CHAPTER EIGHT:
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(slight M ahead…)
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For a time, he thought he would be content to merely kiss her magnificent mouth and stroke her smooth bare back.
The t-shirt was on the floor along with his pajama top, and her breasts brushed his chest in the most tantalizing way.
But he was in no hurry now, because she was in no hurry. It was enough to simply be with her, after years of want.
The need would always be there; it was why even on his darkest days he couldn't seriously entertain thoughts of leaving the department or assigning her a new partner. He needed her.
And Lord, she just felt so damned good. Carlton could have spent hours simply touching her, stroking her soft skin, kissing exploratory trails up and down her body. She was the softest, warmest, silkiest, most insistent package he'd ever encountered. There was no part of her body he wasn't desirous of getting to know at the most intimate level.
And the sounds she made as he wandered: restless, pleased, whimpering, sighing and eventually demanding—both for her turn, and for release.
He gave her release first, earning such trembling from her form, such gasping, such pleading... it was as good as a release for him, at least in his heart and psyche. He honestly wanted nothing else but his certainty of her pleasure.
But he definitely didn't mind that she demanded her turn, and to offer himself up as her playground was no sacrifice at all. As good as it felt to make her mad with ecstasy, the sensation of Juliet nuzzling and licking and tugging and stroking his flesh—all of it—was worth dying from. During, even.
However, there was only life here: and when he sank into her, completely certain yet fundamentally astonished, they fit together like pieces of a Chinese puzzle box, a perfect joining in every way, seamless and smooth and whole.
Kissing her, tasting a tear on her face which could well have been his, he gave himself over to an utter bliss he had believed could never be his.
For this, he thought later, he would gladly have given up both his sight and career.
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Juliet lay in the warmth of Carlton's arms, smiling. Basking.
This was right. This was where she was meant to be.
She understood intellectually that she hadn't been ready for this until now, and certainly he hadn't been. They each had to grow to who they were in order to be an "us."
Their successes and failures, their pains and joys—their scars, their lessons learned—it all made them better in the end, better for themselves and certainly for each other.
His breathing was steady and she lifted her gaze to survey his profile as dawn seeped into the room. Unexpectedly patient and every bit as thorough in lovemaking as on the job, Carlton had stunned her with how much he seemed to need to give her pleasure, again and again.
Then again, she'd been a bit stunned by how much she wanted to do the same for him, to explore his lean, warm body with hands and tongue. His long legs, strong arms, the fur on his chest, the freckles on his shoulders, the heat of him—all very much a delight, and tasty too, she thought with a wicked private grin.
Hell of a week, really. So much darkness outside the cocoon she'd found with him. So much dark work still to be done.
She brushed his skin with her fingertips, enjoying the feel of his chest hair, and pausing over his heart to find his even heartbeat. So alive was her man. So vital. All energy, coiled and ready, and yet able to be so very quiet and still, absorbing what he saw and felt. Keeping so much of himself private, sure no one cared and that anyone who claimed to was lying.
His expressive eyes were his greatest betrayer, and had long been the quickest way she had to judge what was really going on with him, if it was possible to tell anything at all before getting lost in simple admiration of the blue. Even when she wanted to kill him—even when she was involved with Shawn and wanted to kill Carlton—she could not look into the blue very long without softening, without remembering he had a heart like everyone else, albeit much more closely guarded, with multiple deadbolts.
Well... she had the keys now.
And she would never give them up.
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Carlton felt something unexpected moving on his leg.
Eyes closed, he analyzed what it could be. Too large to be a bug—unless it was a big-ass bug, in which case he had no intention of opening his eyes but would rather plot a manly albeit scream-filled run out of the room (to find a gun and blow the thing to bits, of course)—and too non-Juliet to be Juliet.
Soft, though.
He took a chance and peered out from under half-closed eyes.
Juliet was smiling at him, rubbing the plush eyeball against his calf, and the minute she saw he was awake, started to laugh.
He lunged for the eyeball, but she snatched it away, and then he became totally distracted by the fact of her continuing delightful nudity and lunged for her instead.
Shrieking with laughter now, she fought him off half-heartedly until they'd both won, with Carlton having pinned her down, hands over her head.
"I don't want Woody's eye in our bedroom," he growled, holding her wrists firm and pressing hard against her lower body.
She liked that, because she parted her thighs despite the pressure, and the light in her eyes grew wicked.
Pushing back up against him, she said breathlessly, "Our bedroom?"
He hesitated, but only a moment. "It is now." He kissed her, and she welcomed it, and whatever became of the plush eye, he didn't care.
Too soon, the clock and the advancing of the light put an end to their mutual re-explorations.
Juliet had to get a cab back to her place, change into her jogging clothes—"no, not the short-shorts"—and make it to Skyler Park by nine.
They eyed each other, smiling, over coffee. He wanted to ask her more than a few questions about their future but right now was not the time. He also wanted to take her back to bed, but right now was not the time for that, either.
Juliet promised to be careful. She'd passed the meeting information to Berman & Fuller last night after Hugo's call, but Carlton wanted to be there, to see for himself. She reminded him this was just a meet to collect Damski's agenda and the weapon, and when he still muttered about wanting to supervise, she stepped up to him, gave him a rather intense coffee-flavored kiss, and whispered that he was a little crazy and by the way tasted delicious.
He was pretty sure he was blushing when she left, and found it vaguely embarrassing that she could have that effect on him.
It wasn't as if she hadn't said it during the night. But still, things murmured between two naked people in bed have a different timbre when heard during the daylight in the kitchen over coffee.
Made him want to add some whiskey to the coffee, in fact... right before a bracing cold shower, because the memory of having been naked in bed with Juliet—with Juliet! who wanted to be there!—was enough to drive a man over a very, very happy edge.
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Juliet jogged into the park and circled around the swing sets as Hugo had directed, and when she paused at the water fountain, surveyed the park visitors around her.
Elbows on his knees, Hugo was seated alone on a bench about thirty yards away. He waved casually, as if they were buddies.
In your dreams, non-buddy.
She sat next to him, not too close, shrugging off the backpack to rest between them.
"No short-shorts," he said with mock sadness.
She ignored that, and was doubly glad she'd chosen a loose-fitting complete-body-covering jogging outfit. "Didn't think I'd see you here."
He put his arm along the back of the bench and she couldn't help but shift away. She did not want this man touching her.
"Sometimes the fewer people involved, the better." There was a plastic grocery bag next to him, and he shifted it to the space in front of the backpack.
Juliet glanced at it, but kept her arms folded. "Tell me again why you think your people won't be the first suspects."
Hugo smiled. "We know we'll be the first suspects. That's why you need to do this on Monday between one and five."
"Because?"
"Alibis, of course."
"But they'll know you could have hired someone."
"Of course. But they would never consider my brief barroom chats with you suspicious."
"No?" She knew better than to goad him, but… "You know, one of the reasons people occasionally get arrested is that we don't forget unlikely suspects do sometimes turn out to be the bad guys."
Hugo fixed his cool hazel gaze on her. "I should have thought you'd limit your guilt reflex to taking care of your Carlton, not trying to sabotage the very same act you've agreed to do specifically to save him."
My Carlton.
"I can multi-layer my guilt," she said tartly.
As always, he only smiled.
"But why me?"
Hugo frowned. "Haven't we been over this already?"
"I need to hear it again. Why would you choose a brand new ex-cop for this job? What makes you think I won't rat you out?"
"We have been over this already, Juliet. Of course, I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me you're planning to turn me in, so I can have a few minutes' head start, but you're not going to do that, and you know why."
She stared at him; he was unfazed.
"He needs you," Hugo continued. "If you turn me in, there's no money for him. No hope for a cure. Just the endless dark. You can't do that. Even if he told you he could make it alone, you wouldn't leave him. Even if he kicked you out, you could never walk away, because never being able to forget that you caused the dark in the first place will keep you chained to him." He gave her another one of those slow, knowing smiles. "And this is how it should be. Well-deserved guilt is a very strong motivator to do the right thing."
Juliet's jaw tightened. Most of what he said was true, the bastard. "Most people would not call murder 'the right thing.'"
Hugo shrugged. "Most people would not call driving drunk and blinding your partner the right thing either, but in comparison to protecting society from a known evil like Damski, it's not so bad." He grinned now. "The fact that you're in love with Lassiter simply makes it all a little easier."
It took a huge amount of self-control not to swing at him. Mocking, self-satisfied prick… "So what's in the bag?" she asked icily.
"The removal tool you requested. Ditch it when you're finished. Also the documents you need to establish where you might find him." He unzipped her backpack and slid the bag inside, rezipping it afterwards.
"Why isn't he in protective custody?"
"He refused it. They're still watching him, of course, so take care they don't find you in their sights that day."
Juliet shook her head. "You really think they're not going to suspect you?"
"We are well aware that we'll be suspects. At this point, Damski could be struck by lightning in the middle of Harder Stadium in front of ten thousand witnesses and we'd still be suspects. But we'll have various airtight alibis. And don't forget Damski has many enemies, notable among them the parents of some of his victims, who have become increasingly enraged as word has gotten out about certain immunities he'll receive for his testimony."
"Why didn't you go to one of the parents, then?"
Hugo turned on the bench to face her directly and implacably. "Juliet, do I need to worry about your compliance?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
Despite DiMera and his 'cabinet' never having been linked directly to any murders, Juliet harbored no illusion that Hugo Nardi was above such a thing. The cold light in his eyes made it very clear he was capable of anything dark he might set his mind to.
Slowly, she explained, "I'm a cop. Always will be, even if I never get paid for it again. My job was to find the weaknesses in a story in order to use them against the suspect, to build a case that would hold up in court. I can't help but look for the weaknesses in your plan."
He held her gaze for a long chilling moment and then smiled. "This, I actually believe. I will say this much. My employer has become so irate at Damski that he is willing to enter previously unexplored darker gray areas in order to gain the upper hand—with all due precautions in place. It is also his nature to find it… whimsical… that a former police officer take the helm."
"And you don't think I'm the weak link?" She did.
"In this sort of operation, all links are potentially weak. But you, Juliet, are the strongest link in our chain, because you alone are not motivated by revenge, greed, or insanity. You, on the contrary, are motivated by guilt and love, a lethal combination when mixed properly."
His smile was back, and she gave the bastard credit for having a good understanding of how people in dire stress behaved.
But he didn't know everything, did he?
"Let me ask you a question," he added, seeming genuinely curious. "Why the hell were you involved with that fraud Spencer for so long?"
Juliet pursed her lips. "You tell me, Hugo; you're the one with all the answers. Are we done?"
He smiled—she really hated that smile. "I'll wait to hear the evening news on Monday and I'll be in touch after that."
She got up, efficiently slinging the backpack into place. "I'm sure we'll have a lovely chat."
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Back at her apartment, Juliet packed up a proper overnight bag to take to Carlton's. Not that she minded his t-shirts, and not that she expected to wear much of anything for the next couple of days, but having her own things handy would be nice.
She sat for a few moments at her dining table, taking a look at the mini-dossier Hugo had prepared on Sage Damski, but her mind was back on Carlton now.
The Carlton who was, not the Carlton imagined by Hugo. The Carlton who'd been her lover last night and this morning, the one she knew she loved. That one.
Juliet smiled.
That one? No. The one.
All the better reason to stay alive, so don't screw up this case.
Using the secure phone to call Berman, she confirmed what they had already observed via surveillance in the park, that the gun and information were in her hands and the window for 'the removal' was Monday afternoon. He said he'd call her later with the details on when they would be ready for her faux move on Damski, and this time she didn't bother to ask if Damski would be protected.
With a last check of her place, she slung her overnight bag—into which she had stuffed the contents of the backpack—over her shoulder and went to meet the cab.
You're a bad cop, you know. You're thinking about getting naked with Carlton instead of about the case.
But there's no action to be taken until Monday, so why shouldn't I think about the other kind of action I'm pretty sure I can get today?
The cabbie let her out at Prospect Gardens, she hurried up the steps, and stopped dead at the sight of Shawn in the lobby, about to press the elevator button.
But it wasn't Shawn himself who shocked her; rather, it was the person standing next to him: Carlton's ex-wife.
"Jules!" he said, ever cheerful, and ever in denial about… everything.
Juliet was staring at Victoria, who was staring back. She'd only seen photos of her, but she'd know her anywhere: large silver-blue eyes, long wavy dark hair. Very little make-up, but striking in her own way, and curiously, she had dimples despite looking like someone who didn't smile much. Or ever.
But then, Juliet had met her father, so that was one explanation for the latter.
"Jules," Shawn repeated. "This is Victoria Parker."
"I know who she is." Juliet did the right thing and extended her hand, and Victoria shook it firmly. "I'm Juliet O'Hara, Carlton's partner."
"I know who you are too," Victoria said coolly. "I'd like to see Carlton."
So that's how it was going to be. "I don't know if he's up to that today. Uh, is it coincidence you're here together?"
Even as she asked, she knew it wasn't: she remembered the card from Victoria, which had been forwarded from Carlton's last address.
"No, not exactly." Shawn admitted. "She may have come to the Psych office seeking directional assistance."
Victoria said bluntly, "Carlton didn't tell me he'd moved. The police don't give out employee addresses, he's not in the book, and I assumed someone was screening his calls. So I—"
"Screening his calls?" Juliet interrupted. "You understand he's blind, right? He can't exactly see who's calling and the phone's off most of the time anyway. He sleeps a lot and when he's awake, he's trying to figure out his future. It's not personal that he hasn't talked to very many people." She glared at Shawn during the last sentence. "And he's not good with surprise visitors. Didn't Woody tell you that yesterday, Shawn?"
He had the grace to look sheepish. "Well. Maybe. But this is different. This is Victoria! She came to the Psych office and asked our help getting to Lassie, and how could we say no?"
"'Our' help? Funny, I don't see Gus."
"Gus may have refused to get involved, but in spirit, he's right here, Jules." He patted his heart. "Right here."
Victoria said, "Look, you two obviously have some issues to work out, so I'm going to go up and see Carlton now, okay?"
Juliet covered the elevator call button with her hand before Victoria could jab at it. "Please understand me. I'm not trying to be rude to you specifically. Shawn, yes, but not you. It's just that I know Carlton is not ready for unexpected visitors right now."
"You've been out," Shawn remarked. "How can you be sure? He might be bouncing off the walls, desperate for some reminiscing."
"I'll call him," Juliet said defiantly and yanked her phone out of her pocket.
Victoria actually rolled her eyes. Juliet put off slapping her.
"Hang on," Shawn remarked in the same reasonable tone. "You said the phone was off, right? And he can't see who's calling so he wouldn't answer anyway?"
Holy crap. Major slip-up averted, thank you but damn you Shawn.
Sighing, she put the phone away. "Force of habit. Look, I'll go up and see if he's willing to have visitors."
"We'll come along for the ride," Victoria said, and there was no stopping either of them from getting in the elevator.
On the fifth floor, she fished out her key and walked fast enough so she was at the door a few paces ahead of them. "I'll be out in a minute." She sent Shawn a preemptive glare, and as soon as the door was closed behind her she deadbolted it immediately.
Carlton got up from the sofa, smiling, but the smile faded when she dropped her bags and advanced on him, shaking her head for silence and pushing him backwards into his bedroom.
"Is this a hostile come-on?" he inquired, watching as she closed the door for good measure.
"Shawn's here. With Victoria. They're in the hall."
"Victoria—with Shawn? What the hell?" His eyes were wide, and he was both panicked and scowling.
"They were at the elevator when I got here and I couldn't stop them coming up. I think she went to Psych to get Shawn to bring her to you. I told them I'd see if you were up to company."
"I'm never up for his company," he muttered. "But I'm not sure I should put her off."
"You can," she said reasonably, "because no one is obligated to accept an uninvited visitor."
Plus she's already pissed me off and there's a good chance I might slap her silly.
Carlton's frown deepened, along with the shade of blue of his eyes.
And suddenly she couldn't do it: he didn't want to toss his ex out on her unwelcome ear, and Juliet didn't want to let her completely selfish personal reasons influence him.
"Wait," she said, shaking herself temporarily free of the jealousy. "You're right."
This confused him more. "I didn't say anything."
Your eyes do, every time.
"I know. But you're right anyway. Let's just get it over with. Be polite, be frail, say as little as possible." She tugged on his arm to lead him back out to the hall and down to the bathroom, where she taped down his eyelids, and then got him situated at the dining table with his dark glasses.
"Juliet," he said, finding her wrist somehow as she started to go to the door.
"What is it?"
"Don't leave me alone with either one of them."
She found it in her to laugh, and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Don't worry, toots. Thanks to Hugo, I'm packin' heat again."
But her confidence evaporated about fifteen seconds after she opened the door, because Victoria pushed past her, said Carlton's name lovingly, then put her hands to his startled face and kissed him on the mouth.
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