Becoming Rain: A Novel

“So, what were your uncle and that guy arguing about? Because he sounded pissed.”

“It’s just the language.” Luke chuckles, turning into the underground garage in his building. “Russians always sound angry to people who don’t understand them.”

“Did you understand them?”

“I can’t believe you were at The Cellar when I was, and we never met.”

I know a brush-off, and Luke’s trying to brush me off. “I know, crazy, right?”

“But Rust noticed you.” Luke glances down at my bare legs. This dress doesn’t allow for much coverage and, by the way he’s been eyeing me all night, that’s a good thing. He veers the SUV into his private garage with ease.

“So, did he give his blessing?”

Slipping his hand around the back of my head, he pulls me into a long, hard kiss. The kind that I give him when I’m not wearing my wire. The kind I can’t enjoy right now.

“He loved you. He can’t wait to see you again.”

No small relief fills me. There’s a reason no one’s been able to get close to Rust so far. He doesn’t trust easily, or completely.

But he trusts his nephew.

“You, in this dress, have killed me tonight.” Luke’s hand lands on my thigh and slips upward as he adds, “You’re coming up for the night, right?”

I grab hold of his hand just as his fingers begin curling under the lace of my panties. “I can’t.”

His forehead drops against mine. “Are you sure? It’s been too long since that day at the garden . . . I need you again.”

Fuck, shit, fuckity shit. My stomach leaps up in my chest and I have to look away from him before he reads the panic that I’m sure is written all over my face. How the hell am I going to explain that one to Warner? I’m so screwed. There’s not much I can do about it right now, except not make this worse. “I know. But I can’t right now. You know . . . female issues.”

His head falls back with a big groan. “Ohhhh.”

Thank God he’s not smart enough to question why on earth I’d wear a cream-colored dress that barely covers my ass when I’m on my period.

“You could still come up, though . . . right?” The way he looks at me—hopeful, almost pleading—well, apparently he’s plenty smart enough to understand that there’s nothing stopping at least one of us from getting off tonight.

I’m sure as hell not having the sounds of that recorded, even if Sinclair condones it.

I pat my abdomen. “I’ve got bad cramps. I could use the sleep.”

He nods and offers me a reluctant smile. “I could take care of you? You know, get some Tylenol or . . .” He laughs awkwardly. “I don’t know what. I’m new to all this.”

“You’re sweet, thank you. But I just need some sleep. And Stanley serves as a good heating pad.” The fur-ball creates a rather inconvenient obstacle in the center of my bed.

Luke meets me at the back of the car and walks me out hand-in-hand, stopping to punch in the code for the garage door that will hopefully keep this one from being stolen. That’s when I spot Warner behind a pillar, baseball cap pulled down over his brow.

Gun drawn.

My mouth drops open. What the hell is he doing? Luke has met him! He thinks he’s my brother!

We make eye contact, and Warner retreats a few steps, the relief visible across his face. Any second now, though, Luke is going to look up and spot him. So I do the only thing I can think of. I slip my hand around Luke’s neck and pull him down into my mouth in one of those kisses made for movies, which buys Warner enough time to dart behind a large truck.

“I thought you needed to go home?” His blue eyes dance as they take me in.

I smile, my hands rubbing the contours of his chest that I so desperately want to spend the night with. “I just wanted to make sure you knew how I felt about you.”

He leans down and matches my kiss. Somewhere behind us, I assume Warner is watching.

“Are you insane?” I yell into my phone, kicking my heels off. I figure if my handler’s about to tear me a new asshole and get me kicked off the case, I should go down swinging.

“What the hell was I supposed to do? The last thing I heard was that 24 made you in the club. Then nothing. Fucking static!”

I frown. “What? You mean you couldn’t hear us after we parked?” I quickly play the damning conversation back in my head, trying to remember what was said and when.

“I don’t know if it was because of the underground vents, but I couldn’t hear a thing. I thought . . .” Warner’s words trail off.

“You thought my cover was blown.” It all makes sense now.

“Yeah. That’s the only reason I would risk the case. You know that.”

I flop into my couch, feeling the lead weight float away. They didn’t catch Luke’s comment about the gardens. “I get it. Sorry for yelling at you.”

“Did he say anything important?”

“Nope.” I kick off my heels. “Just small talk. Sorry.”

“You kidding me? We got some good intel tonight. I called one of our translators and had him listen to the recording right away. Basically, 24 is going into business with someone else and it involves SUVs. The Russians are pissed.”

“A deal with 36, maybe?” Shit, I’m not supposed to know that. Luke only told me about that possibility on the yacht that night. I quickly add, “They’ve been spending a lot of time together, so that would make sense.”

“They didn’t say. But 24 did say, and I quote, ‘Luke only does what I ask him to.’ ”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Every day, the evidence against Luke dribbles in. Soon, it’s not going to matter whether he incriminates himself through me. We’re going to catch him, regardless. Maybe that’s for the best. This is going to end anyway. Maybe Luke never has to know who I am, what I’ve done. He will go to jail and I’ll go back to Washington, D.C., and that’ll be the end of this. That would certainly be the best outcome for me after the hole I’ve dug for myself.

But the possibility of this doesn’t bring me any relief.

“It’d be great if you could find out exactly what 24 asked 12 to do.”

I push the ever-present tension away so I can get through this call. “Sure. I’ll just pull my wand out and get Luke to speak.”

There’s a pause. “Luke?”

“I meant 12. Look, I spend so much time with him. What do you expect?”

“I expect you to keep your head on straight.”

I roll my eyes, silently chastising myself. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, they talked about a deal going down next week. Try to find out when and where.”

“I’ll just pull my wand out and—”

“Alright, smart-ass.”

“You’ve been in my shoes before, Warner. You know when a target is ready to trust you. 12 isn’t ready yet. I asked him if he understood what they were saying and he immediately brushed me off. You heard it.”

“Yeah, I did. But you need to start getting deeper. Don’t get me wrong—you’re doing great. We’re getting somewhere, inch by inch. But we need to move this along now.”

“Why?” Warner’s never pushed me before. That’s his boss’s role. “Is Sinclair worried about getting an extension on the warrant?”

“We’ve got plenty to keep this going. I’m more worried about 12 keeping his damn hands off you for too much longer. I’ll give him some credit, given his previous routines, but I don’t see how much longer he’s going to buy the whole abused girl story.”

I’d say we’re far past that. “I can handle 12.”

“Like you did tonight?” There’s that edge in his voice again. It’s almost an accusation. Or maybe my guilt is starting to affect my hearing.

I ignore it. “Hey, did you catch the exchange about Luke’s car being stolen? Vlad seemed genuinely surprised. I don’t think he was the one who had it stolen.”

He sighs. “Well, we’ll find out within the hour, no doubt. If it was him, he’s going to ditch the one he has like a ticking time bomb. And then that angle is fucked.” Warner swears under his breath.

“Okay. Listen, I’ll set up dinner for tomorrow night. You guys should get some sleep.”

“Yeah. Bill just left and I’m heading out too.”

“’kay. Good night, Warner. And thanks for looking out for me.”

I hear his hesitation. “We’re all just doing our jobs.”

Some much better than others.

I down the glass of water by my bedside, diluting the salty aftertaste in my mouth.

“I’m so glad you’re feeling better,” Luke murmurs, eyes closed, his perfect, naked form stretched out across my bed. Sated. “I wish I could return the favor.”

I nuzzle up against his side in nothing but panties, my face burrowed in his neck. “Another time.” I’d love that time to be right now, but I can’t very well all of a sudden not be on my period. Even Luke would find that odd, I’m sure.

Fortunately he doesn’t find my method of communication tonight—opening my bedroom blinds, turning my lamp on, and standing in front of the window, waiting for him to notice me—odd. In fact, he says he loved our game of semi-charades. Me, beckoning him with my hand and then patting my bed. Him, holding up a leash and ten fingers, for ten minutes. Me, watching him purposely peel off his dress shirt and pants in front of me and replace them with his track pants and T-shirt.

Me, unzipping my dress and letting it drop to pool at my ankles.

Him, running out the door and making it here in five minutes, his breathing ragged, Licks on his heels.

Us, free of any federal wires.

Unfortunately, I’m now left with an ache in my lower belly that has nothing to do with my period, squeezing my thighs together in frustration as I drape myself over him and inhale his delicious scent.

“Any big plans for tomorrow?” he asks.

“Well, I was thinking that I should maybe call Elmira. Go shopping or something with her.” And see what I can get out of that woman about this deal her husband made with Luke. I slowly circle his nipples with my index finger as I casually ask, “Do you think you could call Aref and get her number for me?”

He paws for his phone on the nightstand, making me laugh.

“I didn’t mean right this instant. It’s two a.m.”

A lazy, satisfied smile touches his lips, making him look all kinds of adorable. “I need to call him anyway. He’s probably up. And if he’s not, I’ll leave a message.” A second later, “Aref, hey . . . Vlad paid us a visit tonight . . . Somehow he found out . . . Yeah . . . Don’t know . . . Nope, pretty pissed off actually. You may hear from him.” I hear a low murmur coming from the phone but I can’t make out any of the words. “Okay . . . Listen, Rain wants to meet up with Elmira. Send her number to me so I can pass it along? . . . Cool. Later.”

His hand flops down with his groan.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nah . . . Nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.” I can feel the thread of tension begin to course through his body again, the one that vanished with his release. So I reach down and wrap my hand around his semi-hard cock. He exhales and his stomach muscles spasm as I begin stroking slowly. But finally, with a light sigh, I feel him relaxing again. “It’s just that thing earlier, at the bar.”

“The angry Russian?”

“Yeah. Remember how I told you that Aref wanted to do more business with Rust? Well, Rust agreed to a deal and somehow Vlad found out. That’s why he was pissed.”

“Why would he be pissed about that?”

“Because he’s an asshole? Don’t really know. He’s still getting what he wants, so it shouldn’t fucking matter.”

“Should you be worried? Will he stop doing business with you?” Selfish hope swells inside me.

“I’d actually be happy if we were done with him. I don’t like him. But, I doubt I’ll be that lucky. He just wants to be a dick about it, I guess.”

I open my mouth, about to ask him the million-dollar question—what is his uncle in business with Aref and Vlad for—when his phone chirps. He holds it up for me. “One sultry Iranian wife’s number, as requested.”

“Sultry, hey?” I peel myself away from him so I can save Elmira’s number into my phone. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Anything for you.” His eyes drift over my near-naked body. “How are you feeling? Can I do anything for you?”

Yeah. Walk away from these people before it’s too late.

I force the sadness down with a smile. “Lying next to you feels good. You’re like a giant heating pad.”

“Well, in that case . . .” He yanks me back to him and, taking my hand in his, he guides it back to his now full erection with a playful grin. “I swear, I’ll make it up to you.”

“Come over tonight. I’ll pick up dinner. Some lasagna or something.” I hear the smile in Luke’s voice.

“Is that your way of telling me you want me to make real lasagna tonight?” That’s a whole day’s production, if I want to make fresh noodles and everything.

And yet I know that I’ll do it if Luke asks me to.

“I’m just kidding. We can have whatever you want. There’s a great Thai place nearby.”

“Let me grab it. Say, seven?”

“Just text me when you’re on your way.”

“I’ll call. I like hearing your voice.” Texting has become too dangerous now. I can steer a live conversation, cut off words before they implicate anyone. But a message from Luke saying “Thanks for last night. You give amazing head” is pretty black-and-white in the transcripts.

My relief escapes in a sigh when I hear the line go dead. I have survived another recorded conversation without getting burned by Luke revealing what we’ve been doing. How I’ve broken my team’s trust and jeopardized my career, because of feelings I have for my target. Because this isn’t just about the case for me anymore.

I’m able to reconcile my guilt somewhat, telling myself that everything Luke has revealed to me, he’s revealed only because I’ve crossed the line with him. That rationale doesn’t come without side effects, though. Namely, the little voice in the back of my head that’s not so little anymore. That screams and yells at me. That tells me I’m an idiot. That Luke isn’t going to change, that he’s lying to me because that’s what he is—a liar and a thief. That I’ve dug myself into a hole that I need to start trying to get myself out of.

That I’m not really helping Luke by hiding all of this from my team. Maybe slapping handcuffs on his wrists and hauling him into the station, bursting his bubble about the fictional Rain, and making him admit everything that he’s admitted to me is the only way to help him.

Maybe . . .

My next call is to Warner, to set up cover. “I’m going over to 12’s place tonight, for dinner.”

“ ’kay.”

There’s a long pause of dead air, something I’m not used to with my handler. “Warner? You okay?”

Another long pause. “The Porsche was moved again three hours ago.”

“So, I was right. Vlad didn’t have it stolen.”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

I frown. Who else would want to steal Luke’s car, specifically?

“I’m assuming we’ve passed to a second fence. A two-deep fence line is what we’ve seen in the past for these big rings, so hopefully the next stop is the cargo container.”

The next stop. How much closer will that be to the person who can finger Luke in a lineup? “That’s good.”

“Yup.” Again, that tightness in his voice.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just . . . Rebecca and I decided to take some time apart.”

So the girlfriend finally has a name. “I’m sorry, Warner.”

“It is what it is.” So matter-of-fact. “What do you have planned for today?”

“Uh . . . just some grocery shopping and stuff. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Sure.” The phone clicks awfully fast. He’s obviously more upset about his breakup than he’ll ever let on.

Maybe I’ll buy him a case of beer and invite him over later this week.

But today . . . today, I have something more urgent to do. Searching out Elmira’s phone number, I head over to the safe behind the painting and dig out my personal phone to make the call.