Chapter Eight Cole
Christ, she’s magnificent. All fiery, all defiant, all Addie.
She’s right, too. Droning out facts doesn’t mean I know her. Not even close. But I do know more than she thinks. Because I understand her. Addison is a survivor, and she’ll do whatever it takes to protect the people she loves.
“Touché. I didn’t mean to sound like…” I search for the right word, but she quickly jumps in to supply it.
“A pompous asshole?” she suggests. “An arrogant, pretentious, condescending, narcissistic—”
Shit, tell me how you really feel.
“Prick?” I offer with a half-smile.
“That works.”
“I’m sorry. There are things I clearly don’t know, and they’re none of my business.”
My apology seems to settle her down, and she remains quiet for the rest of the drive. I’m not sure if she’s still angry with me and stewing, or if she’s plotting my imminent demise. Knowing Addie, probably both.
Her place is near the 16th Street Mall, a mile-long pedestrian corridor in the heart of downtown Denver.
The hip, historic district boasts shopping, brewpubs, Coors Field and endless dining and nightlife.
All in all, a pretty great place to live if you can afford the pricey rent and don’t mind putting up with the occasional crowds and noise.
We enter the garage, and she directs me to a parking spot.
Before I can turn the car off, she’s jumping out.
With a sigh, I cut the engine and hope I didn’t screw things up too badly.
I mean, I did save her life earlier tonight.
That has to garner me some favor, right?
I’d like to think so, but this is Addison Mills we’re talking about, so God only knows.
After getting out, I grab my go bag from the trunk and follow her to an elevator.
We step inside, she hits a button and we begin to ascend.
When she still doesn’t say anything, I take a moment to study her.
She took my jacket off and it’s hanging over her arm, and she looks more thoughtful than angry, so that’s good.
After what we’ve been through, she also appears a little bedraggled. Tired, too.
I glance down at my now-wrinkled shirt and pants, wondering why I even bothered dusting off the old iron. But who am I kidding? I know exactly why. The reason is staring straight at me with big blue eyes.
“Are you okay?” I ask, voice low. Concerned. I’ve never known her to be this quiet. Usually, she’s hurling insults at me a mile a minute.
She shrugs a delicate shoulder, clutching my jacket and an evening bag in one hand and a fistful of her long dress in the other. “I’ve been better. But, hey, I’m still alive, so no complaints.”
My attention slides down her body, moving to her exposed calves, dainty ankles and very high heels. Sexy black heels with red bottoms. An image of her naked, wearing only those heels, perks my dick up. She has a fantastic figure. Absolutely perfect and made for a man’s demise.
I like how she’s tall and slim but still possesses the most droolworthy curves I’ve ever seen.
If I could drown in her cobalt blue eyes, I’d die a happy man.
And every time she tosses her wavy bedhead hair, I get a whiff of orange blossoms. It’s all becoming too much—not touching her but being so aware of her. Sheer torture.
With a ding, the elevator door slides open on the fourth floor. My gaze lifts and she’s watching me, but I can’t get a read on her. When she puts on that expressionless face, it’s impossible to know what she’s thinking. I’d never dare to play poker with her.
She walks out and my gaze dips again, this time to admire the low scooping back of the dress. It’s borderline obscene. So close to putting that delicious, curvy ass of hers on full display. Scandalous, like the woman wearing it.
“See something you like?” she asks over her shoulder as she continues to sashay forward, hips swaying.
My eyes flick sideways and I notice the mirror running down the hallway on our left. Busted.
When I don’t respond, she chuckles. “It’s quite a dress, isn’t it?”
“It’s what’s inside the dress that has my attention.” The words are out of my mouth before I think twice about saying them.
She pauses outside of a door and looks up at me. “Be careful, Detective,” she murmurs in a low, sing-song voice, pulling her key out of her handbag. “I’m a bad girl. You wouldn’t know what to do with me.”
“Is that a challenge?”
She pushes the door open, smirking as she turns off the alarm. “It is if you can handle it.”
“Consider it accepted.”
Her low, throaty laugh fills the air, and I follow her inside.
I close the door, lock it and take a quick look around as she resets the alarm.
The condo is spacious with vaulted ceilings, large windows and an open concept floor plan.
Addie slips her heels off, saunters over to the kitchen area and tosses her handbag on a big island with a granite countertop.
I love the original brickwork that makes up one entire wall in the great room, and I study the couch where I’ll be sleeping.
Why the hell did I accept her challenge? Sliding a hand through my hair, I wonder if I’m losing my mind a little. It’s like I’m under some kind of spell. Like she’s bewitched me.
And that’s bad for business.
“I’m going to take a shower,” she announces, starting up the spiral staircase off the kitchen. “The guest bedroom is to your right. It’s been a long day. Goodnight, Detective.”
“Goodnight, Addison.” I watch her wind her way up to a concealed loft and disappear.
Releasing a sigh, I make my way down to the extra bedroom and drop my duffel bag on the hardwood floor.
The bed looks comfortable, but I won’t use it.
It’s too far away from the front door. And even though it’s been a day from hell, I’m not tired anymore. I’m more… curious.
Looking around, I absorb the energy of Addie’s home.
Get a feel for the vibes it’s giving off.
It’s a nice place, very contemporary, clean and, somehow, also cozy.
I like it. A lot. In comparison to my dreary place, I suppose anything is better.
My apartment reminds me of a crypt—cold, dark and unlived in.
I’m rarely home and have probably spent more nights sleeping on the couch in my office at the station than in my bed.
This place smells really good. Like the owner. I spot a candle on the dresser and a plug-in which gives off a warm vanilla scent.
Above me, I hear water turn on and guess it must be the shower. Picturing Addie naked and dripping wet in every possible way makes me groan. Fuck. The image burns itself into my mind and lust smolders through my body.
Time for a cold shower.
After removing my holster and gun, I lay it on a chair in the bedroom.
Pulling my tie off, I unbutton my dress shirt and kick my shoes off.
The desire pounding through my veins makes me ache, and I carefully unzip my pants.
Standing here in my tented boxer shorts, I can’t help but snort-laugh at the irony of the situation.
Me, standing in Addie’s home in only my underwear, with her above me, naked and wet. Too bad it’s a whole floor above me.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, I dig a T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants out of my bag.
Then I head into the small, attached bathroom and take the coldest shower I can stand.
The icy water quickly eliminates all sexy thoughts and I don’t linger.
Just wash off the soot and smoke, then hop out and dry off.
If I stay in there and start thinking about Addie, I’m going to end up jacking off.
And that doesn’t seem very appropriate when I’m here to protect her, not fantasize about her.
Instead of going to sleep, I grab my gun and pad out into the great room in my bare feet. I’m surprised to see Addie staring out one of the large windows, gazing out over the downtown lights. Without turning around, she watches me through the glass.
“Expecting trouble?” she asks.
I set my gun down on the coffee table. “I don’t know,” I admit.
“But you’re a man who likes to be prepared.” She slowly turns around, and I try not to ogle her. The T-shirt she’s wearing skims the tops of her thighs and I force myself to focus on her face, trying like hell not to look in the area of her chest. Because, if she’s not wearing a bra…
Stop! I yell at myself. She doesn’t need to know I’m currently sexually destroying her in my head.
“Like a boy scout,” I reply. Clearing my throat, I can’t miss her smirk. “I thought you were tired.”
“I never said that. I said it’s been a long day and goodnight. Figured you’d go to bed.” She saunters away from the window, goes to the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of water. “Thirsty?”
If she only knew. “Yes,” I answer, and she tosses a bottle to me.
Cracking it open, I take a drink, surreptitiously watching her sashay over to the couch and sit, curling her legs beneath her.
With no makeup and wet hair, she’s still stunning.
Maybe even more beautiful than when she’s all made up, because this version of Addison seems more vulnerable, more true.
She isn’t playing a role or pretending to be someone she isn’t.
Rather, she appears raw and real. Relatable.
“It’s kind of hard to sleep knowing someone tried to blow me up,” she says quietly and sighs.
I walk over and sit down beside her. “I’m going to find out who’s responsible and then I’m going to nail his ass.”
“What if it’s a she?”
“Then I’ll nail her ass.”
“You nail a lot of asses?” she asks, blue eyes twinkling.
I hesitate, not sure what she’s referring to—work or my nonexistent sex life?
Because it’s been a while since I’ve nailed anyone sexually.
My every waking hour is consumed by cases, and I can’t even remember the last woman I slept with.
I’m a workaholic who doesn’t have time for a casual hook-up, much less a serious relationship.
Besides, I can’t afford to catch feelings or wind up with a clinger.
My job is my life, so I’ve discovered it’s easiest to take care of my needs myself.
“You look confused.” Her lips twitch, and I realize she’s teasing me.
“I take my job very seriously, and whoever tried to hurt you tonight is going down.”
“Good to know.” Her index finger trails circles on the bottle’s cap and her faint smile disappears. “And just so you know, saving my life or not, I don’t appreciate you changing our deal—especially after you kissed me. Makes a girl think you’re just using her.”
She looks up at me through her long, flickering lashes. All feigned innocence.
“I thought you kissed me,” I toss back.
“Hmmm,” she murmurs, but doesn’t comment.
“So, let’s renegotiate,” I suggest. Maybe it’s time to lay my cards out on the table. Well, most of them, anyway.
“Take my name off your list,” she states. “Or you can forget us working together.”
“It’s no secret you’ve been on my radar, but, yes, you help me and that can change.”
The white lie glides right out of my mouth, and I almost feel bad. Almost.
“I want full immunity for me and my team—from whatever you think we did or plan to do—along with your supposed evidence. And I want it all in writing. Until then, you can hang out here and protect me all day, but I will not be concerning myself with the Phoenix Kiss or its potential theft.”
Damn, she strikes a hard bargain. But did I expect anything less from the great Addison Mills?
“Done,” I say easily. Another lie. I take a swig of water, knowing there’s no way in hell my sergeant is going to let Addison and her ring of thieves walk away. My job is to lure her in, make her feel comfortable and then set the trap.
A trap which consists of a priceless ruby necklace as the bait. I know she won’t be able to resist taking the Phoenix Kiss for herself. But I’ll be ready. My eyes are on the prizes—cleaning up my city and a big promotion—and that means putting Addie and her crew behind bars.