In Too Deep, Book 3, Part 6

 [image: VitalikRadko]

Chapter 26: Cracks

“So what’s the deal between you and ‘Nick’?” I deliberately used the more familiar version of the name—the one Amanda herself used most often. I somehow kept my voice level, not easy, because I was too nervous to even really look at my wife. We’d gone back to our apartment the night before, leaving Mia at Ty’s house for the time being, and were getting ready for the day. I had burned through my vacation time and had half-a-dozen contracts that needed vetting, so it was time for me to show my face back in the office, which seemed absurd with the feeling that everything around me was crumbling.

Amanda turned around, leaned against the counter, holding her coffee in both hands. She was still on leave and waiting for her next orders, although her loungewear had gone from yoga pants and loose tops to small athletic shorts and tight t-shirts that hugged her healthy breasts.

She raised a brow at me. “What do you mean, ‘the deal’? There is no ‘deal.”

I wasn’t crazy about yet another confrontation with my wife. This one had to happen for all kinds of reasons, though, and it had to happen right at that moment. I sighed and rubbed my sweaty palms on my trousers as I sat at the kitchen table.

“No ‘deal’? Really? One: You fucked the guy for weeks.”

“I fucked a lot of guys, and we have been clear about that. I thought we had gotten past—”

“Two,” I went on as if she hadn’t spoken, and began to tick the points off on my fingers. “You two lived together. Three: the sunburst on your hip, ‘Solntse.”

“I was playing a role.” 

I could see from her expression that she was struggling to not be defensive. I fought the impulse to just drop it and just try to hug her. I stuck to the script. “Four: your fellow UC Misty herself independently jumped to the conclusion you had ‘fallen for him.’ So even the other agents in your own investigation had this in the back of their minds.”

Amanda set her coffee cup down, wincing. Now it was her turn to avoid eye contact.

“No ‘deal’?” I repeated.

She took a deep breath. And then another. And when she looked up and made eye contact, I saw that mix of resolve and vulnerability she had first shown me in Raven’s apartment on that day a few weeks back when we had begun the tough work of saving our marriage.

“I’ve said it before. I was playing a role,” she said slowly, deliberately. “And if I weren’t convincing, everything we did, all of the planning, logistics, manpower allocation, all the heavy lifting, would have been beside the point.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. I wasn’t the only one in this relationship who was great at reading the other one’s facial expressions. She said, “Thank you for not chiming in with a sex joke.”

“Putting it in the bank for later.”

She snorted. “This is serious!”

“I said ‘for later.’”

She pursed her lips at me, then said, “Anyway. All of it needed to happen. Otherwise, every line that I crossed, everything that I did, would have meant shit if I couldn’t get and hold that skeevy bastard’s attention.”

“Did you notice that you’re still calling him ‘Nick’, rather than something more informal, like ‘Kozlov’ or even ‘Nikolai.’”

“I… I guess it’s just a habit.” Her eyes didn’t waver as she studied me. I felt naked beneath those bright, blue eyes. “Again, I needed to play a role with him, and I needed him to believe that I really had feelings for him.”

“And maybe, at some point, you started to actually develop feelings?” I offered. Her resolve teetered, and when I saw the hesitation, mine did, too. “It’s only human—”

“No,” she said abruptly. “I may have learned some things about myself, but falling for Nikolai Kozlov is not one of them.”

“We’re not talking about love, but we are talking about an emotional connection. Some form of Stockholm Syndrome—”

“Is not what’s happening here, David.”

“He did push you to do things that you’ve ended up enjoying.”

“Yes, but he also made me fuck a VIP patron who must have weighed three hundred and fifty pounds and reeked of a mix of Axe, onions and week-old cheese. And Nick—Kozlov—knew that it disgusted me, but told me to convince this man that I wanted him. It was one of the few times that I actually didn’t mind ripping a few lines just to get through it. That guy was number ten, by the way, and a stark reminder of who ‘Nick’ is.” This time, she used the familiar name like it tasted bad in her mouth.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” She looked so vulnerable, something I wasn’t used to seeing from her. But I couldn’t let it go entirely. “But despite that, there was still a number eleven and twelve. And that only catches us up to when I saw you at your apartment. I’m sure there were more.”

“Yes, there were more,” Amanda said, her jaw clenching. “And yes, I kept going. And no, they weren’t all disgusting experiences. But they weren’t all like jumping into the sack for a threesome with Channing Tatum and Ryan Gosling, either.”

We stared mutely at one another, feeling a gulf widening between us—a gulf that we’d slowly been trying to close over the last week. Worry creased in her brow, but she held her chin aloft.

At last, Amanda broke the silence. “After I saw you… after I confessed to you… everything changed.”

“And yet, kind of nothing did at all.” It felt good to say it. It felt good to admit outloud. “You were blowing and fucking guys before me, and that continued after. Only thing that changed was that you didn’t have to hide it.”

“Oh, David…” Seeing the tears start to well up in her eyes broke me. 

I sighed and went to her, wrapping my arms around her. “I’m ready for work now,” I whispered, kissing her head.

She nodded, and together we exited the apartment.

In her Wrangler, after some silence, we returned to the conversation, working gingerly around the edges. “So tell me honestly, Amanda. Do you have feelings for Nick—”

“Kozlov,” she said. “Kozlov,” she repeated for emphasis.

“But he is Nick to you, in a way. What you two have is complicated.”

Amanda’s fingers tightened on the wheel and she shook her head. “Complicated, yes, but I don’t have feelings for him. When it comes time, I won’t have any problem doing whatever needs to be done to bring justice.” She glanced at me. Her tears had dried, but the emotion and hurt was still there. “Seriously, okay?”

She turned the car on and pulled us out. Things felt awkward, and I didn’t love that, despite the heavy conversation. “So, uh, you really had to fuck a 350 pound client?”

Amanda kept her eyes on the road. I could see her working her jaw. “Not everything was fun and games.” Then, glancing at me, she added, “And please don’t fucking tell me that you’ve got a fetish for that, too.”

“I mean, only if I start putting on the pounds.” I patted my stomach, which was now solid from all the hours spent in the gym.

The tense mood broke as Amanda laughed. “If you put on that much weight, then we’ll need to have some even more serious conversations.”

I was more than happy to put the weight of the apartment conversation behind us. “It’s always about the body, isn’t it? I thought you loved me for my mind.”

Amanda’s laughter grew louder. She reached over and squeezed my thigh. “I certainly don’t mind a nice body.”

A text came in on her phone, the notification popping up on the CarPlay, the message from “Aunt Maisie.” I looked at her questioningly. "Julia," she says, tapping the message to have the car dictate it outloud. She shows no hesitation.

Club’s reopening tonight. Raven is back on. We’re almost done here. Just a few days more. Will be in touch tonight after your shift.

We looked at one another. “This change anything?” I asked.

“It shouldn’t.” I could see her working through the implications of this. “Actually, it could work out in our favor but…”

“But?”

“I’ve got a plan…”

***

As we walked into Ty’s apartment, my mind continued to wrestle with Amanda’s plan. I was so lost in the cloud of my thoughts that I didn’t snap to it until I heard the sounds of sex. 

“Uh, uh! Ohhh fuck!” The female moans filtered out of the bedroom, which was only half-closed. Amanda glanced back at me, eyes wide and filled with amusement.

“Fuck, fuck me!”

“Take it!” Ty barked.

“Give it to me, right… uh… fuck!”

I stood frozen to the spot. Amanda was the one to take me by the hand and guide me along, a finger pressed to her lips for silence.

The sounds of sex started to grow more heated. As we drew closer, I could make out the creak of the bed beneath their shifting weight. Amanda pulled us right up to the door and glanced inside. I couldn’t resist, moving into place behind her.

My breath caught as I looked inside. Mia was on her back, long legs splayed open, her body covered in sweat. In many ways, she looked a lot like Amanda—same dark hair and voluptuous body, hewn and tightened from hours of dancing. I’d seen her nearly naked before, dancing at the club, but I’d never seen the small brush of pubic hair above her pussy, and I’d certainly never seen her quite like this.

Amanda reached behind me, groping for my dick, as she watched, too. Over the years, Ty had put on a few pounds, but it seemed like most of that weight was muscle. His biceps strained as he held Mia’s legs open and pounded into her. From the door, we had the perfect angle to see him driving deep into her pussy.

Because of their resemblance, I could almost imagine it was Ty fucking my wife, which bubbled up the reminder that they had done it. The angst was real. So was my excitement.

Mia cupped her full tits, lifting one to her mouth so she could lick her own nipple. The sight was too much for Ty, apparently, who pulled out of her pussy, ripped his condom off, and pumped all over her stomach.

Amanda squeezed my dick hard, like she was imagining what it was like to be in Mia’s spot. I nearly came myself as I imagined the exact same thing. 

In the room, Ty was all over Mia, seeming to not care about the come he’d splashed on her body as he crawled over her and started kissing her.

“I see you two have gotten close,” Amanda announced from the door.

Neither of them jumped. Ty broke the kiss and looked over his shoulder as Mia peeked around him. “Did you enjoy the show?” she asked.

They knew we were there?

Amanda didn’t answer, instead saying, “I take it this means you’ve considered our offer?”

“I’m in,” Mia said. “Took a little… negotiating, though.”

Amanda rolled her eyes, but she was smiling the whole time. She retrieved a new burner phone from her purse and handed it to Mia. “Excellent. We’ve already begun the next phase of the plan. I’m going to take David to work. I’ll be in touch on that line. It’s got our numbers programmed in—”

“Yes, Amanda, I know the drill.” She was caressing Ty’s back as she spoke. “If I hear something first, I’ll alert you all.”

“Speaking of, you got the message about the Gold Club reopening yet?”

Mia shook her head. “I haven’t been checking…messages this morning.” And with that she looked slyly in Ty’s direction.

“I guess you’d better check in, then, hmm?”

***

Back in the Wrangler and on the way to my office, I had to ask. “Do you think that was the start of something or just another meaningless hookup?”

Amanda hazarded a glance away from the road and in my direction. “For Ty, or for Mia?”

“Either?” I shrugged. “Both?”

She thought for a moment. “Well, on the one hand, it’s Ty, so, you know. Man-whore.”

I laughed.

“And from what I know of Mia, well…is ‘whore-whore’ a thing?”

This time we both laughed.

I said, “Don’t look now, but another thing, aside from the obvious, that those two seem to share, is—”

“Some sort of kinky fetish that’s gonna gross me, right?”

“I’m not sure that there is such a thing anymore?” I teased.

“Asshole.”

I laughed and said, “Believe it or not, each of them is envious.”

“Of?”

I pointed back and forth between us. “This.”

“Us?”

“Us.”

And I quickly recapped my two conversations, first with Ty, wherein he went on about my “stripper wife,” and then the one with Mia the night I met her in Julia’s SUV, where, upon learning that Amanda’s escapades with other men aroused me, also said something about being envious.

“What night was this, again?”

“The night we listened to you blow Kozlov at his house.”

She shook her head and suppressed a grin. “Wish I’d known you were listening when that all went down.”

“You knew someone was listening, right?”

She grinned again. “Sacculus meus, cimex meus.”

“Latin? Really?”

“All this Russian is making me dizzy. And how often do I get to trot out my college Latin?”

I snorted. “‘My purse, my bug,’” I translated.

“Anyway, so yes, I knew someone was listening, and that made it all hot, but had I known it was you?” She clenched right hand, then snapped her fingers open, accompanying it with a “POOSH!” sound. “Fireworks, Baby. Fireworks.”

I beamed at her. “See? That right there. That’s what Mia was saying she envied. What she’d love to have for herself.”

Amanda chewed on that for a bit as she drove. At length I asked the other question that had been on my mind. “Do you think we can really trust her?”

She cocked her head to one side and sighed. “I hope so, because we’re going to need her help.”

“Or we could just run away from all of this. You still have all of Kozlov’s cash, right?”

Amanda looked over at me as we pulled up before my work. I read her expression, she didn’t need to say it. I nodded. “Yeah, no running away. I wonder why he hasn’t contacted you to bring him the cash…”

“He actually wants me to drop some off in some park later today. Not for him, but someone else.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Hopefully I will later.”

I nodded, pulling out my own burner phone. “Let me know if you find out anything. I’ll do the same.”

I kissed her goodbye, but before I could slip out, she held me close. “I love you, David. I love you so much. Understand?”

I nodded against the side of her neck, inhaling her scent, holding it in my lungs as if trying to commit it to memory. “I love you, too, Amanda.”

Chapter 27: Brandon Cruise

“Where the fuck have you been, man? And what the fuck happened to your hair?”

I touched my shorn hair, brushing my palm up the back of my head, still shocked at how soft and light my scalp was. “Summer cut.”

In a weird way, it was nice to see Brandon Cruise again. I’d never cared for him. He was, after all, my polar opposite—undeservedly cocky, entitled, crude, the kind of guy who took lunch at strip clubs because of the steak special, and then bragged about it with a wink. After the last week, though,  the sheer consistency of his douchery felt like exactly what I needed.

“I’ve been on leave. Dealing with some personal… shit.” See, that’s the kind of influence Brandon had on me. I’d normally never say something like that, instead ending the sentence with a ‘matters’. Brandon kind of forced the S-bomb, even when not called for.

“Did the ball-and-chain finally ditch you for another man?” He was also completely unempathetic. “And is that why you cut your hair to look like a monk?”

“Not quite. And fuck you, you know that?”

“Sorry, sorry.” He showed me his palms as he sauntered into my office and flopped into one of my client chairs.. “I just missed you, that’s all. Fucking with you is my way of saying I care.”

“I… don’t believe you.” I chuckled.

Brandon shrugged. “I think we make a good team. I bring them in, and you lock them down with paperwork. Turns out, I hate fucking paperwork.”

Shocker. “Well, you may need to get used to it. Truth is, I’m not sure how much longer I’m here.”

“Yeah? No shit. Where are you going?”

I shrugged. “Not sure. Just… not LA.”

Brandon leaned further back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. He let out a long “Fuuuuuck.” Then, turning to look at me, he said, “We should give you a proper send-off, then.”

Sure. ‘Great excuse to go rent some time with naked tits,’ more like.

“I’m not interested in whatever you have planned,” I said. “You have no idea how much trouble your trip to The Gold Club caused me.” Understatement of the year.

“Gold Club’s closed. Got shut down. Drugs or some shit.”

“Not what I heard,” I said. “But I’m not going there. I’m going to go home after work, get some dinner, maybe go to the gym, and have a quiet night in.”

Brandon wasn’t listening. He was already on his phone, checking to see if the “rumors” I’d heard were true. “Fuck, you’re right! They’re reopening tonight. We have to go, man.”

I shook my head. “You have fun, Brandon. Now get out. I have about 500 emails that I need to get through.”

“Suit yourself, bruh.” He wandered out, still on his phone, no doubt trying to learn if “Raven” was working tonight. It brought up all kinds of mixed emotions in me. There had been a time when I really did think that he’d hooked up with my wife as Raven. That felt like another lifetime, and a true testament to how far we’d come.

Still, even with my newfound openness, I squirmed in my chair, thinking of Brandon returning to the club and making another play for her. I sighed, glanced back at my computer, and dove into those 500 emails that really were waiting for me.

***

I worked a bit later than normal, but I was only half into the work. Amanda and I didn’t have fully formed plans for the future beyond our quest to root out those profiting on jazz in SoCal, but we both knew that we couldn’t stay in this city. It was too fraught, and there were too many opportunities for awkward encounters. But where we went next, I wasn’t sure. It all hung on how we got out of our current mess.

Mia didn’t know how many bent agents there were, but she didn’t think there were that many. Most of the people on the Gold Club operation were like Amanda—they thought that they were doing legitimate, if unconventional, work. The only certainty was that Julia was definitely involved, intercepting all mission traffic and making sure it got sanitized before routing it up to Mr. FBI himself, Bradley Hirsch.

We were counting in large part on Hirsch’s by-the-book attitude to get us out of this mess. We just needed to get the evidence packaged up in a way that he would find useful.

Amanda wasn’t home, but since she was only making an appearance as Raven, she was free to come back home to sleep. Still, the club didn’t close until 4 in the morning, and would probably be rocking on its reopening. As I told Brandon I would, I killed time after dinner working out, pushing myself harder than I intended. Exhausted, both in mind and body, I crashed back home after a cool shower.

Brandon texted some time in the night, the rumble of his phone waking me out of my light sleep.

[Brandon]: Okay, yeah. Love this place, man! And Raven’s back.

[Me]: Good luck. Fifth times’s a charm?

[Brandon]: Go fuck yourself. I’m going to go fuck a hot stripper.

I didn’t actually hear anything for the rest of the night, although my sleep was broken and restless until I heard the front door open. Amanda crept in, as quietly as she could. I heard her open the fridge, the rattle of ice in a glass, the water dispenser on the door of the fridge come on. I heard her stumble into the chairs around the kitchen table and curse.

When she finally slipped into the bedroom, I was wide awake. “How was your grand return?”

“Jesus, fuck!” she hissed, jumping. “You’re awake.”

“I am.”

The ambient light coming through the bedroom doorway outlined her silhouette in the otherwise darkened room. She wore a tight, glossy black dress that barely covered her legs and presented a lot of cleavage. Her hair spilled around her shoulders, loose and wavy, and as she crawled onto the bed, I could smell her perfume over the sweat from dancing, and the bite of vodka on her breath.

“Good,” she said, leaning forward and kissing me. “Because I’m so fucking horny.”

She was demanding as she kissed me, her body thrumming with excitement. I ran my hands all over her as she straddled my cock and rolled her hips against mine. Just wondering what had her so worked up had me worked up.

“You enjoyed having all those men stare at you again?”

Amanda bit her lip, nodding. “Awful, isn’t it?”

“It’s all for the cover,” I said. We smiled at one another at the paper thin excuse.

“Oh yes, the cover.” She lifted up on her knees enough for me to push my boxers down my thighs, freeing my erection. As I did so, she peeled herself out of the tight dress. Beneath, she wore nothing but a thong. 

“Did you give anyone private dances?” I asked.

“Mmm hmm,” she groaned, pulling the thong to the side so she could sink onto me.

“You know, my coworker was there. Did you dance for someone named Brandon?”

I felt her pussy tighten around my dick. Her eyes opened, meeting mine in the dark as she started to ride me. “Yes, Brandon was there.”

My heart skipped. I gripped her hips. “Did you dance for him?”

She bit her lip, riding me faster. “Would you be upset if I did?”

“I don’t like him.”

She nodded.

“But you did dance for him.”

“I did.” She bounced harder. “He wanted a private dance. He came with a lot of cash.”

My breath caught. “Did you fuck him?”

Amanda started to rub her pussy as she fucked me, her eyes fluttering shut. Bracing one hand on my shoulder, she bounced as I held her hips, urging her to fuck faster. She felt amazing. She sounded amazing. I dragged my eyes over her, seeing her the way guys like Brandon Cruise did. She still wore the makeup from her shift, heavy eyeliner and blush. She still smelled amazing beneath the booze. Even the alcohol added to the wrongness of this moment.

Her nipples were hard, capping those wondrous breasts pressed together between her arms, full, soft, bouncing. Did Brandon see her like this? Did Brandon make her come?

“Oh, Amanda…” I was close.

“Fuck me! Fuck… me!” She was somewhere else, reliving the night, or the last weeks, or the last months. But she was also with me. I knew somehow, without knowing how. She was being reclaimed. She needed to be reclaimed.

“Uhn! Uhnn!” Grinding down into me, she started to come, and I was right on her tail, exploding inside of her, making her mine all over again.

She collapsed over me, her soft breasts and feverishly hot body blanketing my skin. I held her, running my fingers through her hair as my cock continued to leak out the remains of my climax. She squeezed my dick with her pussy, milking me.

“God, I needed that,” she said.

“You should have come home every night you worked this case. Could have been like this a long time ago.”

“Yeah, that would have been nice,” she hummed happily.

“So Brandon Cruise,” I ventured. “Did you… did you take all of his cash?”

“Are you asking if I fucked your coworker?”

Said like that hit me hard. “Yeah. Did you?”

“No,” she said. “He's a lot more fun to mess with.”

“Okay, good,” I said. “I really don’t like that guy.”

“Oh, trust me, he’s got a reputation around the club.”

I didn’t ask about that, but let sleep finally take me.

***

Amanda was still sleeping when I got up the next morning, showered, and got ready for work. I took my Camry to work this time, waking her only long enough to kiss her goodbye. “You work again tonight?” I asked.

“Afternoon shift, actually, but yeah.”

I nodded. “I’ll pick you up?”

“That would be great.”

Heading into work felt good. Brandon called out today, which was both no surprise and a welcome reprieve from yesterday. I didn’t want to have to deal with him, and while I wasn’t planning on sticking around in this job, I needed to leave in on good terms. We still had a life to live after this debacle, and if I wanted it to be a comfortable one, I’d need to have some good references.

Just after lunch, the receptionist called me. “There’s someone here to see you,” she said. “Says she has a one o’clock?”

I had to check my calendar, suddenly worried that I’d forgotten about something. My calendar showed nothing planned. “Okay, sure,” I responded, curious to see where this was going. “Did you get a name?”

“She says her name’s Gillian Downing.”

A shiver ran up my spine at the mention of Julia’s alias. “I’ll be right out.”

Sure enough, standing in the lobby was my wife’s handler and most likely the woman at the center of the shadow network blackmailing Mia and Amanda. She was all cleaned up, blonde hair down, her pencil skirt of modest length, paired almost conservatively with her blouse and matching jacket. The glasses were a nice touch, although like so much of her, certainly not real. Still, I had to admit, she looked good.

“David, sorry I’m a bit early,” Julia said, as if I was expecting her. “Traffic was lighter than expected.”

“Of course, not a problem at all.” I turned to the receptionist, asking if she could reserve the Magnolia Room.

“Of course, sir. Pretty sure that’s open all day.”

“Thanks. Right this way, Gillian. The Magnolia Room’s actually a floor up.” And way in the corner of the office, an under-used room due to its remoteness, and the lack of any windows. Perfect for whatever it was that Julia had in mind.

“So how have you been?” I asked once we were alone in the elevator.

“It’s been an interesting few days, for sure.”

A sizzle of nervousness coursed through me. How much did she know? Were we busted already? Julia seemed to pick up on it. “You okay, David?”

“I just want this case to end. Amanda’s back… in there again.”

“Oh, yes, she sure is.” There was the evil Julia smile that I hated.

“Why are you saying it like that?” I asked. The elevator doors opened. We got out, and I led her towards the meeting room on legs that felt like rubber. Julia didn’t respond until I’d closed the door behind us.

“You should lock it, if there’s a lock,” she suggested.

“Why?”

She was already removing a laptop from her bag.

“Wouldn’t want anyone walking in on us,” she said, smiling. “Or what you’re about to witness.”

I locked the door, asking, “Which is?”

Julia connected her computer up to the conference room television—a huge screen that was too large for the smaller room. “Why, your wife’s grand reprise of her role as Raven,” she said, taking obvious joy in my discomfort.

I swallowed hard, shuffling over to the chair beside Julia as a video feed came up on the conference room's monitor. My mouth was dry as the image resolved. There was Amanda, her back to the camera, wearing a sequined thong and a silver tube top, swaying her hips in front of a man seated before her. It was clearly a private dance, and the man was clearly Brandon Cruise.

Have a good weekend, all! Sorry for the cliffhanger (but not really). You'll have to come back Tuesday.