Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“I’m only feeding off your energy.”
“You’re wrong,” I manage, but even I notice the lack of conviction in my words.
“You’re not turned on right now?”
I shake my head, the action my first instinct.
“If I dipped my fingers into that pretty little cun—”
“Enough.” I mean for it to come out forcefully, an effort to regain some sort of power, but it’s pleading instead.
“If you can be professional then so can I.” He clears his throat and when I look up, he’s watching my face in a way that if his cock wasn’t still straining against his jeans, I’d be convinced I imagined the last couple of minutes.
He stands, taking a step back, despite the several feet of distance between us.
“We can go to the conference room to discuss whatever you’d like,” he offers, stepping around me and opening the bedroom door.
I straighten my shirt, making sure my forearm grazes my firearm because it grounds me, the reminder that I’m a cop and capable of many things.
The massive double doors leading into the conference room manage to ramp up my expectations of the room, but there’s no real grandeur when he opens the one on the right.
There’s no throne at the head of the table, no carvings in the table like I’ve seen on television. Hell, there aren’t even pictures of half-naked women hanging on the walls.
“Is that Monet?” I ask, pointing to the left.
“It’s a print, I think,” he answers. “Did you bring a file?” Maddox asks as we step fully inside the room. “If there’s anything digital I’ll have to grab Max or Shadow. They’d kill me if I touch their stuff.”
I look in the area he’s indicating and take in a massive IT setup.
“The chairs look comfortable,” I say stupidly.
“Are you saying they shouldn’t?”
“I guess I’m just surprised.”
“That we have comfortable chairs? There are some days we spend hours in here going over a job.”
“I’m surprised they aren’t made out of bike parts.”
He grins, the look different, boyish compared to the way he did earlier. “We save those for the shop. Would you like something to drink?”
I shake my head, somehow getting exactly what I asked of him but also being a little disappointed that he’s so capable of turning off the charm and seduction.
It makes me wonder if it was manipulation. If he was only doing it in an effort to control how I responded to him. I want to tell him there’s no longer any need for smoke and mirrors but bringing it up again will only make me look like a desperate, wishy-washy hag.
“No thank you,” I say, moving to pull out one of the chairs.
The unwanted sense of disappointment hits me again when he takes the seat across from me rather than the one beside me, ensuring, without a doubt, he can’t touch me. The table is massive, and we probably couldn’t even touch our fingers if we both leaned fully across it.
“You’re sure you don’t want anything to drink?” he asks again after I clear my throat twice in a row.
“I’m just trying to build a little confidence,” I confess. “I’m going to talk about something I don’t speak of with many people.”
He nods, his face welcoming and soft.
I watch his face. This would make most people look away, but he never breaks eye contact. I’m left wondering how much of who he portrays himself to be is actually him and how much is an act. His openness and willingness to give me the time it takes to gather the courage to speak about my sister’s murder is exactly what I need, and somehow he seems aware of that.
I haven’t met one person in my life who is capable of being exactly what I need in every situation that I face. God help me if this man ends up being the one that finally is.
I drop my eyes from his, locking them on my hands as I begin to speak.
I tell him everything, some that I can remember from back then, some that I know from reading the police reports. I talk about Elle and how we looked for her and Jasper Niers. I don’t exclude a single thing, not even my opinion on Detective Roth and my inability to forgive him even after five years on the force and knowing just how impossible some cases are to solve.
“I need you to request another ride-along.”
He nods rather than giving me some rehearsed, seductive smile.
“I need you to have a reason to be back at the station so you can watch Niers’ confession video. Downloading it would throw up a red flag in the system, and I’m confident my days of even having access to it are numbered as it is.”
“I’ll put in a request,” he says.
I nod and stand from the table, feeling a level of disconnection right now. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about Elle, questioning why and how for so long that it leaves me pissed rather than sad. Sadness was the go-to emotion for years, but the deaths of my parents altered even that. I know stress and sadness over their own inability to keep a grown woman safe took them from me. Niers and the partner I’m sure he had killed them as well.