Provoked Read online

  Kennedy cleared his throat and stood. “I’ll run a search on him.”

  “And Kennedy,” Riley added. “Keep this between us, for now. You know, just in case there’s no connection.”

  Kennedy paused for a moment as if he contemplated doing something out of the ordinary. He nodded. “Sure, Briggs.”

  Riley’s focus went back to the criminal activity report on his screen. He only found domestic disputes and small-time drug possession arrests from the brownstone. His attention heightened when he searched death records at the address. Two deaths were reported in the past six months at Adam’s brownstone. The medical examiner’s report stated heart failure and respiratory failure, due to possible overdose. The report stated heroin had been found in the man’s blood, and there were syringes and heroin found in the apartment next to his body. Riley checked the next flagged death at the address. The medical examiner’s report stated a heart attack; but Riley’s mind drifted back to the last death report. Didn’t it mention something about heart failure, too? He quickly brought up the previous death report and wondered if the two deaths could be connected. Then the name on the report hit him. Peter O’Donnell. Riley scratched his head. Andrew O’Donnell. The man he shot that night. The man who’d killed his partner.

  I wonder if there’s any relation between the two men.

  Riley’s fingers moved across the keyboard. He smiled.

  “They are brothers.”

  Riley leaned back in his chair and thought about the two cases and what stood out besides heart failure and drugs. He went back to the domestic disputes reported at the brownstone. He found quite a few, which he assumed he would. Low-income, rundown brownstone…he expected the discoveries. Both brothers’ apartments had been visited many times with domestic dispute disturbances. There’d been no domestic-related arrests made. Riley figured the women were too scared to press charges. He’d seen it too often, and these women never got the help they so desperately needed. The charges don’t stick for long, unless they get them with something else. In the severe cases, the women never survived the abuse. He wondered, perhaps, if it was a blessing they didn’t. He never understood how a man could abuse a woman.

  “Riley, you’re going to like this find.” Kennedy grinned.

  “Andrew O’Donnell’s address is listed the same as Beth’s.”

  Riley’s gut had been right. There were connections. He filled Kennedy in on his findings. “I came across his brother’s name from the death report. It appears Crawford Properties has had two deaths in the past six months, three counting Andrew’s. Besides Andrew, both men died of heart failure. I know, natural causes or drug-related. But all three men had numerous domestic dispute calls to their apartments. All calls made by the one and creepy—Adam Crawford.”

  “Are you thinking Adam Crawford is involved? He is pretty creepy.”

  The excitement in Kennedy’s voice made Riley laugh again.

  “I’ll admit the man is a creep and very strong, but I don’t think he’d have the smarts to plan and cover-up two murders, but my gut tells me there’s more to it. Then there’s Beth’s disappearance the same night I shot Andrew O’Donnell, a block away.”

  Riley sank back in his chair and looked up at Kennedy.

  “What the hell did he do with Beth before that drug deal?”

  “So our lead suspect for this missing woman is her dead boyfriend?”

  “It appears so, Kennedy. Though I think we should take a closer look at Adam Crawford.” Riley ran his hand across his unshaven face. He’d planned to shave for his first day back to work, but an incredible sexy woman had distracted him that morning.

  Chapter Six

  Riley heard the buzzer moments after he arrived home. He was just about to pour a stiff drink. Reprimanded to desk duty hadn’t exactly been what he’d expected for his first day back. At least he’d found some excitement in Beth’s case. He needed to get back to the streets. It felt like a slap in the face to be assigned to Missing Persons. Totally pissed at the world, he knew there was nothing he could do but follow protocol; for once. He could no longer play by his own rules. It finally caught up with him and bit him in the ass. He knew the only way back on the street was through Dr. Richards. He definitely planned to make the next appointment and talk openly about Steve’s death.

  He answered his buzzer. The voice he heard through the speaker made his lips form a cocky smile. He wondered if she came to end his day the way she’d started it. Hope settled in. His anger about desk duty subsided. A few minutes later, he opened the door to the first woman who’d ever intrigued him. It appeared, he hoped, he wasn’t the only one who desired a second night of passion.

  “Lieutenant Lis,” Riley announced her name more so as a surprised question.

  “Detective, may I come in?”

  Her tone was no longer professional. His ego jumped up a notch. He figured he’d never get another chance with her outside of the office, until he went back to the streets. He’d thought about it all day. Another reason he definitely needed to get back to the streets. He motioned for her to come in.

  “Scotch?” he offered. She nodded. He poured her a drink and cheered her glass.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t play your first name only game,” Riley suggested with a cocky smile, and then added, “We wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

  She laughed, “Maybe.” Riley motioned for her to take a seat on his sofa.

  “So what brings you by, Basia? I didn’t expect to see you outside the office.”

  “I didn’t mean to portray the cold bitch today. I was shocked to see you at the precinct. I had to remain professional. You do understand?”

  Riley nodded in agreement. He wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted her. There was something about her that drove him crazy, but he was smooth. He’d always been a confirmed bachelor, who never desired a serious relationship. He liked his one-night stands. Apparently, she did too.

  “So, you dropped by to tell me what I already know?” Riley questioned her like a detective.

  She laughed, “I didn’t come by for an interrogation.”

  “So what did you come by for?”

  Basia got up and walked over to the scotch bottle that sat on the bar. She poured another drink and turned. She motioned with the bottle if he wanted another drink. He met her with his glass. After one sip she took the glass from his hand and set it down beside hers on the bar.

  “You.”

  He knew damn well what was on her mind, and he wasn’t about to argue when she grabbed his shirt with both hands and pulled him in to meet her lips.

  Riley mumbled, “This is wrong”.

  Basia reached for his pulse. “But it feels so right.”

  Any thought of wrongdoing left his mind completely. The hunger in her eyes told him nothing else mattered. He easily succumbed to her wishes. His hand slid around her waist and moved her in closer, until their holsters clashed. He chuckled at the sound and then removed his gun from its holster. Basia followed his lead. Without warning, he pushed her against the bar. Her eyes moved down to where his hands landed on her thighs.

  He pressed tighter and then slowly, inch by inch, moved his hands toward her breasts. Too much fabric frustrated him, and he slipped a finger in between the opening of two buttons. One simple touch of her skin ignited his arousal. He lightly caressed her skin each time he undid a button. His eyes remained focused on her lips. When the tip of her tongue wet her lips, he traced the outline of them with the tip of his finger. She squirmed against his tightened denim with a soft moan. The feel of her against him, the thought of being inside her drove him over the edge. He aggressively opened her blouse and then gently felt the lace covering her breasts. Her hardened tips confirmed what she wanted. The same thing he did.

  She grasped his belt with one hand and quickly unbuckled it. Her fierce desire to undress him excited him further. Basia ripped his shirt loose from his jeans and she pulled it over his head. Her fingers brushed through his hair until he
r hands had a good grip. She pulled him down hard to her breasts. He released the front latch with his teeth and heard her soft whimper when his tongue flickered across her hardened nipple. Her cry for him to make love to her only invited him to continue his tease. He licked, suckled, and squeezed until he felt her hand vigorously reach inside his jeans and underneath. Once her fingers embraced his hard cock, he found it difficult to continue to tease her.

  “You’re making me lose control here,” Riley whispered out of breath.

  Basia smiled. “Good. Then make love to me.”

  He didn’t respond. Riley took her hand and led her to his bed. The need to satisfy this woman was all that mattered.

  “I expect you’ll keep this between us,” Basia whispered in the dark. Her head rested on his chest. She gently touched the arm he’d wrapped around her.

  “Yes,” he sleepily confirmed. This woman easily exhausted him. He didn’t need any further complications at work. He needed to get off the desk and back on the street. He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep with an incredible woman in his arms.

  Riley woke before his alarm, the room still dark. He reached out for her but only felt the empty spot where she’d been. He felt a tinge of sadness sweep through his heart. That thought scared him. Normally, he’d pray the woman he’d invited into his bed would be gone before he woke. Most times, he’d go to their place and sneak out as soon as they’d fallen asleep. Riley missed the touch of her skin against his. Confused by his thoughts he got out of bed. 4:35 the digits on the microwave struck his eyes in the darkened kitchen. He wondered how long she’d slept in his arms. Why the hell does this woman haunt me? He flicked the button on his coffeepot. He hoped a cold shower would cure the ache he felt with her not there. He had never allowed a woman inside his head, let alone his heart.

  ****

  Basia wanted to stay with Riley. No man had ever awakened her senses the way he had the past two nights. With every ounce of strength, she fought those feelings. She promised herself she’d never trust another man, not after Darek. She abided to one-night-stands. Anything beyond would only inflict feelings she chose to never experience again. She knew she was in trouble. Riley had become an addiction; only he could give her the fix she needed. Even though their encounters were short and never personal, her heart crossed that line. She sat in her car with thoughts of Riley and the way he made her feel. Basia opened her purse and took out a picture she kept hidden inside her wallet. The only picture she had of Darek. She kept it as a reminder of what’d he done to her and her parents, but more so, as a reminder to what she’d done. A tinge of remorse raced in her veins. Her conscious mind reminded her daily that she’d committed murder. She continuously convinced herself it had been self-defense. She had to kill him before he killed her. She closed her eyes and remembered the torture of being married to him.

  Basia had been comforted from the death of her parents by Darek. The same man she’d discovered later had rigged the brakes on their car. He’d been her tower of strength after her parents’ deaths and swept her off her feet. Then she remembered him after they married—a possessive controlling husband. He attempted to control her every move. At first, his angry outbursts were emotional; mostly words. She thought she could handle it until things became physical. Nothing had scared her before. But he did. Basia was ready to file for divorce, even if it cost her half of her father’s wealth. She remembered the phone conversation she overheard with another woman, she’d assumed, when she heard him say, Moja kochana. A Polish term one would refer to as their loved one, but it was gender specific.

  “Basia won’t make it back from the chata. Those crazy storms happen all the time, and those mountains take lives; especially on the Orla Perć.”

  She sucked in a deep breath as she continued to listen. “Don’t worry. It will appear as an accident. Then the inheritance will be mine. I convinced that stupid bitch that a pre-nup wasn’t necessary, because our love was forever or some crappy line like that.”

  Basia looked at his picture. She remembered Darek’s confession. It sent shivers through her veins and made the hair on the back of her neck stand. That bastard! A tear formed in her eye. His words felt like a knife to her heart.

  “I succeeded getting rid of her parents, didn’t I? This bitch is easy to play.”

  Basia turned the key in the ignition. She wasn’t sure if she felt remorse or anger. His confession, his plan, his death, continuously played circles in her mind. It haunted her but she’d convinced herself there was no other way. It came down to survival. She reminded herself that only one of them would have come back from that trip to the chata. She was determined to live. Basia placed his picture back in her wallet and reminded herself she couldn’t trust anyone again. She wiped away the tears and shifted her red convertible into first gear.

  Chapter Seven

  “Do you take me for a fool? I thought we decided that we wouldn’t go back to work. We’ve planned this trip to the mountains. After that, we’ll go wherever you want. We have all this money, we don’t need to work.”

  Darek stormed into the kitchen. He cursed under his breath and called her a bitch. Basia just hung up the phone. His remark wasn’t a suggestion or offer. It clearly sounded like a command to her. Tears formed in her eyes. She’d taken a leave of absence after her parents’ deaths. She needed some time to grieve and organize their affairs. She’d been so distraught at that time, and Darek held her hand through it all. Basia needed to go back to work. She hoped he would too. She’d wondered if his abusive ways had begun because of they’d both been home for too long in the midst of grief. Basia wanted her husband back. The man she’d fallen in love with. The gentle, kind man he’d been.

  “But I want to work. I love my work. Don’t you, Darek? Don’t you miss the mountains?”

  She attempted to reason with him. He was different now. The Darek she first met couldn’t get enough of the mountains. He’d lived to guide tourists through them. His excitement for life, for the mountains, had sparked her attraction to him. She believed she’d been lucky to find her soul mate as her parents had.

  “Oh, stop the tears, Basia! It may have worked for Daddy, but it won’t work for me. Grow the hell up! I’m your husband, not your father. You will not be going back to work after the holidays. Is that clear?”

  His voice had never escalated to a level that high before. It scared her. He was all she had. She fell in love with him last spring. Her parents had too. The summer had been filled with romance and love, until her parents’ accident. Her life had been perfect. Now she felt alone and scared. She ran to her room and slammed the door. He burst through the door behind her. The sound of his voice threatened her. She backed up against the wall. His anger had become completely out of control.

  “How dare you do something behind my back? When were you going to tell me?”

  Basia stuttered out the words, “During our trip to the mountains.” Her lip trembled as she spoke. She shook in fear.

  His voice had risen beyond a safe decibel level. He’d moved in so close to her, she could feel his hot breath against her cheek. He pinned her against the wall and dug his knee deep into her thigh to hold her there. He continued on his rampage. His nose delved into her cheekbone so hard she felt her skin burn. The fierce look in his eyes threatened her.

  “Listen to me!” he screamed profusely, so loud it sent shivers of cold ice water flowing through her veins.

  Basia could no longer hear what he said. She heard him scream. He demanded she listened but she had no idea what he was saying. He held her so hard against the wall, she no longer felt pain. She felt numb and wondered how she’d get away from him. He wanted the control. It was his game. Basia was supposed to look and listen as he drilled his orders.

  “Are you listening to me?”

  Basia nodded in agreement. She stood frozen. Tears had formed, but no tears fell upon her cheeks. She figured she’d agree with him. Pretend she’d listened. She knew she’d never reason with him l
ike this. Her body trembled uncontrollably. He had her where he wanted her; scared. As if he’d won the battle, a cold grin formed on one side of his mouth and he stepped back. It released the pressure between them and the wall.

  Basia’s eyes opened as she sucked in a deep breath. She sat up and took in her surroundings. Relief set in. She was safe in her own home in New York. She swung the blanket off her body and got out of bed. She needed a drink. She’d dreamt of Darek again, of his abuse. She figured her conscience played with her. His death haunted her as much as his abuse had. No matter how many times she tossed reasons through her brain, she knew what she did was wrong. She thought she could learn to accept it, put it in the past and move forward. He’d killed her parents and she was next on his death list. Was it survival or revenge?

  Almost a year and she’d never admitted to the murder; she didn’t even talk about her husband’s fall from the cliff. Her choice and decision left her haunted. She tried to digest it and move forward with her life. The anxiety and nightmares only caused her lack of sleep. Basia continued to file the memories as far back as possible in her mind. When that didn’t work, she attempted to convince herself that it was a case. One that had happened to someone else; or perhaps she’d read about it or saw it in a movie. That became her safety point. Just like the safety point she took herself to during one of his rampages.

  Basia remembered his first outburst of rage, when he pinned her against a wall. She couldn’t move. His hold was fierce; she felt the burn in her arms where his hands gripped. His knee pressed against her thigh. His smirk told her he enjoyed his torture in some sick way. Up to that point she didn’t believe she’d been abused. There were no broken bones, no black eyes, and no bruises, but his grip that night bruised her upper arms. His knee bruised her thigh. She’d been wrong: held against her will, a hole punched in the wall an inch from her face, and the verbally degraded names she’d been called were abuse. When he’d ordered her to perform sexual favors, because it was her wifely duty, it was a form of sexual abuse. Heck, he’d even torn the blankets off her one night and demanded sex. The time between her parents’ deaths and the sudden start of his abuse had happened so quickly, Basia couldn’t think straight.