21. Braxton
CHAPTER 21
Braxton
I watch her go, unable to wipe the smug smirk off my face. She hurries out the door like she’s about to be caught at any moment, and I’m tempted to do exactly that. I knew having her again would be so much fucking better than the first time. And tasting her was literally the cherry on top. And that? That is something I’ll relive for days, if not years, to come.
She’s a redheaded little vixen, but at the same time, she oozes innocence. However, she and I both know that’s just a mask she puts on for the rest of the world. I tempted that depraved side of her to crawl from the darkest part of her soul, and then I challenged and exposed it more than I ever thought she’d allow me to. She is my undoing as much as I am hers. Had she put that gun to my head, I might’ve actually let her pull the trigger. My cock twitches at the thought.
Oh no. Shortcake and I are far from done.
I thought she’d be out of my system once I had my fix.
But I haven’t had enough.
My crime board is in a shambles, but perhaps it’s what I need so I can come at it from a new perspective. I’ve looked at it so many times I’ve memorized it.
The room is destroyed, and it fills me with male pride.
She couldn’t be more fucking perfect. Even if she is forbidden.
I’m not on call tonight, but my phone rings anyway. I’d considered just lying in my bed and doing sweet fuck all, but now that I notice her smell is everywhere, I know I should leave. Otherwise, I’ll find a way to bring her back.
I’m sure whatever Lucas is calling me about is important, so I answer.
“He’s dead,” he announces. “My other guy.”
“Where?”
He sends me the address, and I step on a broken piece of porcelain when I rise from the bed, making a note to clean that up when I return. I quickly throw on fresh clothes, grab my gun and badge, and briefly admire my gun, knowing it still has her juices on it. A masculine pride fuels me, and my cock twitches as I head for the door.
I’m not surprised both of his men have been taken out so quickly. This time, the body was found in a dumpster. They’re estimating the time of death to be about four to five hours ago, which means he was killed in the early evening.
When I arrive at the scene, it’s the same fucking club where I kissed her. Lucas is barking orders, and other officers are keeping onlookers away from the scene.
This club is a fucking curse. Two bodies in a matter of weeks, and it’s not even an establishment that any of the Mafia families own.
“I warned him that he should pull out,” Lucas says as I come up beside him. He sweeps his hands through his hair, his gaze darting over the body with a slit throat. “He must’ve been in the dumpster for hours. The kitchen staff found him when they were taking out the trash. He didn’t deserve this.”
“The good ones often don’t. It’s why we do this,” I say, scanning the area. Brute force was used in the last murder. This time it’s a slit throat. No pattern to the methods used. “The culprit would’ve had to be strong enough to be able to throw him into the dumpster.” Looking at the height of the bin, it’d have to be someone with significant enough strength.
“Cameras were tampered with for an hour,” Lucas tells me. I peer down at the body.
I glance at the crowd, most of them drunks being ushered to move on, some of them not-so-discretely taking photos. That’s when I see him. Hawke Ivanov. His dark eyes are penetrating as he stares at me with a woman under each arm. The guy has a fucking type.
What I don’t like is how close he and Hope are, even if they are considered cousins. She trusts him, and somehow, he manages to always be around when someone is killed. He also clearly has the strength to push a fucking truck, so heaving a body into a dumpster would be nothing for him.
I approach him, and we smile insincerely at one another. It’s like picking up where we left off. He’s so fucking lucky I didn’t break his hand for pulling Hope away from me. But it’s a delicate dance with someone like Hawke. I consider whether I should bring him in as a suspect and weigh up the consequences if I do. I won’t be able to pin anything on him. Not yet, anyway. But that smug fucking expression makes me want to.
They think they’re fucking invincible, these men.
“Detective,” he says. The women at his sides giggle, but I pay them no attention.
“Was this you?” I point a finger over my shoulder.
“Come on now, Detective, you couldn’t possibly think I would reduce myself to something so simple as slitting a throat? If I were to ever seriously hurt someone, I think I’d just lose all control and it’d be a bloody fight to the death. I couldn’t imagine anyone who might push me to that point, though.”
My lips tilt up. Looks like he likes to dance on the outskirts.
“I’m just scared for everyone on the streets. How is our police force unable to do something about this? I mean, two bodies in two weeks. That serial killer is seriously invested,” he says.
Oh, I definitely think he could do this and possibly even worse. I see straight through his feigned innocence. He’s just as deadly as the rest of them, maybe even more so.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
Hawke looks at the two women as if that answers my question. “Are you saying it’s illegal for me to be here?”
Just then, a black Ferrari pulls up, and a commotion erupts as the crowd parts to let an angry-looking five-foot-nothing shortcake through. She looks furious, and she’s still wearing the dress I took off her only hours ago. Well, well, well, looks like I’m not the only one who has contacts, and I’m curious as to how she found out about the murder so quickly, or perhaps it has more to do with her cousin taunting a detective at the side of a crime scene.
Hawke seems wildly pissed to see her here, and my grin kicks up.
“Miss me that much you decided to track me down?” I ask her arrogantly.
“I think you need to research the definition of ‘miss.’ I’ve got my father on hold. If you’re trying to press charges or something like that, we’ll call in Rya Monti immediately,” she threatens.
I can’t help but be impressed by the little shortcake who will fight for her family. Maybe even kill for them. The very same family she betrayed by sleeping with me. And, oh, how that must irk her right now. I love having that leverage over her, dangling it like a piece of fruit, waiting for her to snatch it and throw it away. Waiting to see how she’ll try to throw me away… because we are anything but done.
“I was simply asking a few questions,” I say. “But, yes, one might say it’s a coincidence that two bodies were found close to the same place, and he’s been here both times.”
She huffs out a breath, folding her arms over her chest. “Aren’t you tired?”
“No. Want to go for round two?”
Hawke steps forward, abandoning his women, but Hope is quick to step in between us.
“What the fuck did you just say to her, pretty boy?” Hawke growls.
Fucking hit me. I dare you. Please fucking hit me.
“I was simply offering?—”
“Enough!” Hope cuts me off and stares at me with the ferociousness of a lioness. My skin prickles with excitement. Such a small package for so much untapped violence. “Hawke, get in the car.”
“But he—” The words die on his lips when he sees her expression. “Yes, little red.” But then he turns back to me. “But if I see you again, motherfucker, you better run the other way.”
“Are you threatening a detective?” I ask with a cocky smile.
“Enough!” Hope shoves at Hawke. “And, no, your women are not coming.”
All the violence bleeds from Hawke as he whips his head in her direction, baffled. “Ugh, you’re killing me, little red.”
He heads for the car as she squares up with me. “Whatever game you’re playing, you only play with me. Keep my family out of it.”
I can tell my smirk is pissing her off. “I never took you for the jealous type.”
“I never took you for the stupid type. They will kill you,” she warns.
I place my hand to my heart. “Aww, that almost sounds like you care.”
She scoffs and tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I don’t. I just don’t want anyone else interfering with my prey.”
“Are you threatening a detective?”
Her blue eyes dance with mischief, but she says nothing as she turns and sways her hips seductively as she walks back to her car. My cock twitches, recalling that she’s not wearing any panties.
Lucas comes up to my side, watching as they leave. “They’re involved. They have to be.”
“I told you they’re quick on these types of things.”
“You think it’s her?” Lucas asks. I turn to face him, masking the lethal edge of my gaze. I don’t like him sniffing after her. “I mean, she’s an Ivanov. It’s likely. And the expression on your face is the same one you get when you think you’ve found a lead. Should we investigate her further?”
“No. Leave her to me,” I say, warning in my tone. His eyebrows dip slightly, understanding me well enough. But I refuse to let anyone else interfere or become consumed by Hope Ivanov. She’s mine to explore and unravel.
Hawke sits in the passenger seat of her black Ferrari. It’s a nice car, something she received as a gift from her parents for her twenty-first birthday, but it’s very rare I see her drive herself. It’s also amusing to see someone as large as Hawke squeeze into the front seat. The car is far too small for him.
Hope doesn’t look back at me as she drives off, but Hawke does. He waves at me before flipping me off.
Fucking asshole.