Three #2
He wanted to steer me out of the club, but I darted over to Evan to say goodbye. When I put my hand on my friend’s shoulder, he turned around to look at me. I saw his eyes fill with Detective Kage. He didn’t even see me. I was an afterthought.
“Jesus, Jory, who’s this?” He sounded almost breathless.
I stepped sideways so I could introduce them. “Evan Rheems, this is Detective Sam Kage. Detective Kage, my buddy Evan.”
He nodded but didn’t hold out his hand. “Okay. Can we go?”
“Oh no, you can’t go,” Evan argued, reaching out, putting a hand on my wrist. “It’s my birthday. Jory and I haven’t even had our—”
“He’s coming with me,” Detective Kage said flatly, and I felt his hand on the back of my neck. “So you’ll hafta do whatever you people do another time.”
“You people?” Evan looked at me, eyebrows raised, the question there in his gaze.
It felt like my right eye was twitching. “It’s not—he’s not with me, Ev. He’s—”
“I’m done,” Detective Kage grumbled, and I felt his hand clench on the back of my neck. “Outside. Now.”
I leaned in and kissed Evan on the cheek, promised to call him the next day, and asked the detective to get his hand off me.
“If you walk toward the goddamn door, he barked.
I started for the exit, but a guy stepped in front of me.
“Hey.” He smiled at me. “Do you remem—”
Heavy hands clamped down on my shoulders, squeezed tight. “Excuse us,” Kage said behind me.
The guy looked up from my face and saw Detective Kage. He moved out of the way, and I got shoved forward hard.
Finally out on the street, I pivoted around to face him. “What the hell was that about?”
“Why don’t you just paint a goddamn target on your chest, you fuckin’ idiot?”
I started away from him, but he grabbed my arm and swung me back around.
“Christ, can you stop manhandling me,” I snapped, twisting my arm free, annoyed.
“Sorry,” he said automatically, no sincerity at all, and shoved his hands into his pockets. “But you’re just not listening. I don’t get you.”
“Whatever.” I sighed. “Listen, I gotta eat, all right? And then I promise to go home.”
He nodded. “Fine.”
I gave him one last look and then turned to walk away.
“Wait.”
“God, what?”
“Will you stop, please?”
I stopped, but I didn’t turn around.
“I gotta eat too.”
I looked at him over my shoulder. “I’m getting breakfast. You want that?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Okay.” I smiled, turning to look at him. “Where’s that tank you drive?”
I got the barest hint of a smile, the slightest curl to his lip.
I can talk when I have to, and I had to at dinner. I kept up a steady stream of conversation, from Law & Order to how I was thinking of becoming a Catholic because I liked all the different saints. I had him try my banana pancakes and smiled wide when he admitted that they weren’t bad.
“Christ, you talk a lot,” he said under his breath.
I went silent and drank my orange juice.
“Hey.”
I looked up into his slate-blue eyes.
“I didn’t mean you should stop. You just remind me of my sisters is all.”
“That can’t be good.” I leaned back from the table.
“No, it is, actually.”
I nodded and drained my glass. “So, you want something else, or are ya done?”
“I want something,” he murmured, really looking at me.
And I got the weirdest feeling, which I was sure was just wishful thinking on my part, that maybe he was talking about me.
Because even though the man very obviously hated me, he was, without a doubt, gorgeous.
Impossible for me not to notice the deep laugh lines around his eyes, the small scar over his left eyebrow, or the way his clothes clung to him like a second skin.
And even though I had complained earlier, the idea of him being rough with me was very exciting.
Every guy who had ever tried to throw me up against a wall or down on a bed I had been able to get free of.
Most of them didn’t really want to be that physical anyway, didn’t want to wrestle me into submission—it was all for show.
But Detective Kage could make me do whatever he wanted.
The carved muscles, his size, the look in the eyes all told me as much.
“Cold?” he asked when I shivered.
I shook my head and took a breath. “No, I’m good.”
I got up, pulling out my wallet.
“I’ll get it,” he said stiffly, rising to stand beside me.
“Oh hell no,” I told him, putting twenty-five dollars down. I had to cover the tip too. “I’d rather get shot than owe you anything.”
He glared at me, and I laughed before I gave him a pat on the arm. “I’ll see ya.”
His hand clamped down hard on my shoulder to hold me where I was. “I’ll drive you home. Just stay.”
So I stood beside him while he put his half down and then walked out ahead of him.
“You wanna cuff me so people don’t think we’re dating?” I asked him casually.
“No one in their right mind would think we were together.”
“No?”
“Yeah, no.”
“And why not?”
“Because.” But he didn’t explain, so I let it go.
The alley was dark, but he was right behind me, so I didn’t worry. I saw his car as soon as we came out the other side, and I was glad because I was starting to freeze.
“Can I ask you a question?”
I grimaced.
“What’s with that?”
I tried to smile. “Sorry?”
“Don’t say you’re sorry when you’re not. What’s with the flinching? Whaddya think I’m gonna ask, for crissakes?”
“Something horrible.”
He squinted at me. “Nice.”
“It’s like navigating a minefield,” I muttered as we reached the SUV.
The car alarm chirped as the door opened, and I climbed in. I leaned over to crack his door for him and then buckled in before he barked at me.
“Why don’t you have a fuckin’ jacket?” he asked me curtly.
I shrugged. “I do, it’s just not super cold yet. It’s a pain in the ass to carry it to the club, check it, and then remember to get it after.”
“So getting pneumonia is more your speed?”
“Detective, did you know that disease is actually caused by germs and not the cold?”
“Funny,” he said flatly.
I leaned my head back and got comfortable. My phone rang, and it was Kevin, so I let it go to voicemail. Taylor called, and then Nick, but I didn’t feel like talking. It was warm in the car, and with both of us silent, I started to doze. When my phone rang again, I put it on vibrate.
“That thing ever stop ringing?”
“Mmmm,” I answered him, half-awake.
“You’re popular, huh?”
I grunted as he pulled the car out into the street. He got on his phone, and I listened absently as he talked about times and dates. It was hard to imagine the life of a police detective. I wondered what it was like to have a job that could never be walked away from.
The car was warm, the ride was smooth, and there was the low hum of the tires on the road. I lost track of time.
“Jory.”
I felt the backs of his fingers slide up my throat, and I realized the car had stopped.
“Shit, sorry.” I took a breath, sitting up. Hard to know how long I’d been asleep. “I’m crap in cars. I always pass out.”
“Me too, if I’m not driving,” he said softly.
“Thanks,” I muttered, my voice husky as I opened the door to get out.
“Hey.”
I looked back at him.
“Watch yourself, all right?”
I nodded.
“You’re an idiot for not going into the program.”
“I don’t want a new identity, Detective. I—”
He put up a hand. “Spare me, all right? Just try and be a little less visible.”
I promised him I would work on it.
He mumbled something I didn’t catch.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you worried about me, Detective?” I asked hopefully.
“No,” he grunted. “I just don’t wanna find you with your brains blown out.”
Which basically closed the door on any and all of my wishful thinking.