Provoked (2 page)

              She’d lived in the States for over a decade. She couldn’t go to the police. She knew, too well, how abused women were dealt with. They were advised to leave their abusers, press charges, go to a shelter; they were given many options, but they were never given the strength to do it. If they even admitted it; most never did. Partly because they were scared of the consequences from their abuser, and then there was the shame they felt to admit it. Basia now understood how trapped they felt. It only made her think of Beth; the waitress from her favorite diner in New York she used to see daily. Beth confided about the abuse from her boyfriend before Basia left the States. She’d given Beth the list of options but now wondered if she’d followed through. Basia hadn’t. She’d hoped Darek’s behavior was temporary or he’d leave. He didn’t.

              He’d changed; for the worse. He hadn’t worked since they married. Basia had to hire a new guide to replace him. He’d come home high and smelled of booze. It sickened her; just the smell of him. Then he’d put her down, called her names; degraded her. She shrugged him off as she searched for a way to divorce him, without giving him half her wealth. He didn’t deserve any of her father’s hard-earnings.

              Two days before she discovered his plan to kill her, he became physically violent. He gripped her arms and pushed her to the floor. He dragged her by her hair closer to him and demanded a blow-job. He unzipped his pants and let them drop to the floor.

              “Get down on your knees. It’s your wifely duty.”

              Basia lifted herself to her knees. He moved forward, smiled, and closed his eyes. She slammed her hands against his chest in a sudden push and ran down the hallway. She felt his hand on the back of her shirt and the sound as it ripped from her body. Basia made it to her bedroom, slammed the door shut, and locked it. She stood with her back against the door and attempted to catch her breath. The emotional abuse had worn her down but now it had become physical. She’d had enough of him. He pounded on the door with such rage.

One tear led to another as she spoke, “You’ve changed. You’re not the man I fell in love with. You don’t even want to guide or hike anymore. You just want to drink with your buddies. You don’t love me, not like you did in the beginning. You don’t respect me. You don’t want me. You don’t even want a wife. You just want an obedient whore. Well, honey, I’m not her. Get the hell out of my house!”

She heard him through the door. His tone scared her. He’d completely lost it. Basia’s body shook. He was out of control.

“Don’t ever think you’ll make a fool of me. I’m not leaving and neither are you. The only way you go out that front door is in a body bag, you stupid bitch!”

To add more fear, his fist hit the door and created a huge hole. Basia grabbed her gun from her bedside table. She pointed the barrel through the hole he’d just made.

“I asked you to leave, Darek. I won’t think twice to pull the trigger.”

She heard the front door slam.

The next day she arrived home from work to the aroma of dinner. Darek met her at the door with a single rose.

“I’m sorry,
Moja kochana.
It was the booze last night. I promise to give that part of my life up. It won’t happen again. You’ll never see those guys around here again. I’m going back to work after the holidays. I hope you’ll forgive me. I’d like to spend the holidays with my wife.”

Basia stood in silence. She didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Then he broke down in tears. She chewed on her lower lip. She’d called her lawyer earlier that day, and he confirmed what she already knew. If she filed for divorce, Darek would be entitled to half her wealth. Perhaps his pathetic outburst would buy her some time to find another way. She hoped she could talk to him over the holidays, if he remained sober. She didn’t want to stay married to him. It was too late. Too much had changed. Perhaps she could come to a settlement.

“You ever speak to me like you did last night, or one of your buddies shows up, I’m filing for divorce.”

She excused herself to take a hot shower before dinner. She was slightly impressed when she reached her bedroom that the door had been replaced. She started the shower and then realized she forgot her purse at the front door. She’d wanted to call her lawyer to come up with a settlement she could offer Darek over the holidays. Basia heard Darek’s voice when she reached the front foyer. She walked closer toward the kitchen. She slid up against the wall behind the kitchen door. Her jaw dropped as she listened to his plan to kill her during their holiday hike. What shocked her more was his confession of her parents’ deaths. It wasn’t an accident.

Against her better judgement, she realized time had run out and she had to kill him first. She set her escape to freedom in motion. She knew of the fatalities that happened in the mountains. She could make it appear as an accidental death. Then she’d be alive and free of Darek Bernard. Basia planned to play the grieving widow and then return to New York. There was nothing left in Zakopane for her. It was time to play his game. His game of control; one he was about to lose.

Eight Months Later - New York

Humidity lingered the streets of New York for days. A faint breeze in the air delivered relief. Normally the air-conditioned, unmarked, black SUV cooled Detective Riley Briggs, but to be able to open the window felt good. He felt it cool his skin, and after a long hot humid day; he appreciated the fresh air. A noise jolted him from his relaxed state, and he shifted his head in the direction of the sound. He turned to his partner, Detective Steve Mason.

“Shots fired.”

              Steve turned at such an abrupt angle, the tires screeched, and Riley jolted forward. He hit the dashboard when Steve slammed on the brakes.

              “Damn, Steve! Why did I let you drive tonight?”

              Steve’s sarcasm rolled out through a chuckle. “Seatbelts were invented, partner. You should try them sometime.” Steve drove back a block to where they heard the shots fired and parked. Riley reached for his holster and drew his gun as he exited the SUV.

              “Smartass,” he joked, and then released the safety on his gun.

              Steve ignored his partner’s sarcasm, as usual, and headed into the darkened alley. Riley followed until his partner reached a garbage bin. He held his hand up to motion for Riley to stop. Steve backed up against the brick wall and began a count of three with his fingers.

              Utter silence filled the air. Riley knew he should call for backup. This wouldn’t be the first time they didn’t follow protocol. The detectives were known for that. Riley’s first instinct; check first then call, in case someone needed immediate assistance. It was his usual defence when his lieutenant came down hard on him. Steve continued into the alley cautiously with his finger on the trigger. He motioned to Riley, with a slight movement of his head, when voices were heard. Steve moved slowly around the corner.

Down!
The last word Riley heard as he watched his partner fall to the ground. Gunfire broke the still silence and deafened Riley. He fired in return, but the darkened alley made it difficult to get a visual.

Riley reached for his radio on his shoulder and spoke quickly.

“10-13, officer down, 10-13”

He felt pain rip through his body. The sounds he’d heard faded and his vision blurred. His partner wasn’t the only officer down.

Oh Shit! I’ve been hit.

Six Weeks Later

Basia stood at the entrance of his bedroom door. She leaned against the door with a coffee in each hand. Riley could see her reflection in the mirror as he tucked his shirt into his jeans. He stopped and said nothing. The sight of her made his pulse react; the pulse, inside his jeans. He felt the material tighten and hesitated on the thought of his return to work. It had been six weeks since he’d been shot. His physical recovery moved along quickly, but his emotional recovery worried the police psychologist, or so he was told. Steve Mason had been Riley’s first and only partner the past ten years. His loss had been difficult and hard to digest, but he wasn’t about to let it keep him from returning to the streets. Riley’s job was his life.

“Riley?” 

               He loved how she said his name in her thick accent. Basia had set their coffees down and stood a mere inch behind him. He looked in the mirror at the woman who stood behind him. She enticed his senses like no other. Her ash-blonde hair rested past her shoulders. Not one hair out of place. Her lips, plump and pink, teased him. He remembered how they felt against every inch she’d teased him with the night before. At thirty-five, Riley Briggs was a confirmed bachelor; one-night stands were his thing. He liked it that way. It didn’t affect his career, which he’d been happily married to for over a decade. There was something different about this woman. Riley felt her breath on the back of his neck. He could still see her eyes peeking from behind his head. Her eyes were the same color of the Mediterranean Sea—a daunting dark blue. He watched her eyes travel to the restricted area of his jeans. She reached around him for that pulse.

              “You look great in jeans.”

He snickered. She raised an eyebrow. A flirtatious smile appeared on her face, one that told him exactly what she wanted. His jeans became unbearable. 

“You could easily make me late for work,” Riley's voice cracked. The thought of his hands all over her weakened him. 

“I know.”

She answered with high confidence. She pressed her hand firmly over his pulse. He turned to face her and leaned in for a kiss. Her lips softly touched his in a barely-there kiss. Her tongue probed his mouth open, and he felt her silken tongue explore his mouth vigorously. The anxiety about his return to work suddenly left his thoughts. Actually, the thought of work completely disappeared. All that entered his mind—rip her clothes off and toss her on his bed. He questioned her effect on him. All he knew of this woman was her first name. 

Her hand remained securely pressed against the restricted denim, as her tongue seductively played with his. Every move, every touch only brought Riley’s fantasies further into reality. His hand moved around to her back and he fumbled with the zipper on her dress. He no longer cared if he only knew her first name. He’d never met a more confident, sexy woman. He wanted what he’d felt the night before. He wanted his hard cock inside her. His hands roamed the silky fabric that covered her breasts, as he slowly inched them toward his bed. The tip of his finger flickered across her hardened nipple, and she surrendered. In one quick sudden moment, he had her where he wanted her: on his bed. Her lips never left his for a moment. Her fingers traveled over the stretched denim in a desperate search for the zipper to free his restriction. She gripped his perfect erection and slid her hand down its length. His hunger grew rapid. Within moments, there wasn’t a stitch of clothing on them. Basia, slowly but urgently, guided him inside her. She was hot, wet, and ready. Pinned below her, he followed her lead. She’d taken control, not that he minded. She lifted herself until his tip had almost left her warmth. Riley whimpered. Basia smiled and then slid down his length, inch by inch. Quick thrusts and short rapid breaths took over as their releases came suddenly. Their quick morning sex had satisfied his pulse but he wanted more. Riley attempted to pull her into his arms, but she smiled and kissed his forehead.

“I must go. I’m definitely behind schedule now.”

Her smile melted his heart. 

“Sorry. I couldn’t resist temptation.”

Riley brushed the hair away from her eyes. She had the most spectacular blue eyes but they were hard to read. He searched for answers and felt lost each time. He had many questions, but he remembered her rule; first names only. Basia slid one leg at a time into her dress and mesmerized Riley as she pulled it up slowly. She turned her back to him and he zipped up her dress.

“I’d rather be unzipping this and pulling you back into my bed.”

Basia turned and blew him a kiss. He watched her tight ass walk out of the room. 

“Do I get to see you again?” he called out to her, before he realized what he’d just asked. It was so unlike him. He was a committed bachelor. One-night stands were his thing. He always told himself that a second time with the same woman would only complicate his life.

“Possibly” He heard in the distance before the sound of the front door closed.

“Welcome back, Briggs.”

The morning’s assembly at the precinct greeted Riley with handshakes and pats on the back. He politely made his way through the crowd, with one thank you after another, until he stood before Matt Phillips.

“Lieutenant.”

              “Briggs.”

Lieutenant Phillips extended his hand. “I got the doc’s report.”

              Riley wondered why his lieutenant hadn’t welcomed him back like the others. He got clearance to return to work, but his lieutenant’s expression told him something different.

“She says you’re not ready.”

She, meaning Dr. Richards, was the woman who appeared to have Riley’s balls in her hands. Riley knew she meant mentally.
That bitch!
Riley cursed under his breath.

“She gave me clearance to return to work.”

              “They won’t let me send you out on the street, yet. Not without her approval.”

“You’re putting me on a desk?”

Riley wished he’d still been in bed with Basia. At least his morning started better than it turned out.

“You’ve been requested at the thirty-seventh precinct for desk duty.”

Matt handed him the assignment form.

“Seriously, Lieutenant, come on. You know me. You know I’m ready to get back on the street. I can’t believe they’re going to stick me on a desk in
Missing Persons
. It’s that bitch. She thinks just because I don’t want to talk about Steve’s death, that I’m unstable.”

Riley grabbed the form.

“Perhaps you should have attended all your sessions with Dr. Richards and confided emotionally; even if you had to make it up.” Matt’s tone was authoritative, but with a touch of sarcasm. 

“Yeah—yeah,” Riley said, as he blew out a frustrated breath.  He felt punished. His recent wound healed and left him with no limitations for his job. He believed he had passed the psych test. She told him he could return to work. She just wasn’t specific about where. He figured he’d pissed her off when he left the last session early, after his comment that he found their meetings useless.   

“It’s temporary, Briggs. I want you back where you belong. And for Christ’s sake, Briggs, keep your next appointment with the doc and open up. I need you back here.”

Matt stood with a stern expression.  Riley hesitated and then nodded in agreement.

“Heck, maybe you’ll even learn to follow protocol.” Matt laughed.

Riley rolled his eyes. He knew he’d never win that argument. Not now. For now, he’s stuck at a desk in Missing Persons.  

Riley entered the thirty-seventh precinct just as pissed as when he left the lieutenant and his sarcasm. He handed his assignment form to the officer at the front desk.

“Welcome to the thirty-seventh. Have a seat. I’ll let the lieutenant know you’re here.”               The officer stamped the form and picked up the phone. Riley took a seat. He didn’t feel at home. He needed to be on the street, where he belonged. He’d spent the beginning of his career in homicide and the past five years in an undercover drug operations task force. His day had always entailed murders and drugs, not some missing person.
This is the last place I want to be.
As soon as he finished that thought, he saw them; those long legs coming toward him. How could he forget? They’d been wrapped around his neck the night before. He swallowed hard. His eyes travelled to meet those Mediterranean blues. He could tell by the astonished look in her eyes, she was just as shocked as he. An introduction wasn’t necessary, but she remained professional and awaited one.

“Detective Riley Briggs, welcome to the thirty-seventh precinct.”

Lieutenant Mark Fields introduced himself with a handshake, and then turned to the beautiful woman beside him.

“This is Lieutenant Basia Lis. Lieutenant Lis is from Forensics. She’s consulting on a case.”

If he’d still been in Homicide, their paths would have crossed. But being undercover with the drug task force, he no longer stayed on a scene long enough after a death for the CSI to arrive. Then again, if their paths had crossed; he wouldn’t have had the pleasure of her in his bed. Riley didn’t mix business with pleasure. For the reason he didn’t like to see any woman twice.

Basia stepped forward and extended her hand.

“Detective”

She smiled differently than she had earlier that morning.
Then again, she wasn’t wearing any clothes.
Riley shook her hand.

“Lieutenant.”