the heat of her mouth, the tightness of her throat had him teetering on the brink in no time. She continued to stroke him until he was so hard he was afraid if he moved, even the slightest bit, he'd lose it. Then she squeezed his balls, just enough to make him surge off the bed. Wincing, he shifted to accommodate his injured shoulder.

"Sorry." She sat up. "We need to make you more comfortable for what I have in mind." Piling up pillows behind him, she arranged him the way she wanted him.

Freddie's heart slammed around in his chest, anxiety battling overwhelming curiosity.

She straddled him and took him into her moist heat.

They hadn't gotten to this position the other night, even though he'd wanted to try it. God, it was even better this way, if that was possible. As she rode him, she kept her gaze fixed on his face.

"Like it?" she asked.

"Oh yeah." As he climbed toward what would no doubt be another explosive climax, it occurred to him that he could very easily become addicted to this – and to her.