Page 5 of Deep Cover

Mark wasn't at the apartment when I got there. He didn't know I was coming back and maybe I did that on purpose. It kept him safer, for one thing. Contacting him when I did was tortuous. And for another? I think somewhere in the back of my mind I thought if I surprised him and he wasn't alone, I'd finally have an excuse to walk away.

He was alone. Alone and delighted.

"Babe?"

I'd just stepped out of the shower. Hearing his voice, there was a flash of desire, of heat, and intense pleasure.

"I'm in here!" I called and wrapped my robe around me, letting my dark curls drip water onto my shoulders.

We met halfway between the master bath and the living room, colliding together in the hallway, all arms and mouths and him backing me up against the wall.

There were no words. He was tired, looked like he'd showered at the hospital and come home with something from a Chinese restaurant. I could smell sweet and sour pork or something from the other room. My stomach growled but I didn't stop.

His hands were on my back, in my hair, on my face, and I was touching his chest, his shoulders, sliding down to his hips to drag his pelvis against mine. We ground together, slid along the wall, knocked a framed picture of his grandfather to the floor and moved around it, sliding back into the bedroom.

He kicked off his shoes, struggled to get out of his pants. Scrubs should come off more easily. I was tearing at the top, tangling him in the cotton as he kissed my mouth, my neck, my ears, slid his tongue down into the opening of my robe and tried to free me from it without undoing the cord.

We fell back on the bed together, kissing, hands everywhere, touching. He kissed down into the robe, pulled my arms free, finally fought the cord off until I was naked and he was still half dressed, his scrubs not quite off yet.

I tumbled him over, climbing on top, fighting his pants the rest of the way off, running my hands over his thick hard dick, hearing him moan. It was hot and fast and frenetic.

Until he turned me over and got on top. And then somehow the speed and the need didn't fade, but the hot did. Mark kissed and sucked and even sometimes bit – a little tiny amount of biting. Gentle. Never bruising. Never anything like where a dentist could line up dental records to that bite. The most he'd ever done was stretch my hands above my head and try to pin them there and that night I had come unhinged, told him never to hold me down.

Just imagine if he knew about Jesse….

Mark always used a condom, would until we married. A weird code of conduct, because I knew he wasn't cheating on me.

I couldn't say the same. In the line of duty? But it was still – I was grateful for the condom.

And not grateful that Jesse had just gotten into my head, even as Mark slid into my body.

I ground against him, bit his lip, heard him murmur, "Hey, I'm right here! It's okay…"

--and thought that it wasn't.

I loved him. I'd tried to convince him to go. I'd tried to tell him I wasn't who he thought I was and I wasn't worth waiting for but Mark was good and true and Mark was waiting, convinced I'd see the light and leave narcs and maybe leave the force.

And I knew I had no intention of doing that.

The sex was sweet. I didn't think I was looking for sweet anymore. But sex with Mark was sweet.

And it felt like goodbye.

It wasn't goodbye quite that easily. Jesse called and told me to stay with my dad for a couple days. Things were weird. They thought the Asians had double crossed them and two of his soldiers were dead.

The fact that he thought about my safety felt a little weird. The fact that I felt kind of like I would be betraying him when he eventually got taken down? That felt weird too.

I accepted the extra time. On the second day at the apartment I set out to wash the clothes I'd brought with me as cover, including the ones I'd been wearing at the buy. I was dumping everything in the laundry room, preparing to go through pockets when my phone rang and this time mom was crying.

At first I couldn't make sense of anything she was saying. My heart began to hammer so hard I could barely hear over its racket and the ringing in my ears. Then Sarah took the phone (translation: We're here at the hospital; why aren't you?) and said, "It's the investigation, Anne."

Hello to you, too.But honestly I was more interested in what was happening with dad than in saying hello to my sister.

"Has something happened?"

"Yeah," said Sarah, and uncharacteristically, "Those sons of bitches are going to bring him up on charges of falsifying a crime scene and arrest report."

What I wanted to know was when was the surgery and what were his chances. Because I loved him and I was scared, my toes were cold on the carpet because I wasn't wearing shoes. But the chills going up my arms and back, they were all because of dad.

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