Chapter 12 - August
She’s working late again, alone, after I warned her not to.
Putting herself in danger like it’s a damn hobby.
I had no choice but to intervene and order Grayson to send a false text to her boss, coaxing him to clock off early.
Then I had him track the bastard’s hired car to make sure he drove home, courtesy of the bug I placed inside his front wheel well.
Glitter Bomb’s got the audacity to call out my red flags.
Right back at her.
Mercury ties or not, she’s under duress and threat.
Just because I quit the force, doesn’t mean the cop in me died.
I swore an oath to serve and protect, and she’ll get home safely, one way or another.
Tomorrow’s another day. Maybe I’ll get answers, maybe I won’t.
Either way, I’ll be watching and waiting.
I’ve been here for over an hour. Wearing the helmet for prolonged periods of time makes my skin itch, and I want to peel it off and scratch. Not gonna happen with the cameras on the building…. even with Grayson deleting footage of me lingering.
I’ve surveilled dozens of women. Protected a handful.
Slept with none. Not since I torched my last relationship before it began and left the force.
But this one? This woman? My body responds before reason does.
The selfish part of me wants her curled against my chest, tethered to my orbit. I deserve that comfort and softness.
As for the Mercury creep who touched her, he lives to see another day.
Harming, bribing, or degrading a fellow member of the order is punishable by death or worse.
Non-members are fair game and disposable.
Being the daughter of Mercury’s leader affords Kate certain protections.
Unless… her father allowed it. Humiliation?
A warning? I need to find out and evaluate my next move.
Two nights ago, I let my guard down. One filthy text at a time, the vixen cracked the armor I spent years forging, and I came undone with her name on my tongue. Now I’m back in the shadows, pretending it meant nothing. Pretending I’m not the kind of man who burns the world to keep her close.
Last night, she stayed at her friend’s place for a girls’ spa night. Code for scrubbing their pores, sharing feelings, and painting their nails with enough glitter to contaminate a crime scene.
Goddamn. I catch a better look at her through the window.
She’s wearing a skirt. Longer this time, paired with mid-calf boots.
A turtleneck covers her chest, but the rest invites a stare, and her boss has no shame about it.
The way his eyes lingered, the fucker’s lucky I didn’t take a baseball bat to his jaw.
My eyes drop to her legs. Creamy and curvy, made to wrap around a man and never let go. My cock twitches, dragging my thoughts into the gutter, imagining her naked next time, tits bouncing, breath catching.
The need to barge into her office and bend her over the desk sparks every nerve ending. I crack my knuckles and stretch my shoulders to release pent-up energy. She’s a goddamn drug, and I’m already strung out.
I can’t take it anymore and grab my phone and text her.
Me: What did I say about working late?
Kate: Dick boss has gone home. I’m safe and working on something, GD.
I presume GD means Grumpy Daddy.
Me: He touch you?
Kate: No. He’s too scared to look at me.
Me: Good. Let it stay that way.
She steps up to the window, hips swaying, fingers ghosting over her collarbone.
Kate: Where are you? Brooding in the shadows? Did you Drive All Night to Get to Me?
She’s acting tough again. Flashing a sinful smile when she spots me under the lamplight. Flipping her hair, pretending last night didn’t rattle her. I see through it. The flick of her eyes scanning the dark. The slight tug of material at her neck. Sunshine masking the scar.
Kate: Come to get your thank you, Grumpy Daddy? Kiss or boob flash?
Goddamn flirt. I can’t tell if she’s reckless or testing me. That mouth will get her in trouble.
Me: I didn’t come for a thank you. I came to make sure you get home in one piece. And that should scare you.
Kate: What are you? A cop or something?
Fuck, too close.
Me: Go home. Now.
Kate: You promised me a ride, remember? I was a good girl and went to sleep after you sexted me to heaven.
She has me on that.
Me: No more bedtime stories with benefits when you’re a brat.
Kate: I’ll be another fifteen. Want to take me home? I’ve never been on a bike before. I’m All By Myself tonight and ready to go All the Way.
What’s with the capitals? I message Grayson to get him to analyze it.
Me: Check her last text. Could be a cipher.
Within thirty seconds he’s back to me.
Grayson: It’s a Celine Dion song.
Me: She’s quoting ballads now?
That’s new for the Romans, but I’m not surprised.
Grayson: You clearly missed her CD collection.
Jesus. I’m putting a ban on that. My ears don’t need to bleed.
I get back to the Glitter Brat.
Me: I said I’d get you home safely. Didn’t say you’d enjoy the ride.
Kate: You sound extra grumpy tonight. Here for it.
Meanwhile, my cock’s starting a mutiny at her brat side and quirky quotes.
Me: Why do you want to ride with a stranger? What if I’m secretly a murderer?
Kate: You’ve had ample opportunity to murder me. Now you’re obsessed with me. And I want to have some fun with a mysterious stranger who isn’t relationship material but sexts me filthy things and is incredible in bed.
Smart. Witty. My match.
Me: You texted filthy things. I want that on record.
For the record, my dick’s down for sex without strings.
Kate: In dark romance circles, threatening to kill my neighbor and sleazy boss is a marriage proposal. We’re now engaged Arranged marriage trope.
Great. I’ve been reduced to a trope. Grayson’s probably reviewing our interactions, and I won’t hear the end of this.
Me: Murder Spice already RSVP’d in blood. Should I be worried?
Her cute little grin cracks something in me—the part that wants to give her everything.
Kate: She’s officiating the ceremony. Hope you’re okay with black veils, blood vows, and glitter cake
Flirty. Forward. Fierce. She’s a triple threat to my composure.
Me: I put my foot down at throwing knives instead of rice.
She bends over laughing, and it twists inside me. Joy faded for me a long time ago, and she’s waking it up, warming it, setting it free.
Me: Howl like that on our wedding night, and the neighbors will call the cops.
Kate: I want a ring first. No diamonds. This princess demands color.
Me: Get your ass down here. You haven’t eaten anything and need dinner.
Kate: Dinner and a ride? You’re on, hubs. I Drove All Night.
My dick wants to take the reins. She’s going to get herself killed… or get under my skin. And why do I like her cute little quirks with the song titles?
She vanishes from the window to get her things.
I pull out a ball of purple tissue paper and unwrap it.
Nestled inside is an ornament I worked in the fire and shaped with my tools for hours.
Moonlight glints on the glass as I twist it.
Dumb, but she inspired my creation. Fragile and beautiful.
Wild and untamed. Dangerous to my control.
I roll it up and stuff it back in my pocket before I get any more sentimental.
Soft tread on the pavement calls my attention. Kate saunters up to me, wrapped in a dark coat and smug satisfaction.
“Fancy meeting you here. Stalk often?” She aims for sultry and taunting, but the faint crack at the end betrays her. She covers it fast with a smirk and slides a hand up my chest.
“I call it protection,” I clarify.
She shrugs. “Semantics.”
These book girlies twist monsters into love stories.
She rakes her gaze over me, sizing me up like a cut of meat in a butcher’s window. “Pierced and possessive, huh?”
My jaw ticks at Katar’s Instagram handle. Possessive, sure. Pierced? Not a chance in hell. That’s his domain.
“Possessive is the part you should worry about.” It’s better she never finds out my piercing status.
Her grin carves sharper. Sweet on the surface and wicked beneath. “I told you my fantasy. What’s yours? Stalking? Tying women up? Home invasion fantasies?” The last two sound awfully like she’s fishing.
Do not fold her over the bike. Do not spank her. Do not indulge your dick.
“Get on,” I grunt.
“Why the helmet? Scarred? Hiding a secret identity, Batman?” She reaches for it.
I stop her, clasping her wrist. “No.”
The woman is a reporter and won’t stop until she knows my name, address, and history. Good luck with that. Grayson erased most of my past from the internet and public records. She may find some brief evidence, but nothing to tie me to my past.
“Are you hungry or not?” I ask.
Realizing I’m immune to her tricks, she gives up. “Take me to Jack’s Diner. I want a burger and fries.” She pulls out her phone, and I assume she’s texting Murder Spice her whereabouts. “Kill me, and my friend will bury you, and I’ll come back to haunt you.”
Nothing new there. If only she knew she’s haunted me every damn day since I walked away. She’s in my blood, dreams, and every broken piece of glass I melt in the furnace to reshape into something whole.
I start the engine, letting it rumble and dampen her questions. I also need the moment to breathe. I’m jealous of her fingers as she buckles her helmet. It should be me securing the chin straps and stroking along her neck.
I grip my handlebars tighter when she slides on behind me. The bike dips with her weight, her body warm and soft behind mine. Hands glide from my stomach to my chest. Provocative little siren.