Chapter Four
Jonesy
Detective Biceps has to go. Aside from the fact that he is ogling Katie like she is some kind of protein snack he wants to eat before a workout, he’s clearly already decided the suspect is guilty.
Something I’m not convinced of. He was shaking as if a light breeze could push him off his chair.
He whimpered out his responses, cried the entire time, and now some poor soul has to dispose of twelve soggy used tissues.
Not the reaction of a man who’d murdered someone in cold blood.
But still, the evidence is clearly against him.
Detective Biceps certainly threw what they had at him, including grainy CCTV footage of a man wearing the same clothes Maddox did last night.
And yet, the clench of my jaw and the pinch of my brow scream that we’re missing something here.
Unfortunately, Biceps doesn’t feel the same.
He’s swaggered back into the private viewing room like a peacock fluffing up his feathers.
God, the man is annoying, and what’s worse is Katie seems to be enjoying his attention as much as Officer Sanchez hates that it isn’t aimed at her. Whether Katie is doing it to piss me off is unclear. Perhaps she and the detective are more than just colleagues.
“What are your thoughts, Katie?”
Katie. Not Dr. Murphy.
They’re fucking.
They must be.
I tell myself I don’t care. She’s fucked plenty of people over the years, and, sure, it’s aggravated me.
Mostly because her attention wasn’t solely focused on me and our relentless pursuit of annoying each other.
She’d behave to prove that she’ll pander to literally anyone but me, which would ultimately lead to me behaving considerably worse until her true she-devil self was unleashed.
But she works with Biceps. If they’re seeing each other, it wouldn’t be casual.
Katie isn’t one to shit where she eats. Not unless there are real feelings, that is.
It is kind of odd that she hasn’t brought him to our dinner club yet, though.
But maybe that means she’s actually serious about him.
The realization has the room shrinking a couple of inches.
A solid weight on my chest has my blood pumping far too slowly.
The collar of my shirt is suddenly a little tight as I try to pull it down and away from my throat.
Katie glances over at me, a pinch creating a small line between her brows.
Surely that can’t be a look of concern on her face? Not for me.
“Feeling alright there, buddy?” Biceps slaps a large hand down onto my shoulder and squeezes like he’s a father introducing himself to his daughter’s prom date. It’s not a comforting squeeze; it’s a warning. He may as well piss a circle around her next time.
“Fine and dandy,” I choke out.
Fine and dandy. A phrase I have never used in my life, and the line between Katie’s brows deepens.
What does their relationship mean for us?
Not us . . . I just mean our game. What does it mean if she gets married and has beautiful babies with an annoyingly handsome man who opens jars for her with his death grip fingers?
Are we still going to fight? To bicker? Are we going to have a chance to share that stupidly comfortable bed again, or was that my one chance?
My one shot. Wasted. I wasted it.
I can’t believe it.
I can’t believe she didn’t tell me she had a boyfriend as she cuddled my forearm between her perfect breasts. That is a low blow. It’s like she planned this, although I know it’s not possible. I’m not an idiot. The murder didn’t even take place until after we woke up together, but still.
Katie interrupts my spiraling thought process. “His facial expressions don’t line up with someone who is guilty. He looked genuinely disgusted with the footage and images you showed him of the crime scene.”
“He’s a good actor,” Officer Sanchez says, and the detective nods.
“Maybe, maybe not. We’ll determine that when we interview him.” Katie shrugs.
You tell them, girl.
“So you are interviewing together then?” Biceps asks, still ignoring me.
“Oh, hey, yes.” I raise my hand. “Sat right here.”
He doesn’t look at me, but Katie rolls her eyes. “That’s the order from both of our bosses, so yes, we’ll be conducting interviews together and reviewing the evidence.”
“You don’t need a babysitter,” he snips.
Her shoulders soften, her eyes full of an emotion I’ve never seen from her.
She looks . . . sad. I watch their interaction curiously.
Despite knowing Katie for fifteen years, I really don’t know anything about her life at all.
But apparently Detective Biceps does. At least enough to be holding a conversation with Katie without explaining himself.
There’s a story here, and I’m going to work out what it is.
If anything, I might be able to find something that will get me the spare room for longer than three months.
“This is happening, Anthony. It’s a unique case that requires both Dr. Jones and I.”
Biceps has a name.
Anthony.
He nods solemnly as if he’s just been told off. “I’ll get you the case file to go over what you need before tomorrow. The interview is scheduled for 10 a.m. again.”
He walks out of the room with Sanchez, leaving Katie and me in silence.
◆◆◆
The colonel and sergeant major had already left by the time we leave the precinct. They were my ride, but my apartment is closer to the station anyway, so it doesn’t bother me too much. Given that me and the she-devil need to go over the case notes, it makes sense to go back to my place, anyway.
I slide around to the passenger side of her car, letting myself in. It’s tiny. My knees are up against the airbag, and I’m crouching, but my head is still brushing the roof of the tin can she drives.
“What are you doing?” she snips, looking around the precinct parking lot and giving a small wave to some other officers I haven’t been introduced to.
“What do you mean?” I awkwardly reach for the seatbelt and pull it around my large frame.
“Why are you in my vehicle?” She stands outside the car, the door open as she leans to the side, hands on her hips.
If she’s trying to look authoritative, it’s not working.
She’s bending down into the car, and I can see the lace of her white bra.
Dressed up like a little angel, even though she and I both know she’s the devil.
“Nice bra, princess. Do your panties match?”
To her credit, despite her sour expression, she doesn’t try to cover up.
“Jonesy.”
“Yes, princess?”
“Answer the question.”
“If you answer mine, I’ll answer yours.” I grin as she finally stands to her full height, pinching the bridge of her nose before slipping into the car and turning on the engine.
“No, they don’t match.”
“Hmm, so you weren’t planning on getting laid tonight by Detective Biceps. Good to know.”
“They don’t match because I’m not wearing any. Can’t with this skirt. The panty line shows.”
What.
The.
Fuck.
Do you remember when I admitted she wins eighty percent of arguments? Yeah. It might be eighty-one percent now.
“Now, will you tell me what you’re doing in my car?”
“Err . . . the case.” I swallow. “We need to go over the suspect. The evidence. Report. Documents that Biceps gave us.”
Pull it together, man. Stop thinking about ripping that skirt off her and finding out if she’s a dirty little liar.
She smirks, twisting her body to face mine, and I attempt to do the same.
“Are you okay, Dr. Jones?” she purrs. “You look a little flustered. Almost like when the tips of your fingers grazed my tits on Saturday. You didn’t know what to say then either.”
“I still felt them though, didn't I?” I snap back.
“Barely, you were like a scared little boy. I didn’t realize women scared you so much.”
I’m not scared of women.
Maybe one woman.
The she-devil.
The pantiless, always-has-to-win, she-devil.
I try to pull back some control. Seeing her bent over and then her mentioning me touching her tits is giving me a semi.
For fuck's sake. The humiliation of my penis not understanding that we do not stand to attention for too-smart, has-to-win-at-all-costs, red-headed women who have no interest in the likes of me is too much. He just doesn’t get it.
He doesn’t care. And unfortunately, he has his own head that he thinks with.
The one including my actual brain doesn't get a word in.
“If I were scared of women, how would I get so many to attend our dinner club?”
“I’m not judging you for paying women, Jonesy. I had noticed that none of them came twice. But maybe they never come at all, and that’s where the real issue lies.” She smirks, her eyes dropping to my crotch.
“Given how eagerly you nestled your ass against my cock on Saturday night, you know full well I have more than enough to work with, princess.”
“You wish.”
If only she knew how true that was. I’ve thought about nothing else since Saturday night.
My somewhat composed obsession with her has become anything but.
I’ve tugged my cock more times than I can count; I’ve been dreaming up more ways than normal to annoy at our next games night.
And now that I have the guarantee of a good bed for the next three months, I’ll need to find a way to make sure she’s in it with me.
“I’m a red-blooded male, Katie. If you were offering, I’d take it. But I’d make you beg me first.”
Anger flashes across her eyes.
“I wouldn’t beg you for water if I were dying of thirst,” she spits.
“I’m not offering water, but I’ll make you wet for sure.”