Chapter Eighteen
Jonesy
I’ve been summoned to the precinct. It’s been four days since they started digging up the backyard of Connor Maddox, and we’ve been told to sit and wait until we have more information.
So instead of attending to my marching orders, I’m in Lululemon talking to an assistant named Ashleigh, trying to work out what size I should buy for Katie to replace the ones I ripped off her.
“So you don’t know her size?” she says, pushing her cropped red hair behind her ear. It’s almost as red as Katie’s, but hers has a little more brown mixed in. Jesus, I’ve fucked up so badly.
“No . . . I have a photo . . . but maybe I can just guess. She’s about your size, I guess. She has full hips, though.”
“Okay, we have a two-week return policy, so you could give her the leggings with a gift receipt, and if they don’t fit, you can always bring them back?”
“Perfect. Thank you, Ashleigh.”
She packs up the items I bought, handing me the bag. I quickly make my way to my car, slipping the other gifts I’ve bought for Katie, to apologize for being the world’s biggest asshole, into the bag.
We haven’t spoken since that night, and I’ve been half hard ever since.
God, the way she moaned, the way she begged.
My cock has been leaking at the memory of it.
It’s that, or the poor thing has been crying knowing I’ve screwed up so badly when she was at her most vulnerable.
The goddamn she-devil has ghosted me for three days.
Refused to answer my texts or calls. But guess what?
She can’t avoid me at work. I shouldn’t relish the fact that she’ll have to be polite or explain to Biceps why she’s so pissed off, but I do.
But at least for now, I’m going to put my apology face on, because I am in fact apologetic.
The media are once again insane, and this time they home in on me as I walk toward the precinct doors. Officers are stationed outside acting as little more than security guards, but hey, you’ve got to pay your dues somehow.
Bag in hand, I head straight to Katie’s office. Peeking through the window of her door, I watch her staring out at the parking lot. Her cheeks are shallow; the gray bags under her eyes are back. Considering how tired she looks, she still looks edible, and my cock stirs just at the sight of her.
A cough sounds behind me, and I turn, holding the pink bag in front of me.
“Been shopping?” Biceps smirks.
“Yes, just a few things.” I smile despite wanting to smack the smirk right off the stupid prick.
He leans into my space, knocking the door to Katie’s office, and I steel myself for a conversation I’m not sure she’s ready to have.
We both step through the door, and she rolls her eyes at me before fixing her eyes on the detective.
“I came to return these. You left them at my house last night,” he says with a Cheshire grin on his face. He passes her a sweater and a stack of files. Bile crawls up my throat.
Her eyes flick to mine before giving him a small nod. “Thank you, Detective.”
“Are we still on for dinner tonight?” he asks, which I’m sure is for my benefit. He doesn’t know about us sleeping together. There’s no way Katie would have told him, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t suspect we have.
“I’ll come back later, Katie. When you’re not busy,” I say, desperately wanting to remove myself from this situation.
“Don’t you want to give her the gifts you bought her?” Biceps smiles.
“Later is fine.” I head to the door.
“Come on . . . She won’t be able to concentrate if she’s thinking about it all day,” he goads.
I take a deep breath before turning to Katie’s desk. I slide the pink bag over to her without meeting her eye.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she mutters.
“It’s an apology for the other night.” I glance at Biceps and see his smile falter.
If I want to make it up to Katie, I need to be the bigger person.
God, I hate myself right now. “We were doing some DIY in Katie’s house.
I spilled some tile grout on her leggings,” I clarify to the detective. “There are a few other things as well.”
His shoulders loosen, and his chest puffs out a bit. Clearly, my lie has done the trick, as Katie looks somewhat relieved as well.
She pulls out a receipt and begins to read it.
“In case these aren’t for a girlfriend. Here is my number. Ashleigh. She put two kisses. Lucky you,” she mumbles.
Shit.
“She was the sales assistant. I’ll just take that and put it in the trash.” I whip it from her hand and scrunch it up in my fist.
“Maybe she can join us for dinner club.”
No way. No more fake dates to rile up the she-devil. Not when the prospect of her being in bed with me is on the table.
“You’ve mentioned that before. What exactly is dinner club?” the detective asks.
“Oh . . .” Katie blushes. “It’s nothing. Just a monthly meetup for our college friends.”
“Sounds fun, maybe I’ll see what it’s all about soon enough.” He grins, and Katie gives him a small grimace, which she manages to morph into a smile before placing the bag and the remaining gifts under her desk.
“Is there anything we should get caught up on before we interview Maddox’s friends and colleagues?” I ask.
“No, you’re welcome to come to the second crime scene. The site has been cleared.”
“That was fast.” My brow scrunches.
“Yeah, didn’t you know he confessed? Told us exactly where the three other bodies were.”
“He what?!” Katie and I both shout.
“I thought you knew . . . the chief is talking to the media right now.”
“Before we’ve even spoken to him? The last time we talked, he was insistent on his innocence. This is a complete one-eighty,” I say.
The detective crosses his arms across his chest, making his biceps strain against the tight constraint of his T-shirt.
I can’t help but roll my eyes, which Katie clocks as her lip quirks to the side.
Biceps continues, seemingly unaware. “We’ll check the facts, of course, but the victims are in his yard.
He’s also murdered someone else on CCTV, we assume because she refused to come back to the house with him. ”
“Anthony, we’re missing something. What about his bloodwork?” she asks, but he has an answer for that, too.
“The lab is backed up. They said it could take another three weeks.”
Katie’s lips purse as she smooths her hair back with her palms.
“Okay . . . another three weeks seems like too long when they’re about to publicly name him. We haven’t even finished our assessment. Our time got cut short—”
“Yeah, because they found three bodies, Katie,” he snaps.
I watch her recoil from him.
He takes a deep breath, and I wonder if Biceps is about to mess this up before he even gets a chance to start anything. One thing is for sure: if he speaks to her like that again, I’ll rip his arms clean off his body.
“I get that you want to be sure . . . but the evidence is all pointing at this guy. Also, he confessed. You need to learn to put a firm opinion on something. Otherwise, the department is going to find someone who will.”
“Hey, man. That’s enough,” I interject, twisting my body to face him. “She gave a firm opinion, you just didn’t like it, and I happen to agree with her.”
A snarl pulls at his lips. “You’re here as a courtesy to your boss. You have no sway here. Stand down, soldier.”
This jumped-up little prick needs a boot up his ass.
“We’ve got work to do.” Katie stands from her desk and grabs her purse, barging past the detective.
Her shoulders are up by her ears, the anger rolling off her in waves.
The clip of her heels is a soundtrack of fuck-yous and get-the-hell-out-of-my-ways.
She turns her head, her eyes narrowing in on mine.
“Let’s go.”
◆◆◆
We drive through the camp, and various activities are going on.
There aren’t a lot of cars; most of the higher-ups travel around in four-wheelers, which are basically golf buggies.
The lower-ranking soldiers run to and from each destination with the scream of a sergeant nipping at their heels.
Teams tackle the assault course—a hundred or so men are on the parade practicing for an upcoming medal ceremony.
It’s tiring and grueling to stand stark still for so long and often .
. . oh, there we go. One of them has just face-planted on the floor.
To the remaining soldiers, not one of them assisted their fallen comrade.
Only stiffening their shoulders so they won’t face the humiliation of being the next pin to drop.
“Before we go in—”
“Nope,” Katie cuts me off. “I don’t want to talk about it. In fact, there is nothing to talk about.” Her shoulders are up to her ears, her back ramrod straight, as if she’s forcing herself to stay upright by clenching every muscle she has.
“Katie, we had sex,” I say softly, pulling into a space by my office building. Its cream walls are perfectly cleaned, the surrounding lawns landscaped with meticulous precision.
“I don’t remember that.”
“I can imagine your sleep-deprived brain has blocked out the past month. Just so you’re aware, I’m Jonesy, and we’re investigating a serial killer.”
“Shut up!” she snaps.
God, I’ve missed her. Three days felt longer than a year after finally having a taste of her.
I grin, holding my hands up in surrender. “I regretted what I said immediately.”
“Please don’t,” she whispers, her eyes glazing over with unshed tears. I need to make this right. She has to know how fucking sorry I am.
“I’m sorry and I—”
“Jonesy, please stop—”
“I’ve never been so sorry about anything. You trusted me, and I threw it back in your face—”
“JACOB!”
The cry of my name leaving her begging lips stops me in my tracks. There are tears welling in her exhausted eyes. But apologizing is the right thing to do. It has to be the right thing.
“I’m sorry.” I flinch as soon as the words come out of my mouth, and she gives me a death glare that makes my balls shrivel.