Carefully winding my way around the end of the bed, I make it to the other side without a single stubbed toe and carefully ease under the covers so as not to wake her.
Turning on my side to face Macy, I scoot in closer to her warmth. I can't see her in the dark very well, but I know what she sounds like when she's asleep. The shallow breaths coming from her nose rather than deep ones through her mouth that I've grown accustomed to tell me she's awake at this very moment.
"You okay?" I murmur.
She answers by sliding closer to me. I intuitively stretch my arm out, letting her head rest on it while she maneuvers the rest of her warm, naked body up against me. Her breasts softly rest against my chest, her pussy right up against my dick, which starts hardening, and finally her arm goes around my waist to pull me in even closer.
I chastise my cock to stay down, because my heart is seriously content to just hold her right now. I have no clue as to her state of mind, but I don't want to do anything that scares her away from me right now. So I wrap my arms around her and I wait.
I wait for her breathing to slow. Go deep. Calm.
It doesn't happen and after a few moments, her hand slides down to my hip, across my pelvis, and I can't contain the small hiss of pleasure that leaks through my gritted teeth when her fingers circle my dick. She strokes me to life and I immediately give in to it, because there's no way in hell I could ever control my body around Macy.
In the dark, her lips find mine and she kisses me. My own hands roam across her skin, one making its way down in between her legs. We kiss and fondle, the room utterly silent except for our heavy breathing and moans as we get each other worked up.
She's slippery wet and I'm three fingers deep in her when she throws a leg over my hip and guides my cock toward her entrance. I remove my hand and put it to good use by hiking that leg up even higher... opening her a bit wider.
I maneuver my body down a bit, giving myself the upward angle, and I let her grip on my dick lead the way to what I would most definitely classify has pussy heaven.
I sink in deep. It's fluid. A mating of two people who know every nuance of the other's body.
We lay on our sides and I slowly pump my hips, working my shaft in and out of her. Our kissing gets deeper, sometimes interrupted by a particularly deep groan that one of us emits.
Our fucking is slow, but it's not methodical. Our bodies undulate in total synchronicity, and it doesn't take long for either one of us to break apart. In fact, we both jump off the ledge together.
We then both fall asleep in the same position, neither one of us having said another word to the other.
Chapter 10
Dee Switzer has a fairly nice office for a government worker. I expect it's because she's dedicated her entire working life to the federal government. I had asked around about this woman. It's just something attorneys do when they want to check out their opponent.
I got nothing but very good things about her. Ethical, tough on crime but not without empathy, willing to make a fair deal, and a straight shooter. While I didn't like her line of questioning yesterday, I know she was just doing her job. She wasn't trying to harass or humiliate Macy. She was in search of the truth, I get that, but I still wanted to strangle her all the same for doing that to my woman.
Dee met me in the lobby and ushered me up past a weekend security guard. We only went to the fourth floor, a hike I would have generally taken by stair, but I'm sensing Dee is at least a pack-a-day smoker and couldn't handle the climb.
And just as I expected, when she led me into her plush office with cherry furniture and thick carpeting, she pulled an ashtray out of her drawer and lit up a cigarette.
Giving a slight nod toward the stick in her hand, I say "Thought this was a non-smoking building?"
Dee brings the cigarette to mouth, sucks deeply, angles her lips to blow the smoke back up to the left of her head, and laughs. "After twenty-three years, I'm not going anywhere. They know that, I know that. They don't dare try to tell me what to do."
I wonder who "they" are, but this lady has been around a long time... she could be talking about the Attorney General for all I know.
"I'm sorry Macy got upset yesterday," she says gruffly as she flicks her ashes. "I wasn't trying to do that."
"I get it."
"I could tell by the way you looked like you wanted to murder me that you have a personal connection to her," she says... a flat-out statement and not looking to me to verify that.
I shrug. "It's not a secret."
"I think you two make a beautiful couple," she says before sucking in another lungful of smoke.
Okay, getting weird.
I sit up in my seat a bit straighter, needing to get the informalities out of the way so I can expose the heart of this matter. "Who is Emiel Coppens?"
"You Googled him, right?" she asks as she stubs out her cigarette.
"Yeah. Practicing obstetrician and gynecologist. Forty-three, unmarried, no kids."
"How much do you know about white-collar crime?" she asks me in a quick change of subjects.
"Very little. I don't do criminal defense."
"Well, during the course of our investigation, our government employed dozens of accountants to comb through roomfuls of documents we subpoenaed from the defendants as well as Quarter Mine. We're talking thousands upon thousands of documents."
"Sounds like a nightmare," I say with a grimace.
"It is," she says with a fond smile for her work. "It's why this investigation has taken over five years to put together these indictments."
My jaw drops low in astonishment. "Five years?"
She nods. "In combing through all the expenditures made by the Carringtons, our analysts came upon this trip to Brussels eleven years ago. It stood out because it was very different from the other trips the family made. Their vacations were for a few weeks at a time. They flew commercially--first class, of course. Always stayed in five-star hotels. The trip to Brussels was different. They flew on a private jet, were there only three days, and stayed with one Dr. Emiel Coppens."
I know the government must be on to something, or else they wouldn't be bothering with this route, but I still shrug. "Still could be explained away as a short vacation. Maybe Coppens is a family friend."
"Nope. No phone calls between him and the Carringtons. No emails. Nothing except two phone calls right before the trip lasting less than fifteen minutes each. Those were placed from Travis Carrington's office to Dr. Coppens' home. Followed by a bank wire transfer from Travis Carrington to Emiel Coppens for one hundred thousand US dollars."
"So you suspect Dr. Coppens is involved somehow with investment fraud or something?"
"Not at all," she says, pinning me with a direct stare. "In fact, we sort of just glossed over that. That little tidbit of information sat there for five years... all lonely and neglected. I only became interested in it fairly recently once the arrests were being made."
"And why is it important now?" I ask, completely lost.
She diverts again on another tangent. "Did you know if this case goes all the way to trial, which will last for months, that the government will have probably upward of five million dollars in costs expended to see it through to conclusion?"
Sheesh. And some people thought personal injury attorneys made a lot of money.
Dee reaches for her pack of cigarettes, shuffles one out, and taps it against her desk. "My job right now is to try to convince the indictees to make a quick deal. Get them to plea down to some lesser charges... they'll still get prison time but we're talking thirty years versus one hundred and thirty years. And with a plea arrangement comes restitution."
I feel like the fog is lifting slightly, so I nod in understanding of what she's saying.
"The forfeiture orders served on Travis and his brother, Luke, resulted in fifty-billion dollars in seized money and assets."
"Holy fuck," I exclaim. I mean, I knew the Carringtons were rich. I knew their net worth was in the billions. But to hear that the government just decided to wake up one day and seize fifty-billion dollars from someone is mind-boggling.
"Holy fuck is right," she cackles. "If we can get them to cut a deal, they'll go to prison, those seized assets will be distributed to those that were defrauded, and the government will save millions of dollars in prosecution costs."
And BOOM... it clicks.
"You think Macy knows something about this Emiel Coppens that will cause them to accept a plea deal?"
"Not something that will get all of them to roll. But something that will get her father to roll, and once he does, they'll all take pleas."
I stare at Dee for a moment, analyzing this new information. I chew on it... form it into a thought, and ask her for clarification. "You want Macy to give you evidence that will send her father to prison? Evidence that is obviously traumatizing to her?"
Dee at least has the grace to look ashamed when she says, "I know it's not ideal, but yes. She could put this whole thing to rest, and everyone could move on. Think of it this way... she won't be putting her father away... she'll help to get him the best possible deal. And she'll be helping thousands of people who have been defrauded out of their life savings. We have an airtight case, Cal. Travis and Luke Carrington are going away for a very long time."
Frustrated air blows out through my teeth. I scrub my hand through my hair, trailing down to the back of my neck where I rub the tension from my muscles. Cocking one eyebrow at Dee, I ask, "You said you could make Macy's forfeiture order go away."