Chapter 12 #2
He flashes me a sinful smile. “Coerced implies unwillingness, Dr. Hadid.” He licks his lips as he leans over the desk. In a low, husky voice, he adds, “We both know you’re more than willing, don’t we?” He pulls away, grinning. “I’ll save you a seat, doc.”
If I sit next to him, I might just explode.
I step into The Junction, immediately hit by the scent of beer and fried food.
It's your typical cop bar—dim lighting, worn-out wooden furniture, and a jukebox playing a mix of country and rock classics. The walls are adorned with old NYPD memorabilia, a mix of framed badges, newspaper clippings, and a few black-and-white photos of officers from decades past. It’s got that no-nonsense vibe, the kind of place where off-duty cops come to unwind but never really let their guard down.
Everyone here, even in civilian clothes, is strapped and ready for anything.
It’s like they can’t shake the job, and honestly, maybe that’s a good thing.
Maybe this is exactly where I should be tonight. Safe. Protected.
The NYPD has no leads on Kaleb. It’s like he’s evaporated into the concrete jungle of New York City, blending in with the millions of people who walk these streets.
But I know he’s out there. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Jungles aren’t safe—I learned that the other night.
I shiver at the memory and force it away as I navigate through the crowded bar.
My heels click against the sticky hardwood floor, each step reminding me of how out of place I feel here.
I’m not one of them, never will be. But I push that thought aside as I spot the back of Gigi’s head, her familiar curls bobbing with laughter.
Next to her, Sam Williams is guffawing at something, his deep voice carrying over the noise.
Zoey, however, isn’t laughing. She watches Sam chat with another agent, a faint scowl tugging at her lips.
I pause, curious about her reaction, but before I can dissect it further, Theo’s eyes catch mine from across the room.
He waves me over, true to his word that he’d save me a seat.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I make my way to the table, which is littered with pitchers of beer and a few half-eaten appetizers.
“Take a seat, doc,” Theo says, patting the wooden stool next to him. “I ordered you a drink.”
I frown, sliding onto the stool. “You ordered for me?”
“Mhmm,” Theo hums as a server appears with an Old Fashioned in hand. “Figured you’re a whiskey type of woman.”
I eye the cocktail warily. “I prefer wine.”
Theo grins, his smile sparkling with mischief. “Wine and whiskey are two sides of the same coin, Safia. Wine is soft and seductive, but whiskey? Whiskey has that rough edge, a bite that lingers—much like a certain someone I know.”
My cheeks heat up as Theo brings the glass to his lips, his tongue teasing the rim before he takes a small sip. He releases a contented sigh, his gaze never leaving mine.
“Delicious.”
My mouth falls open in disbelief. “You just—”
Theo smirks. “What?”
“I don’t share beverages. I’ll just order a…” I start to look around for the server, but they’re swamped. Thursday night’s special is half-off pitchers, and the place is packed.
“Oh, relax, Safia,” Theo chuckles. “Don’t be so uptight.”
I glare at him. “I am not uptight.”
Theo cocks his head, his amused gaze flitting over my tight, high ponytail. “You really need to let your hair down every now and again.”
With a burst of defiance, I grab the Old Fashioned and down the entire drink in one gulp. The whiskey burns my throat, but damn it, he was right. It is delicious.
Theo raises an eyebrow, impressed. “I think you’re meant to sip on an Old Fashioned, but hey, I like the enthusiasm. Trying to prove me wrong, doc?”
Before I can retort, the server returns with a tray of tequila shots, one for each person at the table, except Zoey who sticks to soda. Gigi stands up, helping the server pass out the shot glasses. She hands one to me and Kane, winking as she does.
“Know your limit,” she says cryptically before moving on.
“I don’t do shots,” I say, watching as everyone else preps their limes and salt. Everyone except Theo, who evidently isn’t a fan of the accouterments.
“Then don’t do it,” Theo says with a lazy shrug as Gigi makes a quick toast and everyone downs their drinks.
Theo throws his head back, his expression neutral as he swallows the liquor.
He slams the glass on the table. “Well?” He glances at the shot in my hand.
“Make up your mind, doc. You in or out? If you keep holding it, it’s gonna warm. It’s not good when it’s warm.”
Damn it.
“Fine.” I toss back the shot, wincing as it stings my esophagus. I can’t help but make a face, which forces Theo to laugh.
“Here.” He holds out a wedge of lime. “Suck on this.”
I expect him to hand the lime to me, to put it in my hand, but he holds it out, fingers gripped around the peel.
His devilish eyes hood over as he says in a rough, demanding timbre, “What are you waiting for, Safia? Suck.”
My heart beats frantically in my chest as the sound of laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses surrounds me. I’m hyperaware of how close we are, of the way his features darken with something dangerous, something that sends a thrill down my spine.
The bar feels like it’s spinning, but at this moment, with Theo’s intense gaze locking me in place, it’s like I’m standing on the edge of something I can’t quite define.
And it terrifies me.
There are dozens of agents around us, half of them on the task force. But Theo doesn’t seem to care. He doesn’t mind that there are prying eyes and inquisitive ears. And as the tequila hits my stomach, and I glance up into his all-consuming stare, I don’t care either.
I lean forward and wrap my lips around the lime, not giving a damn that people can see me. The acidity stings my lips, sour and tangy, but the burning in my throat stops. It goes away.
Theo never lets go of the lime. He keeps holding it, and my lips brush against the edge of his fingers.
I swear I hear him groan.
When I pull away, a triumphant, malignant smile lifts his cunning lips.
“Good girl. Wasn't that fun?”
Panic sets in, my heart racing, and I stumble off the stool. “I need fresh air.”
He grins, nodding to the exit leading to the alley. “I’ll join you.”
I hope there are people out there. I hope we’re not alone. Because right now, my veins are molten, burning with thoughts and wants I know I can’t act on. Shouldn’t act on. But if we’re alone, if we’re hidden, I know my desires will slither out, like the dirty demons they are.