Shattered Lies

Chapter 16

Circling her lips with the tip of her tongue, Kate savors the melding of flavors in her last chocolate dipped strawberry. She can detect the scent of vanilla wafting from the bedroom, where Castle has lit the hand-crafted aromatic candles.

He's definitely going out of his way to set the stage for the evening. His latest iteration of her favorite pasta dish was the best yet, and sweet, mellow saxophone music is drifting through the loft.

Much as Rick seems to enjoy it when she comes to bed in her N.Y.P.D. T-shirt, she's planning on something sexier tonight. She'd bought it on an impulse when shopping with Lanie, while Tom was still her not-so-significant other. It never seemed right to wear it for the robbery cop. It would have promised more than she was willing to give.

But the garment issues an invitation she's more than ready to offer to Rick. She wants to feel his fingers untying the ribbons that hold the translucent pieces of almost nothing together. She needs the warmth of his hands, the touch of his mouth on her skin. Waving her hand in front of her face, she fans herself as a rush of blood heats her cheeks. Why the hell did she wait two years?

Rather than undress in front of Rick, she decides to slip her come-hither-lingerie on in the bathroom and cover it with a silk kimono that he can untie, the first step to what will follow.

By the time she finishes her preparations, Rick's waiting for her between fresh sheets. What she can see of his chest is bare, his scar is hidden, but she has no idea if he's left his shorts on or not. In his own silent invitation, he folds back the covers next to him and reaches out to pull on her sash. As her coverup drops to the floor, Kate slides in beside him, pressing against his body. No shorts, just Castle, all of him, reaching for her.

Rick can still taste the sweetness of berries and the darkness of chocolate deep on Kate's tongue as they mingle with the remnants of the freshness of toothpaste. It's all delicious. Kate is all delicious, and he wants to sample every inch of her. The first bow on her filmy fabric tease opens with a tug from his teeth, revealing the creamy skin of her breasts beneath.

The pink sentries are straining upward. She gasps as he sucks one and then the other to full glory. Kate rubs against him, her breath coming in pants. "Rick, I need…"

His mouth moves lower to the epicenter of her urgency. It is already firm and wanting, but grows beneath his attentions as Kate buries her fingers in his hair, grasping his head tightly against her. She bucks beneath him, every nerve alive, until crying out as the waves of release surge through her.

Kate is still for a moment, regathering her strength and her senses, before her seeking fingers find Rick, hard and past ready for her. He moans as her lips surround him. She takes in as much of him as she can. He is a big man, and at times she'd idly wondered if everything was in proportion. It's a bit more so. Kate strokes him where she knows a deep sensitivity lies. She can feel his body stiffen as she tastes the first drop.

She doesn't always let it happen but tonight she will. She wants Castle, every part of him. She takes it all. She can see his muscles relax, as he lies, his only movement the rise and fall of his chest. She snuggles against him and pulls up the sheet, long before kicked to the foot of the bed. Sleep quickly overcomes them both.

Boris stares across the table in the interrogation room at Kate and Castle. He knows what she's doing there. Even if she hadn't pointed her gun at him and been the one to cuff his wrists, everything about her says cop. He can almost smell it. But he has no idea who the guy next to her is, except that he seems vaguely familiar as if Boris has seen him on TV or something. Yeah, that's it. He was on Kimmel. He's the writer who shadows a lady cop - the lady cop about to do the questioning.

Kimmel had been discussing how the unlikely partners helped put a crime family away. Not Bratva, of course, just the Italians. Still, Boris knows he's in deep gavno. Even if Pavlovitch doesn't testify, the cops - pizdets- the New York cops and the Feds, caught him. From what he's heard, Glava will be furious, but then Glava is always raging. Right now he has to do what he can to save his own zhopa.

Boris can't tell Detective Beckett much. He doesn't know much. He gets his orders from Dobry. At least the identity of his superior is something he can trade.

She hasn't even asked him anything yet, but Kate can see all the signs that Boris is about to break. Even at six foot four and at least two hundred forty pounds, he's more of a wuss than she guessed he'd be. This interview is going to be easy.

Sidney Perlmutter gathers Scalpel into his arms. The pound! His dog was at the pound, and in one more day would have breathed his last. At least they took care of him, which is probably more than Edgar would have done. Scalpel could use a trip to the groomers, and some toys, but he's clean and seems to be well fed.

Sidney gazes around the apartment Agent Murphy stuck him in before Agent Palicki brought Scalpel. The place isn't bad. The kitchen is too small, and the only window faces an airshaft, but it's ten times better than his cell, and once he stocks up on groceries, he can cook some decent food. What he'll be able to get in Brighton Beach should be even better, if he lives to eat it.

In his FBI-created identity, Sidney has an appointment that afternoon with an unnamed member of the Bratva. He has little hesitation about proving his credentials. The Feds may have dreamed up his background, but his medical skill is real enough - and pretty outstanding in his own estimation. He has no idea what the Brotherhood will expect of him. Whatever it is, he will have to agree and hope for the best. At least Agent Murphy promised that if anything happens to Sidney that Scalpel will have a good home.

Murphy promised to check on Edgar too. As much as Sidney knows, his brother might have fallen off the edge of the earth. Maybe he's found a job somewhere away from New York. People can always use accountants, just like they can always use doctors.

But Sidney can't worry about his twin anymore right now. He has a job to do, and his whole future depends on doing it right. He'll have a chance to take Scalpel for a walk and pick up some of the tiny cans of food the dog likes so much, but after that, it will be hammer time. The only question is will Sidney be the one swinging it, or will it fall squarely against his own head.

Scalpel yips and licks Sidney's face. At least someone is in his corner. That will have to be enough.