Chapter 16
16
MAY
“ W here to?” I ask when we step off the elevator.
“Jersey.” Carson grabs my hand, his fingers linking together with mine. He’s always finding a way to touch me. When I woke up this morning, I was worried that things might be awkward. Especially because he hadn’t been in bed, but I was wrong. Things between us feel natural.
“Really? I’ve never been there before.”
“Half of it’s great, the other half, not so much. We’re going to check out a pet store.”
“Oh,” I scrunch my nose at that. I’m not a fan of those places. I wish people would adopt and not shop. Pet stores are even harder for me than the shelter. Carson opens the car door for me.
“Hey, you don’t have to go in.” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. His eyes go soft on me. It’s sweet that he’s worried this might upset me. That’s he’s taking note and cares. It’s been a long time since someone watched out for me.
“No. I want to. We’re in this together.” I lift myself up on my tiptoes and press my mouth to his.
Carson wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me flush to him and deepening our kiss. I had no idea what I'd been missing out on for all these years when it came to kissing, but I bet kisses with some fumbling teenage boy in high school would have never matched these. I’m glad I saved it for Carson; his kisses are worth remembering.
“We should stop.” Carson pulls back but doesn’t release his hold on me.
“Right.” I try to catch my breath. Stopping is the absolute last thing I want to do, but I know it’s what’s necessary before one thing leads to another. “We’re working.” We need to be professional when we’re in work mode. I can do that. I think.
“And you’re just working me up.” He presses into me more. I let out a small gasp, realizing what he means. His hard cock presses up against my stomach.
“Oh.” I lick my lips. “Sorry?”
“Liar.” He gives my ass a small playful smack, making me jump. “Get in.”
I hop into the car, putting my seat belt on. I take a few deep breaths, trying to control my emotions, even though all I want is to go back upstairs to Carson's place and repeat what we did last night. Perhaps this time I could return the favor. I watch Carson adjust himself before he slips into the driver’s seat. I have to fight a smug smile.
“It has to be a good thing if the catnapper is going to pet shops, right?” It gives me a bit of reassurance for Fitzy. They must be buying supplies to take care of him.
“Catnapper?” Carson gives me one of his sexy chuckles. I didn’t know laughs could be hot, but they are when coming from him. It's a small victory whenever I can hear his. I think Carson is more the serious type.
“It’s fitting, right? Nothing like a clever cat pun.”
“That’s hiss-terical.”
“Ahh!” I laugh. "I had never considered that one, and I am typically the master of cat puns. You might be a fur-midable opponent.” That one earns me another chuckle. “So what’s the plan?” I rub my hands together. I’m having way too much fun with all of this. I need to remember a cat is missing. That this is serious business.
“Going to see if they have some CC footage.”
“What if they do? Will a picture help that much without a name?”
“Mrs. Farrol could know them.”
“So you think it could be someone close to her?” That’s kind of scary. The thought of letting someone into your home that you trust and then they turn around and steal your cat is quite unsettling.
"Someone has to be connected somehow. Mrs. Farrol's estate is pretty damn secure. There’s a sizable staff as well. They knew how to get in and out without being seen. Or whoever saw them was in on it from the start.”
“That’s a good point.” It wouldn't be simple to get in and out of there without a bit of help.
“Plus, we can see if they bought anything and how they paid. Not many use cash anymore.” He really does think of everything. I suppose it’s his job to know all these things.
“How did you end up with the FBI? Do you apply or something?”
“Some apply, and a lot are recruited.” He glances over at me. "It's often the people who want to be cops that you have to worry about."
“Oh wow, I didn’t know they recruited people.”
“The FBI works differently than other police agencies. They want people from all walks of life who specialize in a variety of things. They seek experts in different fields, from psychologists to scientists and financial specialists. Even little assholes who run the streets and get themselves into too much trouble are sometimes sought after.” He shoots a smirk at me.
“Nooo,” I laugh. “Were you a little asshole?” I never would have pegged him as such.
“I have my moments.”
“So tell me, what do little assholes who run the streets offer to the FBI?”
Carson mentioned that he learned to cook early in life, which led me to believe that he took care of himself from a young age. Because of his fancy suits and condo, I had the notion that he might have come from money, which he has more than enough of.
"When you don't have much choice, you become good at reading people. It could mean life or death.”
“Oh.” My heart sinks thinking of a young Carson fending for himself.
“And I might have annoyed the shit out of them too.”
“The FBI?”
He shrugs.
“How did you annoy the FBI?”
"Initially, I wouldn't leave them alone." He lets out a breath. The atmosphere inside the car changes. “I noticed kids in the neighborhood started to disappear. It was only in certain parts of town. The places that most people don't take too much notice of.”
“But you did.”
“I did.” Carson shakes his head. "I kept trying to get them to do something," he says. “Anything. When they didn't, I decided I would. Every time I found new information or got closer to figuring out what the hell was going on, I’d turn it in, hoping they would jump in at some point.”
“Surprised you didn’t just do it on your own.”
"I contemplated it, but I refused to allow my pride or ego to interfere. That it wouldn’t help the people who were missing. I knew I had to help in whatever way I could to figure out what the hell was going on and maybe save a few of them. One day the FBI finally bit. I guess they were impressed with what I’d found on my own. The rest is history.”
“Did you find them?”
He nods, keeping his eyes on the road. “Just not in time.” Grief coats his words, and he swallows hard.
From the way his jaw goes tight, his body filled with tension, there’s still pain from his past. I don't believe they were all just some neighborhood kids. At least one of them meant something to Carson. This wasn’t just a teenage lark or a job. It was personal.