Chapter Sixteen
Zephyr
I know he doesn't belong here just by the way I hear him walking behind me, long before I hear him calling out to me.
"Hey, Sheriff. Sheriff. I'm looking for someone. Marlowe Evans."
I turn around slowly, my blood already boiling at the sound of her name coming from this man's mouth. He says it with a familiarity that irks me.
"Can you tell me where I can find her?"
He's exactly what I expected: slicked-back hair, wearing one of those designer suits that cost more than some people's life savings, and his shoes gleaming without a speck of dust. He tosses his paper coffee cup into a bin welded onto a lamppost and misses, not bothering to pick it up.
I fucking hate the sight of him.
"Unless you have a warrant, I don't give out personal information," I say, dismissing him.
He laughs. "Look, Marlowe is my girlfriend—actually, she's going to be my fiancée, when she returns to her senses, that is."
I don't rethink my actions. I tell myself I'm applying just the right amount of pressure. Everything is fine. But fuck, it is not. I have the man's face pressed against the glass window of my office as I twist his arms behind his back.
"Hey, hey, hey, what are you doing?" He's resisting, but he's no match for me.
"Name?" I bark, easily subduing him.
"What the hell?" he whines.
"Name?" I repeat with enough venom in my voice to paralyze him for life.
"My name is Tony Merritt. Remember it, because I'm going to make your life a living hell when I'm done with you," he spits.
"Mr. Merritt, I'm placing you under arrest."
"What the hell for?"
"Littering," I mutter as I force him into the office and into the holding cell. "The punishment is a twenty-four-hour hold and a fine." I also remove his phone, because why fucking not.
"Do you know who I am? Do you know who I am?" he repeats as if I didn't hear him the first time. "I'm giving you ten seconds to remove these cuffs, or you're going to face a level of trouble you can't afford."
"Yeah?" I say as I shove him forward.
"Look. This is about Marlowe Evans. She ran away from home without a trace. Her father is worried sick. She needs to come home at once. Release me right now,” he says, then changes tact. “Okay, we got off on the wrong foot. You can write me a fine for the littering. Easy."
"She's a big girl, capable of making her own decisions. If she ran away from home, she had her reasons."
Goddammit. If I have to look at this guy's mug a second longer...
But I don't have to listen to him rant about the trouble I'm going to be in, the money I don't have to get myself out of it if I don't do his bidding. I should just fucking tell him where she is. Wasn't this supposed to happen anyway?
I'm not thinking clearly. Or maybe I am. Thankfully, the office is empty. Everyone is on a lunch break, and I don't have to explain myself.
On my way to my desk, I grab a roll of duct tape and, using my teeth and one hand, peel off a strip to gag Mr. I'm-a-hotshot-lawyer-and-Marlowe-is-my...
His fiancée.
I throw him into the cell amidst the gargling sounds he's making, spewing threats. Possibly how he's going to slap me with a thousand-dollar bill just because he can when he gets out of here.
I lock him in.
Fuck.
She's going to be engaged?
I need a minute. But I don't get to assess my feelings before the ray of sunshine walks into the office.
She's so fucking extraordinary, confident but a little unsure. Thinks she's pretty when she's incredibly fucking stunning.
"Hi," she says.
The last time I saw her, two hours ago, I told her I loved her, like a fucking idiot in the middle of the fucking street.
That's not what I meant to say out loud.
Did I forget she's a city girl? How could she possibly be happy here in Candy Creek with me for the rest of her life?
She was always meant to go back to her world.
But I will have this.
I don't say anything. I just pull her into my arms, my lips crashing down on hers, tasting every part of her with possessive strokes, marking her. She kisses me back, clinging to me.
Somewhere at the back of my mind, I can hear the bastard's muffled voice coming from the cell.
He's hysterical, throwing himself at the bars.
Marlowe hears it too, but I distract her.
I could so easily carry her into my office and fuck her there, but I want the bastard to see how she lets me touch her.
I pick her up and drop her onto the desk. She gasps at my roughness but doesn't stop me. She's wearing a long flared skirt, thankfully, and I hike the fabric up to her thighs, exposing her bare legs. I step between her parted thighs.
"What is that?" she asks, trying to figure out the banging sound.
But I kiss her again, taking her breath away until she's completely dependent on me. I leave bite marks down her throat. She tosses her head back, pulling at the hair on my nape, either trying to pull me off her when I bite too hard or pulling me closer when she needs more.
I have to make her come.
My hand travels up her thigh as I suck on a mouthful of flesh at her throat, determined to leave my mark on her—a fucking hickey—and I don't care.
She's so soft; she makes my calluses feel like they're touching velvet. My fingers slip into her panties, into her pussy. She's so wet she turns me into an animal.
I drag my fingers deep into her, then suck her juices off them—a taste to tide me over. My thumb glides over her clit while I penetrate her with my middle finger. She's going to come. So close. She reaches for my cock.
Fuck. All I want to do is come in her hand and watch her lick my cum up as she looks at me like she knows she belongs to me.
I fucking love it when she wraps one of her legs around me to pull me nearer, and the bastard can see it all. While I'm trying to make her come, she's trying to unbuckle my pants to put my cock inside her.
But another sound reaches her, and she slackens in my arms, wanting to peer around me, but I'm not ready to let her go. I bite her harder. Then a crash resonates through the office. I can't contain her any longer. The douche managed to slam the bed against the wall.
I lose her when she sees him. Shock pales her skin as she rights her clothes. I can't read the expression on her face now. She's closed up completely.
"Oh my god, Tony," she says.
"Do you love him?" I ask.
"What?"
"He's your fiancé, right?"
"It's a prearranged family thing; it means nothing. But I shouldn't have run away from home in the first place. Such a stupid way to do things. My god, Zephyr, let him out right now."
I don't move.
"Zephyr, release him at once. I have to go home and sort this out. Please."
I feel my cheeks ripple as I clench my jaw.
She's going home.
Right.
I unlock the cell and release him from the cuffs. He rips off the tape, and I get a shot of satisfaction as he howls in pain.
But then he takes Marlowe by the arm. "Marlowe, thank goodness you're all right. Your father is going out of his mind with worry. Let's get you out of this two-bit town. As for you, Sheriff Smith, you'll be hearing from me and my army of lawyers soon."
I don't say anything. Coldness runs through my veins as I watch her leave, her scent still on my fingers.
Fuck.